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gingeralecranberry · 1 month ago

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CHAPTER 1

𝟐-𝟏 ; 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

AS YOU’RE RIPPING ME TO SHREDS

☺︎ cw:

mentions of death, fighting, canon-typical violence, gojo may be ooc he's a lil bit of a weirdo, sukuna and gojo both deserve their own warnings, scarring, brief mention/description of injuries, Megumi is an edgy teen, that one scene were itadori is chained to that weird ass pole, mentions of executions, semi-graphic descriptions of Sukuna's finger (cause it really is disgusting)

"Under Jujustu regulations, Itadori Yuji, I will exorcize you as a curse!"

Under the shrouded night sky, the moonlight blanketed the scattered chunks of jagged debris strewn across the school rooftop in a soft radiance. The holes in the structure croaked with a melancholy groan, the noise swept away by the sound of the wind. Spiderweb-esque cracks stretched their slender fingers across the concrete, across the pale gray walls, across the splintered siding of the building.

"Wait, really, I'm fine!"

Across the expanse of carnage, the two teenagers stared each other down.

The older of the two boys sat on the far end of the building, laying in a pool of his own blood. Spiky black hair matted to his forehead, both from sweat and his injuries, he raised both his fists in a false circle. The heightened collar on his gakuran cast an intimidating shadow over the lower half of his face, highlighting the kindlings of desperation burning in his muted green eyes.

The younger of the two, a much more spritely and jovial personality, raised both his hands in mock surrender. The pink hair that'd previously been ruffled to stand up nearly straight cascaded down towards his forehead again, the ominous black markings all over his body seemingly being swallowed by the flesh tone of his skin. The sharp black talons on the ends of each finger dissolved, almost as if they'd never been there in the first place.

"More importantly, you and I are both pretty beat up, let's get to a hospital."

Stuck at odds with his logical rationale and his gut feeling, Megumi Fushiguro could feel the familiar feeling of frustration welling up in his throat.

'I can't tell if the one speaking right now is Itadori or the cursed object! Damn it...'

His hands were stationary, still in the same faux circle he'd arranged them in earlier. He hesitated to drop the stance, fearing an ambush.

'...What should I do?!'

In the near deafening silence, both of the combatants failed to notice the presence of a third person on the roof. As if it were just any other day, the new guy waltzed in seemingly without a care.

"What's the situation?"

Fushiguro immediately dropped his hands in favor of whipping around to look behind him, jaw dropping open as his eyes settled on the familiar sight of his teacher. His internal wheel of emotions seemed to spin back and forth between horror, relief, and utter mortification. Eventually, his wheel settled for a nightmare cocktail blessed by all of the above! "Wha... Gojo-sensei?! What are you doing here?!"

Kitted up in his signature gakuran, blindfold, and a bag from the local pastry shop, his white hair stuck up from the pressure of the blindfold on either side of his face.

Leisurely, he greeted his student with a smile, "Hey." He stood idly on the sidelines with his hands shoved in his pockets, "I wasn't planning on coming, but man, you're roughed up..." As though a million dollar idea flashed on a big screen behind his blindfold, a cruel grin ran its way up the man's cheeks, "I should show the second years."

His student grimaced, doing his best to twist his broken body away from the camera. He hissed through gritted teeth, swallowing both his physical AND mental pain in an effort to keep his dignity. Still, Gojo persisted, leaning in close as he began to snap what the Sendai-student assumed were dozens of pictures. "Hahaha! Face this way!"

Itadori could only stand by and watch in what he described as abject horror-fascination.

Eventually, when it seemed the older man got his fill of amusement, he stuffed his phone back into his pocket. "The higher-ups wouldn't shut up with a special-grade cursed object gone missing, so I stopped by while doing some sightseeing." Curiously, he examined the surrounding area through the confines of the black fabric pressed over his eyes. "So, did you find it?"

"..."

The teenagers exchanged glances momentarily.

"Um..."

Oblivious to the situation at hand, Gojo tilted his head to the side, "Hm?"

"I-"

"He ate it."

Collectively, all heads turned towards the voice originating from the huge hole in the concrete wall of the school.

"Huh?"

Quiet footsteps resounded against the desecrated rooftop in the dead silence of the encounter. Peeking from the shadows cast by the ruined architecture, a tall man in strange attire stepped into the low light of the moon. Donning a pair of black hakama pants and a matching plain black haori jacket, he traipsed towards the trio missing the common trepidation one would have when confronting the strongest curse alive.

He raised a finger, matter of factly, "The finger, he ate it."

The two teenagers blinked at him stupidly.

Gojo's posture, on the other hand, straightened with excited recognition, "Sensei!"

'Sensei? That guy barely looks any older!'

Before Itadori could think about it any further, the white-haired teacher disappeared from view before reappearing on the other side of the rooftop. In the blink of an eye, he was already falling into stride alongside the newcomer with an eerily calculated ease. "What are you doing here?"

Still, the stranger paid no mind to the sudden change in position, walking forward at the same measured pace, "It's been 10 years since you graduated Gojo. You don't need to call me Sensei, especially since we're coworkers now."

The other sorcerer hummed, "Well, calling you by your last name feels too formal, but I don't wanna say your first name..." He trailed off, letting the silence hang in the air for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

"..."

Finally, he tacked on, "So... What are you doing here? Did you miss me so much you had to visit? No need to feel embarrassed!"

Fushiguro could feel his nose crinkle in disgust.

'God, he's humiliating.'

Completely unphased, the older man's eyes were still trained forward and locked on target. "When one of Sukuna's fingers goes missing, it doesn't take a genius to figure out the higher-ups are going to panic. I was sent in as back-up." Finally he came to a stop in front of the pink-haired teen in quest, "Itadori, was it?"

"..."

The 15-year-old gulped down a lump of spit, tilting his neck to look up into the other's (eye-color) pupils.

Instead of trying to kill him (like expected), the stranger offered a hand, "(name) (surname), may I?"

"..."

"...Huh?"

"Oh, uh-" The man shook his head, cringing a little at his own lack of decorum, "Sorry, I should probably explain myself first." He retracted his hand in favor of letting it fall to his side again. "I'm a cursed object specialist. Since you swallowed a cursed object, I want to do a quick check to make sure nothing's wrong with you."

"Oh," Yuji murmured, "Yeah... yeah, that's fine."

(name)'s neutral face shifted to a grateful smile, doing a quick visual inspection first.

'No signs of markings... but what are those?'

Without warning, the older man's hand gripped the teen's chin gently, tilting his head to the side to scrutinize the new scarring on his cheekbones.

A moment of silence passed among the group.

Finally, the specialist's arm returned to his side, "Fascinating..." He placed a hand on his chin, sitting on any potential questions before asking, "Does anything feel off with your body?"

The teen glanced over his appendages, looking for any injuries, "Not particularly."

He hummed again, satisfied, "Truly fascinating."

Laying a hand on (name)'s shoulder, Gojo moved his former teacher out of the way before inspecting the teen himself. "Damn, it really did combine with you... That's hilarious!" He trailed off, continuing to scan the composition of the teen's newly concocted and brewed cursed energy. There seemed to be a particularly mischievous idea forming in his head, indicated by the curling of his lips. "Say, can you swap out with Sukuna?"

Itadori blinked, "Sukuna?"

Gojo nodded, "The curse you ate."

The teen paused, "Oh... Yeah, I think I can do that."

Upon being given the greenlight, the white-haired menace started to stretch. Rolling his shoulders and squatting to open up his legs he continued, "Then give us ten seconds."

Megumi opened his mouth to voice protest, but (name) simply shook his head in response.

The teacher righted his posture, shaking out his arms, "Once ten seconds are up, come back to us."

Seemingly already familiar with the danger pertaining to the entity inside him, the younger teen also seemed hesitant to comply, "But..."

Immediately, he was cut off, "Don't worry. I'm the strongest." Upon seeing the boy's shoulders relax a little, he called over his shoulder. "Megumi."

Fushiguro gave a small grunt in response.

"Hold on to this."

Despite tossing it to his student, (name) ended up catching the bag in one hand and shifting to wedge himself between Megumi and where the fight was going to take place.

Fushiguro's eyes trailed up to the bag, gesturing towards it with his less injured arm, "What is that?"

"Kikufuku from Kikusuian!" As if he wasn't about to go up against the King of Curses, Gojo smiled eagerly and started to make over the top gestures with his hands as he spoke, "It's Sendai's speciality, and it's super good. I personally recommend the zunda and cream flavor!"

Quietly, the eldest of the four released a tired sigh, holding the twine straps in one hand. Megumi, though, narrowed his eyes, mumbling a rather pissed off, "This guy actually went and bought souvenirs when people were out here dying...!"

As Gojo went on to argue about the specifics of his souvenir shopping with his student, (name) closed his eyes, allowing the thrum of cursed energy to trace the outlines of his feet where they connected with the ground. Despite having fought special grade curses as a special grade sorcerer, the man still hadn't ever faced such... malicious decadence twisted into the very source of the energy itself.

Undoubtedly, the King of Curses was only a handful of yards away.

Then he wasn't.

Megumi's body surged forward in alarm, "Behind you!"

His teacher paid his cry no mind, wagging a finger at him with a hand on his hip, "Kikufuku's not like other souvenirs-"

The large cloud of dust exploded from what little remained of the concrete floor, brushing against your closed eyelids. As if tapping into your third eye, the outline of the battlefield appeared like a blueprint before the expanse of darkness in your head...

...two large husks of cursed energy gave particularly strong outlines.

"--And the whipped cream inside is simply exquisite."

You fanned away some of the aftershocks of the explosion with your hand, opening your eyes.

Not even a foot in front of you, the Ryomen Sukuna was hunched over... with your former student perched on his back.

The curse gave an angry laugh, immediately weaving to strike Gojo again. He wasn't expecting the man to match his pace, ducking and sliding out of the way with every fist that came soaring his direction. Eventually, instead of dodging, the man parried, sending the Curse hurtling through the air to the other end of the rooftop.

Another plume of dust flew up like a smoke wall, obscuring the King from view.

"My student's watching, so I'm going to show off a little."

Ah... something about hearing his own former student saying that made a little memory in the recesses of (name)'s heart flutter with bittersweet nostalgia. He remembered when he would've done the same thing.

Oh, to be young and stupid.

With something akin to a groan, Sukuna advanced again.

'He's unbelievably fast? No, that's not it.'

The two met midair, the curse finding itself on the receiving end of a fist straight to the face. Once agaain thrown nearly head first into the decaying building, he clicked his tongue in annoyance, just barely managing to correct his footing before landing, "For crying out loud... You jujutsu sorcerers are always trouble, no matter the era!"

Following his proclamation, he leapt into the air, bringing his wrath down onto the roof where his opponent stood. Before he could make contact with the floor however, it seemed the concrete hardened and reinforced itself with an electrifying concentration of cursed energy. Two of his four eyes glanced to the source, widening.

'That volume of cursed energy... and yet it doesn't feel as though he has any.'

(name) stood to the side, hands behind his back. His eyes were, once again, closed.

"Seven... Eight... Nine..."

Sukuna let out an exasperated growl, chest heaving with the excessive exertion.

"Should be time."

Instantaneously, all muscle control seemed to slip through the curse's fingers like sand through a sieve. Any attempt to grasp at motor function only served for it to escape him quicker.

'Damn it... Again? I can't take over. Who the hell is this... Itadori... brat?'

(name) peeled his eyes open, enamored as he recollected his cursed energy from the environment. He watched the malevolent aura of the King dwindle and dwindle until it was no more than a blot of the outline of Itadori's soul.

The teen's body slowly returned to normality, tattoos and nails regressing to that of the average human. The eyes on the side of his head closed into scars once again, "Oh, was everything okay?"

From the heart of the explosion, the remaining sorcerer sauntered back over the group. Gojo gave a lopsided smirk at the sight, looking over Itadori again with his Six Eyes. "I'm shocked. You really can control it!"

The pink-haired teen nodded, hitting at the side of his head with furrowed brows, "He's kind of annoying though, I can hear his voice."

(name) hummed, "That's to be expected when you're a vessel."

The other teacher expressed his own agreement, "It's a miracle that's all he's doing."

Just like the cursed object specialist had done earlier, when Gojo approached and outstretched his hand towards Yuji's face, the highschooler didn't pay any mind. This time however, when two fingers made contact with his forehead, something didn't quite feel right. With maybe a millisecond to register the strange sensation, his eyelids started to droop. Fighting to keep them open, he made a noise between alarm and discomfort, instantaneously confronted with the creeping, rapidly expanding feeling of his body turning to lead.

"What did you do?"

The youngest of the four crumbled, chin unceremoniously knocking on the sorcerer's sturdy shoulder.

"Knocked him out," he rearranged the Sendai student's body to drape across his back. "If he isn't possessed by Sukuna when he wakes up, he might have potential as a vessel. Now, Megumi, I have a question for you."

"..."

"What should we do with him?"

(name) grimaced, watching the uncomfortable bend of the teenager's spine over the curvature of the other man's back.

Like the responsible kid he was, Fushiguro ruminated on his thoughts before he made a final decision. It was almost as though his eyes reflected each and every one of the potential outcomes while his brain parsed through the best and worst what-if scenarios.

"Even if he is a vessel, Jujutsu regulations demand Itadori be executed."

The cursed object specialist hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath the entire time he observed the first-year. Whether out of interest or apathy, he couldn't tell. Still, he offered a small sigh.

"...However,"

(name) paused.

Fushiguro's eyes met Gojo's, piercing through him with a thousand-yard stare, intense and packed with conviction, "I don't want to let him die."

"..."

His teacher's lips peeled back into a coy smile, "Personal feeling?"

The young man nodded, completely resolute in his decision, "Yes. Please do something about this."

His teacher's smile only grew wider, a single hand reaching up to brush through his untamed white hair with a quiet snicker, "Now it's a request from a precious student... Leave it to me."

"Wait."

Teacher and student whipped around to the other man situated just a few feet away.

The man cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed that all attention was situated squarely on his shoulders.

"..."

"...Let me carry him, Satoru."

"..."

A breeze drifting by was seemingly swept up in the silence that wrapped up the destroyed rooftop like a blanket.

There was a snort.

Then Gojo broke out into laughter.

(name)'s cheeks sprouted a flustered pink hue, extending from the roots to fan the flame over his nose and cheekbones. "You're holding him like a sack of potatoes," He averted eye contact, looking towards the waning moon, "he's already going to be sore after being thrown around like a ragdoll, I thought I would at least spare him the unnecessary back pain."

The sorcerer, despite his blindfold, made the motion of wiping a fake tear from his eye as his boisterous laugh echoed into a near silent chuckle. He took another deep breath, resting his hand on his stomach, "Always so doting to students... I wonder where all that was when you were teaching me."

Fushiguro felt like he wanted to vomit.

'God, he's so fucking cringe.'

"But... the recap and current events don't line up."

The room was dark, its only challenger being the gentle light offered by a generous collective of candles haphazardly stationed around the gloomy chamber. While their burning wax dripped onto the dirty concrete floor, the flame dancing at the end of each wick revealed the hundreds--thousands--of sigils and talismans looming above. The pages, yellowed with age, acted like impromptu wallpaper. A few corners beginning to peel, a few ink-stained fingerprints on others, the imperfections in the calligraphy didn't stifle the atmosphere in the slightest. The energy seeping in from the unknown, shadowy corners of the room was suffocating.

“Hey, I did my best.”

Sitting with his front pressed against the back of a plain wooden chair, Gojo observed the teenager through his blindfold. His Six Eyes traced over the intricacies of newfound cursed energy, almost mesmerized by the twisting, turning, warping of the two souls manifested in his singular body. He rested his forearm against the back of his seat, “The execution’s still on, but I managed to get your sentence suspended.”

“Suspended?”

Itadori sat flat on the ground, leaning against the room’s singular pillar. Large, steel manacles weighed heavy on his wrists. The chains that bound his cuffs to the room’s far wall were thick like pythons. Wrapping around the pillar like a pair of constrictors, they criss-crossed over one another in an x before melding into their respective anchors.

“So you’re not killing me right away?”

Staring into Gojo’s blindfold felt weird and unnatural, but the teen didn’t really have any other options.

“Yup,” The man would be the one to break eye contact first, maneuvering to reach into his gakuran’s pocket, “I’ll explain it from the top.”

His slender hand returned with something that looked very familiar. He presented the object proudly, holding it up in front of Itadori’s expectant face. “This is the same as the cursed object you ate.”

Amber eyes raked over the grotesque appendage. Ugly, wrinkly purple skin scrunched around the knuckles in an uncanny manner that sent uncomfortable tingles down Yuji’s spine. The texture was only made worse by the lack of a clean cut, bits of flesh left hanging off the finger. Being this close to it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“There are twenty in total. We currently possess six.”

Looking at it was like watching an accident. It was deeply disturbing but it retained this all powerful magnetic quality that made it near impossible to look away.

“Twenty?”

Fighting his compulsion to stare, Itadori made eye contact with the sorcerer sitting in front of him, “Each finger and toe?”

Gojo’s smile only grew wider and more unsettling in the low light, “No, Sukuna has four arms.”

Without a heads up, the older man tossed the cursed object into the air. In the nanosecond it took the Sendai Student to glance at the sudden movement, an abundance of cursed energy crackled to life like electricity. It snapped like a whip, launching the finger in a cloud of smoke.

“...”

“...As you can see, we can’t destroy them. The curse is just that powerful.”

The boy’s jaw hung open like the fat koi fish in the pond he’d pass on the way home. Staring at the fresh crater in the previously unblemished wall of talisman, he failed to notice the teacher standing up from his seat.

Delicately plucking the curse from the steaming indentation he’d lovingly branded into the side of the room, he sauntered back over to his wooden chair. Completely relaxed, his airy lilt carried through the room, “The curse grows stronger every day, and the seals of modern-day jujutsu sorcerers just can’t keep up.”

Tucking the finger back into his pocket, he threw his leg over the wooden seat, “That’s where you come in.”

Finally closing his mouth, the teenager blinked at him.

“...Huh?”

“You see, when you die, the curse inside you dies as well.” Dramatically, the sorcerer slumped forward with a sigh, “Our elders are total cowards, you know? They’re demanding we kill you right away.”

“...”

Gojo pursed his lips, “But that would be a waste, wouldn’t it?”

Itadori cocked his head to the side, struggling to process the clusterfuck of information he had unceremoniously dumped onto his unsuspecting lap, “A waste?”

Resting the side of his face against his palm with an awkwardly cheerful ‘mhm!’, the white-haired stranger went on, “There’s no guarantee another vessel capable of handling Sukuna will ever be born again, so this is what I proposed,” he held up a pointer finger, waving it around to punctuate his statement, “If we’re going to kill you anyway�� why not kill you after you’ve absorbed ALL of Sukuna?”

“...”

Gojo crossed his arms over the back of his wooden perch, offering a non committal hum, “It took a lot of convincing, and Sensei had to pitch in, but eventually, the higher-ups agreed… so now you have two options before you.”

Staring into the blank darkness of the black blindfold, Itadori finally seemed to notice how dry the inside of his mouth was.

“You can either die right now…”

He swallowed.

“…or you can find all the parts of Sukuna and die after you’ve absorbed them.”

JAZMIN BEAN : FAVORITE TOY

☺︎ taglist:

@angelkazusstuff @ahoeindeedinneed @wutap @mysouleaten @ilovebattinson @satansdaughter123

masterlist ☓

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thenightlymirror · 1 year ago

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I, of course, knew about Quaker services from Six Feet Under, and I feel a little embarrassed that I work at a cemetery and I’m basically doing a Disney theme park ride for yuppie spiritual tourism a la prestige TV. But also my great grandfather was a Quaker, organized against the KKK in Wisconsin. I knew about Quakers from studying radical Protestantism in America and joining the American Friends Service Committee (mailing list) after 9/11. So, it wasn’t exactly that.

The Quaker service, or friends meeting as it’s called, has always been the ideal church service in my mind. Quakers are radical egalitarians. I said Sir a few times out of habit (I admit it’s a strange habit. I tend to answer objections to Sir with “I meant no respect.”) They sit silently together until moved by the spirit to speak. The point is to listen.

For me, I have lived here on the North Shore for a year, and learned there were Friends meetings almost immediately, but I’ve never attended because I’d rather get breakfast, I slept too late, or there is no God. That’s the case any given Sunday, to be fair.

But today I went. Mostly because I enjoyed officiating the wedding, and I feel like I would get into a fist fight with Unitarians. My friend woke up dead this week, either that or he killed himself, I don’t have the courage to ask. And I spent Friday night in the ER waiting room because I was suddenly woozy after work and almost fell down, had trouble walking. I stayed for two hours until there was almost a revolt from people who had been waiting four. So I just went home.

Today, I woke up early. Ate breakfast. Had a comfortable window to decide. And went.

I was met at the door and asked to wear a mask. I had one. Lois said she had never been to a service either, and it will be a bit strange and no one will talk, but they will talk after. I said I understood, and thanked her.

I was worried about the talking more than anything.

I’ve spent all month watching Hamas videos with admiration and wonder. They do in fact have that dog in them. When I was 17, and probably for the 13 years after that, I was a radical pacifist. In fact, I’d say it’s just how I’ve always been. A sub. A natural masochist who has loved the lion’s den, and yearned for it from a very young age.

I don’t know that I would describe myself as a pacifist anymore, but the rest remains true.

For me, I feel a calling to be the soul of the room I’m in. To be human and kind. To confront inhumanity directly in my daily life. Bloch’s warm stream of Marxism and whatever radical Quakerism I’ve imagined all my life are not too different. Again, in my mind.

I took a seat on the walnut pews arranged in a circle, democratic. There was a stack of pillow cushions that regulars took from. I sat and stared at the wooden ends of the two pews in front of me that formed my semi-circle, at a certain distance like a spark gap that reminded me of the Mercy Seat.

I was consistently meditating on this gap. That Quaker church is not too different from a room full of teenagers on their cellphones, friends on their laptops stoned on the hot couch, who don’t speak to each other for hours at a time. Quakerism is always two things. It’s the radical religion of Protestant and capitalist introversion. It is also love. It is the most profound and honest method to meet God where he is, in silence, but also in people. And that is the catch.

I can only imagine so many Larry David interactions between people who must be regulars here. Surely one service is profound, but what about this woman Carol who wants to take newcomers into the library. See, Badiou insists that every rupture is named. You have an event and then the truth is prescribed. But I don’t know about that. Every truth procedure is subject to entropy, so what I believe was revealed will be revealed in time as never the revelation itself. Duration, the fullness within silence, is the only substance. And that which is done out of love is necessary and right, always a kind of fumbling experiment but for that first grace. But that journey is the point regardless. The silence is only silence otherwise.

So, I am watching the warm sunlight on wood, but I am also among this “sack of potatoes”. These Protestants. God speaks to me frantically, sometimes kindly. “Various eyes,” he says. I think about how God’s body is a bit like mine. Hideous, astronomically huge, mostly war. Be kind to God’s body. This old thing. “This old thing?” With a question mark? This old thing?

An ambulance siren wails outside and we all listen long to its Doppler disappearance. Gaza is out there, and it’s besieged ambulances. Kindness, kindness. The light colder. I say a prayer for each person I am at war with. Kindness.

A young gay man with a considerable five o’clock shadow whips his arms out like he’s trying to break out of a straight jacket. He’s in a very different place than myself and shocks me out of my prayer to the same God, in which I only hear myself. I think about the God of Job, an edgy guy who creates sea monsters and plagues to amuse himself. What if God is a very chill handsome man with a five o’clock shadow, who isn’t thinking of anything in particular? Sometimes he sits and thinks, and sometimes he just sits, while I imagine infinite montages of suffering and light. His body is beautiful, slim, a little hairy.

I try not to sit too stiffly. Thats too pretentious for what this performance is supposed to be. I see a middle aged man who reads a book, cross-legged across from me. Not a care in the world. It’s just Sunday morning to him.

A woman stands. I should say that there is also some kind of Zoom feed witnessing all this silence at the same time. Elderly faces in prayer on a screen in the room. She stands, emotional, her voice quivering. “I want, I feel I have to remember, this saying from George Fox, that we have to walk this world with kindness and joy.”

And then she sits and then we sit for a little while more and break out into waving at each other from our pews. People shake hands. We go through the church introducing ourselves. A black couple who has been to a service before, but not here. A beautiful young woman named Kat. A gay man named Berkeley. Carol, who will be in the library stealing souls like a spider. Various invitations to potluck. Joy and kindness.

When Carol intercepts me at the entrance, I take it as a challenge and accept. When I get to library, Kat is there and when Carol tries to pin her down, she tells her she’s been a Quaker all her life, to say, please fuck off. I take this as a sign, a permission, a forgiveness. I’ll leave too.

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kayleighxking · 2 years ago

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✧.* { Abigail Cowen & she/her & female & 24 } is that KAYLEIGH KING hanging around town ? I wonder if they want to know what the future holds, as for right now, they are a COLLEGE STUDENT AT WHITMORE ? i’ve heard they can be pretty BLUNT. how typical for a UNTRIGGERED CRESCENT WEREWOLF. i guess they must rely on their LOYAL side shining through. rumor has it they’re trying to hide they are tracking down their parents killers, but that’s probably just noise…

Basic Information

Full Name: Kayleigh King

Nickname(s): Kay or lil King

Age: 24

Date of Birth: Feb 20

Hometown: New Orleans, LA

Current Location: McKinley, VA

Ethnicity: German, English, Scottish, Irish

Nationality: American

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Orientation: Heterosexual

Religion: N/A

Political Affiliation: N/A

Occupation: Student/Blogger

Living Arrangements: Room 9

Language(s) Spoken: English, French & Spanish

Physical Appearance

Face Claim: Abigail Cowen

Hair Colour: natural redhead

Eye Colour: blue

Height: 5’7”

Weight: 124 lbs

Build: Athletic

Kayleigh was born to Rachel and Josh King, she has one older brother - Greyson King.

When she was five years old her parents were murdered. Leaving her under the care of her brother as well as the crescent pack. Everyone was there to help Greyson out with everything. The entire pack became her family and for the most part she didn’t feel like she didn’t have a family or lacked any love.

Kay grew up being a rather timid child. When her parents were murdered it took three years for her to speak again as she went silent as she processed the fact that her parents were forever gone. She had a tough time adjusting to the real reality and though her brother did his best she kept feeling like something was missing and their murder never being solved never sat well with her.

When she was five and since she had decided to go mute she was bullied often. She did her best to keep it away from Greyson because she understood he was also dealing with grief his own way which usually meant getting his fists involved.

Then in one instance she was being shoved between two teenagers that were gloating and taunting Kay about how her parents deserved to die and Kay did her best to walk away but Greyson overhead the comments and engaged in the fight. Kay was held back by a third party and she watched her brother accidentally kill one.

Knowing that she was the reason as to why her brother triggered his gene is a weight she hasn’t carried well. Witnessing his transition gave her nightmares and made her not want to do the same.

She turned to writing and fell in love with it. Soon she started her own blog about the events happening in town as well as investigating cold cases. Wanting to see if she could ever connect the person that killed her parents and get answers she needed.

During this time Greyson fell in love — actual love and Kay couldn’t be prouder. At the same time she was had her concerns because when the two were good they were good — but their jealousy issues tended to cause her to worry. She kept these concerns to herself and helped them with their wedding plans till the curse came into play.

She found herself moving around so that she would be able to stay close to her family. When news broke that Greyson’s fiancé had been killed she did her best to be there for him and for the pack as it was not till Hayley came with the cure that they were able to break the curse.

When the Jack decided to move the pack to McKinley — Kay was hesitate. She was tired of moving around and starting over. Not that she placed blame on everyone. At the end of the day she is loyal to her pack and her brother so she packed her bags and left the place that was home.

Leaving was hard for her because she felt that she was giving up on finding who was behind her parents murders.

Though she has told Greyson that she has let it go, Kay keeps touch with the local PD over there and with her knowledge as a criminal justice major and internships with law enforcement she’s been digging even more. Especially now that she has more tools to her disposal. She is working up the courage to tell Greyson she was to become a detective.

#bio

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btswrckd · 4 years ago

Text

War of Hearts

Mafia Boss!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage with Kim Taehyung does not mean you have to be civil. Or make his life easy.

Warnings: mentions of violence, slight angst, mentions of weapons such as guns and knives, brief mention of smut, future smut

A/N: I wanted to post this as a one-shot, but naturally, I couldn’t condense it enough. There’s just too much that can’t be left out. But the good news is that I’m about 90% done with this fic and should be able to post it in maybe 3 parts. Enjoy guys!

Also, title is inspired by War of Hearts by Ruelle. Go listen to her music, it’s amazing!

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“You’re asking me to do what, now?” you hiss through clenched teeth, fingers curling into the underside of the armrest of the boarding room chair. How your idiot cousins managed to both purchase a rather nice building in the middle of the city, and run a legitimate business as a cover to their true nature, is a mystery to you. Yet here you are, ten seconds from launching yourself across the table to strangle either one of them.

“I don’t believe I stuttered,” Joongki is confident in the way he answers you and buttons his suit jacket. “And I didn’t ask you to do anything, I’m telling you what’s going to happen.”

Your eyes flicker to Jeonghan as he stands by his brother and nervously stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He catches your eye, licking his busted lip as you raise an eyebrow, as if waiting for him to confirm what Joongki just said. You watch his hand come up to rub at his sore jaw and get some satisfaction as he works his jawbone back and forth.

Joongki lets out a heavy sigh as his brother all but whimpers under your gaze. He was well aware of how much you’d fight their men in getting you to the building, but he wasn’t prepared for the strong swing of your fist, or the nearly deafening sound of said fist cracking his younger brother across the face.

“We’re all each other has,” Jeonghan finally pipes up after deducing that his jaw was not broken. “This is for your own safety, Y/N. I don’t like it any more than you do but there’s no other option.”

“I will not be thrown under lock and key just because you two have enemies.” You’re standing before either of them can argue. “I didn’t ask for this! For you two to be who you are and making my life more difficult than it already is!”

Joongki scratches at his brow when a mop of messily done up chestnut hair pops up over the cubicle wall separating her from the boarding room. He waves his secretary away with a slight twitch of his lips, watching the flushing of her cheeks and bobbing of her head before it disappears. He’s too busy smirking down at his feet to notice the way you swing around the chair. Or the way Jeonghan desperately reaches to stop you from storming out. What he does notice is the small ‘oomph’ leaving your mouth when you stumble into somebody, and suddenly he’s brought back to the importance of the situation.

You don’t expect to be stopped, you certainly don’t expect to be stopped by a firm chest and steadying hand on your hip. When you finally catch your bearings, you blink up at the man that had somehow walked into the room without making a sound. It’s with a heavy heart that you recognize this man despite having lost contact with him years ago. You were children when you’d last met so it takes you a minute to see him clearly, your eyes roving all over his face. Starting with what used to be his bouncy black locks that were now replaced with slicked down hair, to the never changing intensity of his dark brown eyes, down to the defined jaw that used to harbor a little bit of cute chub, and finally back up to his plush lips that split into a grin.

“You,” you breathe airily and your stunned reaction only makes his smile grow wider.

“You,” he mimics and tilts his head playfully, eyebrows raised high in mock surprise. “It’s nice to see you too, princess.”

“Mr. Kim,” Joongki reluctantly smiles while extending his hand to greet his rival, fingers tensing around the man’s answering hand. “Thank you for coming. I’m aware that my brother and I are asking a lot from you and that this situation isn’t exactly ideal for either party, but I just want to thank you for helping us out.”

“I never said this situation wasn’t ideal for me.” Kim Taehyung gave one final squeeze to Joongki’s hand before slipping it into the pocket of his pants. His other hand remains firm on your hip, the heat from his palm burning through the denim of your jeans and making your breath hitch. “I believe my father’s been hoping to merge our families for quite some time. I look at this as an opportunity rather than a ‘situation’.”

“Yes, well.” Joongki shifts uncomfortably on his feet. The Kim family had great influence over 90% of the city and before your grandfather’s passing, Mr. Kim had high hopes of taking two entities and making them one strong force. With your grandfather’s death came the need for new leadership and it fell heavily on Joongki’s shoulders. To say he’d snubbed the Kim family when it came to working together would be putting it lightly. “It seems your father will be getting exactly as he’s always wanted.”

Jeonghan thrusts an elbow to his older brother’s arm. He may not understand the magnitude of being a leader, but he knows when to play nice, and this moment called for practically kneeling down and kissing the Kim family’s feet. He looks to the way you stand stiff in Taehyung’s arms and the curling of your fingers against his suit vest. For a moment, he considers calling the entire thing off and convincing his brother to find another way to keep you safe. He opens his mouth to do just that when Taehyung speaks.

“I have every intention of keeping Y/N safe, be it from whoever is threatening you, my own family, or even you two.” Taehyung’s deep voice rumbles in his chest as his hand pulls you ever so slightly closer. “My father may have wanted this for some time, but believe me when I say that I’ve wanted it longer. Nothing and no one will hurt her, I promise you that.”

Jeonghan and Joongki share a concerned glance with each other before your voice breaks the silence.

“Kim Taehyung.” His name sounds foreign coming from your mouth. The last time you’d seen him you were being carted away by your parents at the age of 10. The sudden announcement of your family’s move left you waving to a chubby cheeked, teary eyed Taehyung as your father pulled away from your childhood home. They died not soon after and you were taken under the care of your grandfather along with Joongki and Jeonghan. But even after your grandfather reestablished a relationship with the Kim family, you hadn’t seen Taehyung again since that day.

“Princess,” he husks out, eyes dropping to your lips and thumb stroking your hip in soothing circles as if it were going to help any. Something dark is swirling in your eyes as you regard him, and he’s sure you don’t recognize it as lust but he does. He sees it fester and simmer before you blink it away and sneer up at him.

You cousins simultaneously wince as you draw back and take one quick strike to Taehyung, kneeing him in the groin with a huff before you stomp out of the room. When Taehyung slumps to the floor with a pain filled groan, Joongki feels a bit of sympathy for him. Your temper and raging need to fight against anything and everything to do with this life will be a daily struggle. Jeonghan coughs to hide his laugh as Taehyung’s right hand man looks torn between helping his boss, or chasing you down to make sure you don’t get too far. This will certainly be entertaining to watch.

------------------------------------------------------

“Let go of me!” you grunt out as Taehyung adjusts your frame on his shoulder. You’re kicking and pounding against his back with the hopes of getting free and escaping, but those hopes are dashed when he tosses you on the mattress of the master bedroom. You scramble back against the headboard as he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt and rolls up the sleeves. The frustrated roll of his shoulders and neck is undoubtedly sexy, but it also serves as a reminder that you aren’t meant to find him attractive. At all. As you curse yourself for even thinking as much, he’s snatching your ankles and dragging you down the bed.

Taehyung would never hurt you, he knows that you know that, but watching the small bit of fear flitting across your face has him smirking down at you. He plants both hands on either side of your head to cage you in, hips pressed to yours as you unconsciously widen them to accommodate his frame. “If you wanted to go out, princess, then you could have asked. Jungkookie and Jimin would gladly drive you wherever you want to go.”

“Even away from you?” You glare at him, panic washing over you when you feel the bed dip and he’s on his knees, the added weight pulling you closer to him. His arms slide forward until his nose grazes yours. He’s so close that he could kiss you and you think he’s going to until his nose skims down the length of your neck instead.

“There is no getting away from me, princess,” he whispers against your skin. “I’d think you’d know that by now. You’ve been trying to run from me for the last 6 months and it’s gotten you nowhere.”

You’d beg to differ, Being underneath him was surprisingly pleasant. The push of his hips against yours made you gasp and arch into his chest. You slam your eyes shut to get ahold of yourself, silently reciting your mantra of ‘I’m not a horny teenager, I’m a grown woman, and I am not attracted to my husband’.

Taehyung could smell the sweet scent of berries on your skin from that damn bottle of lotion you love so much. He didn’t think it was possible to be jealous of an inanimate object but he is. He’s also tempted to throw the stupid thing away and burn down every Bath and Body Works store so you can’t get another one. The image of your hands slathering the cream up and down your smooth legs makes him groan and push against you a little harder. He likes to think he isn’t some creep who forces himself on a girl, and if you weren’t so responsive, he wouldn’t even touch you without permission.

A lot of men in their line of work didn’t think consent was an issue, some of them even found the fight to be a turn on, and you’re grateful that Taehyung‘s not that kind of man. In fact, he’d said on several occasions that he wouldn’t come closer than necessary if you weren’t okay with it. He even went as far as sleeping in one of the many guest rooms in the house, dropping the one and only key to the master bedroom in your hand so only you had access to it. This went on for 2 months before you’d lashed out and tried sneaking off for a night out with friends. Naturally Taehyung had hunted you down and dragged you back to the house, lecturing you on the dangers of leaving without telling anyone where you’d be. The next morning his things had been moved into the room and he invaded every inch of your space every chance he got.

You didn’t want to admit that waking up to his face inches from yours was something you’d easily gotten used to, but then again you didn’t actually need to voice it out loud. Not when you’d woken up one morning to find your legs tangled with his, your arms tossed across his torso, and clinging to him like a koala. You had squeaked and fell out of bed in your haste to untangle yourself from him. He had woken up in fear that something happened, but chuckled when he saw you on the floor, blankets and sheets raveled around your legs. Embarrassed and flushed, you’d shot him a glare as he’d gotten out of bed and strode into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

After that, you had made it your daily mission to see just how far you could push him to his breaking point. Little things such as “accidentally” walking away from Jimin or Jungkook in a crowded area, or turning down a meal that Seokjin had prepared because you were “exhausted” even though you’d done nothing that day, and even taking the hand of Namjoon or Hoseok once or twice instead of Taehyung’s when moving through a room full of people. You could see Taehyung’s frustration boiling beneath the surface and kicked it up a notch by giving your undivided attention to Yoongi during dinner one night. Yoongi of course, knew what you were doing and would have been scared of the repercussions of flirting with you if Taehyung hadn’t trusted him so much.

Yoongi played along with your little show, allowing you to lean in a little too close when talking, whispering in your ear about how much trouble you’d be in if Taehyung snapped, and letting you “subtly” run your finger across his knuckles. He had used his napkin to hide his smile when Taehyung had sprung up from his seat, snatched your wrist, and dragged you to the master bedroom. He had cleaned up the table and clapped Jimin and Jungkook on the shoulders, advising them to use headphones or sleep in the car for the rest of the night.

Taehyung had watched you stumble into the room, descending on you quickly when you had turned to yell at him. Whatever you were going to say had died on your tongue as he backed you against the wall, gripping your chin and hissing something about the possibility of killing Yoongi. You, equally as pissed, began to rant and scream about having your freedom taken away and wanting to teach Taehyung a lesson for confusing your already fogged up brain by being a gentleman rather than the piss poor excuse of a man most gang members are.

Taehyung had the audacity to smirk, fucking smirk, before crashing his mouth to yours and tangling his hand in your hair. He had tugged at the strands until you gasped and he slipped his tongue in to push against yours. He felt your hands wrenching the fabric of his dress shirt but he didn’t give you room to breathe, instead pressing you against the wall further. At some point he had started toying with the button to your jeans, waiting for your refusal, and when you hadn’t slapped him away, he popped the button open.

You had gasped loudly at the feel of his fingers, the rough pads running up and down your slit, stopping to press and rub at your clit before he was sinking his fingers in knuckles deep. You didn’t remember much else except for the overwhelming pleasure and the raspy sound of Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung echoing around the room. Afterwards, he had avoided you like the plague until you’d finally managed to corner him in the kitchen one night. You’d been huffy, demanding an explanation for his absence. Not that you’d missed him, of course. He’d said that he didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable that night and that he was sorry for losing control, to which you had scoffed. You clarified that discomfort wasn’t what you had felt, you were an adult, and just as willing as he was, and to stop tiptoeing around you.

“Princess,” the bane of your existence growls out, bringing you back to the present. He chuckles, deep and rich, and sends goosebumps across your skin. “For someone who wants to get as far away from me as possible, you don’t seem to be willing to let me go.”

You look down at your hands curled into his shirt and immediately release your hold. It seems you were too caught up in your trip down memory lane to notice. You drop your hands from his chest and avert your eyes to the door where two sharp knocks catch his attention as well.

“Boss,” Namjoon’s voice drifts through the wood, “your phone’s been ringing like crazy. Your father is trying to reach you.”

Taehyung sighs in disappointment and shifts away, pressing against your core one last time and you squeeze your legs together as if to keep him in place. He recognizes the faint blush on your cheeks as embarrassment and places a soft kiss to your cheek. “Be a good girl and do as you’re told, princess. I know you get a kick out of raising Jungkook’s blood pressure, but raising mine in the process will leave you widowed sooner than you’d think.”

You feel as though you’re finally able to breathe now that he’s out of the room and put a hand to your racing chest. It wasn’t just his blood pressure that’s been spiking lately. You sit up and tuck your arms beneath your legs, resting your chin on your knees. You really thought you were close this time around. The memory of being giddy as you tore through the airport to catch the plane to literally anywhere but here, only to freeze in the middle of the terminal as Taehyung stood in your way with his hands casually tucked in his pockets and his army of men around him. You run your hands through your hair and tug at the roots in anger, cursing your cousins and the day they were born.

Outside, Taehyung tugs at the buttons of his dress shirt while pressing his phone to his ear. “Dad?”

“Either your security system has gone to shit,” Mr. Kim calmly scolds his son, “or there’s a rat in your home. I’m looking through your camera footage as we speak, and unless I’m officially going senile, the cameras look like they’re in some kind of loop.”

“What kind of loop?” Taehyung is already making his way to the security room with Namjoon in tow.

“A car speeds past your security gate, seemingly at the same exact time every day, same make and model every time too. That’s not a coincidence, son, handle it quickly before it gets out of control.”

“On it.” Taehyung throws open the door to the security room, startling the guys watching the live feed from the cameras. “Where’s Yoongi?”

“Behind you,” Yoongi’s voice makes his presence known, trailing in and sitting at his personal computer to go through the footage Taehyung is there to discuss. “Everyone out.”

The other two men scramble outside with break neck speed. If Yoongi and Taehyung are here then something only they know about is going on, and nobody wants to get caught in the middle of it unless necessary.

“What’s going on with our cameras?” Taehyung looks over Yoongi’s shoulder at the computer screen.

“Nothing,” Yoongi sighs, pressing play on the paused screen while a miniature box with his personal coding pops up in the corner. “I noticed the same gray Tahoe driving down our street every day for the last week, and at first I thought somebody tampered with the cameras, so I built a code to filter through the system and push out whatever was installed to make this look like it’s on a loop. When nothing changed, I did some maintenance on the camera’s themselves, and still nothing. Someone is timing it just right to fool us, because check this out.” Yoongi pulls up another screen, zooming in on the corner of the frame where another car is doing a surprisingly good job of hiding. “So I can’t see who exactly the driver is, but I do know that they wait in this exact spot until the clock hits 3 on the dot. When that happens, they make a call, and out comes the Tahoe. Every. Single. Time.”

“One of ours?” Taehyung’s referring to one of the guys they keep on the property for extra measure.

“No one here did it. I rifled through their phones, computers, whatever I could and nothing popped up.” Yoongi confirms and points to the screen. “About an hour after the Tahoe zips by the screen, the car in hiding pulls out and goes the opposite direction, also part of tricking the cameras so we think there’s a glitch.”

“And the license plate?” Namjoon chimes in from the seat beside Yoongi.

“Belongs to a little old lady on the other side of the world. Looking for a date, Joon? She likes to read the same books you do and she crochets.” Yoongi jokes, “personally, I’d like a new sweater for Christmas.”

“Find out who it is.” Taehyung doesn’t laugh, not exactly appreciating the joke, and storms out of the room, throwing the door open so wide that it smacks against the wall.

----------------------------------------------------

You don’t recognize your own reflection. The woman in the mirror with foundation caked on much too heavily, curled and mascara filled lashes, and lips painted in a color that was meant to seem natural, did not look a thing like you. You’re close to wiping your face clean when the door to the room swings open and Jeonghan strolls in like he owns the place. It occurs to you that he probably does.

“What?” you huff at him as he comes up behind you.

“I know you’re angry,” he whispers, sadness in his eyes as he meets your reflection. “But we promised grandpa that we’d take care of you. Too much is happening for us to not take precaution. Everyone knows how much you mean to us and if they get to you, we’d be devastated.”

“Then why can’t I go abroad?” you ask, turning to him with pleading eyes and he takes a step back. You see tears building in his eyes as he takes in your appearance. He’s proud, you realize, as a smile spreads across his face. He’s proud of you, proud of who you are as a person despite the kind of business your parents ran.

“You’re gorgeous, little cousin,” Jeonghan lets out a shaky exhale, unprepared for the whirlwind of emotions slamming into him. “Grandfather, our parents, everybody would have loved to be here. To see you---.”

“Signing my life away?” you don’t let him finish whatever he was going to say. You don’t want to hear it. There was a time when you believed your wedding day would be a celebration, not a life sentence. You look down to the white of your dress, the gown suddenly felt too constricting and you wanted nothing more than to rip it off. “I don’t want this, Joenghan, please don’t make me do this.”

“If this were anyone else, I’d whisk you away without argument.” Jeonghan looks away from your face to keep himself from ruining everything. “But this is Taehyung, Y/N. You used to be friends and you cared so much for each other. We’ve known the Kim family for so long now that this would have happened eventually, don’t you think?”

“I would have still liked to have the option!” You stand from the chair and stalk towards him. “My friendship with Taehyung ended when we were children. I don’t know who he is now or what he’s done to get this far, but I do know that anyone willing to go to this length to get what they want is not someone to be trusted.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Joongki steps into the room and looks to his brother to find relief crossing his face. “It seems I got here just in time, little brother, you look like you’re about to hurl.”

“She scares me,” Jeonghan admits while moving for the door. “Men with guns, knives, even the occasional psychopath I can handle, but Y/N? Nope, that’s asking too much.”

You glare at your cousin slipping outside before you can say more, and you turn to Joongki. “I’m not being dramatic, you jackass, I’m being logical. You guys have hovered over me my entire life, is it so wrong to want control over at least this part of it?”

“I don’t need to remind you that this is for your own safety.” Joongki’s tone is harsh, a complete contrast to Jeonghan, but harsh was something you could fight against. Harsh, you could throw back in his face. The gentle lull of Jeonghan’s voice, you couldn’t, and often found yourself feeling guilty for hurting him.

“I don’t need to remind you that even if my parents were still alive, this isn’t the life I would have chosen,” you spit back at your eldest cousin, watching his shoulders tense. “Even if grandfather were still alive, I would have fought tooth and nail against this just like I am now. What the hell, Joongki? Weren’t you the one that was opposed to merging the families in the first place? And what, because you and Jeonghan pissed off some people, I have to pay the consequences?”

“Powerful people, Y/N,” Joongki hisses at you, “powerful people that wouldn’t think twice about torturing you to get to us.”

“So then this is more about protecting yourselves than it is me?” Your chest rises and falls with the building anger, and he looks at you with so much fire in his eyes that you’re sure Joongki would strike you at any moment. “This is about not having to babysit me anymore and dumping me off on some poor sack whose life I’m about to make a living hell!”

“It was always about you!” Joongki roars, the volume making you drop your eyes to the ground as you had with your grandfather and father. They’d never hit you, never even so much as raised a hand to you, but they were able to correct your behavior with their voices alone. “We didn’t babysit you, Y/N, we took care of you. We are still taking care of you not because we think we’re obligated to, but because you are our baby cousin. The only family we have left and someone is threatening that, threatening you, and if you think that doesn’t haunt us every time you’re out of our sight, then you’re wrong. I’d do this for Jeonghan too if I had to, I’d even do it for myself, as long as all of us are safe and alive. You want to make a mess of Kim Taehyung? Go ahead, turn his life upside down if you want to, so long as you stay under their protection.”

“I don’t want protection, Joongki.” You look back at his face with a trembling lip. “I want freedom. I want to walk down the street without your men trailing me or the fear of looking back and finding that someone else is. This is your world, not mine. This was our parents world, it wasn’t ours until they were gone. They wanted more for us, Joongki, don’t you remember that?”

“I remember their broken and bloodied bodies when they crossed the wrong person. I remember their pale, lifeless faces in their caskets as you curled up in grandfather’s lap and fought your sleep for weeks afterwards. I remember the way you screamed every time you shut your eyes because all you could see was ‘the bad man with a gun’. I remember promising grandfather that I would do whatever it took to keep you and Jeonghan from suffering the same fate that our parents did.”

You turn away from him to peer out of the window, seeing the guests that consisted solely of friends and family on Taehyung’s side. Children ran across the yard, parents scolded them for dirtying their clothes, and as you glanced around you spotted Taehyung. He was standing with Jungkook, a man he kept close to his side out of trust, nodding along to whatever Jungkook was saying. There was no denying how handsome Taehyung was, or the way it sent shivers up your spine when a little girl ran to him and he scooped her up without hesitation. You didn’t know what the little girl was excited about, but you could guess it had to do with your soon to be husband with the way she looked at him with stars in her eyes. His eyes were warm when he looked at her, accepting the little flower she’d picked from the garden around the side of the house. He tucked it into the pocket of his suit jacket, right where his heart was, and patted it gently in promise to keep it on. He set her down and she ran off with a giggle and a blush across her cheeks. You were staring too long, you knew, because he felt it. Taehyung peered up at the window in time to catch you moving away.

“Y/N,” Joongki whispers to catch your attention. “Please don’t be stubborn about this. Taehyung’s family may run in the same circles as our parents, but they’ve always been kind to us. My refusal to bring the families closer didn’t stop them from keeping a relationship with us.”

“Maybe it’s out of pity.” You try one last time to get under his skin, but you know better than anyone that he’s tired. Tired and defeated and hanging on by a thread.

“Even if it was out of pity, that’s something we can use right now.” He comes up behind you, smoothing down the back of your hair and leaving a kiss to the top of your head. He presses his forehead to the spot he just kissed and sighs. “Mr. Kim could think the lowest of me and the mess I’ve made of our family’s reputation, and I’d still take his help if it meant I didn’t lose you or my brother.”

-------------------------------------------------

“You know, eventually,” Jimin sighs tiredly, trailing behind Taehyung as they walk into the house, “people are going to call the cops for kidnapping.”

“The cops aren’t stupid enough to go against our family,” Taehyung grunts out, the squirming and fidgeting nearly made him lose his grip more than once. It was admirable, at first, when you’d begun thrashing against him, believing you could truly break free. Now, it was a nuisance, and he promptly drops you on your ass in the middle of the living room.

“Asshole!” You seethe, jumping back to your feet and wincing at your sore bottom. You have no idea what set Taehyung off at the mall, but you’re pissed that he ruined the first outing you were actually excited about. One minute, you were browsing through your favorite section at the bookstore, and the next, he was dragging you out by the hand. In the car on the way over, he hadn’t spoken a word, refusing to explain himself, so you refused to get out of the car when Jungkook pulled into the driveway. Apparently, Taehyung wasn’t so mad that he couldn’t throw you over his shoulder and march into the house.

“Jesus, Taehyung, what the hell is your problem?!”

“Who was he?” Taehyung demands, shooing Jimin and Jungkook to the other room. He grits his teeth when Jungkook hesitates to move. ”Jeon Jungkook, did I or did I not tell you leave?”

“You’re pissed, Taehyung, and look like you could tear someone’s head off,” Jungkook fires right back and looks past his boss to you. You may not be afraid of Taehyung’s temper, but Jungkook is. He’s seen what Taehyung and his temper could do to things and people, and he’ll be damned if you end up hurt because of it.

“That head could be yours if you don’t get the hell out of my sight,” Taehyung snaps, “go!”

“Go, Kook,” you agree with Taehyung. You’ve never seen him go at Jungkook like this and it isn’t helping if Jungkook keeps defying Taehyung, so removing him from the situation seems like the logical answer at the moment. “It’s ok. Just go, please.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw and turns to leave with much reluctance. He’s out of sight but not out of ear shot when Jimin meets him halfway. “He’s going to hurt her, you and I both know that.”

“It’s not as serious as you think.” Jimins pats his shoulder, reassuring him that everything will be fine. “You know that someone’s been circling the house, and had Y/N not insisted on going out today, then Taehyung wouldn’t have been so on edge to start with. There’s too many people at the mall, too many entrances and exits, too many cracks to be slipped through, too many opportunities for someone to get at Y/N if they tried. Trust me, Jungkookie, this anger that you think Taehyung has is actually fear, okay? So leave them be to hash it out and we’ll go running in the second something seems off.”

Back in the living room, Taehyung is pacing, running a hand down his face, and seeming like he’s having trouble putting into words what exactly he’s upset about. When he finally stops, it’s simply to stalk towards you and stand toe to toe. “Why are there rules, princess, hm? Why do I tell you to stick to Jungkook and Jimin like glue when we’re out? Why do you think I stick to you like fucking glue when we’re out?”

“Oh, so it’s ‘princess’ now?” you scoff. “A minute ago, you wouldn’t say a damn thing, but now you’re asking me to recite some bogus ass rules like I’m in primary school. You don’t get to be pissed in this situation, Taehyung, not when I’m the one who’s getting zero explanation for your outburst.”

“I don’t need to explain myself,” he raises his voice, not quite yelling. “I need you to fucking listen when one of us tells you to do something. The guys aren’t here for decoration, Y/N, they’re here to keep you safe, but they can’t do that when you insist on being a brat.”

“I’m not a fucking brat!” you screech loud enough for half the world to hear. It’s actually surprising that Taehyung’s eardrum didn’t burst.

“Well, you’re not exactly a fucking saint,” Taehyung counters and it’s your turn to start pacing, your hands gripping onto the roots of your hair.

“Oh, my God,” you laugh humorlessly, “Oh, my God, oh my God, oh my fucking God, Kim Taehyung! You irritating, overbearing, senseless piece of---.” You don’t know what possesses you to swing your hand out, palm open, and try to slap his face.

He catches your wrist, sees the immediate regret in your eyes, yet still hauls you to the nearby wall. He presses you to the plastered surface, using his free hand to box you in so you can’t run away. Truthfully, he’d let go the second you ask, but a line has to be drawn. You have to, absolutely have to start listening to him and the other guys, otherwise something could go very, very wrong.

“Want to hit me, princess?” he hisses inches from your face as he leans in. “Want to get violent because you can’t do whatever you want anymore? That’s pretty ironic for someone who cried at the mere thought of being hit. I can barely raise my hand to you, but you can swing at me all you want, is that it? That’s not how it works, princess, I suggest you learn that real quick. Now you owe me something for trying to hit me. I let that shit go when you first kneed me in the balls, so it’s more like you owe me two, but I’m nice enough to collect on just one. Tell me who your little friend was in the bookstore.”

You’d like to think you’re not scared, yet it was evident what Taehyung was really capable of when pushed too far. He’s been patient with you, far too patient, and willingly plays along with whatever bullshit you pull for the day. It’s amazing he hasn’t broken your wrist for trying to slap him. Especially, when you know good and well that you wouldn’t hesitate to break his if the roles were reversed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There was no friend in the bookstore.”

“The guy, princess,” he hisses, momentarily tightening his grip. “The guy in the store that was happily chatting you up. Who was he?”

You wrack your brain for this person he’s talking about and it’s like a cartoon light bulb goes off above your head. “The man who was talking to me about the book in my hand?”

“Yes, that guy.”

“He’s not a friend,” you insist, glaring at your husband, “just some stranger trying to hit on me. Is that what this is about? Some random guy trying to get my number? Your jealousy is really unparalleled, Kim.”

“I wasn’t jealous. Even if I was, you wouldn’t be the one I’d take it out on.That ring on your finger is there for a reason, anyone who can’t respect it or the boundaries it represents won’t live to see the next day. I’m asking about this ‘random’ guy because I don’t think he was random at all, I think he approached you with a purpose.”

“Contrary to popular belief, not everyone is afraid of you, Taehyung.” You relax now that he’s calmer than before. The grip on your wrist was loose and he was drawing patterns on your skin with his thumb.

“No, princess, they’re not afraid of me in front of you because they have a hard time believing anyone as gorgeous as you would have anything to do with someone like me.” He slumps against your frame, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. “I shouldn’t have scared you like that. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you ask with shaky breaths. It wasn’t easy to hold him up and he wasn’t even putting his full weight on you. “Better yet, why didn’t you ask him right then and there?”

“Where do you think he is now, baby?” Taehyung opens his mouth against your neck, working the flesh between his teeth and using his tongue to soothe the sting before he bites down again. He feels your fingers grip his hair, to hold him in place or tug him away, he doesn’t know. He just knows that you haven’t recoiled from his touch yet.

Your head lulls back and your eyes shut on their own accord. Your hand also has a hard time listening to your brain as it reaches out to hook a finger in his belt loop and pull him closer. He obliges, using one knee to part your thighs and press against you. The sudden feel of his muscled thigh putting pressure against your clothed core makes you jump in his hold. When he flexes that muscle, you gasp and buck your hips. So he does it again, and again, and again until you’re riding his thigh, and he’s moving his mouth to the other unmarked side of your neck.

You choose an awfully slow pace for someone trying to get off. Taehyung’s done marking up the skin of your neck with deep shades of purple and can finally pull back a bit to admire you. He presses his forehead to yours as you let out a breathless moan and your face contorts with pleasure. You’re riding him slow, but with a purpose, he realizes, intent on enjoying every single push and pull of your hips. Both of your hands lock together at the nape of his neck and you whimper at your building orgasm. You don’t recall the coil in your belly winding as tight as it is right now with anyone else. No, only Taehyung can evoke this kind of reaction.

You know he can feel the wet patch growing on his pants and you’re thankful that he doesn’t comment on it. In fact, he’s rather quiet for someone who’d been scolding you just moments before. You don’t look at his face, not purposefully ignoring him, but completely mesmerized by the deep onyx color of his pants growing even deeper the wetter it gets. You clench around nothing, nearly sobbing at the empty feeling and rocking your hips just a little bit faster than before. You want more, you need more, you need, “your hand,” you gasp out to him. “I need your hand, Tae, please.”

“I can’t do that ,baby,” he groans at having to deny you, ready to shoot himself in the foot for being all too in control. “If I touch you, I won’t stop.”

“You did before.” You want to cry. You’re probably going to cry soon if you don’t get what you want.

“Barely, princess. I barely controlled myself last time. If I do it now, I’ll take you against this wall, and then every other surface of this house. You’re not ready for that yet. You can do this. Cum against me like this, baby, I know you can.”

You’re close, so fucking close but then...

“Hey, boss-- oh shit, sorry!” Seokjin’s shoes squeak against the tiled floor as he quickly spins around to face literally anywhere but you and Taehyung. “Uh, Namjoon and Hoseok need you for something.”

“What?” Taehyung growls out, watching your entire neck and face flush a deep shade of red out of embarrassment. “What could they possibly fucking need in this exact moment that you can’t handle, Seokjin?”

“Uh, th-they didn’t say,” Seokjin stammers, silently cursing Namjoon and Hoseok for sending him to get Taehyung instead of doing it themselves. Those little bastards had to have known Taehyung was busy. And you. Oh, the look on your face when you saw him hurt his heart. He knows how mortified you feel at having been caught. He can hear the rustling of clothes as you gather yourselves, the panting breaths of two frustrated adults doing adult things, and holy crap Seokjin wants nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “I can tell them you’re busy, if you need me to.”

“No!” you squeak, shoving Taehyung away harder than you meant to, and Seokjin jolts at the octave of your voice. “I mean, no. Tae’s not...Taehyung isn’t busy. I’m-- I have to be...anywhere that’s not here.”

Seokjin hears you run off, the patting of your shoes carries you across the house with speed he didn’t think anyone but an olympic track star had. He doesn’t want to turn around. He’d kill to not have to turn around.

“If this isn’t as urgent as they made it out to be,” Taehyung’s voice is steely, cruel as he approaches Seokjin, “then all 3 of you are getting tossed into the river, do you hear me?”

“Understood.” Seokjin holds his breath while Taehyung shoulders past him, ducking his head down and following close behind.

Yoongi is busy deleting all the footage from the past hour when Taehyung barges in. “I’m already on it, and no, I didn’t watch it. I’m not some greasy perv. None of the other guys were in here either. I kicked them out as soon as you had Jungkook and Jimin leave you two alone.”

“Right now, Yoongi, you and Jimin are the only ones safe from me.” Taehyung leaves feeling a little bit better knowing that you’d at least be spared from the entire house knowing what happened.

Seokjin stops in the doorway of the security room. “You little kiss ass.”

“Don’t get mad at me because I’m doing my job.” Yoongi smirks at him. “It’s not my fault Namjoon and Hobi threw you under the bus.”

“So they did know!” Seokjin has half a mind to pummel the both of them.

“Oh, they knew. Namjoon was actually on his way to the living room when Jimin and Jungkook stopped him.”

“I’ll kill them,” Seokjin swears, “I’ll kill all of them.”

“Seokjin, get your ass over here now!” Taehyung’s voice booms, making Seokjin jump and scurry in his direction.

Namjoon and Hoseok are in the garage, standing a few feet away from the poor bastard tied to a chair. When Taehyung had called them earlier to pick up the guy talking to you at the bookstore, they didn’t imagine he’d look like an average Joe. Guys in the mafia tend to dress nice, carry themselves a certain way, even walk and talk a certain way. But this guy. This guy looks like he could be an accountant or a librarian.

“Man, this is going to really suck if he’s not working for anyone,” Hoseok comments, almost feeling guilty. “He really could be just some guy who saw a pretty girl and tried to get her number.”

“I’d agree if he wasn’t carrying Cecil’s business card.” Namjoon hands the man’s wallet to Hoseok.

“It must be nice to have such a big ego that you’d make professional hitman cards and label them as ‘business’.” Hoseok rifles through the wallet, pulling out credit cards, debit cards, cash, a few photos, until he finally finds a little white paper with Cecil’s number scrawled across it. “I’d hardly call this a business card.”

“Hobi, focus,” Namjoon reminds him, tilting his head in the man’s direction.

“Alright.” Hoseok approaches the man and bends to his sitting height, producing an I.D. card. “Sunho. How do you know Y/N?”

“Who?” Sunho whimpers, blood seeping from his busted lip. “I-I don’t even know who that is.”

“Seemed pretty chummy with her in the bookstore this afternoon.”

“That girl?” Sunho is quick to shake his head. “I just thought she was really cute, that’s all. I didn’t know she was married.”

“Ok, then how do you know Cecil?” Hoseok moves on to the next question without missing a beat.

“I don’t, I swear!”

“Why else would you have his card?” Namjoon asks as the garage door swings open, a very pissed looking Taehyung strolling in a second later. He whistles low and grips the back of Hoseok’s shirt to haul him out of Taehyung’s path.

“Oh, hey, Seokjin.” Hoseok shoots him a teasing smile. “I see you were able to get Taehyung’s attention.”

“I swear to God, I will fuck you up right here and now, Hobi.” Seokjin glares at the younger man before turning his attention to Taehyung and Sunho.

“Sunho,” Taehyung sighs, rolling his neck and shoulders. “I was very, very fucking busy inside my home and I was interrupted before anything productive got done.” He shoots forward and braces his hands on the arms of the chair Sunho is tied to. “So you see, I’m not in the mood for playing games. I’m going to explain to you how this works very carefully. Ready?”

Sunho manages a pathetic nod and Taehyung stands straight while undoing the buttons of his shirt sleeves and rolls them up his forearms. He swallows the saliva gathered on his tongue, panic washing over him when Taehyung produces a crowbar from the workbench he’s only now seeing.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” Taehyung explains, pointing one end of the crowbar at Sunho. “If you answer me honestly, I’ll let you go. Pay for the hospital bill that’s sure to wrack up given what these two have done to you,” he pauses to point at Namjoon and Hoseok, “and set you up for life as an apology. Sound fair?” He doesn’t wait for Sunho’s reply before continuing. “But if you lie to me, this crowbar will be the least of your worries, definitely one of the less painful weapons in our arson. Now tell me, how do you know Cecil?”

Sunho’s face is covered in tears by the time Taehyung is finished talking. His body shakes with how hard he sobs. “He ap-approached me last month, p-paid me $3,000 to drive a gray Tahoe down whatever street his guys called from. I didn’t think anything of it, until it got really weird. I noticed they’d only call me once a day at 2 or 2:30, tell me to wait at the end of your block until it hit 3 on the hour and then drive past the gate. They gave me your wife’s picture and told me to keep an eye out for her. When I realized they were stalking her, I thought I should warn her.”

“So you followed us to the mall?” Taehyung asks, crouching down to look Sunho in the eye. He uses the end of the crowbar to lift Sunho’s chin up. “What did you say to her?”

“I didn’t know what I could say,” Sunho sobs harder. “I mean, I-I was helping them stalk her. She’d think I was crazy if I just came right out and said it. So, I just walked up and asked her about the book she had. I didn’t know what the fucking title was, I just knew she had to be warned. I didn’t get that far before you came up and took her away.”

“Did Cecil tell you what he wanted with her?”

“No. Just to drive the car and watch out for her.”

Taehyung looks back to Hoseok, taking the picture from his outstretched hand. He observes the photo quietly. “These your kids, Sunho?”

“Yes.” Sunho’s bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t hurt them! Please! They’re just kids to a shitty father drowning in debt. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Did Cecil threaten them?” Seokjin comes up behind Taehyung, scanning the faces of two kids that couldn’t more than 8 and 10 years old.

“He said I could either take the job willingly,” Sunho cries, snot and tears mixing together at his top lip, “or I could watch him torture my kids until I accept it.”

“Where are they now?”

“Their grandparents’ house. Their mother died 3 years ago, it’s just me and them. I gave them to their grandmother the same day Cecil came to me.”

“Why you?” Hoseok wonders aloud. “There’s professionals out there to get jobs like this done. Hell, even Cecil’s guys, as dumb as they are, could do a better job than you did. Their morality wouldn’t get in the way either, that’s for sure. So what makes you so special for a job like this?”

“My kids’ mother.” Sunho releases a fresh round of tears. “She was a girl he’d taken care of in her teenage years when she was a waitress at some dingy dive bar. There was an accident 3 years ago. A head on collision with a drunk driver. Cecil hates that I survived but she didn’t. This is his way of getting back at me, I guess.”

Taehyung stands, makes his way to the workbench, and drops the crowbar on it. He braces his hands against the bench as Namjoon steps up next to him. “Yoongi?”

“Pulled up hospital records, a death certificate, and foreclosure notices on the house,” Namjoon confirms Sunho’s story. “It all checks out.”

“Get the kids, take Sunho, and get them as far away from here as possible. We’ll clean up his debt and set him up with enough to get himself started again.” Taehyung nods at Namjoon, but stops him before he gets too far away. “You make sure he understands that he needs to get his shit together. And to call us if anything happens, we’ll move his family again if we have to. Go.”

Namjoon gestures Hoseok to follow his lead, untying Sunho and ushering him into one of the many SUVs in the garage. He slides into the driver’s seat as Hoseok jumps into the passenger side, and he backs out of the garage to start his orders.

“Think Cecil would know we’d look into Sunho and set up fake accounts?” Seokjin asks Taehyung, following him on their way out of the garage.

“Yoongi will catch it if anything is fake.” Taehyung undoes the top three buttons on his dress shirt. It’s late, he’s exhausted, and he just wants to climb into bed next to you as soon as possible.

“Do you think Cecil’s after Y/N herself, or just trying to get to the Seong brothers?”

“We’ll be finding out soon.” Taehyung claps Seokjin on the shoulder before going his separate way. “And yes, Seokjin, it was important, so you can sleep peacefully knowing that you get to see tomorrow.”

You’re sitting cross-legged in the middle of the king size bed, crossword book out, and pencil scribbling across the empty spaces, when Taehyung comes back into the room. You want to say something, want to talk about what happened, but it wasn’t the first time the two of you had gotten a little too carried away. Well, more so you than him earlier when you’d begged for his touch, and then Seokjin had walked in. You’ve never, in your entire life, been more humiliated and turned on at the same time, and some part of your brain insists that it really wouldn’t have been bad if Seokjin hadn’t interrupted. You certainly wouldn’t have had to take a cold shower, that’s for sure.

“You’re still up,” Taehyung comments softly as if he hadn’t seen the light peeking out from underneath the door. He’d dismissed Jungkook before opening the door, expecting you to have simply fallen asleep while reading as usual. He’s unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it from his shoulders when his ears pick up the rustling of bedsheets.

His back muscles flex with each move and you bite down on your tongue for composure. “You didn’t apologize to Kook for snapping at him earlier.”

“Jungkook understands that when he’s told to do something, he does it. If he wants to fight back against his orders and be a rebel, then he’s going to be treated as such.” Taehyung unclasps the watch on his wrist, setting it down on the dresser. “If sometimes I go too far, they don’t expect an apology.”

“Because you don’t know how to give one?” Your tone is sarcastic and it makes him smile even though you can’t see his face. “Or you just don’t want to?”

“Because I don’t need to.” His hands reach for his belt, unbuckling the leather band and sliding it out from the loops of his pants. “We’ve been a tight group for a long time, but I’m still their boss and sometimes I need to be more strict than usual. The fact that Jungkook hasn’t been strung up by his feet and left to bleed out for arguing with me earlier says a lot already.”

“I know,” you answer immediately, having seen that very scenario dozens of times before either by accident or because your grandfather wanted to remind you and your cousins of what happens to people that can no longer be trusted. “This is the only time Jungkook’s gone against you, Taehyung, you know that.”

Taehyung whirls around to face you, understanding and patience written all over his face. “I need to make sure that it stays the only time he’ll go against me. The only reason he isn’t dead now is because it was on your behalf, which is his job. Yes, it’s unfair of me to be pissed at him for doing exactly what he’s supposed to, but when you’re with me there’s nothing to be afraid of and he needs to understand that.”

“Something in you scared him today,” you argue as he turns back to the dresser, pulling out a pair of sweats and plain gray t-shirt. “Something in you scared me. It’s like a switch went off inside of your head and you became an entirely different person.”

“I am who I need to be when the situation calls for it.” Taehyung steps up to the bed and braces one arm on the mattress as he leans closer, touching his forehead to yours. “I didn’t mean to scare you, princess, that’s my fault and I’m sorry. I want to say you’ll never have to see it again, but you know as well as I do that it would be a lie. What I can tell you is that it won’t always happen, I swear that to you. Right now, with whatever Joongki and Jeonghan have going on, and the spike in threats against your family, the boys and I are on edge more than normal.” He cups your face with his other hand after dropping his spare clothes to the bed. “It won’t always be this way.”

You don’t know what you’ve done in your past life to have fallen into the Kim family, or what you did to deserve one of the rarer, kinder mafia bosses that is Kim Taehyung. You’ve come to realize that you don’t hate Taehyung or any of the boys, but you hate the circumstances behind your being in his home. You’ve always detested this life and after your grandfather’s death, you vowed to get away from it. You didn’t take into account how quick Joongki would jump to throw you under lock and key, only ever gifting the small amount of freedom that came with having to attend your full time job.

Taehyung hadn’t expected your kiss, the soft press of your lips against his and the touch of your fingers wrapping around his wrist has goosebumps rising on his skin. You don’t kiss him often, only when you’re out at a charity event or at dinner with his parents, and even then it’s a small peck to keep up appearances. You push your tongue against his and he groans, slipping his fingers into your hair and stepping back as you rise up to your knees. The soft pads of your fingers trace up the path of his jawline until they tangle in his soft black locks, and then you’re tugging on the strands to tip his head back.

His other hand is at your hip, thumb slipping beneath the hem of your pajama shirt to rub circles in your skin. He doesn’t know what brought on this sudden affection, but he isn’t complaining. Your fingers card through his hair, one hand tracing down the broad plain of his chest and bare skin burning the tips of your fingers as they reach the waistband of his pants. He hisses out a small ‘fuck’ against your mouth when your hand slips into his boxers, toying with the length of him. Holy shit, he’s huge, and you moan into another kiss as you have a hard time wrapping your fingers around his cock. He’s thick and long, you note, using the tips of your nails to gently trace the veins running along his shaft. Precum pools at the tip and you circle your thumb around him to gather enough of it before pumping your hand down, then back up, and then back down again.

“What are you doing, princess?” Taehyung nearly chokes on the words as he pulls away from the kiss. You’ve built up a steady rhythm and he’s very near collapsing to his knees if you keep this up. He grits his teeth as the hand in his hair dives into his boxers to join the other, pumping along his cock in tandem. His fingers tighten in your hair, twisting the locks at the base of your neck and you gasp gently at the feeling.

“Earlier, in the living room,” you whisper against his lips, “I was so close to coming against your thigh, but then Seokjin walked in.”

“To be fair,” he growls out and bucks his hips against your hands, “I threatened to kill him for it, so---.” He does choke this time as you squeeze him just a little harder.

“You know what happened when I came back to the room, Tae?” You give him a sweet smile, but you know he can see the devious intentions behind it. “I got stuck having to take a cold shower. I’d blame Jin, but you’re the one who started it, aren’t you?”

“Baby,” he groans, “please don’t---.”

You’re pulling back, taking your hands with you, and falling back onto the mattress before he can finish his plea. You bounce slightly against the bed as you giggle at the death glare he gives you, his chest is heaving and a thin sheen of sweat coats his brow. “Not so fun when it’s you, is it, Tae?”

Taehyung heaves out a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. I take responsibility for leaving you the way I did.” He snatches your ankles, chuckling at the yelp that leaves you, and drags you down the bed. He spreads your thighs to make room for his hips and rocks against you. The thin material of your pajama pants does nothing to shield the feeling of his hard on pushing against your clothed core. You still feel every inch of him and your mouth drops open as he grinds his hips. “But what you call punishment, I call a reward, princess.”

He’s gone in the blink of an eye, his laugh echoing from the bathroom, and you bolt up to hurl a pillow at the door. Why is he so much better at this than you are?!

---------------------------------------------

Taehyung’s home is gorgeous. Well, you suppose it’s your home now too, but the fact that you’re about to be thrown into a house full of strange men and monitored 24 hours a day, doesn’t take away from its beauty. You thought the security gates were a little much when Jungkook first drove through them, yet it’s clear now why they’re necessary. A two story estate looms over you as Jungkook opens the SUV door so you can climb out.

“Welcome home, princess.” Taehyung stands in the middle of the foyer, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress pants. He’d had every intention of being with you in that SUV after the reception, but his father had hauled him away for some ‘unfinished business’ with the Ahn family.

“More like a prison,” you mutter while Jungkook takes the backpack hanging from your shoulder. He hoists it over his own and grabs the handle of your rolling suitcase, waiting to see what your next move is. “The word ‘home’ doesn’t exactly come to mind, Kim.”

Taehyung hums, crossing the foyer in quick strides before he’s gripping your chin and pulling you so close that you stand on the tips of your toes. He feels the clenching of your jaw against his fingers and briefly worries that you’ll end up chipping a tooth with how hard you grind your teeth together. “Call it what you want, Y/N, but this is where you’ll be for a very long time. I suggest you get used to it.”

“Boss.” Jungkook clears his throat, eyes darting to the strong grip Taehyung has on your face before they’re matching his gaze. The slight tilting of his head serves as a warning and Taehyung nods in recognition before releasing his hold. When Jungkook had first been told that he would be your personal guard from now on, he vowed to do his best, even if it meant going against Taehyung from time to time.

You sneer at Taehyung when he smiles at Jungkook. Whatever passes between them in the look they share is unclear, and it bothers you. If Taehyung’s rough handling was meant to scare you, and Jungkook’s swift response to it was meant to deter that fear, then they were both failing. Miserably. It’s not that you’re afraid of Taehyung, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s how quick he can be at changing his entire persona in a matter of seconds.

Jungkook puts his free hand on the small of your back to guide you forward, leaving the foyer and entering the living room. He watches you scan the surroundings, gaze lingering a little too long on the loose objects Taehyung has chosen to decorate with. He makes a mental note to have those removed for the time being until you’re settled in enough to not try and kill Taehyung. It’s understandable that you’re frustrated, and angry, and hurt, but it’s also easy for those feelings to boil over and turn into something disastrous. He leads you through the room to the adjoining dining room, then the kitchen, and finally stopping at a door.

“It’s your room,” he explains as he opens the door and shuffles inside the much too big room meant for you. It’s bigger than the entirety of your last two apartments combined. He sets your backpack on the bed before rolling your suitcase over to the dresser in the corner of the room. Leaving the suitcase be for you to unpack at your leisure, he moves for the bathroom that you didn’t even notice was there at first. He comes out soon after and pulls open the doors to the walk-in closet, scanning it from top to bottom.

He’s checking for anything out of place, you realize, as Jungkook seems satisfied enough to make his way back to you. He isn’t anything like you imagined Taehyung’s men would be, the first couple of encounters with him should have been enough to tell you that. You had just been so adamant in hating this part of it to realize that Jungkook would most likely end up being your only friend. Your actual friends weren’t invited to the wedding out of fear of who may have been there. Exposing them to this life was never an option and you’d been doing a damn fine job of it since high school. Until Jeonghan had spilled the beans about your upcoming nuptials and the girls became giddy. Their faces had dropped when you lied that only a handful of people could attend, and they weren’t on the guest list. It took weeks of groveling for them to finally cave and forgive you.

“Y/N?” Jungkook’s voice snaps you from your thoughts. He quirks a brow when you shake your head in apology. “Are you alright?”

“I was just thinking,” you say, letting your eyes float around the room once more. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“Of course.”

“Not just for checking the room,” you clarify, “but for not making me feel so out of place. I really appreciate it.”

“Jungkookie’s always been good at making people comfortable,” a voice has you spinning around quickly, a hand pressed to your racing heart. The owner of the voice beams like he’s just won the lottery, clearly amused at successfully scaring you. “Y/N. I’m Park Jimin. I’ll be accompanying you and Jungkook every time we leave the grounds.”

“Right,” you heave. Catching your breath seems to be a new level of difficulty for some reason. Well, there was one reason, actually.

Taehyung had been right behind you and Jungkook the entire time. Quietly observing you and the reaction you’d have to the house. He’d also been leaning against the doorjamb while Jungkook combed through the room. Which means he’d also heard your gratitude for the younger man and you pale at the thought of what might happen to Jungkook now. Not all bosses like when their wives become chummy with other men, especially if it’s a man they trust, and you fear you may have gotten Jungkook in trouble.

“Do you think of Jungkookie as comfortable, princess?” Taehyung pins you with a stare that you can’t quite decipher. He sees the look of panic in your eyes as you struggle for words. When you open your mouth to answer, he cuts you off with a stern, “Don’t. Lie. To me.”

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly, clenching your hands into fists. Fear runs down your spine when Taehyung pushes away from the door and draws near. You flinch when his hand reaches out, your body going stiff to brace for the sting of his palm against your cheek. But he doesn’t hit you, his hand frozen mid-air at your reaction. It’s when you feel the slight tug on a single strand of hair that you realize he’d meant to pet your head. You meet his eyes with tears welling in your own, chest rising and falling with short, rapid breaths.

“I’d never hurt you, Y/N,” Taehyung whispers, reaching out once more to graze the backs of his fingers against your cheek. The wet heat of a single tear sliding down your face catches on his knuckles and he grits his teeth. “Has anyone ever hit you before?”

Jungkook and Jimin immediately come closer to hear your answer. If anyone had ever laid a hand on you, they wouldn’t wait for Taehyung’s order to find and kill whoever it was. You aren’t just the boss’ wife, you’re theirs to protect now, and they intend on doing just that.

“No.” You turn away from Taehyung’s touch, drawing back to both create some much needed space, and to reel in the flood of emotions you didn’t expect to feel. Being a leader in a crime syndicate meant being vicious and violent, even to your own family if it proved a point. Taehyung was neither of those things, a heavy reminder of how gentle your father and grandfather would be with any woman or girl important to them. “No one’s ever...it’s just something I’ve seen many times before, is all.”

“To someone important?”

“To people who were people and deserved to be treated as such. Not like the punching bags they became because their boss couldn’t push aside his pride or ego.” You take another step back only to bump into Jungkook’s chest. Damn it. Too many people surround you, too many are witness to how easily you can crumble, and you want them out. You want room to breathe and catch your bearings. You also want the privacy to unpack your stuff.

“Out,” Taehyung demands from Jungkook and Jimin, neither men hesitate to do as they’ve been told. He moves for the door right after them, hesitating with his hand on the knob. Looking back over his shoulder, he sees you pulling a laptop from your backpack, along with a few romance novels and a jumbo book of crossword puzzles.

“Jimin isn’t the only one of the members you’ll be meeting today,” the softness of Taehyung’s voice makes your chest tight as you look up at him. “There’s 3 others roaming around here somewhere and another that’s away on an assignment, but he’ll be back soon.”

You nod your understanding, picking up a book to occupy your hands to keep your fingers from picking at the cuticles of your nails. It was something you’d always done when you got nervous, a bad habit that needed to be gotten rid of.

“I don’t want to do this to you, princess,” he states it like an apology as you draw your brows together in confusion, “but I’m going to take your laptop and phone.”

“Why?” One hand immediately falls to the computer he’s stepping back into the room for. You almost wrestle it away when his long fingers swipe it from the bed. “It’s important, Taehyung. I use it to edit my friend’s photos. She’s a photographer and I help her clean them up when she needs it.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” He grips the computer closer to his side and holds his palm out. “You’ll get it back soon, I promise. I need your phone.”

“What if Joongki and Jeonghan call?” you scoff, because of fucking course Taehyung knows what you do in your spare time. “They’ll get worried if I don’t answer.”

“That’s a pretty weak excuse given how you tore into them after the reception. I might not have left with you, but I heard all about the way you swore you wouldn’t be speaking to your cousins anytime soon.”

“My friends will think I’m dead if I don’t answer their texts.”

“Your friends,” Taehyung steps closer and leans in, hovering inches away from your lips, “know that you got married today. They know that you’ll be occupied with your new husband. I can bet they’re wondering what you’re doing right this second, but can’t bring themselves to ask lest they interrupt what may be going on.”

Your back hits a wall you hadn’t realized he’d been backing you into. He’s not close enough to touch, yet that’s exactly what you want to do and find yourself pressing the book in your hand to his chest instead.

“I bet they’re wondering if you’re enjoying yourself,” he continues, pressing his forehead against yours. The back of your head thumps against the wall gently with the pressure as he uses it to keep your eyes on him. “They’re wondering if your new groom satisfies you enough, princess. If he’s kissing you like you deserve to be, touching you in all the right places,” his free hand clamps onto your waist, thumb dipping beneath the hem of your shirt to feel your skin, “if he’s able to hit that right spot inside of you over, and over, and over.”

Your breath hitches when his hand slides higher beneath the t-shirt you’d stupidly changed into before coming to the house. His fingers are hot against your skin as they’re splayed along your ribcage.

“I can do all of that for you if you’ll let me, princess,” Taehyung growls without meaning to. He’d only meant to distract you enough to take your phone. However, he’d somehow managed to arouse both himself and you with the way you clench your thighs together. Still, even knowing how turned on you are, he doesn’t press any closer than he already is. His hand doesn’t move any further up your torso though his thumb still rubs smooth circles on your skin. “I can make you feel so good, you’d forget your own name.”

You inhale sharply. You know he can and that he’d be the best you ever had. But giving in now, on your very first hour inside the new house, would be grounds for Taehyung to think you’re actually on board with this whole thing. So you do what you do best, argue. “You really think so highly of yourself, huh, Kim? I’m pretty sure I’ve had better.”

“Don’t push buttons when you don’t understand the consequences,” he whispers darkly, “or throw out empty challenges like that. I might be inclined to take them if you keep it up.”

You open your mouth to fight back, but a yelp comes out instead when his hand rips itself from underneath your shirt and is swiping the phone from your back pocket quickly. You aren’t prepared for him to reel back soon after, nearly losing your balance without him there to hold you up. “Taehyung, what the hell?!”

Taehyung smirks in victory, the phone and laptop in his hands, before he turns around and saunters to the door. “Disappointed, baby? All you have to do is ask and I’ll fuck you any way you want.”

Jungkook and Jimin are standing just outside, backs pressed to the opposite wall, and they both jump when the sound of glass shattering against wood follows Taehyung closing the door behind him. Jungkook wants to check on you, but the satisfied look on Taehyung’s face lets him know that you meant to break whatever had hit the door. “Uh, boss?”

Taehyung hands the laptop and phone to Jimin, who was looking at him with raised brows. “Give these to Yoongi, tell him to go through them, delete anything that can be used to track either device, and have him install the tracking app he created in her phone. I want us, and only us, to be able to access the app. If, for whatever reason, Yoongi feels like someone outside of the seven of us should be able to tap into it, I want to know who and why first. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Jimin disappears with the phone and computer, leaving behind a chuckle that has Jungkook rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and Kook,” Taehyung claps Jungkook on the shoulder with a mischievous grin, “buy Y/N a new perfume bottle. She seems to have broken her last one.”

#kim taehyung fic #kim taehyung smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts mafia smut #kim taehyung mafia smut

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theraspberryler · 3 years ago

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Slime Primers

Another fic done! I actually really like how this one turned out, I am unbelievably soft for this pair. Based on this prompt here!

Summary: Tommy is stubborn and won’t admit that he may be in a mood, but Charlie is a teasy bastard and decides to put an end to it.

~This is a tickle fic! If that’s not your jam then please move on!~

TW - none I don’t think, let me know if I need to add any

The Tommyinnit was absolutely not in a lee mood. You’d have to be crazy to think that a big man such as him could even get lee moods. In fact, he was so not in a lee mood that Charlie’s teasing looks and wiggling fingers weren’t even affecting him in the slightest.

Totally.

Tommy huffed and looked away from the other’s stupid grinning face and dumb wiggling fingers, turning his attention back to the ores he was smelting. Now, usually a task as simple as smelting ores wouldn’t really require much attention or effort, but Tommy had a rather complex system of eight different furnaces lined up, and he was constantly going to each separate furnace and collecting the one or two smelted iron ingots from them, crafting them into blocks, and then carefully arranging them in the double chest sitting next to his furnaces.

When Wilbur walked by and asked him what the hell he was doing, Tommy had replied in a very usual Tommyinnit fashion that he was working on a craft of true expertise and precision, and that it was, in fact, very important. He immediately glared daggers at Charlie, sat on the other side of the room, who snickered in response to Tommy’s explanation.

Because what Tommy was refusing to admit, was that early on in the day, Charlie seemed to almost instantly catch onto his (not!) mood, and took it upon himself to be the most teasy, annoying little shit he could, and Tommy was finding anything and everything to distract himself from the butterflies he felt in his tummy whenever he saw Charlie’s wiggling fingers, or heard his teasing remarks.

Tommy knew that he was just making this more difficult on himself; Charlie knew him well, and had witnessed Tommy in multiple lee moods before. He knew exactly what got to him, and practically had every spot and reaction to every little thing memorized. But Tommy was proud, dammit, and he wasn’t going to make Charlie’s job that easy! (Well, that, and Tommy may have enjoyed the way Charlie has always been the best at getting the best reactions out of him, and wanted to prolong the fun.) He was gonna have to try harder if he wanted to break The Tommyinnit!

So, there they were, Tommy fussing around the furnaces desperately trying to fight down his embarrassed flush, and Charlie lounging around on one of the chairs in the room, immensely amused by every little squeak Tommy let out when the boy foolishly spared a glance over his shoulder at the other.

But, Charlie did have to admit, he was pretty surprised by how long Tommy had managed to keep this up. He was poking fun at and teasing the boy for the better part of the last two or so hours, and while Tommy did look like a blushy, embarrassed mess, he still hadn’t cracked.

Though Tommy had been holding out well so far, Charlie was always up for a challenge. Especially if said challenge involved breaking through the stubborn, cocky personality of a particular blond teenage loudmouth.

“You’re looking awfully red, Tommy, maybe you should take a break from working over the hot furnaces, yeah? I’m sure the iron would smelt just fine on it’s own.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy growled under his breath, willing himself to not react as he saw Charlie shift in his seat in his peripheral vision, despite his heart rate picking up at the downright evil looking smirk on Charlie’s face. He forced the image out of his head, busying himself with emptying the furnaces again as he felt his mind begin to wander.

“Really, Toms? That wasn’t very nice. You know there’s no point in resisting, because at the end of the day I’m still gonna get to scribble my fingers all over your sides, and how I’m gonna press my thumbs in between every single space in between every single ticklish little rib. And no matter how long you prolong the inevitable, you’ll still be stuck in my grasp until I decide that you’re done, no matter how much you kick and squirm.”

Okay

Fuck

Fuck Charlie Slimecicle and his stupid face and his stupid dumb teasy words, and Tommy could feel his insides turn to goo as he set down the iron ingots in his hands, covering his face and letting out a dramatic whine.

“Awe, why don’t you just come here Toms, make it easier for yourself, hm? We both know you want to bud, come on” Tommy whined again, shaking his head and wishing the ground would just swallow him whole. He didn’t think his legs would be able to carry himself over to Charlie even if he tried, so he found himself sliding down to the floor, wrapping his arms around himself.

Luckily, Charlie seemed to understand the predicament Tommy was in, and decided to have a bit of mercy as he walked over to the other, sitting down on the ground next to the younger boy.

“Hey, Toms.” Tommy just shook his head again, unable to stop the nervous giggles from leaking out of his mouth, and slumped down until he was practically laying down, despite the fact that Charlie literally hadn’t done a thing.

“Shh, it’s alright Tom, come here,” Charlie said in a sweet voice, opening his arms for the other. Tommy briefly peaked out from behind his hands only to quickly return them to his face. He took a few deep, stuttering breaths, before deciding fuck it. Without moving his hands from his face once, Tommy sat up and shuffled into Charlie’s arms, immediately burrowing into the other’s chest.

Charlie smiled at the adorable boy that was practically in his lap, wrapping his own arms around him and rubbing his back. Tommy jumped at the contact despite Charlie not having any intention of tickling him yet, his anticipatory giggles flowing freely from him.

“Ready?” Charlie asked in a soft voice, and Tommy, not quite ready to attempt to use his words, just nodded in response, bracing himself.

So, Charlie wasted no time in sliding his hands up Tommy’s red and white t-shirt, unleashing all his fingers along the blond’s sides. He figured the boy had waited long enough, not having the heart to drag it out any longer.

Tommy squealed before snorting, honestly not expecting Charlie to go all in right away, leaning further against the older boy and allowing himself to laugh freely. After being in a constant state of anticipation for the past couple hours, he really didn’t have the energy to attempt to hold his reactions back.

Charlie felt himself melt at his sweet, unrestrained laughter. This was the exact reason he enjoyed messing with him like this, there were very few things that brought him more joy than Tommy allowing himself to act like a kid and be happy without worrying about his ‘image.’

Tommy hiccuped as Charlie trailed his fingers up to his ribs, planning on keeping true to his previous promise.

“You know the drill by now Toms, I’m gonna go to each individual little rib you got, and every time you try to push me away we start over. Ready?” Tommy didn’t bother trying to hide his excitement, both boys knew how much he’s always enjoyed this game. Tommy put enough space between the two of them that Charlie could reach the front of his ribs with relative ease, but still facing towards the other so he could keep his face pressed into the crook of his neck, his arms winding themselves around Charlie and gripping the other tightly, in order to keep himself from pushing him away.

Charlie cooed at him for obeying so quickly, making sure to let Tommy know how good of a job he was doing. At the praise, Tommy’s giggles went high pitched and he arched his back, grabbing a fistful of Charlie’s shirt and rubbing it between his fingers as a way to stimulate himself, and help keep him from squirming around too much.

“Alright, here we go! Ready?” Charlie pressed his thumb into Tommy’s bottom leftmost rib, massaging into it. Tommy snorted, breaking into pitchy, childlike, loud giggles that were regularly interrupted by snorts and squeals.

Tommy did a pretty good job of staying still for Charlie, his only real movement was the jolt he would give every time Charlie moved on to a new rib.

By the time Charlie reached Tommy’s top left rib, Tommy had all but gone limp in his hold, his body shaking with adorable, happy laughter. And by the time Charlie had gone to each and every one of his right ribs, Tommy had tears in his eyes from laughing so much, hands repeatedly clenching and unclenching Charlie’s t-shirt as a way of grounding himself.

Charlie took in Tommy’s disheveled, tired state and figured he should probably wrap it up for the day.

He effortlessly scooped up the still giggling boy in his arms, who instantly allowed him to and wrapped his arms around his neck. With one hand still supporting Tommy, Charlie used his other to take the unsmelted iron out of the furnaces, not wanting to leave them running while no one was in the room to watch them. He carried Tommy back towards his room, using his hip to push the door open and closed.

By the time he set Tommy down on his bed, the boy was already fast asleep. Charlie gently untangled Tommy’s arms from around his neck, and stood there for a moment, feeling his chest swell with pride as he watched Tommy’s relaxed, sleeping face.

Before he left the room, he made sure to snap a picture, turning the lights off and gently closing the door, taking one last glance at the sleeping boy, making sure he was still alright.

Slimey Boi

*attachment - one image*

suck on that soot, I’m clearly the superior brother

Wimblur Suit

I hate you

so fucking much

*Wimblur Suit saved one (1) image*

#tickle fic #mcyt tickle fic #mcyt tickle #lee!tommyinnit #lee!tommy #ler!charlie

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axwalker · 3 years ago

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CREEP: I’m a creep

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Pairing: Drake Walker and Lexie O’Brien -- Book TRR

A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone

I was listening to my iPod on my way home from work yesterday & Radiohead's Creep came on. One of my favorite songs, and I think the lyrics are great for an angsty Drake fic. It reminds me of him. Could you please write an angsty fic inspired by the song? I love how you write angst!!

I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.

This is part one of two.

I hope you enjoy it @nestledonthaveone 💕

A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my FC --just for this fic. I’m still picturing Michiel and Valerie when they’ll be older though.

A/N3: I’m participating in @wackydrabbles Prompt #105 It's definitely ... interesting.”

Thank you ladies!

WARNINGS: Parental abuse. Eventually some lemons. ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

Tags in the comments.

LEXIE

I’ve always loved sunsets. The entire sky is painted orange and pink, streaking with white light and many other colors; I can’t take my eyes away from it. Sunsets remind us that no matter what is happening in our lives, the sun will be out again tomorrow. It’s raw, beautiful, and comforts me—the thought of the sun watching over me. I sit on my porch, my knees against my chest. I’m wearing a white tank top and jean shorts to fight the intense heat that invades Cordonia in early September. I fix my eyes on the sky, wishing a miracle. Something that takes me away from my father and his new wife. Away from the pain of losing mom.

“What are you doing?” The voice is so resonant, deep, and rasping. Slowly, I sit up and look around, pushing my long, brown hair out of my eyes. I raise my head, and I see him. Drake Walker.

My breath catches, and I cross my arms over my breasts, knowing the thin material of my shirt isn’t keeping me remotely modest. What is he doing here? At this time, no less. I go to school with Drake. We’re both sophomores at Valtoria High School. He’s six foot two, with strong shoulders, and has a knowledge of life in his eyes that boys our age simply don’t possess. We have five classes together, and he sits through them like a statue, his chocolate eyes unreadable. Tall, dark, and angry. Handsome in a hard way that makes the other girls nervous when he walks down the hallways. Not me, though. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve stared at him from behind my locker door, breath trapped in my lungs, wondering what he’s thinking of behind his brooding eyes.

“I asked, what are you doing? This isn’t a safe place to be alone at night. You should get inside.”

“Inside is no safer.” Why would I say that? My first time talking with this boy, and I tell him my deepest secret? His eyes narrow at me.“I mean, there’s not a lot of crime in this part of Portavira.” That loosens the tension in his broad shoulders. “I’m looking at the sunset. I love it. It’s so beautiful and wild.” I bit my bottom lip noticing his eyes dip to catch the action.

“It’s definitely ... interesting,” he says, noncommittally. “There are things I like more.”

“Like what?” I ask.

He shrugs but looks back down at me, wrestling with something. He lifts a hand, brushing the very tip of his fingers down my cheekbone. “You,” he rasps.

Drake’s deep brown eyes look at me with something I’m only on the cusp of understanding. Is it…lust? His fingers move down my jaw, traveling slowly over the hollow of my throat to tease one of my tank top’s straps. “I like you. I can’t seem to stop…wanting. Wanting you to look at me. Wanting you…period. It’s why I sit behind you in all your classes, O’Brien. You don’t know that?” My knees start to tremble. I’ve always wondered how we end up in the same classes every single semester. He’s arranged for it to happen? He…likes me? That much? Say something, dork. Don’t act like it’s not mutual.

As if I haven’t lain my bed after school, when no one is at home and touched myself while thinking of Drake Walker. I must be doing a terrible job of keeping that secret to myself because Drake’s breath begins to grow shallow. “O’Brien.” He drops his forehead to mine, the pads of his thumb rubbing the soft skin of my neck. “Have you ever been kissed?”

I can’t talk, so I shake my head.

“Please,” he groans. “Let me.”

My head is spinning. “Let you what?”

“Kiss you. Finally.” His hands move to cradle my head, making me feel delicate, like something special. His minty breath is close to my ear, setting off an ache low in my belly. “I need to kiss you, O’Brien. I need it.” He leans down and kisses the corner of my lips in the most torturous, exquisite way. My heart is beating wildly in my chest when he puts his soft lips on mine for the first time. My first kiss is an amazing one. He bends his head, and his mouth finds mine with soft pressure. I thought he would be rough or impatient may be clumsy, but I didn’t expect the gentle way his lips caress mine. The way he coaxes my own lips apart before I’m even aware of it. My knees buckle, but he holds me firmly against him. He kisses me as if this wasn’t our first time but our last. It’s the most erotic moment of my life, but all too son Drake leaves my lips. I only feel urgency. Want so deep that it burns inside of me. It has existed between us all along, hasn’t it? Not one-sided. A yearning pull between two people, orbiting each other in the earthly, incongruous setting of school.

Drake opens his mouth to say something, but my name is shouted in the distance. From inside the house. With glittering eyes, Drake drops his hands to his side, though it obviously pains him to do so. He gives me a chaste kiss on my cheek. One second later, the back door of my house opens, revealing my father, his imposing frame backlit by the interior.

“Alexis!” I start to tremble; I try to speak, but I can’t. ““What are you doing out here this late?” There’s a tight smile in his voice. “Did you come out here to retrieve the handyman?” I do a double-take, noticing the strain forming around the corners of Drake’s mouth.

“Handyman?”

“Yes.” My father chuckles, coming forward to clap a hand down on Drake’s tense shoulder. “He’s here to repair a leak in the attic. Liam called you by the way.” Drake can’t look at me now, his gaze cast over my shoulder. Empty. A minute ago, we were equals. But my father’s words have called into focus one very important thing. I’m rich, and he’s very poor. It just didn’t matter. To me, it still doesn’t. But the economic divide between us is deepening by the second.

“Why don’t you get to it?” My father suggests to Drake, his tone hard. “Alexis has to study. She is going places.”

I down my gaze to the ground, humiliation burning up my throat. My father is an expert at belittling people, and he’s just done it to Drake. I want to say something to make it better, to defend Drake, but I know I’ll only be making it worse. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to offer Drake an apology. At school. I’ll talk to him then.

“Yes, sir,” Drake responds stiffly, turning on his boots and stalking toward the house. Behind his back, my father reaches over and digs his thumb into my bicep until I double over, releasing a silent scream. He lets go a moment before Drake glances back over his shoulder, eyes hooded, and my expression is serene. Because I know better than to let anyone see the pain. My father has never been physically abusive, but his temper is getting worse. He hated mom and he’s taking it out on me. As soon as we’re in the house, I run up the stairs to my room and lock the door, leaning back against it. Listening to Drake’s boots walk back and forth in the attic. More than anything, I want to go up there. Feel his hands on me again. Cherishing hands, instead of hateful ones. I ache for that. For him. But an hour later, Drake leaves, and that’s when I face the consequences. My father knocks on my door. When I open it, the look on his eyes let me know it’s going to be worse than usual.

“If I ever see you talking to that boy again, so help me God, I’ll kick you out of this house.” His face is contorted with rage. “Then, I’ll ruin him, too. I’ll make his life even harder in this town. You know I can do it. I can have him cast off that filthy land and no one will ever hire him again. Is that what you want?”

“No,” I whisper.

“No,” he sneers, mocking me. “Never look at him again. Do you hear me? My daughter does not associate with penniless dirt. The only boy you’re allow to date is Liam Rys. No one else.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“See that you keep that promise. Or you’ll both pay the price.” And I pay a good deal of it that night when dad slaps me for the first time. The next day at school, I don’t look at Drake in the hallway. I don’t pause in the doorway of our classes, absorbing the sight of him waiting at the desk behind me. I simply keep my head down and try not to show the bruise on my cheek. On my body and my heart. I could never have predicted he would hate me for it.

Drake

Two years later

I walk past O’Brien in the hallway and slam my fist against the locker to her left, making her jump. Shame, frustration, and resentment have been like a poison inside me, rotting my bones every second of the last two years, ever since that night in her garden when she tricked me into thinking she felt the same. Maybe she did. Until her father reminded her that I’m nothing but a poor handyman. Yeah, she remembered pretty quickly that she’s better than me. Good enough to date a rich quarterback like Rys but definitely not a low life like me. Rich, stuck-up brat. What’s worse is that she fucking ruined me with those lips. She brought me to my knees. Made me reveal myself in ways I’ve never done with anyone. And now? Now she’s left me lonely and fuck-starved for two years. Obsessed with her, unable to let her go and hating her guts for it. Because she won’t even look at me anymore. I’m nothing but the dirt beneath her spotless sneakers. Two years ago, I decided that if she was going to make my life hell by ignoring me after what we shared, then I could return the favor. So I do. By tormenting her. That’s the only term for it. I torture her, and I hate that—I fucking hate it—but so be it. My jaw is close to shattering as I watch O’Brien calmly collect the books from her locker and hurry toward our next class. On top of being a bully, I’m also a masochist because I still trick the school into having the same five classes every year. My aunt Leona works in the front office, and she feels bad for me because of my dad dying and my mom abandoning me when I was still in middle school, leaving me in the trailer alone. Not bad enough to invite me to live with her family, but bad enough that she slips me O’Brien’s schedule every semester so I can match it to mine. Before I follow her, I stop at her locker, sliding something in it, and continue on my way. When I walk into class behind her a moment later, I slow to a stop in the doorway at the sight of Rys kneeling to speak with O’Brien where she sits at her desk—cajoling a smile out of her. She refused to date him two years ago, but fucking Liam didn’t get the memo. No one has as much money as his father in this town. If Rys is asking her out again, she’d probably say yes. If I let it get that far, which I won’t. I never do. She’s mine. Only mine.

#drake walker #drake walker x mc #drake x lexie #tw abuse #tw parental trauma

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jawritter · 4 years ago

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An Alpha And His Omega

Summary: Sometimes Alpha’s aren’t the assholes, sometimes words Omegas say things that can hurt too.

Written for: @flamencodiva and Diva’s Writing Challenge

Prompt: He was unconscious when I found him.

Warnings: Angst, virble arguments, the reader is a bitch of a bitch in this one, pining sickness, abo dynamics, sick!dean, language, smut, unprotected sex, knotting, claiming, scenting, protective Sam, (sam’s actually pretty scary in this one). I think that’s everything, sorry If I missed something.

Word count: 5860 (Whops)

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!reader

A/N: This fic was beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks again love! Please do not copy my work! Hope you all enjoy this one!

***MASTERLIST*** ***BECOME A PATREON***

There wasn’t a word to describe how angry you were right now with Dean Winchester. If you were strong enough, you’d kick his ass, and even though you were in excellent shape for an omega, you still couldn’t hold a candle to the big, brooding Alpha.

Dean had been in a bad mood for weeks now. Well, months if you think about it. You’d known Dean for years, ever since you were kids growing up at Bobby’s while your father’s went on hunting trips together, and you always got along well enough, better than most unmated Alphas did with unmated Omegas.

You attributed that to the life the two of you lived. It wasn’t exactly ideal for having any sort of mate really, and you always took your suppressants when you were around Dean.

Then you met Jamie. He was a good guy, and an even better hunter. He had all the physical attributes you would look for in an Alpha, and he didn’t want to settle down and have a litter of pups. He literally just wanted someone he could trust to help him through his ruts, and you wanted someone to help you through your heats.

It was a win, win situation. You helped each other when you needed help, and went your separate ways without any attachments. You knew Jamie wouldn’t claim you, and you knew you could go through the physical work up without being attached to him. Without getting those dreaded feelings. When you started this little arrangement, you began to take a lower dosage of suppressants because it wasn’t good to take such a high dosage all the time, and with Jamie being on call you didn’t need to fight against your biology as much.

That’s when you started having trouble with Dean Winchester.

It began with the twenty questions every time you would leave and come back from being with Jamie for a few days. Then once, you caught him layering his scent on your clothes in your closet, like you wouldn’t notice. Then it was the constant pandering behind you. Wanting you to eat the food he’d bring you, or constantly checking in on you when you just wanted to be left alone.

Then it progressed to being a dick to Jamie when he’d come around on the rare off chance he wanted to hang out with you all at the bar. Tonight had been one of those nights, and it was an Alpha pissing contest between Dean, and an uninterested Jamie, who had just come there to drink.

Dean had stalked Jamie out to his car while you went to the bathroom before you were supposed to part ways with Jamie, but when you got out to the car you found Jamie on the ground, and a pretty amused Dean kneeling over him.

You were infuriated. Jamie had done nothing wrong, and as much as Dean denied it, you knew it was him that broke Jamie’s jaw tonight, not some random guy from the parking lot like Dean tried to say it was. If it wasn’t Dean, Jamie wouldn’t have broken off your arrangement when you dropped him off at home from the hospital, and had to call Dean to come and pick you up off the side of the road because it was too cold to walk across town.

“I swear Y/N, he was unconscious when I found him,” Dean said, trailing you as you walked into the library where Sam and Jack sat with a pile of books between them.

That was it, your last straw, between being an ass hole to your friend, and being as clingy as a newly mated Omega you had, had all of Dean’s shit you could take. Not even stopping to think about what was going to come out of your mouth, you rounded on the very surprised Alpha.

“Fuck off Dean!, I don’t know what your deal is, but I’m SICK to fucking death of you being up my ass all the time. Now you've gone and messed up a good arrangement because you're nothing but a pompous, self absorbed Alpha, who thinks he has some sort of claim on me because I live under his roof. Well guess what buddy, you don’t own me, I’m not your Omega, and never will be, your good for nothing but a breeder, and I’m not interested in getting knocked up any time soon, so stay the fuck away from me!”

The words had tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and the high pitched whine that seem to fall from deep inside of Dean’s chest as he staggered backwards away from you like you had burned with a brander, was almost as impressive as the surprising growl that came from Sam at the table. Even Jack jumped back and moved away from the three of you.

“I KNOW you just did not call my brother nothing more than a breeder,” Sam said through gritted teeth, using his impressive height to tower over you, and make your inner omega cower as you backed away from him. “I suggest you take your little, too good for a Winchester, ass to your room and leave my brother alone before I rip your fucking throat out. You’d be lucky to have an Alpha like Dean, but bitches like you don’t deserve the man he is.”

You could do nothing but back down and submit to the fuming Alpha, forgetting about Dean momentarily as he continued to whine like a dog that had been kicked while he retreated to his room, leaving you to Sam’s own devices. Jack stayed rooted to the spot he’d moved to when Sam had erupted from the table, taking everything in with wide, doe-like eyes.

“You know, you're lucky I don’t throw you out on your ass right now,” Sam said, stalking in front of you like he wanted to rip your head clean off your shoulders.You had never seen the younger Winchester so angry in your life. “Dean let you move in here, gave you a roof over your head, runs behind you hand over fist, and this is how you thank him? By calling him a breeder?”

“I’m sorry Sam, it just slipped out. After what he pulled with Jamie…”

“What did you think was going to happen, Y/N? Dean’s had a crush on you since we were barely teenagers, and when you stopped taking the suppressants it only got worse for him when he could actually scent you. Dean wouldn’t have hurt Jamie, because he doesn’t want to hurt you, and if he says he didn’t hit him, then he didn’t do it.”

You stood there, wide eyes staring at Sam in complete disbelief. Dean had a crush on you? It couldn’t be true, and if it was Dean had hidden it well. You had known him pretty much all your life, and while you always found him mildly clingy and annoying, it never even crossed your mind that Dean was harboring feelings towards you.

He was always a ladies man, the guy that could bed any girl he ever wanted, and you just never even suspected it.

“Sam, I…”

“Just, save it Y/N. But if I hear you talking to my brother like that again you're out of here. Got it?”

You nod, and make your way to your bedroom with your mind completely clouded and shock set deep in your bones. You paused outside of Dean’s closed door and started to knock on it, to apologize to him, but you just couldn't do it.

What if Sam was wrong, and you made a complete idiot of yourself? What if Dean didn’t like you, or have feelings for you at all? Hell, you weren’t even sure how you felt about him!

So you swallow hard, and keep walking, making your way to your own room, and drinking yourself to sleep with thoughts of Dean that you never let yourself think about before, rolling around in your mind.

The next few weeks in the bunker were tense to say the least. Dean barley left his room at all, and when he did he’d hardly speak to anyone, but he didn’t speak to you especially. Sam couldn’t even get him to go on a simple salt and burn with him upstate, Dean insisted he call Eileen to go with him.

Of course, Sam blamed you, and you felt that you deserved it.

Dean had a lot of good qualities. Sure, he could be a totally self absorbed asshat, but what person living and breathing, didn’t have their moments when they weren’t so fun to be around. Dean was loyal to a fault. Self sacrificing on a level you had never seen in anyone else, supernatural being or human. When he loved someone, he loved them completely. He gave more of himself than he rightfully should have had to in life, and that had its effect on him. It made him clingy and overprotective at times, and it made him a little bit of a pest, but looking back, you regretted ever saying that he was good for nothing but a breeder.

Dean Winchester was so much more than that. Sam was right, and the more you thought about it, the more right you discovered he was.

There was one side of Dean, a dark one that he carried from years of being in hell, becoming a knight of hell, and just having to grow up in this life in general, had left a stain on him. It told you not to challenge him, and not to push him right now. It said it in the way his body tensed every time you walked into the room since your little fight.

You wanted to apologize to him desperately, but you also didn’t want to push your luck with him, and get your ass kicked out. You were lucky you hadn’t had it done to you already.

This morning had started out just like any other. Sam had come back from his run, and was preparing his rabbit food, you were sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, and your laptop open, searching for a case, and everything seemed to be going on as it always did, everything but the blatantly empty space across the table from you that Dean normally occupied.

You suddenly lost your appetite for your coffee, or anything really, and pushed it away from you as Sam came and sat down at the opposite end of the table, his eyes scanning yours for a moment before he let out a long sigh, sitting his fork down and rubbing his hands over his face. The tension building in the room was almost tangible.

“I’m sorry Sam, I really am,” you finally tell him in a small voice, unable to look up in his eyes that you could feel staring back at you. “I didn’t mean what I said to Dean, I really didn’t. I was just so angry with him...I would go apologize to him, but I’m afraid he’ll try and take my fucking head off.”

“It’s not all you, Y/N,” he finally told you, running his fingers through his hair with a huff of irritation. “I probably made things worse when I exploded the way I did, and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t handle the situation properly. That’s on me.”

A long silence passed between the two of you, and it seemed almost deafening. Until, finally, Sam spoke again, his eyes lingering on the hallway leading towards Dean’s room as he did.

“It’s not like Dean to hide away like this. I’m worried about him. He’s close to his rut, and that’s why he was being clingy towards you. He was trying to get your attention. He hasn’t been himself ever since. I don’t think he’s really even eating.”

“Do you think it would help if I left, just packed my shit and got away from him?” you asked Sam, but he just shook his head before standing with his plate.

“No, I don’t think that’s going to solve anything. I do think that years of suppressants may have deadened your senses to what Dean’s sensing, and that you need to give Dean a chance. He very well could be your true mate, and you just don’t know it.”

You thought about that in silence for a moment before you were finally able to make your voice work again. Could Dean really have been your true mate all this time? It didn’t seem real to you. Dean had never shown that he was interested in you, until recently when Jamie came around, and you had stopped using such strong suppressants.

Then it hit you. The suppressants were as strong, and Dean was probably able to really scent you for the first time.

The lump that formed in your throat felt like it was going to choke you to death, but you swallowed it, and looked up at Sam, who was now leaning on the bar watching you.

“What do I do, Sam? Where do I go from here?” you asked him, tears burning just below the surface. You had never felt so much regret in your life. Your heart literally hurt.

“Trust your instincts Y/N.This may not be easy, but what in life worth having ever is?”

For most of the morning, you spent your time pacing your room and ringing your hands, trying to decide what to do. You knew you had to do something. Dean hadn’t even come out of his room this morning, and you were becoming more and more worried about him by the second.

Consulting a few lore books had told you that the theory you and Sam had come up with this morning was more than likely the case. It said that when you're on strong suppressants long enough it can mask your scent to your mate completely, or even hide you from your true mate. It said that once you got started with the matting process that instinct would take over, and the rise in your body temperature would burn off the suppressants totally, giving you the ability to scent him as strongly as he could scent you.

You had decided that since Dean’s weakness was food, you were going to fix him some of his favorite pie, and bring it to him as a peace offering and see where things go from there. You had no sooner got to the kitchen though, when Sam slid in and told you to come with him before scurrying off to Dean’s room with you hot on his trail.

“What’s wrong, Sam?” you asked as you skidded to a stop in the open door way of Dean’s room. Dean’s back was to the door, and the covers pulled high up almost over his head. Sam was kneeling down in front of his brother with his hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t know, he’s burning up,” he told you, and you made your way cautiously around the bed to look at the Alpha that you had literally never seen ill a day in his life. Yet here he was, laying on his side, sweat forming just at his hairline, checks inflamed with fever, and shivering lightly.

“Dean,” you say softly, afraid to touch him, but something draws you closer to him all the same. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

Dean’s darkened eyes looked up slowly to meet your gaze for a moment before he closed them again.

“What do you care,Y/N? All I’m good for is breeding right? So what’s one less Alpha in the world to you when you think I’m not worth your time anyway?”

If his words were intended to cut, then they did their job, because it took everything in you to hold back the whine that threatened to fall from your throat as his words seemed to slice into your very soul.

“Dean, come on, you know I didn’t mean it, I was just irritated with you and…”

“Save it, Y/N.” Dean said, not even bothering to open his eyes, and turning his back to you and Sam. Evidently, he was done talking.

“I’ll go call Jody, she may be able to tell us what’s going on with you,” Sam said, mouthing for you to stay here, and talk to his brother, earning him a death glare that you hoped showed him just how much you wanted to strangle him right now.

How the fuck where going to get Dean to talk to you if he didn’t want too? He was literally the most stubborn man you had ever met, and when he was done talking you couldn’t torture a word out of him.

‘Follow your instincts, Y/N,' you said to yourself. Taking a deep breath, you got up and went to sit on the edge of the bed close enough that you could feel the heat coming from his body.

“Dean, please, I’m sorry. I know you're mad at me, and you have every right to be. Please know that I didn’t mean a word that I said to you. You're a lot more than a breeder, and I’m sorry I ever said it to you.”

You got no response, and for a moment you wondered if he’d fallen asleep, until he rolled over to face you again. He looked so tired, so pale. You had never seen Dean this down. Not even when Sam jumped in the pit, and he ran off to Lisa.

“You remember when we were kids? You presented as an Omega and you were so angry about it. You were sure you were going to present as an Alpha,” Dean said, a ghost of a smile on his lips as a shiver ripped through his body. “ You told Bobby that your genetics were wrong, and you weren’t going to accept that you were an Omega.”

Your mind brought you back to that. You were sitting outside with Dean on the hood of an old Ford truck in the wrecking yard when you presented. You were so fucking angry. Now you just saw it as another sign of what should have been so obvious, but wasn’t until now, and you had to fight against the sting of tears that burned in your eyes.

“I remember. I was angry that I was going to spend my life as a pup factory for some dick Alpha, and I wouldn’t be able to hunt anymore.”

“You know, all you would have had to do was say the word, and I would have claimed you right there,” Dean said, causing you to stare at him in complete shock. Dean was a few years older than you, and had presented as Alpha long before you had presented at all, but to hear him say that outloud you nearly swallowed your tongue.

“I didn’t do it because I knew you would have resented me forever. You had so much pent up anger that I knew you needed to work through it before you were ever able to even think about something that extreme. You needed to find yourself, to have a life outside of being tied to another person. So I let you go.”

“Dean,” you tried to stop him before the water works could start, but to no avail, he just kept talking, like a pot that was boiling over with pent up emotions and there was just no stopping it.

“Then you left for a little while, but when you came back, I couldn’t scent you anymore. I didn’t understand what happened, so I just let it go, thinking that it was just young hormones raging that almost made me claim you. Then, when I had all but shoved every bit of feeling down that I ever had for you, you walked by me in a bar and I could scent you again, just as strong as I had that day. I knew I had to get your attention, but I was too late and you had Jamie.”

You looked away from him as the tears you had been holding back began to fall, unable to look at him anymore.

“I knew you didn’t feel for me what I’ve always felt for you Y/N, but I never expected you to see me as nothing more than a breeder, a mutt, a worthless piece of Alpha trash, nothing more than a knot. I never expected you to reject me this way.”

“Dean, I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know,” you tell him through tears, but he just shivered again, letting his eyes close. The fever that was raging inside of him was making him exhausted, and even you could see it.

“Let me get you something to try and bring the fever down,” you tell him, but as you tried to stand his hand caught yours, stopping you in your tracks.

“Sam already did that, and it hasn’t worked. Just, stay with me, please,” he begged you.

Words failed you as your heart broke deep down inside of you, and you sat back down on the bed beside him, watching as his breathing evened out, and his shivering seemed to relax a little.

Of all the things that you thought would take Dean out, this was not the way you saw him going, and yet here you were, feeling so helpless and lost as you watched him sleep, praying Jody would have an answers to what was going on with him, because right now, it looked like Dean wasn’t going to be able to fight this fever off much longer, and you had a feeling it was only going to get worse.

You don't know how long you sat there next to Dean while he slept. It could have been fifteen minutes, it could have been three hours. You had no idea, because to you time seemed to have slowed to an unbelievable crawl.

You did notice that the more you played with his hair, and held his hand in yours, that his over stressed body seemed to relax more. If this was going to give them some measure of comfort, then so be it.

You never noticed until now that you had never really LOOKED at Dean. You never really paid that much attention to just how painfully handsome he was. Even for the line of work you guys did, he had surprisingly very few scars on his face, and the ones he did have only seemed to attribute to his already ruggedly handsome face. The sun kissed skin, and the light dusting of freckles everywhere contrasted one another, but in a good way, it gave him an almost boyish look while he was relaxed and asleep like this. His strong, sharp jaw still held enough of an edge of softness to it that you found yourself wanting more than ever to touch his face, to feel the stubble that was actually a light beard at this point, under your fingers.

His plump, pink lips were parted slightly, and even though his breathing was still coming in pants more than completely normal breaths, he looked peaceful.

You were so entrapped staring at him, that when Sam came skidding to a halt in the door way you nearly fell off of the bed when he spoke in a voice so loud it almost disturbed Dean, who shifted a little in the bed to subconsciously get closer to you, and away from the noise.

“Y/N! Jody says she thinks she knows what the problem is…”

“SHHH!!!” you tell him, adjusting the covers over Dean’s shoulders, and gave Sam a stern look. Sam mouthed “sorry,” before coming closer to you and clearing his throat as he came to the other side of the bed.

“Jody thinks she knows what’s wrong with him,” Sam said a little calmer, pulling a chair to sit down next to Dean’s bed.

“Okay...we’ve established that. Wanna tell me what it is, or you gonna make me try and guess it?” you tell him, quickly getting annoyed that he seemed to have forgotten you couldn’t read minds.

“Right, sorry. She thinks that when you two got in a fight a few weeks ago, that the rejection triggered pinning sickness. It’s rare for Alpha’s, but apparently can sometimes happen when you get rejected by your true mate. I looked it up, and he has every symptom. Fever, weight loss, loss of appetite, increased irritation and moodiness, vomiting…”

“Vomiting? When was he vomiting?” you cut in, and Sam gives you an apologetic look.

“Yesterday, he told me not to tell anyone, and that he’d just eaten something bad. Obviously he was covering up the fact that he was in this bad of a shape, which is normal for Dean. Downplay everything until you can’t do it anymore.”

Shaking your head in annoyance, you brush it off to bitch about it later. You hated it when Dean did shit like that. He was allowed to have bad days, just like everyone else was, and you absolutely hated it when he downplayed what he was really feeling.

“So what do we do?” you ask him, and Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat before meeting your gaze, taking a moment to put his hand over his brother’s forehead to gage his temperature before answering you.

“Well, everything I can find and know about pinning sickness is that close contact with your true mate helps. Like now just from you playing with his hair, and holding his hand like that his temperature seems to be down a good bit. In order for him to get fully past it, you're going to have to let him claim you.”

You tried to hide just how terrifying that thought was to you. To have a mate in this life, to have someone tided to you, to put each other in danger, much less it be a fucking Winchester. This was something you never wanted, but now that he brought it up, you couldn’t help but picture yourself with Dean, maybe even with a pup on your hip that would have brilliant green eyes, just like his father.

“You think he will go for it?” you asked Sam. No one knew Dean better than Sam, and you were not sure how to even begin to have this conversation with Dean after what you had told him. After how you had hurt him.

“I think you won't have to ask him twice,” Sam said, standing up and making his way to the door. “Just, don’t hurt him again, okay? Cause I don’t think he can live through another disappointment.”

You couldn’t make your voice work properly for the tears that were threatening to fall if you tried to speak, so you just nodded your head and continued running your fingers through Dean’s short hair as he slept next to you.

“Wait until he wakes up, let his body recover some, when he does he should be ready,” Sam said before closing the door, and leaving you alone with Dean.

Dean slept for probably another three hours before he even began to stir again, but you could tell by the way he moved and felt when you touched him that his fever was almost gone completely.

You watched as he stretched next to you, and cracked his eyes open to find you still there next to him, then you watched as the look of relief of finding you turned into fear and rejection in what seemed like seconds. It made your heart seize in your chest to think that you had hurt him that badly.

“Good morning handsome,” you try and tease him, but Dean just pulls his hand away from yours, and pulls the covers tighter around himself.

“Morning,” he said simply, avoiding your gaze.

“How do you feel?” you asked him, and he just shrugged, continuing to stare at the wall opposite him.

“Better.You can go now, you don’t have to sit with me, I”m sure you’d rather go and try to talk to Jamie anyway,” Dean said, and you swore you could hear a whine behind his words.

You weren’t going to let him push you away now, not when you had already made up your mind that this is what you wanted, and had always wanted. Even when you were running the bars with him, it had always been Dean that you really wanted, you were just too afraid to admit it.

“I’m not going anywhere Dean,” you tell him, pulling the covers up and sliding in next to the evidently shocked Alpha, who grunted, but didn’t fight you as you snuggled into his arms and close to his broad chest where his heart was hammering away at his rib cage at the close contact of you with him.

Once you saw that he wasn’t going to physically kick you out of his bed, you took the only moment of bravery you were sure you were going to find, and brushed your lips lightly over his mating gland in his thick neck, scenting him deeply, pulling a curse and a shiver from his broad body as he pulled you impossibly closer to him.

“Fuck baby, don’t do that,” he grunted as your teeth lightly grazed the skin of his pulse point, and his hands slid down to grip your hip tightly. “If you start this, I’m not gonna be able to stop, and I...I don’t want you to be tied to someone who is nothing but a breeder, when someone is out there a lot better than me, someone that can give you a stable home and a family.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh you kick yourself again for ever calling him that, reaching up to brush your hands through his hair as he tried to nuzzle himself into your hand. His words were telling you to walk away, but everything in his was screaming for you.

“Dean, you're not just a breeder, I told you, I was just angry, you're so much more than that. I wish you could see what I see in you.”

Dean swallowed thickly and looked away from you, but you weren’t going to let him drop it that easy.

“You’re so strong Dean. Most people that have gone through half the shit you’ve faced in life would have killed themselves by now, and look at you! You’re still here, as many things that have tried to kill you, you’re still here! You’re a fucking hero, you’ve saved countless people time and time again. You love with your whole heart, you’re loyal and protective, you’re everything any Omega would want in an Alpha and then some, so don’t ever think you’re just a knot, but you’re so much more than that, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t see it sooner.”

Dean didn’t say anything, and you could see that he was shutting down, so you did the only thing you knew to do. Taking a deep breath you steel your nerves, and placed a timid kiss to his still slightly parted lips. For a moment, he just froze, but it didn't take long for the tidal wave of emotions to come crashing down over the two of you.

You weren’t really sure of a lot of things . There was so much unknown in every aspect of your life, so you just never expected anything to be constant, not for you, you would die alone on the end of a gun, knife, or at the hands of some freak, and that was the only thing in life you would ever be able to count on. But right now, in this moment, you couldn’t see anything past the two of you, two halves that had fought against becoming whole for so long that the relief was almost insurmountable and indescribable.

As tender, scared kisses turned into more needy and demanding kisses filled with passion and fire that seemed to source down to your very soul. Clothing began to fall to the floor, and shy little touches became rough and more determined. You were sure that this was the piece of your life that had always been missing.

Dean was still fairly weak from days of being sick, but the more his bar skin touched yours, the more his lips and teeth trailed their way down your throat, and over your mating gland, the more his body seemed to come alive again. Yours wasn’t that far behind either, slick quickly coating your thighs as your body seemed to know what your mate needed before you ever could have guessed it, and that was to become connected to you as quickly as possible. Years of waiting made the heated kisses and touches seem that much more intense, and as Dean slid his length fully inside of you without hindrance, you could have sworn you felt the world stop turning.

Most of the time, from what you had been told, when soul mates actually mate and are claimed by their mates it’s a rough and primal act that’s over as fast as it begins. This was so much different than that. It was deeper, more sensual that you would have ever thought to be possible. Every deep thrust of his cock into your waiting heat that was already trembling around him as he stretched and filled you over and over again felt as if it were connecting you at a level deeper than the physical pleasure that was raging through your bodies like a brush fire in the burning summer heat.

He never tried to flip you over like you expected him to, and demand you present like most Alpha’s would have, but instead he held his body over yours with his powerful arms and shoulders balancing his weight so that he wouldn’t hurt you, but kept you facing each other so that he could watch you as you began to get closer and closer to your release, as your body shuttered underneath him as his knot began to swell and catch at your entrance, forcing thrust to turn into deep rutting push and pull that only served to push you both over the edge you had been teetering on.

Even as his teeth sank deep into your mating gland, connecting you to him at your very soul, you had no regrets except that you had waited this long to figure out what had always been there, and had always been missing.

Dean flipped the two of you carefully to your sides as you waited until his knot had gone down, playing with your hair, and licking lightly at your claiming mark, while you tried to catch your breath, letting the bond cement itself as it only could between an Alpha, and his Omega. Suddenly, all the things you had always feared, a life, a family, didn’t seem so scary. Not as long as Dean was there with you each step of the way.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @chevyharvelle @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6 @deanmonandnegansbitch @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @thoughts-and-funnies @hearteyes-j2 @miss-nerd95 @writers-whirlwind

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester smut #dean x reader #dean x you #alpha!dean winchester #alpha!dean x Omega!reader #alpha!dean winchester x omega!reader #abo #abo fanfic #omega!reader #x reader inserts #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn fandom #jawritter #an alpha and his omega

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bxllafanficc · 4 years ago

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¡Skate/sing your hearts out! (Yuri Plisetsky x reader)

(part one)

part two part three part four part five. Find the rest on; Masterlist

Summary: After last year's cancellation of Figure Skating Grand Prix, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself unable to bring out his inner skater after a year of doing nothing but enjoy life like a regular teenager. That's when you enter the picture; We Are Voice Grand Awards's currently hottest competitive vocalist come first place two years in a row. Just like the other competitors of Grand Prix, it turns out that Victor and Yuuri faces the same issue. With an arrangement between Victor and Yakov, they agree to travel to Japan and hire you as a mutual coach for Yuri and Yuuri to help bring back the emotion into their performances like before, maybe even more intense than ever. Yuri however, who's never experienced issues with his coaches before, for some reason finds this one particularly difficult to coexist along with in their (reasonably) odd partnership. Warnings: none

*Yuri's POV*

"Remind me once again why we're going to Japan? It's clear you'd never take us there just because you miss Victor and I know by experience that it's not because of his apprentice."

First class flight like usual. The view out the airplane window of the sparkling city at nighttime below them would stun anybody but at this point, Yuri has traveled so many times it's only become regular sights and the lights of the streets are only plain colored spots in a dark void to him these days. One thing he will never feel comfortable with though is staying in the same seat for hours on end until the airplane arrives at its destination. His legs are itching from wanting to move around. He'll just have to jog it off back on the ground like every other trip in the past.

"You'll be spending some time with Yuuri Katsuki and Victor the following weeks to gain your fighting spirit back. You need to get back in touch with your emotions, remember?" Yakov slightly turned his posture towards the Russian skater beside him, folding his newspaper in half and putting it in his lap.

He only nodded with a slight hum. He could see Yakov's reasoning, some parts of it at least. He HAD been lacking in emotional performance ever since the new year began and it was time to get back into the mindset of winning yet another Grand Prix gold medal like last year. No, not last year. Last year's competition was cancelled after a minor pandemic spread through Russia and the nearby regions. In fear of the virus spreading, all competitions cancelled and larger crowded areas were forbidden to take place. Therefore Yuri's only been able to practice by himself and keeping himself fit for a possible competition next year. But a year of doing nothing can really change your spirit and afraid to admitting it to his coach, he's been missing several opportunities to hit the rink and stayed home watching anime or scrolled through social media instead.

But one thing he doesn't get is how Victor and Yuuri are gonna make him get his mindset in the right track again. He already won his first gold medal at his senior debut and he doubt that the Japanese skater will be in any better condition than Yuri's currently in right now. Pig-man must've been in a much worse state considering his boo Victor had to stay in Russia during the pandemic, unable to keep an eye on Yuuri's routines.

"Besides, there's a little surprise waiting for you where you'll be staying with the two of them. It better work out fine or else I'm out of ideas."

That caught his attention to say the least.

"Well if it's supposed to save me from the deep end then why be so secretive and hushy with it? Spill the news, Yakov."

The old man only grunted and picked up his newspaper once again and hid his face behind it. Well now he really wanted to know what it was. Clearly he would have to make some effort. Soon the article about a Russian charity event taking place this weekend got replaced with a clenched fist going straight through the back of the paper. Yuri expected some kind of reaction but Yakov only sighed and leaned back in his seat without even a flinch.

"It's no surprise if I tell you. I promised Victor to keep it a secret."

"Tell me."

"No."

Yuri groaned and folded his arms with a sour glare. The display in the ceiling told the traveler's that it was 10 minutes until landing so he gave up his attempts and let his eyes rest for a while. At least he would find out tomorrow, he assumed. It was 2am and he would be staying at a hotel close to the airport since it was too late to make rest of the trip in one day.

Yuri was out with the speed of a lightning bolt the second the plane doors opened. He sped past everyone before him and he didn't stop when he finally got outside. His feet carried him to run circles around the plane meanwhile he was waiting for Yakov to get out the normal way. It's a silly habit of his and he knows he looks stupid doing it but his coach has given him strict orders to not run away at one random direction like used to do at first. It would take like half an hour for him to be found once he took off, but only if he got lost.

"Yuri! Get over here!"

Well, there's his cue to get ready and head to the hotel. Finally he's able to get some sleep before he's forced to wake up early at dawn to head to Hot Springs and meet the two most annoying people in Japan.

...

He didn't even have time to eat breakfast. He overslept and got rushed to the cab with an angry Yakov behind him, newspaper folded tightly in his fist. The trip through the beautiful Japan would've been pleasant if Yuri hadn't dozed off every 10 seconds. He didn't get much sleep after all. He spent at least three hours thinking about the special surprise and raiding the free mini bar before he finally got to rest. At 8am he was woken up with banging on the door and now, at 10am, he was standing at the entrance of Hot Springs waiting for Yuuri's mom to announce their arrival. She hurried away somewhere with her usual bubbly happy self that Yuri had no idea how a person could be so... not moody all day long.

The place was as crowded with customers as last time and the two Russians were told to step inside to the more private parts of the building where the family lived along with Victor at the moment.

"Victor! How come my brand new lotion is used? You smelled a suspicious amount of peaches and wild berries at breakfast and there's no point denying it!" A fairly soft and modulated voice was heard from somewhere to the left where the private shower stalls were located. A couple seconds later a giggly Victor and Yuuri came through the direction of the living room and greeted Yuri with happy cheers. The slender white haired Russian caught Yakov in a bear hug, much to the old man's surprise. Yuuri extended his hand towards Yuri but Yuri didn't give any effort in taking it.

"Food. I'm starving."

Yuuri dropped his hand with a light blush but Victor pouted and let go of his former coach. Strong and clingy arms were suddenly wrapped around his chest and he couldn't breathe.

"So unpolite... Yuriooo we've missed you! Haven't you missed us?"

Yuri thrashed like a fish caught in a net and tried to hit the arms of the bastard trapping him. Yuuri joined in, only to get a kick in the hip. His stomach growled angrily and the endless void in his body didn't lighten up the experience a bit.

"Let go you old man! You too piglet!"

"I hoped you'd say it out loud but I know that deep down you've been missing us, Yuriii." Victor went to whisper in his ear with pouty lips but was swatted away by a backhand in his face. That finally caused him to let go and Yuri jumped out of reach for the two males.

"Hm... Or not." The expression he got from Victor was sad and pouty and the man earned a hand on his shoulder, put there by Yuuri. Yuri could only sigh and shake his head.

"Victor! Did you steal my shampoo too?! I will- Oh? What now?" Yuri turned around abruptly by the unfamiliar yet familiar voice behind him. His eyes widened.

The girl was standing to the left of the hall, seemingly coming from the shower. A curious hand rested against the wall beside her and her face was covered in a grey clay face mask, a toothbrush lazily hanging from the corner of her lips. Her (h/c) eyes glistened with mild shock along with her mouth hanging slightly open.

"You are early... Victor, you told me they would arrive at 1pm1!" She pointed a strict finger at the tall man who scratched the back of his head with a hesitant laugh. Her eyes narrowed and she grabbed her toothbrush. Because even if she was standing unprepared in front of two strangers, she would at least not forget to brush her teeth in the process, as you do.

Yuri might've considered it normal if it wasn't for that she was almost naked. Two towels were the only fabric hiding her, one wrapped around her dripping figure and the other tied up in her hair.

"Yeah, about that! I kind of mixed up the time of their arrival and your meeting with the press, that's, by the way now when I think of it, not actually cancelled but later today. Silly of me to forget, right?"

She eyed him as though her bullshit meter was ticking in the red zone and let out a huff. Yuri had to advert his gaze when it suddenly felt intruding to eye her the way he did. He also turned away because a light tint of pink was creeping up his cheeks.

"Right. Thanks for the early update. I appreciate it, really. I'll be with you again in 30 minutes. Don't wait up for me." And with that, she was gone. The silence of the men maintained for a few moments until Yuuri coughed with an awkward smile, his red cheeks still visible even after the girl had disappeared. 'It's a little weird to blush at your almost naked sister' he thought.

"So food, right? Mom is preparing pork cutlet bowls for you, Yurio, since she remembered how much you liked them last time-" He didn't have to say it twice. Yuri was off to the dining area before the man even finished saying 'pork cutlet bowl'.

#yuri plisetsky #yuri plisetsky x reader #yuriart #yuri katsuki #yuri on ice #victor nikirofov #anime fanfic #animelove #fanfiction

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addicted2escapism · 5 years ago

Text

Young Love | JJ Maybank

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: You’re a Kook with parents that want to control your future. You need a fake date to get them off your back at Midsummers, and JJ seems like the perfect option.

Warnings: None

“You do realize who you’re asking, right?”

“Yes, JJ, I do realize. I need a date for midsummers or my parents are going to try to force me into some arranged marriage like it’s the freakin’… 1700s or something!” You complain, taking your hands off the steering wheel to throw them up in the air dramatically.

You’d scooped JJ up from the Southside, your new Audi SUV turning heads as you drove around The Cut looking for him. Typically, you didn’t like to drive yourself down to the Southside for this exact reason, but this was important and you needed to find JJ as soon as possible.

Now, he sat spewed out in your car, one leg up on the dashboard with his arm hanging out the window.

“And you think your parents would let you marry me?” The boy snorts, looking at you with a bemused expression.

“Ok, not actual marriage! I just need to show that I’m in a relationship so that my parents don’t try to secure my future for me.” You explain, putting on your turn signal and taking a third right in a row. You were driving around aimlessly.

“Once again, I don’t think your parents will accept me as your boyfriend.” JJ argues, waving a hand at himself to allude to his general appearance. “You should ask Pope.”

“I’ll fight for you!” Your outburst startles even yourself. You blink. “I mean- you can’t seriously think I’d just let my parents shit talk you. Besides, they’re practically oblivious to The Cut and everyone on it, so they don’t know anything about you. Please, JJ.”

“You really want me to be your fake boyfriend?” He asks, softness permeating his voice. You look over to see that he’s already looking at you.

“Yes. Who else would I ask?” It wasn’t really a question. You smile at him, and he returns it with an eye roll.

“You’re gonna dress me up, aren’t you?”

You grin.

“Yeah. And I’m gonna enjoy every second it!”

—

JJ looked… handsome. Undeniably and unconditionally handsome. You watched as he walked from The Chateau to your car. You’d seen the outfit before, as you were the one to take him shopping, but seeing him all made up was different. JJ was wearing a sober blue suit with a black dress shirt underneath. His dress shoes were also black, from some fancy Italian brand that you’d thought looked nice. When you were at the store, you had let him pick out a couple of ties because apparently he needed to see what type of mood he’d be in on the day of the party. He’d chosen the dark blue tie with metallic silver embroidery in a floral pattern.

You didn’t realize you were staring and sporting an idiotic grin on your face until JJ hopped into the car and called you out on it.

“Sorry.” You chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You just look very… nice.”

The compliment makes him smile back, and you try not blush when he looks you up and down and says: “You look very… nice, too.”

You make a face at the way he copies your pattern of speech, turning away from him and putting the car into drive.

“Time to party with some Kooks!” JJ cheers, banging on your dashboard in fake excitement.

“Please, contain your elation.” You tease, speeding down the road to head back to Figure Eight. “You’ll need to save some of it for when we get fed to the sharks.”

—

When you pulled up to the Midsummer party, JJ jumped out of the car and ran around to your side, opening the door for you before you had a chance to object. He graciously offered you his hand, and you accepted, letting him lead you up to the front door. After giving your name to the security guard standing at the door, the floodgates opened.

The moment you and JJ crossed the threshold together, young and old Kooks alike couldn’t take their eyes off you. You smiled sweetly at them as you made your way through the large dining room, noting the way they looked JJ up and down before their eyes flickered back to you.

“Why is everyone looking at us like that?” JJ murmurs lowly, only audible to you. He smiles at a grandma that had been staring for an uncomfortable amount of time.

“We walked in together.” You say simply, leading him to a door that will hopefully let the two of you escape into the backyard. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

You don’t want to explain that such a simple action of walking into a party with someone could mean so much. You don’t want to explain that because of such an action, everyone knows that you and JJ are together, that you are his, and he is yours. That everyone expects you to be tied together forever. But for the sake of getting your parents off your back, such an action was exactly what you needed. They were already here, somewhere in the crowd, and if they hadn’t seen you walk in, word would travel fast. It always did with Kooks.

“You laying claim to me, or something?” JJ raises an eyebrow at you, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist as you exit into the backyard. You laugh, beelining for the hors d'oeuvres.

“Or something.”

JJ’s eyes light up at the sight of free food, and you nod at him when he glances at you questioningly. He grabs a small plate and starts loading up, making a quiet, interested noise when he comes across something new. Your heart swells with intense fondness for the boy, your fake boyfriend, and his endearing behavior. You take a few items to snack on as well, and then you both make your way to a standing table.

You’re glad that you could take JJ somewhere and provide him with something to eat. You knew he usually lived off whatever he could come by. At the same time, you didn’t want to think that you were doing him a favor or something. You just wanted the best for him, and if you could make sure he didn’t go hungry for a little longer, you would.

You let him eat, looking out for your parents or any teenaged Kooks that would undoubtedly recognize JJ and cause trouble.

“Oh man, I’ll go to all of your Kook events if I can get free food like this.” JJ sighs in satisfaction, taking a deep breath and then popping his last hors d'oeuvre into his mouth.

“Well, as my boyfriend, you’re more than welcome to all of them.” You say matter-of-factly, eyes still scanning the crowd. JJ stays silent, an unusual attribute that makes you look at him curiously. His eyes are wide, and he looks panicked in a way that usually ends in him bolting from the situation.

“Uh, fake boyfriend.” You correct, awkwardly scratching behind your ear. “I know you’re not into the whole… commitment thing.”

Your words make his eyebrows furrow, but it only takes a moment for his face to smooth out and be replaced with a smirk.

“You know it, baby.” His usual energy wasn’t in his words, but he links his arm with yours and starts towards the group of people on the dance floor. “Shall we dance? I think it’s time to subject these beautiful people to my impeccable moves.”

“Oh, the horror!” A malicious voice taunts from behind. You sigh, clenching your jaw and putting on a brave face for the altercation that was about to come. You and JJ turn around to face Topper, who was backed up by Rafe and Kelce.

“Hi, Topper.” Your sharp tone of voice cuts through the growing tension. “Do you need something?”

“Oh, I’m just here, enjoying my time at Midsummers, when I suddenly see a Pogue infesting our land.” Topper smiles nastily.

“He’s my date. I invited him.” You defend, unlinking your arm from JJ’s to grab his hand instead. “He’s my boyfriend.”

The three Kooks were incapable of suppressing the surprise on their faces.

“Damn!” Topper cracks his knuckles, looking between you and JJ. “I knew you’d been whoring around with them, but I didn’t think you’d actually commit to one!”

JJ throws himself at Topper with an incredible reaction time, and you’ve never been more glad to be holding hands with someone in your life. Topper raises his arms in defense and shoves JJ back, and you follow up by tugging on his hand to rein him in.

“You don’t wanna be doing that, boy.” Topper snarls. Rafe and Kelce are subtly squaring up, ready to assist their friend if need be.

“Don’t talk about her that way.” JJ grinds out through his teeth. You try to pull him backwards so that he’s standing behind you, but he won’t budge. You can tell he’s boiling on the inside from the strength of which he’s gripping your hand. You squeeze back, trying to give him some sort of grounding force.

“Control your pet.” Rafe snarks at you, not even bothering to address JJ himself.

“Shut up.” You clenched your hand that wasn’t in JJ’s into a fist. This wasn’t the place to get into a fight. You knew that JJ wouldn’t think twice about practically letting himself get jumped to defend you. Plus, your parents would never stop hounding you if your brand new boyfriend got into a beat down at Midsummers.

“Aw, young love. So sweet.” Topper tilts his head to the side and smirks. “Do you love him?”

You can feel JJ hold his breath.

“Yes.” You say it with such conviction, without even thinking. JJ is staring at you incredulously. Topper is sputtering, Rafe looks disgusted, and Kelce seems like he’d rather be anywhere else. You hold your confident gaze on Topper and his friends, staring them down as you take a few steps backwards, pulling JJ with you. “Thanks for your concern.”

When they don’t seem to have anything else to say, you turn around and march over to the dance floor.

JJ looks like a deer in headlights, completely out of it as you maneuver into the middle of the crowd, trying to hide from prying eyes. You turn to face him, hooking your arms around his neck and swaying him side to side in a weak attempt to make it look like you’re actually trying to dance.

“Are you okay?” You whisper, wanting to keep the conversation away from any overextended Kook ears. “I’m sorry about them. At least it didn’t get too bad, right?”

“Did you mean it?” JJ sounds like he’s practically choking on the words. He tentatively reaches up and places his hands on your hips. You swallow nervously. JJ’s eyes are red and pooling with liquid, and the way his lips are twisted into a frown shows how hard he’s trying not to let any tears escape.

“I- yeah. I did.” Suddenly everyone else in the crowd disappears. It’s only you and him. There might as well be a spotlight beaming down, making the sea of Kooks you were swimming in insignificant. Your words feel like a confession and a revelation. You laugh softly in happiness. “I do. I love you.”

“Can I kiss you?” His voice cracks and he brings a hand up to softly touch your cheek. You nod. He leans down and connects your lips tenderly, as if he’s afraid you’ll run away if he kisses you with any more force. You smile against his mouth and return the kiss, hands tangling in his hair. When he pulls away, he whispers: “There’s no way this is real.”

“You better believe it, mister.” You confirm, pressing your forehead against his. “You’re in for a lifetime of Kook parties, now.”

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #outer banks netflix #my writing #gem writes

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hearts-hunger · 4 years ago

Text

together wing to wing || chapter one

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Series Summary: He's offered his protection before, on the Green. In the hospital, Cee wonders if he'll offer it again, and Ezra wonders if she'll even want him to.

Chapter Summary: The hospital is noisy.

Pairings: Ezra & Cee (platonic!!! if you ship them no offense but i will kill you with my bare hands <3)

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, angst | Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: hospitals, injury, mentions of canon-typical violence

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing Ezra, and I find he’s a challenging and engaging character to write. I don’t know how long this series will be, or when the next part will be up, or any of the details one could reasonably hope to know, but I hope you like it! ♡

He’d imagined healing would be painful. Exhausting, maybe, and likely bothersome. Restrictive. But never this damn noisy.

The Green was a lot of things, but one thing it wasn’t was noisy. Quiet came as naturally to the tangled forest as the dust, hung heavy in every branch and twisted into every blade of grass. Nothing could live on the Green that wasn’t as mean as the air it breathed, and in Ezra’s experience, nothing mean was ever partial to singing. No birds, no crickets, no creeks that hadn’t been choked up with dust so burdensome it seemed like the water could barely move. Just the quiet, and your own mind to fill up the space in between.

The hospital, on the other hand - he’d never been more beleaguered with needless noise that he had been these past few cycles. The monitors, the doctors, the alarms - even his own breathing was noisy. It rattled in his chest like a broken thing, wheezy and prone to bouts of coughing that left him bone-tired. He slept, but only when his exhaustion surpassed his irritation at the cacophony. He’d thought he would welcome the sound of people, of civilization. Not once had it occurred to him that it would wear on him so deeply, not after so many cycles with naught to listen to but the hum of the filter and his own inane rambling.

He’d been more reserved than usual on that front. It seemed his body had had enough of his loquaciousness, at least for the time being, and insisted on dredging up uncomfortable ills whenever he tried to speak for more than a sentence or two. He was too damn tired, and his lungs hurt too badly with the treatments the doctors kept giving him to clean out the dust. He settled for silence; and, for the first time in a long time, he listened.

She was as bright as the ruby’s blaze, that one. Smarter than anyone he’d kept company with in a long time, and more vibrant than he could recall being in many, many years. He’d seen some of that fire in her on the Green, when she talked of her favorite novel and confided how she wrote her own stories. He was captivated by it now, charmed by her youthful innocence and struck, as he had been even in their first unhappy encounter, by her pluck and intelligence.

She was telling him about The Streamer Girl, and the sound of her voice soothed all the other noises to a dull racket as he tried to follow the twist and turns of her excited chatter.

“Clo doesn’t even like Reive in the beginning - she thinks Reive is a know-it-all, and she is, kind of, but what Clo doesn’t know is that Reive has been the one covering for her when all the professors think she’s skipping class.”

Ezra rubbed a hand over his chest to ease the urge to cough that never seemed to fade completely these days. “Isn’t she skipping class?”

“I mean, yeah,” she conceded. “But not to slack off, or anything. She’s fighting the - ”

She cut herself off, and Ezra quirked a brow when she didn’t continue. She gave him a little smile, just this side of teasing.

“I shouldn’t say. I don’t want to spoil it for you.”

He hummed in agreement. “Kind of you, birdie.”

He watched as she ran her fingers over the front cover of her well-loved notebook, tapping the beat to a song only she could hear. She looked tired, and he made a note to attempt to steer her towards a good, long rest if the opportunity arose.

“Ezra?”

“Hm?”

She worried her bottom lip; she’d done it so often these past cycles he was surprised it didn’t bleed.

“You will read it, won’t you?”

He watched her expression carefully. He was no authority on teenage diction, but he felt there was likely more she was asking with that question than it seemed at first blush.

“Of course,” he said easily, like he had when they made their unlucky arrangement. If reading her favorite book meant sticking around for longer than the duration of this hospital stay, of course. Of course he would.

Her expression eased, and he felt a measure of relief. She hid a yawn behind her sleeve and brushed her hair behind her ear.

“Maybe after you read it, you can help me write some of my book.”

He smiled. “I assure you, little bird - you would not be so keen for my writing talents if you knew how sorely lacking they are.”

She looked amused. “How can someone who talks as much as you do not know how to write?”

“Oh, speaking is a matter of decisiveness, birdie,” he explained. “No time to mull over what you say - only time to speak it, and see what it reaps.”

That had been one too many words strung together for his body’s liking, and he obliged its need for a volley of coughs against his fist. He took a stilted breath when recovered and rested his arm over his wound, protective of the stitches that still burned when he moved.

“If I attempted to write... I would fret over every single word,” he said slowly. “I would be one sentence in by the time you’d moved on to another book entirely.”

That much he’d learned from his short-lived endeavor to journal in the early days of his prospecting career: better to speak when the words came easily and never revisit them. Better to let his thoughts come and go rather than record them when they were so frequently things of no true worth that habitually bore unfortunate consequences.

He nodded to her notebook. “I would like to read your book, though, after I read the original.”

She was pale enough with tiredness that her blush was bright pink on her cheeks.

“No, you wouldn’t,” she said. The self-deprecation in her voice had likely been mastered at her father’s behest with his disinterested and contemptuous manner, and Ezra felt a streak of resentment towards the man that warred with his near constant guilt. He wondered how moral it was to be glad Cee would never endure Damon’s scorn again.

“Best practice is to allow a man to decide for himself what he’d like and wouldn’t like,” he said. He bottled a cough in his chest. “Of course, if you’re of a mind to keep it for yourself, you’ll find no pressure from me to do otherwise.”

Her shoulders visibly relaxed and she opened up again, looking at him like she couldn't quite puzzle him out. She yawned again and she seemed so young to him, then; a tired little girl too world-weary for her own good.

“Try and get some shuteye, birdie,” he said. He tried to settle into a more comfortable position, but his stump had started to ache again; it was a dull pain, like a sick tooth, and evaded every attempt at soothing.

Her brow creased. “You’re hurting.”

He shook his head. “Just a little sore, is all. No use getting into a fluster.”

“I should get the doctor,” she said, and made to rise from her cot. He waved her down with an unsteady hand.

“Settle yourself, birdie,” he chided. “They’ll be in soon enough with appropriate remedy for my ills, and you’ll have lost no time...” He drew a wheezing breath. “Scampering up and down the hallways.”

She narrowed her eyes, unimpressed. “I don’t scamper.”

His chuckle was half-cough. “No? Stride with intention, then. Either way, you’re better off having a lie-down.”

She considered him for a moment, then curled up in her cot and tucked the blanket under her chin. He reached up to the panel behind him to turn the lights off, wincing a little as he did; the sun came through the heavy blind only enough to cast the room in a warm, dim glow.

“Wake me when the doctor comes,” she said. Her voice was already heavy with sleep.

“Shh, birdie,” he soothed. “No more of your fretting. You try and sleep for... as long as you can.”

She’d proven adept at sleeping despite the noise, though he felt that was likely more the result of her exhaustion catching up to her than any real comfort in such a busy place. He watched as she succumbed to her fatigue, one hand tucked under her cheek, and was glad that at least one of them could sleep.

He rested his hand on his collarbone, tentatively pressing on the hollows of his too-thin frame. His ministrations did not improve his discomfort, but they offered something to do; he closed his eyes and listened to the noise, missing Cee’s voice in spite of himself.

Read chapter two!

pedro pascal character taglist: @punkgeekchic, @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl, @stardust-galaxies, @theorganasolo, @qhbr2013 ♡

let me know if you’d like to be added to this taglist or the series taglist! ♡

#going out of my little writer's comfort zone with this one #no x reader???? what am i DOING #but actually i've been trying to write him for a while and this is the first thing i've come up with that i like #let me know what you think!#ezra prospect #cee prospect #prospect 2018 #prospect fanfiction #ezra fanfiction #ezra prospect fanfiction #maddie writes stuff!

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newbornwhumperfly · 4 years ago

Text

however the hour may call…

CW: fantasy racism, self-hatred, self-harm, low self-worth

a small ficlet for @much-ado-about-whumping’s d&d character - lander krusk lackman, a self-hating half-orc with the worst self-worth (he needs therapy yestersay but will he get it? why would he when blatant abnegation works just as well!)

title insp. by “staying alive” by mary oliver

(“there are the stubborn stumps of shame, grief that remains unsolvable after all the years, a bag of stones that goes with one wherever one goes and however the hour may call for dancing and for light feet.”)

Lander doesn’t drink - never amongst company, anyway.

He swallows back his flicker of desire for some mulled beer or even a little ale to shave off the edge of his nerves, singing like a sharpened blade. He’d never compromise his control like that, especially not now: not when the needling eyes feel like flies crawling over his body, when whispers trail him like shadows.

He fights the urge to rub at his eyes lest he draw attention to his weariness, blinks rapidly against the wavering lines of bodies, narrowing his focus to a tapestry, some sprawling orchard sewn in crimson and gold thread. Lovely human figures gather fruit prettily, a delicate dance as he sees here in this grand ballroom.

Not an orc in sight, of course. No sooty stitches cast a figure like him in such a fairytale scene. He sips at the cold water in his goblet, washing back bitter taste in his mouth - his body runs warmer than most humans to the restrictive brocade itches against his skin.

The cut is too small for him but the tunic was a gift waiting in his room - he strains the material, hulking shoulders and arms pulling at the seams. It is made for a different body than his own but he knows better than to complain. It’s not anyone else’s fault that his bones are too bulky. That the delicate, embroidered periwinkle (when he favors dark palettes) is garish on him.

He steadfastly ignores the ridiculous sensation of being strangled when the collar shifts against his throat. He needs to focus on his duties. He must travel to some nearby country tomorrow, at dawn. A dispute amongst local merchants has halted cider production and his father’s business associate is...displeased. Solving this will fall to Lander.

His throat tightening - as does his hand around his goblet - has nothing to do with his neckline, stomach twisting when he thinks of how...delicately he’ll have to persuade here, with those who won’t take kindly to...someone like him showing up. Some are angered by his family crest and fine armor, others by his inhuman appearance, many by the marriage of the two he represents wherever he sets foot.

Hopefully, the graces of the local lord will reap him favor enough to smooth his visit over with the locals. The slender, haughty man had seemed amiable enough - had grasped Lander’s hand with more than merely the tips of his fingers, had bestowed him with a cordial smile that had loosened the knot in Lander’s chest a fraction. The man had even said - though he was likely to...“forget” the arrangement - he would pencil Lander in for a dance later that night.

It was a gesture that warmed Lander - most did not show such courtesy to him. Lander swallowed against the sting of memory where the host had deigned to practically shun his presence altogether.

Lander will need to set things back on schedule sooner rather than later (by which is meant, as soon as Lander can accomplish it). His pulse pounds in his temples when he recalls the missives he has left to pen, left piled neatly on his desk. In his preparations for the party, he’d forgotten- He squeezes the cup and the gemstones dig grooves into his palms, little aches which pin his mind back in place.

They’ll all have to be written and sent out by page tomorrow - Lander will perhaps be able to retire a little early so he can get an hour or two of sleep. Unless he skips his morning regimen of strict exercise, he might get more chance of rest.

He has been...tired, lately. If he finessed negotiations quicker, more efficiently, then he might have more time to sleep. His duties should always improve, of course...even for selfish reasons.

If he wants to sleep more, he should focus on getting sharper, working smarter (not harder, as his father once reprimanded, but to him smarter has always been harder), getting more results, before he lazes about.

But he doesn’t want to think tonight of papers, of orchards full of apples unplucked, of lips curling or fists gripping sword pommels firmly in his presence.

Lander’s bleary gaze is drawn, a lodestone to the gleaming gold silhouette of his host. Every tongue of flame in the room dapples Lord Ambrose - the elegant gestures of his slim, beringed fingers as they lift a palm to his rosebud mouth for a kiss or gesture with a glimmer of jewels in the telling of a tale. His slight, willowy frame carries the lace and ribbon and velvet of fine breeding on his form like he was swaddled in it. He tosses his head back elegantly at some joke, a soft tinkle,silverware on china, and his gilt waves of hair ripples around his delicate shoulders.

Lander thinks of his unwieldy palm, large and heavy, with the tapering nails bluntly trimmed to stave off claws. He thinks of Ambrose’s fingers within that palm - a flat gray stone pressing a blossom.

His gaze blurs.

He is seized suddenly by the brief, mad longing that he could be like these others, if only in looks. Beautiful. Light. Those with silky locks coiffed with fine oil that has never made his coarse black hair turn sleek, he will never have a head that shimmers like a raven’s wing under firelight.

Like bristles on a coal brush, a hairdresser sighed, her disappointment spiking through Lander’s teenaged heart. She couldn’t do anything with his hair, just shore it down flat against his scalp, as usual. Can’t do anything pretty with this mess, I’m afraid...

He knows he will never hang on anyone’s arm, too heavy, too…much. Certainly not with the whispers that chase him around the room, his tapered ears echoing every little murmur as clearly as if spoken aloud to his face.

Looks like a half-drowned corpse...

They should keep it on a leash, for heaven’s sake...

Keep your swords close, lads, don’t wanna see what happens when he’s on his liquor-

A sharp crunch snaps his attention away from the tension coiling through his veins and when he raises his eyes, he catches a shadowed glimpse of himself in the firelit panes. A few nearby guests are staring at his back, their warped expressions of wariness, haughty contempt, and bemusement reflected alongside his own visage.

His breath snags in his throat.

The glass breaks of his face between wrought-silver lattice, where he sees the separate pieces of himself shining back. The hoary skin, dull as ash, darkened like storm clouds with a flush around his neck and cheeks, the points of his devilish ears now going nearly cobalt. His jet-dark eyes are narrowed into a glare,black brows furrowed, mouth twisted. And- and the cup in his hand is dented, gone concave, little fissures splitting across the silver engraved flowers, torn up, ruined-

Lander’s stomach drops out. He’s frozen, gone sick, cold, tendrils of ice flooding through his chest, his legs and arms, heart a thudding frigid fist against his ribs. He wants to explain himself, to plead that he’s not angry, he truly isn’t, he knows how to behave properly-

But his tongue sticks to the roof of his bone-dry mouth, limbs stuck in place, and the guests turn demurely away from him, leaving him staring at himself.

His hands are shaking, he realizes, his breath threading thin and shallow from his lungs, fire in his flesh, ice in his blood, he- he needs to get control of himself. He can’t cause a scene.

In a daze, he sets the damaged cup on the table, slipping from the room, near the walls, like a rat, some pest sneaking away from where it’s not wanted, from light and cheer and polite, decent company. His feet lead him to a narrow corridor, private, tucked away behind columns.

Breathing heavily, Lander’s hands fumbled - graceless, foolish, meat-handed oaf - with the laces of his trousers, slipping them down to his knees.

In the dim torchlight, he gazed down at the strap, thick coarse leather studded with rows upon rows of spikes snugly cinched around his upper left thigh. The tight embrace had helped hold him in check - in his proper place - for years now. Nights like this one...rattled that restraint. Required fresh application. Discipline requires constant attention, after all. And he’s nearly slipped tonight - he cannot afford to slip.

He’s ashamed when his hands fumble once, twice when working the buckle open. He hurries with peeling the belt free, hissing, nearly a growl, at the throbbing ripple and the cool air of the corridor licking at the marks, it hurts, his small cry of pain was too near a growl, he needs to get the belt back on before he allows his hurt to be stoked to a fury-

Looping the device around his unmarked right thigh, he tightened the belt with a savage twist, buckling it shut before he could falter.

Agony stabbed through Lander’s leg and he bites his inner cheek to smother a cry. Copper floods his tongue as the jagged edges of his shaved tusk snags the flesh and the metal taste is bright, a spark against the dull, welcome throb when the dull spikes dig into the tender flesh.

He knows the grey skin will swell, color black and violet, rage restrained beneath the pinpoints of bruise, where his wrongness can bleed beneath the skin. Where it doesn’t make a mess of things.

He’d been too indulgent - allowed his emotions to swell too close to the surface. Shame simmered in his belly, a useful burn, cleaning away the other useless feelings that threatens to flood his body and drown him, smother anything worthwhile.

He fights the belt another notch, as close as he can make it without risking limb damage, and drags his pants up around his hips, laces them with brisk efficiency.

Lander sets his jaw rigid, his shoulders and spine as straight as a sword, and slips back into the gathering. He does not limp. He does not wince, despite the flares of fires spiking to his very bones. He is polite and diplomatic and lets the throb find a rythm with his heartbeat, the ache just as natural, just as innate.

Lord Ambrose does not dance with him after all, curtains his gaze with golden fringe but does not touch Lander throughout the night. That is fine - the belt would make him a poor dancer.

Just one more prevention on a thing he has not earned and shouldn’t have wanted in the first place - but when he slips, such steps keep him in line.

Just as well, Lander thinks, the burn in his legs dragging his mind away from the wrench of his heart. It is just as well.

~ wow, this was so much fun and i wrote it in a day so! be kind please xppp

#just a little thing! *throws it into the void*#lander lackman #lander #much-ado-about-whumping #whump #whumpee #my writing #non-human whumpee #creature whumpee #self-hatred #low self worth #low self esteem #fantasy racism #panic #social whump #angst

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misc-headcanons · 4 years ago

Note

Hi ! Glad to see you're open. May I request a sweet NSFW scenario of Katakuri and a female S/O( who is smaller, but not normal sized)? Thank you, and good luck with the rest of your requests !!

Katakuri/F!Reader: Appreciation

(NS.FW below!)

When Katakuri had been told by his mother that his bride-to-be was taller than the average human, he’d felt a small sense of relief--well, as much relief as you can feel when you’re being put into an arranged marriage. He had always wondered how he would be able to give Big Mom the grandchildren she desired with any wife that wasn’t a full-blown Giant or a member of the Long Neck or Long Art tribes, but he had been wary when he was told that his fiancee was a human.

After he had met his current wife though, any wariness or worry had seemingly disappeared. ____was certainly tall for a human, but she was still a few feet shorter than him. In order to enjoy their wedding kiss, she had only needed to stand on the tip of her toes for his lips to reach hers. He had been worried about frightening her with his true appearance, but once again she had managed to surprise him once again when he’d found the courage to take off his scarf in front of her for the first time; she looked up at his fangs with awe and her only real question wasn’t how he’d gotten his scars or why he was the only one of his brothers to have fangs...Instead, she’d simply asked in an inquisitive tone whether or not he tended to accidentally bite his tongue whenever he ate. Kata had been taken so off-guard that he was actually speechless for a moment before answering that no, he had plenty of years of experience using his teeth and rarely ever bit his tongue.

Her reaction had left an odd feeling in his chest, and it was one that would reappear whenever he saw her face or heard her speak. It left him feeling very...light. As if he was one of the fluffy pink clouds on Candy Island, where just one glimpse of her would leave him feeling like he was floating above the ground. He wasn’t used to someone being so genuinely kind towards him, except for Brulee. Still, ____ stirred different feelings within him...the kind that he was used to either suppressing because he had more important things to attend do, or that he'd hastily get rid of with his hand when he knew he wouldn't be interrupted. He'd only ever had her in his bed, and he still blushed whenever he thought of their wedding night.

They had only had sex a few times after that, since Katakuri's schedule as a Sweet Commander left little time to enjoy time to himself--and his wife--outside of his Meriendas. He soon realized that he was a glutton for things sweeter and more indulgent than donuts, and ____ was always eager to join him during his afternoon retreats; the guards around Flour Island were used to seeing Katakuri carrying his bride in his arms to his mochi shrine, with her giggling excitedly and leaving a few kisses along his arms and chest while he nuzzled her neck in return. It was strange to see Commander Katakuri, a man so stoic and steely, being so affectionate with his wife as if they were a pair of lovestruck teenagers. But to ____, this was what Kata was really like; he may be intimidating to the rest of the world, with a face as terrifying as his power, but around her he was as soft and sweet as a teddy bear--and as delicious as the donuts that left his lips with a sugary aftertaste whenever she kissed him.

When he entered the cozy home he shared with ____, his stress from a full day of work melted away the moment he saw her sitting on a chair in the living room, enjoying a book. She glanced up and saw Kata, and she immediately marked her page before hopping off of her set to greet her husband in a hug; when he responded by lifting her off of the floor to return her affection, she let out a small laugh as her feet dangled in the air. “Welcome home,” she said sweetly. “How has your day been so far?”

Kata carried her back to the large couch and eased into the plush seat with a small sigh, and ____ took a seat in his lap. “Long,” he replied. “Pudding’s wedding is still being planned, and with that comes the planning of procuring ingredients for the cake that Mama wants. Cracker, Smoothie, and I just now finished mapping the route our forces will take to ensure we receive supplies from the newest set of territories that were conquered a few months ago.” As he talked, he started to absentmindedly press lightly against ____’s waist and hips--it was a habit he had developed ever since they had married, and he tended to do it more often when he was stressed after a long day of work.

____ reached up and gently tugged on Kata’s scarf, and he let it fall to the ground next to them now that he was alone with her. One of her hands moved to rest on his thigh, and she mimicked his habit by gently massaging his upper leg. “You sound tired,” she remarked, looking up at her husband’s face. “And even though you’re still as handsome as ever, you look tired too.”

Kata shifted in his seat and had to fight the urge to look away from her; even now, he was still so unused to hearing compliments about his appearance. It left him so bashful that he still struggled to make eye contact with her whenever she did it, even in passing. “I’m...I am fine,” he replied. He had endured longer days of work than this, and he hated feeling tired or drained--especially in front of others. He was the iron wall of Tottland, the one that everyone could rely on. There were rumors that he didn’t even get tired, and when he did he always slept straight on his back so nobody could surprise him. ____ didn’t put much stock into rumors, but she knew for a fact that this one wasn’t true. She pursed her lips a bit at his attempt to hide any “weakness” in front of her, and then a slow smile spread across her face when an idea took root in her head.

____ turned around so that she was facing Katakuri now, and she moved her hand up to gently press against his chest. “You’ve been working harder than usual lately,” she noted, her tone sweet but with a suggestive lilt to it. “I think you deserve a little appreciation.”

Kata cocked his head slightly. “...’Appreciation’?” He was already the highest-ranked pirate in the kingdom aside from Big Mom herself, so even if he wanted to, he couldn't really receive any kind of promotion. Oh, perhaps ____ meant a second Merienda; normally he only enjoyed an additional Merienda on his birthday, but he wouldn't object to it after a long day like this one. His Observation Haki clued him in to what she really meant, and his eyes widened a bit as he saw a glimpse of the future in his mind's eye. "...Oh."

His vision came true a second later when ____ dragged the fingers of her left hand along his chest, all the way down to his belt buckle. She leaned forward and kissed the shell of Katakuri's ear, and smiled against his skin when she heard him shiver. When she pulled away, she saw the pink flush to her husband's cheeks and felt his chest heave slightly underneath her right hand. She moved her right hand up to caress his cheek. "You're so cute when you look up at me like that, Kata," she cooed. "All flustered from a few kisses and touches…"

He placed one shaky hand on top of hers and turned his head to kiss the inside of her hand, he used his other hand to unclasp his belt buckle. She had barely touched him, but he could already feel his pants becoming unbearably tight. He was normally so guarded, so strong and commanding, but he knew that when they were together, he could let his walls down and simply be with her. "You...Don't feel obligated to do this," he replied, biting his lip as he felt her gently rock her hips against him. He always felt guilty whenever she sacrificed her own pleasure for his, whether it was her insisting she'd be fine on her own when he left on voyages for weeks at a time or being so understanding when he had to leave her to attend to his mother's wishes. "I can--"

"Kata," ____ chided gently, moving past his hand to slip his belt off of his waist and curl two fingers around the zipper on his trousers. "I know I don't have to do this." She pursed her lips. "The same way you don't have to be the strongest man in the world all the time." She smirked and used both hands to shimmy his pants further down his legs, biting the inside of her cheek when she saw the tent in his underwear spring out from the black leather that it had been straining against until now. "And besides, I don't need to do this, I want to do this." She slowly made her way off of the couch and onto her knees in a position that was comfortable, and then leaned down to kiss his clothed cock. "I want you."

Kata bucked his hips forward slightly as he felt ____'s lips touch his member through the thin cloth. "I want you too," he sighed, his fists clenching when she moved to gently tug at the waistline of his underwear, leaving a series of light kisses to his cock until finally releasing his erection and watching it spring out of his trousers. A few thin beads of precum slid down the shaft, and ____ licked her dry lips before bending down to kiss him again on the tip. Kata's eyes rolled back slightly and he let out a soft groan as he finally felt the tip of her velvety tongue brush and flick his sensitive head in between every feather-light kiss from her lips.

____ felt her own arousal beginning to form a comfortably warm and wet slick in between her thighs, and she moved one hand down to play with her clitoris while using the other to gently grasp the base of Katakuri's cock. The two of them moaned in unison, and ____ began to bob her head up and down his sizeable length. She continued to moan, sigh, and practically sing as she played with herself and tasted him; the vibrations from her mouth wrapped around his length left Katakuri reeling, and he began to move his hips in time with her mouth. He couldn't remember why he'd felt so worn-out and stressed earlier. Hell, he could barely string a sentence together as the pleasure and warmth built up and bubbled inside of him. Before he knew it, his gloved hands had moved to cradle the back of her head, guiding her along at the pace he desired.

____ pulled away for a few seconds to get some air, and the sight of her lips shining with his precum made his cock twitch at the tip. Not wanting to neglect him completely while she took a short break, she continued to stroke him at a slightly faster pace than before. "How close are you, honey?" She let out a breathy laugh and quickened her pace again, relishing in the slicking sound of her hand running up and down his shaft. "From how tightly you were gripping my hair just now, I bet you're right on the edge…"

Kata felt a slight bit of shame and he immediately released the fistfuls of her hair from between his fingers. "I'm s-sorry, love," he murmured. He hadn't meant to hurt her.

____ smiled again and her eyes fluttered a bit as her other hand repeatedly brushed over a particularly sensitive section of her walls. "Ah--No need to apologize, Kata," she replied sweetly. "I love feeling you tugging on my hair like that…" She bit her lip and her smile widened; Katakuri was always easy to tease, but he was absolutely adorable whenever she talked dirty while they were together. "I like knowing just how good I make you feel…" She moved her head up a bit to lick and kiss the underside of his member, and she felt his grip on her hair tighten again. "And I love your cock so, so much~"

Katakuri inhaled sharply and involuntarily thrust his hips forward, accidentally shoving himself all the way inside of her for the first time. He immediately tried to move back and apologize for surprising (and potentially hurting) her, but she let out a lewd muffled moan as she squeezed Kata's thigh with one hand and feverishly drilled against her clit with the other.

The pressure inside of Kata coiled and he gave into his desires completely, losing all sense of restraint as he thrust into her at a feverish pace. "Aaah, I love you," he growled, repeating those three words over and over until finally gasping as the knot of pleasure inside of him reached his peak. He murmured her name softly as he felt his cock filling her mouth completely with his seed. A bit of drool fell down his chin as he panted with parted lips, hips still bucking and cock still twitching slightly as he rode out his climax.

____, just now coming down from her own high, moaned once more when she felt a trickle of Katakuri's cum on her lips. She swallowed the rest of his seed, relishing in the warmth as it slid down her throat and added to the wonderful feeling of fullness in her core. Once she felt she could stand, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and climbed up onto the couch to rest in her beloved's lap and rest her head against the crook of his neck in a loving embrace. "I love you too, dear," she sighed, placing a kiss along his jawline. Kata's cock twitched once again from the kiss, and he let out another soft moan. ____'s cheeks felt even warmer, and she smiled sheepishly; she knew how overstimulated Kata could get, and his jawline was one of his most sensitive areas. "Ah, sorry."

He managed to place a slightly trembling arm around her waist and pulled her closer to kiss her neck in return. "Don't be," he murmured, his eyes half-lidded as he gently brushed his lips and fangs against her skin. "Th-thank you for helping me relax, love." He sighed contentedly and put his other arm around her back to cradle her against him. "I know I say it often when we're together, but...I love you."

____ tilted her neck to let his mouth reach more of her as she smiled with closed eyes and gently drew circles against his skin while he did the same with the fingers around her waist. "Love you too, darling," she murmured. It was the last thing said out loud before the two of them fell asleep, their minds hazy and comfortably light as they held one another.

#one piece #one piece scenarios #one piece scenario #katakuri #charlotte katakuri #ns.fw #mine #female s/o

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bugabash · 4 years ago

Text

Cursed Past - Chapter 4 preview

Summary: 10 years before current events, Ladybug and Chat Noir have finally intercepted Hawkmoth, and discovered the extent of his crimes and his torture. How will they react?

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10 years ago

Ladybug and Chat Noir stood tall, they were bloody and bruised, but they had won. They pounded their fists and faced the man they had been fighting for years, he was on his back, his staff broken and a look of defeat on his face.

“Hawkmoth, your reign of terror has come to an end!” Ladybug exclaimed, “Hand over your miraculous.”

“Go to hell, you stupid teenagers.” He spat back, “I would rather die than willingly give up my miraculous to you.”

“I’m sure I can arrange that.” Chat murmured back with a disgusted snarl, his claws glowing green.

“Easy Chat.” She shifted and limped over to Hawkmoth, kneeling. “Last chance before I sic my kitty on you.” He glared at her before he actually did spit at her, recoiling back and wiping the spit from her face in disgust.

“That’s it.” Chat Noir boomed, walking over to the man and grabbing him by the tuft of his shirt, lifting him up with ease and snarling at him. “My turn, and I don’t ask nicely, I don’t ask at all actually.” Chat’s eyes glowed green, pupils in slits and full of rage.

Ladybug walked over and looked at the butterfly pendant, she had been after the missing miraculous for years, and there it was, right in her hand. “Time’s up, Hawkmoth.” And with that she pulled it off, purple light filling the room and Nooroo fell to the floor, eyes wide. The two superheroes blinked the brightness away before they both froze. Chat Noir dropped the man and took two huge steps back, his eyes wide and his face paling.

Infront of them lay Gabriel Agreste, his face bruised and his clothes filthy. He glared at the two of them, Ladybug stared in shock, eyes darting to Chat Noir in worry. Was he ok?

“G-Gabriel Agreste?” She stammered, blinking. Adrien… Poor Adrien, his father…

“How… How COULD YOU!” Chat Noir exploded, he looked more furious than she had ever seen, he looked like he was out for death. “How could you do this to your son?” He stormed over to Gabriel, punching him in the face.

“Chat!” Ladybug grabbed his arm and pushed him back, getting between the two. She placed her hands on his chest, looking up at him. His heart was thumping under her hands, tears glistening his eyes and his mouth was in a snarl. He looked like he was ready to kill Gabriel. “Calm down… Hey.” She placed a hand on his cheek and made him look down at her, their eyes met and his features softened. “I got this, call the police. Get them here.”

“No! Not here! They’ll take her away, Adrien should at least get to say goodbye to her.” Gabriel exclaimed, trying to sit up, coughing up the blood in his mouth. They turned and looked at him in confusion, following his eyesight to a glass coffin hidden in vines and butterflies.

They stood in silence, their minds racing. It was Chat who stepped towards it first, slowly. Ladybug watched him as he did, his face was full of fear as he walked painfully slow to the glass coffin. And then he gasped and covered his mouth, turning away and suddenly vomited. Ladybug ran over to him and pressed a hand against his back, her heart beating fast. He shook his head, puking again as his shoulders shook.

Ladybug turned to the coffin, her eyes widening. She knew that face… She was Adrien’s mother, she looked like she was asleep but… she was pale, almost grey. How long had she been down here? Marinette knew she had disappeared 4 or 5 years before, no traces, no leads, no death certificate and no body. And here she was… all this time.

“What… What did you do?” Ladybug asked in horror, turning to Gabriel and gripping onto Chat Noir who was still bent over, trembling more.

“I was trying to save her.” Gabriel replied, “but you two wouldn’t let me. So now she will die.” He glared at them, “now my son won’t have a mother.”

“He hasn’t had a mother for years…” Chat Noir groaned out before retching, “you’re a monster.”

“How am I a monster? I was trying to save the love of my life!” He snarled back.

“You can’t save her, if she is gone then you cannot bring her back, even with our miraculouses. The price-”

“I already had someone’s life to trade, don’t worry.” Gabriel coughed and leant against the bars. “Monster is a very loose term.” He laughed, “I would call your little feline a monster, even you a monster, some would call the police monsters, call teenage girls causing problems in school monsters. Everyone is a monster in their own way.”

“No! She wasn’t a monster, no one is as big a monster as you.” Chat straightened and glared at the man. Ladybug looked at him with worry, he looked like he aged years in a few minutes. “You will never see the outside world again, you will rot in jail. I will make sure of it.” Chat turned and called the police as Ladybug gulped and stroked Nooroo’s head as they rested on her shoulder.

“We will make sure you never leave your cell.” Ladybug said with a disgusted look.

Soon the police arrived, they arrested Gabriel and escorted him out, Ladybug watched as they took him, the feeling sweeping over her like cold water. It was over… They got him. They finally got him. So why did it feel like they lost?

She looked over at Chat Noir who was standing at the base of coffin, staring. Something was wrong with him, she didn’t know what it could be but she knew it had something to do with the person who hid behind his bravado and his black mask. She walked over to him and stood next to him, staring at Emilie.

“Why… why does it feel like it isn’t over?” She whispered, her expression sad, her body aching, and her heart sore. She looked up at her partner, seeing the pain on his face, tears wet on his cheeks. He didn’t say anything, just stared. She watched as blood slowly trickled from the cut on his eyebrow, mixing with the wetness. He looked… broken. She took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers and rested her head on his shoulder, feeling him grip onto her hand and leant his head against hers. “We won… but… Their son, he…” She had her mouth open, but no words came out, a tear falling. “He just lost everything.” Chat’s grip tightened and he sniffed, wiping his nose with his free hand.

“He won’t be missing much with that piece of shit gone, I think seeing his mother will… that will be him losing a lot.” Chat murmured, his eyes dark.

“Chat… Are you okay?” She asked softly.

He didn’t say anything, letting go and walked to the coffin, pressing a button and watching it open. A smell of lavender filled the air, Ladybug sniffed and felt her lip tremble. Her heart broke, she couldn’t even imagine what Adrien will be like when he sees his mother like this. Ladybug watched Chat with worried eyes, walking next to him and then stared at the woman. She heard a voice in her head whispering something, telling her to take the comatose woman’s hand. So she did, walking to her side and took her hand.

Staring at her beautiful face, she looked so much like Adrien, she looked peaceful, a small smile on her face. Chat took her other hand, tears streaming now.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you, Emilie.” Ladybug whispered, causing Chat Noir to gasp and look at her, eyes wide. She didn’t look up, eyes on the woman’s face. “You would have been so proud of your son,” Chat stared at her again, eyes wide, she didn’t see but she felt his gaze. “He is amazing, I haven’t seen anyone overcome what he has, and now with what I know I am even more amazed by him. He has become a man you would be so proud of and someone you would be so privileged to know. I feel privileged to know him.” She glanced up at Chat who had gone white, staring as his tears flowed more freely. “He is nothing like his father, I knew that before I knew who he was. Adrien overcame his father’s abuse and his neglect, and still has a heart of gold.” She reached over with her free hand, stroking her hair. “You can rest now, we will look after your son. I will look after him. I promise.”

“Ladybug…” Chat whispered softly.

“Thank you, Emilie. For giving us Adrien, and I am so sorry he has suffered and that he is about to suffer even more. And I am so,” her voice broke and she sobbed, “I am so sorry I didn’t find you sooner.” She dropped her head, her loose hair falling around her, it had fallen out in the fight. “I failed you, but I won’t fail your son. I swear to you, as the guardian, I will fix this. I will heal the hurt Gabriel Agreste has caused.”

Chat was about to speak when he gasped, Ladybug’s head snapping up as she stared at her partner. Then she saw it, what he was gasping over. His ring was glowing, but he was looking at her, she felt tingling in her lobes, and assumed hers were glowing too. They locked eyes for a second, something was happening, and she felt her heart start to race. It was like she was seeing him for the first time. Her body filled with love, warmth and… power.

That was when it happened, they both looked down at the woman and saw she slowly started to glow a golden glow. Chat’s eyes were wide, as were Ladybugs, and that’s when she felt it, the words slipping out of her mouth. “Miraculous Ladybug…” She whispered, her lucky charm across the room bursting into her magic ladybugs, swarming all around them, but they had a bright green aura around them. Marinette blinked and watched as they twiled around her and Chat, their hair blowing around, their wounds healing. Chat and Ladybug stared at each other, the world freezing. She saw him, his mask gone, as was her, but she didn’t see anyone but Chat, and she knew all he saw was Ladybug. She never saw a civilian, or recognised him, she saw the face she knew that was her kitty. And then time unfroze and the ladybugs swarmed around Emilie, both the heroes letting go and they were blown back, Chat somersaulted and landed on his feet, one hand on the floor. Ladybug landed on her back, coughing slightly as she did, still in shock.

She opened her eyes and saw the green and red ladybugs were swarming around Emilie and had lifted her into the air, they shone bright, so bright Ladybug had to shield her eyes, seeing chat standing and staring. And as quickly as they came, they were gone, Emilie slowly floating back down into her coffin. They ran to her side, and stared at her then each other. Their eyes snapped down as they heard her groan, Ladybug gasping and clasping her hands around her mouth.

“What… M’lady what happened?” Chat asked softly, staring at the woman.

“I… I think we just… our miraculouses, they healed her.” Ladybug said softly, stepping back and looking around for help. She saw two EMTs crouched by the now fixed entrance, “Help! She’s alive!” They ran over and were calling into their radios, soon they were pushed aside by the first responders, they got Emilie onto the gurney and they were gone. Ladybug watched, eyes wide and she took a deep breath, feeling like it was her first breath in years.

Then everything crashed internally, and her legs gave way, collapsing to her hands and knees, sobbing freely. Everything she had been through for four years, all the stress, the responsibility, only confiding in Alya, keeping secrets from Luka to the point they argue constantly, her sleepless nights, her injuries, the people who have suffered, the numerous battles, the numerous times she lost chat in a fight. Everything. It was over.

“Ladybug!” Chat cried out and ran to her, scooping her up and holding her to him, hugging her tight. “What is it? Are you hurt? Are you okay?” He asked frantically, pulling back and looking her over.

“I-I-I’m fine.” She blubbered, “it’s over,” she managed, “we did it, and we-we-we,” She sobbed, “we got him his mom back too!”

Chat sighed in relief, and laughed softly, “don’t scare me like me that!” He dropped his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and she sobbed, arms snaking around his neck and gripping on. “We did it, it’s over. You didn’t just save Paris tonight, you saved a woman who has been lost for years, you just saved that boy’s life too.”

“I should have found her sooner, I failed her and Adrien.” She sniffed and curled her fists up. She heard their beeps, panic setting in.

“It’s okay, hey, it’s okay. We can stay here as long as you like, just keep your eyes closed, okay?” He whispered, his soft breath warm against her face. She nodded and closed her eyes, resting her cheek against his, tears making their skin stick together more. Their transformations fell, and they clung to each other, their kwamis digging around between them to find their respective foods.

“Chat?” Marinette asked softly, nuzzling into her partners neck, Chat shifting under her and sitting Marinette on his lap, leaning against his shoulder, arms around her protectively.

“Yes, m’lady.” He answered, his voice different, softer, their disguises gone and their magic with it to keep their identities a secret. She recognised the voice but didn’t want to think like that. “You… sound different.” He spoke softly before she could talk, “your voice, its more… musical.”

She chuckled, “you sound different too.” She replied, “Chat, what do we do now?” She asked softly.

“What do you mean?” He asked, stroking her back gently.

“If it’s truly over… What do we do.” She opened her eyes, staring at the black colour of his shirt, seeing the blonde hair in the corner of her eye. “What do Chat Noir and Ladybug do?”

“Well, we patrol, we protect, and… we look after each other.” He responded with a sigh, kissing the top of her head.

“You won’t leave me?” She asked softly.

“What?” He exclaimed, “Never! I will never leave you!” He gripped her tightly, “I promise.”

Marinette sighed and snuggled into him, “Thank you.”

“No… Thank you. I can’t explain why, but you have… You have done so much today.” She closed her eyes, and smiled, not answering and breathing in his cologne.

"We did it... We... We did it." She sobbed a laugh, gripping his shirt.

"You did it."

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 4 years ago

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A Familiar Soul - Chapter Six

Summary: Hilda decides to be completely honest with her mother, surprised when she seems to be a lot more in on magic than Hilda had expected her to be.

With her daughter’s association with witches, Johanna is forced to face some secrets of her own, bringing her back to feelings and people she’d rather have left behind

Dealing with insecurities and inner demons of her own, Kaisa finds herself face to face with the very issues that brought her to be so displeased with her own abilities

Or: the one where Johanna is Kaisa’s familiar

Notes: Once again, sorry for not posting last week! Hope you enjoy this though

Read it on ao3: (chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4) (chpt5) (chpt6)

“Come on, Kaisa, it’ll be fun!”

Kaisa put down a book on her card a little more forcefully than she needed to, and right away shot Hilda an apologetic look, as if saying she hadn’t meant it.

“I know, Hildie… I’m just not sure that I should.”

“Come on!” The girl groaned as she moved from the librarian’s side to being in front of her, with her cart between them. “It’s just tea! You haven’t been acting like yourself, Kaisa. Is everything alright? For some days now you have been very distant, you know?”

The librarian sighed. She’d been hoping Hilda wouldn’t notice the change in her demeanor, but apparently the girl was too smart for that. “I’m sorry about that. I’ve just been considering that maybe I shouldn’t spend so much time with you three. After all, you’re children and I’m… not.”

“That doesn’t matter at all!” Hilda argued with her arms crossed on her chest. “You’re our friend, Kaisa. You’re my friend. And I really miss you.”

Something about the way she said it made Kaisa bend. How long had it been since anyone had considered her their friend? Since the girl’s mother, Kaisa noticed with sadness.

“Just tea, you say?” Hilda smiled brightly and nodded at her. “And you’ll be alone at your house?”

“Yeah, I will! Alfur said he’ll be busy with report writing all afternoon, and Tontu will be out to… honestly, I don’t know what he’ll be doing, but he’ll be out.”

“Fine, then. I accept the invitation.”

“Yes!” Hilda shouted as she fist pumped the air, before noticing the disapproving stares she got from everyone around her, including Kaisa.

“Yes!” she repeated, whispering this time, and Kaisa had to bite back a chuckle. “Thank you so much. See you tomorrow, Kai.”

_#_#_#_

Kaisa had decided to take over the tea duty simply because she knew the drink would turn out better if she did it. It had nothing to do with being worried about Hilda, who seemed too short to be using the stove and got on the brink of spilling hot water on herself at one point. Not at all.

“Thanks for that!” The girl said when Kaisa stopped the kettle from falling on her and put it back in its place to boil, telling her to put the other things on the table while she took care of the tea. “Mum’s usually the one to make tea so I’m not really used to it.”

The breath was caught in Kaisa’s throat at the mention of Johanna, and Hilda tilted her head at her when she noticed something off about the librarian.

“Kaisa?”

“It’s fine.” Kaisa said then, hastily. “I’m very used to it. Tildy is basically an addict.”

This made Hilda chuckle as she picked cookies from the cabinet to put on the table. Kaisa was grateful to see a few store bought options; even though the home baked ones definitely looked more delicious, she didn’t think she’d feel well eating something she knew Johanna must have baked. It felt like trespassing.

“Yeah, I saw her house. Don’t take me the wrong way, but does she ever clean?”

Kaisa snorted. “Why clean when you can just let your familiar eat your messes?”

Pulling herself a chair, Hilda laughed gleefully. It made Kaisa very grateful to have someone who seemed to appreciate her presence, and she appreciated Hilda’s presence as well. When the kettle whistled, Kaisa readily poured the boiling water into the cups, both already with the herb mixture she’d prepared, and took them over to the table.

Eating with Hilda was easy. Being the bright and energetic person that she was, Kaisa didn’t have to make too much effort to fill in any gaps in the conversation, and she dealt with Kaisa’s sarcasm and dry sense of humor remarkably well. Even when Kaisa politely refused a bowl with pastries she’d made with her mother, Hilda didn’t press her to eat them.

It was her fault, really. Kaisa knew she wasn’t supposed to be there, and still the company and the warm tea were so pleasant she lingered more than she had to, so it was her fault that there had been no time to escape before the front door was unlocked and a person walked in.

“Hilda, I’m back!” She announced. Johanna had a smile on her face as she saw Hilda sitting at the table and looking behind herself at her mother, but it quickly faded when her gaze traveled from her daughter to her usual seat.

Dropping her purse to the ground in surprise, Johanna gasped audibly, shock and anger making her lips curl back.

“What are you doing here?!”

“Mum, I can explain!” Hilda got up from the chair as quick as she could, while some part of her mind registered that her mother seemed to not only know the librarian very well, but also not like her at all. “I invited-“

“I came to ask Hilda about a book she had borrowed.” Kaisa spoke over Hilda, knowing that the girl would probably get in trouble if Johanna knew she had been invited for tea by Hilda herself. The lie flew from her instinctively. “It was about to be overdue, so I thought it was better to come and talk to her.”

Far from being appeased, Johanna only seemed to get more furious.

“Really?!” She spat. “Out of all the things you could make up, you’re using the same excuse you’d tell my parents and expecting me to fall for it? Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

Oh. Now that Johanna had said it, Kaisa recognized why that lie had seemed so natural to her. On two separate occasions when she was a teenager, she’d used it to justify to Johanna’s parents why she was in their house so early. Of course she hadn’t stayed the night, she’d said, knowing they didn’t like it when Johanna had ‘friends’ over, Mr. Linus had just told her Johanna had an overdue book and she’d come to warn her friend before the deadline came. Her father had fallen easily, but Johanna’s mother had been slightly harder to convince.

“Your parents?” Hilda whispered, now looking between the two women in curiosity. They both seemed to have taken fighting stances, Johanna with her feet set apart as if to give her a strong base and her chest leaning forward, looking ready to attack while Kaisa stood rock still, every bone in her body stiff as she clenched her jaw and fists.

“Go to your room, Hilda.” Johanna hissed. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Johanna, really.” Though Hilda wasn’t looking at her, she could <em>hear</em> the eyeroll in Kaisa’s eyes, and she flinched. Her mum didn’t like it at all when people rolled their eyes at her. “I wasn’t here to- corrupt your child or anything else you might imagine. We were just having tea and talking.”

“She doesn’t need you here!” Johanna snapped, and for some reason this hit the librarian harder than she could have predicted. “She has her friends and she has me, there’s no reason for you to be here and… do anything!”

In the library, Kaisa had been in her element, had felt confident enough to spit back at Johanna. But now they were in Johanna’s zone, and she didn’t feel like buying a fight, especially not in front of Hilda. She really didn’t have to know about this mess the two of them had made of their lives.

“Now, let’s not be rash-“

“Don’t you dare talk to me about being rash!” Johanna stepped aside and opened up the front door wide. “Get out of my house!”

Kaisa grunted in anger and did as she was told, even if in heavy, loud steps. Hilda reached out her hand and called for her, but the librarian had already broken into a run upon reaching the staircase.

“What has come upon you?!” She asked to her mother, whose breath was finally beginning to slow down.

“Hilda…” Running a hand through her curls, Johanna sighed. “Try to understand-“

“I don’t want to hear it!”

Ignoring her mother’s protests, Hilda ran past her to try to catch up with Kaisa.

So much for having an honest relationship.

_#_#_#_

It was an unquestionable truth in Johanna’s life that everything that was good, became better when she shared it with Kaisa. This meant, of course, that as soon as the Raven Leader took them to that tower in order to watch the woff migration routes, Johanna knew she had to take her favorite witch there.

The former bell tower sat right at the wall that separated Trolberg from the wilderness, but since having its bell broken in the earthquake of ‘82, it no longer served its original purpose. With its view overlooking the green fields which woffs favoured as their mid-migration resting spots, it was the perfect place for such activity.

Right after the Raven Leader had declared their duties done for the afternoon, Johanna had begun to think about inviting Kaisa over to the tower. Since her mother picked her up from the Sparrow Scouts activities, she couldn’t just deliver a message at that moment. It wasn’t that her mother didn’t like her seeing Kaisa, though she’d already voiced her wishes for her daughter to have a wider group of friends, but since Johanna’s feelings for her best friend had begun… shifting into something a little different, and she could no longer deny that they were, she had constantly been afraid of her parents seeing right through her and figuring it out. That left her with only one option, to ask Kaisa about it at school.

Seeing as they walked to their local high school together every day, it wasn’t hard to find a good moment. In fact, Johanna made the proposition right after she’d met Kaisa on the front door of Tildy’s house, and they arranged to go to the tower right after class. Johanna’s parents had just begun to allow her to go outside without adult supervision and they didn’t want to test their boundaries by having Johanna arrive home late.

She’d spent the whole school day anxious for the moment when she’d be allowed to leave. This was unusual for her, having always been a hard working student, but she couldn't stop her mind from going back to their appointment every couple minutes. There was nothing romantic in its nature, but since admitting to herself that she had a crush on Kaisa, she seemed to get more and more eager for any amount of time they could spend together.

“Are you sure this is open for visitors?” Kaisa asked while Johanna struggled with the tower’s entrance door, which gave in at that exact moment as if it were proving Johanna’s point.

“Either that or the Raven Leader illegally barged in with a bunch of kids.” She lifted an eyebrow at the witch, daring her to say that the Sparrow Scout’s leader had broken into City Hall property, and in return received a playful shove when Kaisa walked past her and into the curling staircase inside.

They were both out of breath once they had finished climbing, even though Johanna did her best to hide it (she was the familiar in that relationship, after all, and if Kaisa saw she was tired after some stairs how would she be able to trust her with protecting her?). Their footsteps echoed in the tall stone room, and Kaisa excitedly pointed out the bats sleeping upside down on the roof. After she’d admired them, Johanna beckoned her over to the window, the light that came from it dimming with every second that passed. Dusk was coming quickly.

“You should be able to see a couple of woffs sleeping or grazing in the meadow below.” Johanna said, placing Kaisa in front of her so she had a better view. Instead of looking down as well, she got momentaneously distracted by the whiff she caught of Kaisa’s scent, like black tea and lavender.

“I don’t see any down there.” The witch breathed with clear excitement in her voice, snapping Johanna back to reality. “But those look interesting enough.”

As Johanna followed Kaisa’s gaze, she too got overcome with excitement when a pack of migrating woffs cut through the sky above them, looking peaceful and completely confident about their destination, even though no human had ever quite been able to figure out where exactly it was that they went.

Their mellow sighs were a relaxing sound, especially so with the gentle light of the setting sun behind them and the breeze messing with their hairs. Johanna became entrapped in them, her lips parted as she wondered how it would feel to fly on the back of one such creature, so much so that she didn’t notice Kaisa was looking at her out of the corner of her eyes.

“Look!” Johanna exclaimed. “There’s a white one! You don’t see those every day.”

Kaisa nodded. “It is said that white woffs are a sign of good luck for witches.”

“Really?” Johanna turned to her, and became a little flustered herself when she realized Kaisa was blushing due to how close their faces were. “Have you ever had a chance to experience this?”

“No.” Johanna noticed that Kaisa suddenly had fixed her gaze on the horizon, biting her lip in a nervous habit. “But I thought I might test this theory today.”

For a solid moment, Johanna was afraid Kaisa would do something crazy like jumping out of the tower. To her credit, her friend was known for doing unpredictable things. What Kaisa said next, however, was unpredictable in a whole other manner.

“May I kiss you?” She asked. Her rigid posture indicated that it had taken her a lot of strength to get that out, which only made Johanna appreciate it even more, and her stance relaxed when Johanna smiled widely and chuckled with happiness.

Instead of answering her, Johanna just leaned in as the woffs flew overhead. Who knew? Maybe white woffs were good luck for familiars too.

#fic: afs #my fic #sketchbook ship #sketchbook ship hilda #johanna hilda fanfiction #kaisa hilda fanfiction

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prancing-uboot · 4 years ago

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Satsuma Dads Timeline

You know how Golden Kamuy is an awesome manga full of amazing (and super-hot) characters and a great main storyline? So what do I do with it? Naturally I obsess over those two old gremlins: Koito Heiji and Hanazawa Koujirou the fathers of Second Lieutenant Koito and Ogata.

It's probably the most niche pairing ever, and I thought it was just me fixating on that one panel where Tsurumi mentioned they were close friends from Satsuma. But the more I read about the history of Satsuma and the times they lived in, the more I’m becoming convinced that there’s so much of their story written between the lines and that their relationship and tumultuous past is what actually caused and keeps together most of the GK plot. But nobody else seems to see it!

So what do I do with that? I spent my nights in front of my crazywall of historical research, trying to recreate an entire universe of events 50-years before the gold plot starts, just to be able to present to you:

The Satsuma Dads Timeline

Why you Should Care for Heiji and Koujirou

~1850

Koujirou and Heiji* were born around 1850** in Kagoshima.

Heiji might have been older then Koujirou, but not more then 5 years. They were both sons of high ranking samurai (noble bloodline), serving the Shimazu clan.

* Most likely they went by other names in their youth and then changed them a bazillion times to make stuff confusing, but let's skip that.

** That would make them around the same age as Tougou Heihachiro and Nogi Maresuke ** - the chief players in the Russo-Japanese war for the navy and army. Both share a lot of biographical motives with Koujirou and Heiji and Noda might have modeled them a bit after them so I'll include the parallels where possible. I'm not sure Nogi even exists in the GK universe or was he replaced by Koujirou completely. Tougou was recently confirmed to exist. He was also a Kagoshima-boy, and grew up in the same circles so it's impossible that he and Heiji didn't know each other from childhood.

1856-65

Koujirou and Heiji train in the same gochu in Kajiya-cho*. Gochu was a Satsuma-specific education system, relying on small neighborhood study groups in which the older samurai spent a part of their time teaching the younger everything they knew. Starting from penmanship and Confucian doctrines and ending with swordsmanship, and the unstoppable Jigen-ryu.

Teenage Heiji develops a Koito-crush*. on Saigo Takamori (20 years his senior) and follows him around like a lost puppy. Koujirou makes fun of him, but in reality he feels a bit jealous.

* Kajya-cho was a Kagoshima district known now as "Home town of Revitalization" as most of the influential Satsuma leaders of the Meiji Revolution came from there. That also meant that they directly taught the younger generations as part of the gochu. For example Tougou also came from that area. I'm not that sure Heiji and Koujirou were actually from Kajiya-cho, but it being 3km downhill from the Nanshu Cemetary would fit in nicely to the place where Tsurumi and Otonoshin first met so it's likely.

** Gochu was a completely male oriented environment, so homoerotic relations bloomed and were even encouraged (think ancient Greece), hence the term "Satsuma habit" was later used as the synonym of homosexuality in Japan. But for them then it was just a natural thing they sometimes did, and not really an orientation. Koito Otonoshin crushing on Tsurumi might be a bit old fashioned but it's just a Satsuma thing, so of course his dad is cool with that.

1866-67

Both go to Kyoto to serve Hisamitsu Shimazu and there they experience the tension of the Bakumatsu period first hand. They soak up the patriotic moods of the Sonno-Joi fraction, they hear of the the assassinations by the Shinsengumi, they feel a revolution brewing. Being a hot-headed youth in those times made keeping out of trouble very difficult.

1868-69

The Boshin War breaks out. Satsuma, Choshu and Tosa fight to abolish the Tokugawa shogunate. Heiji and Koujirou join up and dispite their young age are given officer commissions*. Coming from a long line of Satsuma’s military commanders it is what they were raised up to do. This war however is nothing like the stories they grew up on. Instead of swords it relies more on modern weapons guns and artillery. What was supposed to be a short battle with the Shogun's forces, turns into a lengthy nationwide campaign of crashing shogunate loyalists long after the Shogun himself resigned. Koujiro and Heiji fight side by side and survive all the way to see the end of it in Hakodate.

* Only the oficers wore the super cool Satsuma black koguma wigs and I definitely do need fanart of that.

1870

Heiji and Koujiro come out of the war victorious. Most of the positions in the new government are taken by Satsuma and Choshu men, so practically any career path is open to them. Koujiro stays with the Imperial Guard while Heiji joins the Imperial Naval Academy in Tsukiji, Tokyo. They compete for the most ridiculous facial hair* and spend their off nights “drinking green liqueurs under red lanterns”

Ogata's grandfather fought** on the other side for the Mito clan (the last shogun was from the Mito-Tokugawa branch). After the defeat his family falls into poverty. They sell their daughter to an okiya because they cannot support her ***.

* The Haitourei edict from 1871 allowed samurai to cut of their chonmage and encouraged them to experiment with western haircuts.

** I’m guessing he was active in the Boshin by the fact that he had an old gun lying around.

*** This "Ogata's mom comes from a fallen samurai family" theory has been going around but I'm not super sure about the time frame here. Usually maiko get promoted to geisha when they're 20-21. That means to already be a geisha when she gave birth to Hyakunosuke she must have been at least 12 when she was sold. That's quite late for a geisha to start her education. Or I might be wrong about Hyakunosuke's birth date, but I'd really like it to be 1879, so I'm in a pickle here.

1873

Heiji finally finds the guts to propose to Yuki, his Kagoshima sweetheart. They marry and a son is born to them - Heinojou *.

Koujirou's family chooses a wife for him **. She's from a good family, likely Choshu to have some useful connections. Heiji comes to their wedding in his fancy navy uniform to congratulate them and say goodbye. He'll be going to study abroad in the France ***. Koujirou feels like it's his funeral wake.

* Heinojou's birthdate is the first solid date we have for them from the canon, so I'm basing the whole “born in the 1850s” on the fact that the expected age of a man to marry was their early 20s.

** Arranged marriage was the most commonplace in Japan then. The families picked the brides because they were most likely to spend more time with her then the husband, taking care of the house and such.

*** In 1871 Tougou went to study abroad with 14 other cadets to Greenwich Naval Collage and that would fit so nicely. The problem is that they went 1871-1878 and Heinojou was born in 1873 *shakes fist*. There were also individual exchange programs though and since in canon Heiji is mentioned to have some french friends I figured he was sent to France.

~1876

Koujirou is stationed in Tokyo, while his wife stays in Kagoshima, taking care of the family home. He begins an affair* with Tome**, a geisha from Asaskusa. With Heiji gone she's the only person he can open his heart to.

After abolisment of the clan system and privileges of the samurai, the dissatisfied Satsuma samurai quit the Imperial Guard en-masse and go back to Kagoshima to gather around Saigo Takamori and brew a rebelion. Koujiro - by then a major - is faced with a choice: to go back with his childhood friends, or to stay loyal to the government. He chooses his career.

* I'm guessing he must have been married already when the thing started, because marrying a geisha wasn't that unheard of and wouldn't really cause a scandal or hinder his career. All three of the Meiji prime ministers Hirobumi Ito, Taro Katsura and Yamagata Aritomo ended up marrying geisha. So Tome being a geisha was not a problem - Koujiro already having a wife was.

** Tome is a random name that Ogata used in his Sugimoto self insert fic. I love the headcanon that it's his mom's name. Because of course he makes everything personal.

1877

In January the Seinan War breaks out. Koujirou fights against his clansmen and his former war comrades *. By September most of them are dead. He is there at Shiroyama where Saigo makes his last stand. Heiji is never going to forgive him that.

When he comes back to Tokyo, Tome doesn't ask, she understands and prepares him angler nabe while he sulks.

* Koujirou's situation is by no means an unusual one. Many of the Satsuma samurai landed lucrative jobs under the new administration and didn't share the dissatisfaction of their disenfranchised clansmen. Even Saigo's own younger brother Judo stayed as a lieutenant-general in the Imperial Guard.

1878

In May, Okubou Toshimichi, the lord of home affairs, who took personal command of surpressing Saigo's rebelion is assasinated, branded in Satsuma as traitor.

Koujiro is not welcome in Kagoshima anymore*. His wife moves to Tokyo to avoid harassment. Keeping his affair with Tome is becoming more difficult. Especially when he learns that Tome is pregnant **

In December Heiji comes back to pick up the pieces.

* Both Okubo and Saigo Judo moved their families to Tokyo because of this situation, so I'm guessing that was a thing. They received some backlash from their compatriots but eventually things normalized (for Judo at least, because Okubo was, you know, slashed up dead in an alley). By 1898 Saigo was acknowledged by the government as a tragic hero and bygones were bygones. Yet Heiji still talks with the Satsuma dialect, while Koujiro doesn’t even have a trace of it left.I wonder if he still used it when talking to Heiji.

** Geisha were not supposed to have sex with their patrons. The fact that she chose to give birth to Koujirou's son tells that she dared to hope that he'll at least acknowledge him.

1879

In January Hyakunosuke is born*

* Ogata's birthdate is a shot in the dark. He could be anywhere between 1878 and 1883. I just really like the idea that he was born right into the middle of such a chaos.

EDIT: GoldenKamuyHunting pointed out that Ogata had to be born after 1881, since Noda placed him as Older than Usami. This ruins the timeline a bit, and I’ll have to think of the way to reorder it to fit. For now, treat the 1879 as canon-defying :(

~1881

After pressure from his parents and from Heiji, Koujirou comes clean and learns to make his official family work. Koujirou's legitimate son, Yuusaku is born*.

From now on he effectively ghosts Tome. Her mental health** begins to waver. Tome quits being a geisha and moves back to her parents in Ibaraki ***.

* Also a shot in the dark. This would make him 23 when he died and 2 years younger than Ogata.

** Before the 20th century the white makeup geisha wore was made out of lead, making them more likely to develop lead poisoning, the first symptom of which is the decline of intelectual ability. Fun fact: lead gets passed down in breastmilk in quantities super-harmful for the baby, so if we go with the theory "Tome went crazy because of lead poisoning" than that would explain so much about Ogata...

*** This is likely due to her health, not due to giving birth. She could have just sent Hyakunosuke to her parents and kept working. God knows how they made ends meet after that. Before they were be so poor that they had to sell their daughter. Now they were much older, she was sick and unable to work, and her child was another mouth to feed. Not to mention the cost geisha education was worse then US collage loans so she most likely had a large debt she barely started to repay. Was Koujiro at least decent enough to pay child-support? Oh god *realises* it was Heiji who was paying them, wasn’t it? *heart breaks*

1886

Heiji and Yuki's second son, Otonoshin is born, 13 years after the first. What's up with that, Heiji?

1887

Koujirou goes to Germany* to study military tactics.

Hyakunosuke (8) feeds his mother rat poison. Koujirou doesn't come to the funeral.

As a result Hyakunosuke is brought up by his grandparents alone. He likes his grandma. They might instill in him the same kind of dislike for the new government as in the case of Kadokura. They definitely install a dislike for his deadbeat dad.

* Japan sent most of the promising officers abroad to soak up the knowledge how to run a modern nation. The army was mostly modeled after Germany (the Japanese were impressed by their recent victory against France) so it's the safest bet that Koujirou went to study there sometime in his life. In 1887-88 Nogi and Soroku Kawakami were sent to Germany. So it still depends if Nogi exists in GK universe and Koujirou just tagged along with them, or are they completely interchangeable.

1888

A new division is formed in Hokkaido. Tasked with guarding the north and developing the land.

1889

Heinojou (16) passes the Naval Academy entry exams with highest marks, determined to follow the footsteps of his father.

1894-95

The first Sino-Japanese war breaks out.

Heiji and Heinojou take part in the Battle of Yalu River. Heinojou is stationed on the flagship Matsushima under admiral Ito Sukeyuki. Matsushima gets badly damaged. 57 men die (including three officers) and 54 more are wounded.

Heiji silently watches his son burning from his ship. Comes back a wreck of a man. Gets awarded a title of Baron under the kazoku system *.

No clue what Koujirou could have been doing then. It’s likely that he was part of the army that conquered Port Arthur (back than still called Lushunkou) the first time around in only 3 days **.

* I need to double-check that with the raws since I'm not sure Tsurumi calling him "lord" is meant to imply he had a noble title, or if it's just a honorific. Many of admirals had titles so it would be highly likely someone with a lineage and a service record like Heiji also got one.

** this experiance would make him a pefect choice for later leading the operation in 1904 so this would make a lot of sense, but it would also be a pretty heavy take, since that would mean he was present during the Port Arthur masacre. And as a senior officer too, so it’s hard to find any excuses for him if that was the case. Did witnessing the atrocities there influence his later opposition to the Japanese expansion into Manchuria? Was his instruction for Yuusaku not to kill anyone motivated by trying to protect his son from sharing his guilt?

1895

Tsurumi comes back from the war and joins the 7th (actually more like he’s demoted out of the 2nd). By then Koujirou is the head of the division *

* I’m guessing Tsurumi had to have enough time to work on him, to be able to learn all about the Koito family troubles and come up with the plan how to use them. Did he get into Koujirou’s confidence? Or was he just reading his private letters?

1900

Heiji stays in Kagoshima and spoils/neglects his second son. Tsurumi "accidentally" meets Otonoshin and they visit Saigo's and Heinojou's graves.

Later that year the whole Koito family moves to Hakodate and Heiji takes control of the Ominato torpedo division *.

* The Ikazuki was a new class of light destroyers specifically made not to repeat the tragedy of too large and too slow Matsushima. No wonder Heiji was willing to move across the country for that.There were 6 of them made in total. Cool factoid: One of those destroyers sunk after a crash with a civilian steamship off the coast of Hokkaido in 1909.

1902

Ogata (24) joins the army and specifically volunteers for the 7th division planning god-knows-what. By conscription he would have landed in the 2nd (Kantou region).

Koujirou doesn't acknowledge him. Tsurumi does.

The Great Hakodate kidnapping takes place. Koujiro sends his best intelligence officer from Tsukisappu to help his friend and keep things discreet. Afterwards Heiji learns to appreciate the son he has left.

Later that year Otonoshin passes the exam to join the Army acedemy.

Fresh out of the academy Yuusaku (21) joins the 7th division. His father, plagued with guilt and bad life choices instructs him not to kill people and not to sleep around.

Yuusaku meets Hyakunosuke. Hyakunosuke tries to get him to kill people and sleep around.

1904-05

The Russo-Japanese war.

In February the war starts with Japan launching night torpedo attacks on the Russian fleet stationed inside Port Arthur. Heiji leads the third destroyer squadron aboard the Sazanami*. They continue the attacks over the next months trying to impose a blockade. After the Battle of the Yellow Sea, the victorious Japanese Combined Fleet effectively traps the remaining Russian warships inside Port Arthur. The Russians can't get out, the Japanese can't get in. Heiji can only wait and watch as the Japanese Army struggles to capture Port Arthur by land.

Koujirou leaves the 7th division behind when he is promoted to a member of staff of General Nogi’s 3rd Army. They land in Incheon in April and reach Port Arthur in August to start the siege. It is a drawn out blood bath. After wasting tons of lives in pointless assaults, the Japanese realize quite late that the key to victory lies in capturing the 203 Hill overlooking the harbor. Koujirou is made chief of staff for this operation.

In October they get the news that the Russian Baltic Fleet has left Tallinn and is on its way to reinforce the besieged Pacific Fleet. The race starts. If Koujirou fails to capture the hill before the Baltic Fleet arrives, the Japanese Fleet will be annihilated, and Heiji along with it.

In November the 7th division arrives in Port Arthur. They don’t get special treatment from their former commander and they’re sent head first to the 203 Hill. They capture it on 5th December, only after the artillery stopped caring weather they hit their own or not**. From their new position they destroy the whole Pacific fleet.

The death toll is 80 000 soldiers. More than half of the 7th is gone. Among the fallen are second lieutenants Hanazawa Yuusaku and Nogi Yasusuke - general Nogi's only remaining son (the first one died earlier in the same war).***

Hyakunosuke thinks that the losses wouldn't have to be this high if they just had more snipers like him. But nobody listened.

* All of the Ikazuki-class destroyers were quite active during the war. I placed Heiji on the Sazanami just because there’s the most info about what she did and when.

** The winning strategy was implemented by Kodama Gentarou. He was sent to Port Arthur with the authority to replace Nogi. He had enough guts to sacrifice soldiers falling to friendly fire in one coordinated assault instead of bleeding them out by continuous suicidal frontal assaults. He didn't officially replace Nogi though, and he let him take the credit for the victory, because they were friends. It's a really cool story.

*** Interesingly enough Yasusuke, was also shot in the back of his head. His father when he saw his body asked only “Was it after he had completed his task, or was it before?”

1905

The 7th move on to Mukden. Koujirou and Nogi along with them.

In May the Baltic Fleet arrives. Without Port Arthur, they try to get to Vladivostok to resupply. Tougou's fleet intercepts them in the Tsushima strait and despite their smaller number, crushes them decisively. Heiji's destroyer Sazanami, captures the destroyer Buyini with the wounded admiral Zinovy Rozhestvensky **.

In September the Treaty of Portsmouth is signed. The Trans-Manchurian Railway gets handed off to the Japanese. Later Koujirou strongly opposes the plan to develop it ***.

** Heiji's torpedo division was also responsible to delivering the finishing blow to the flagship Knyaz Suarov. Later this was written on Knyaz Suarov's last moments "While she had a gun above water she fired, and not a man survived her of all that crew, to whose stubborn gallantry no words can do justice. If there is immortality in naval memory it is hers and theirs". Gives me the chills.

*** Did he see that it would lead to more war? Mantetsu was the reason behind the Manchurian Incident in 1931 and later for the breakout of the second Sino-Japanese war, where a really ugly face of Japanese imperialism saw the light of day. So, was Koujirou a good guy all along? This I hope will be explained in the manga.

1906

In January Nogi returns to give a victory report to the Emperor *.

Koujirou "commits seppuku" by his son's hand. "Writes" a sappy goodbye letter to Heiji (probably also by Ogata's hand).

Heiji gets seduced by his son's dashing young commander and does some stupid-treasonous things for him, convinced that Central Command was to blame for pushing Koujirou to suicide.

In November Mantetsu is established.

* Nogi breaks down while making the report and asks to be allowed to commit seppuku for allowing such high casualties. The Emperor forbids him. Nogi waits 7 years until the Emperor dies and commits seppuku on the day of his funeral.

Disclaimers

I would say half of this consists of what already is in GK canon (even if it’s written between the lines) or history. The other half are my free guesses for what I personally think would make a better story ;)

I tried and tried to do thorough research, but in the end I’m just a humble fangirl, and not a historian, so if there’s something I got wrong, missed or misinterpreted please correct me - learning history is a never-ending story.

Sorry for linking directly to the scanlations. Support the manga by buying the volumes if you can.

This list will most likely be growing since I will eventually figure out what Koujirou did during the Sino-Japanese war, and I’m only starting digging in to the details of the Boshin War, so I’m sure I’ll expand upon that.

If anyone ever wants to use this information for a fic, please do. Copy it all if you want to. I don’t mind the slightest. I’ll love you to pieces for writing anything for them at all!

#golden kamuy #hanazawa koujirou #koito heiji

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