#at best i can offer glaring at the sky and shaking your fist like some cartoon villain

[hidden-snow]

✦┈⋆┈ ⋞ 〈 Ｒｕｎｎｉｎｇ Ｈｏｍｅ ｔｏ Ｙｏｕ 〉 ⋟ ┈⋆┈✦

Summary // You thought your relationship was as special to him as it was to you. You thought he loved and cherished you as much as you loved and cherished him. But when his family leaves the Omatikaya and all he has to offer is ‘I’m sorry’ when you beg and plead for him to stay with you, you realize that you were so, so wrong about him. Heartbroken and defeated, a girl barely seventeen years old, you decide that you will never love again. After all, it hadn’t meant anything to him. Years later and you are the best of the best. A strong warrior and an even better hunter, you provide for your people in every way except for a child to add to the next generation of Omatikaya people. They respect your wishes but you can hear the whispers. You can feel the concerned gazes from your parents, too old to conceive a sibling to make up for your lack of children. When he comes back, it throws you through a loop. Handsome, mighty, and different, he comes to you right away. But you promised yourself.

Warnings // Angst, a bit of stalker Neteyam, some fluff, mentions of drinking, heartbreak

Word count // 1,506

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

He was everywhere.

When you were supposed to be training the younger hunters, when you were telling stories to the children, when you were eating meals with the rest of the clan.

No matter where you were, you could count on him being nearby, keeping an eye on you as if you were his and only his.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the thought, mainly because you knew that, no matter what, you would never belong to anyone. Especially not to him.

Though… in a way, it was also kind of sweet that he cared so much about who you were around. Annoying as it was, he was very eager to show that he still cared about you despite all these years of separation.

No matter what, though, you were determined to not allow him to get into your head again. Not this time. Not ever again.

Gritting your fists, you set yourself into the mindspace of the task you had to do now; some one on one training with a young student who was currently a bit farther behind than the others.

Walking along the trodden dirt path, you came to a clearing surrounded by thickly growing plants, trees towering over you as if reaching to the blue hued sky above. You draw in a slow breath, letting it out slowly as you wait for your student to show up, bow resting against your back.

“I hope you don’t mind. I convinced Ìtseì to let me have this training session with you. I could use some practice with you.”

Exasperated, you turn to level Neteyam with your best, coldest glare, only to find that he was unfazed by your hostility. He simply smirked back at you, raising an eyebrow as he pulled his bow from behind his back.

“Are you sure you still know how to use a bow? After all that time, swimming with the reef people… it probably left you extremely rusty.”

“Ah, there’s that spitfire I’ve been waiting for,” Neteyam responded, notching one of his feathered arrows. Intricately carved, delicate and deadly. Quick to pierce hearts, sharp enough to end a life in one shot.

Just like how he ended the life you’d had before.

You shake your head, regathering your thoughts to what you needed to do.

“You’re a big boy. Help yourself. Since Ìtseì did not show up, I will go and hunt by myself,” you respond, turning your back to the male, fully intent on hunting alone.

Except, he didn’t leave you alone.

You were beginning to wonder if this was a behavioral pattern that had been forged into him by his father from a young age. After all, Neteyam followed Jake around all the time as a child, ready and waiting for orders or instructions that only he could take care of.

That had to be the reason for his stalker-like behavior.

Pushing aside heavy, large leaves and small viney shrubs, you could hear him behind you, despite the fact that he was very obviously trying hard not to make a sound.

“Following me is not going to get you on my good side,” you warn softly, throwing the comment over your shoulder aggressively as you walked a bit faster.

He wasn’t discouraged, nor did he seem to be bothered by your sharp words or your dismissive behavior. In fact, it seemed to spur him on more, his footsteps speeding up so that he could catch up with you.

“Come on, Y/n. Can’t we just talk? You and I, together, like we used to do. Please.”

His fingers wrap around your wrist and you yank away, at the same time swinging your bow at him, instinctive training kicking in. He ducked down, barely missing the slash of your bow in the area where his face had been mere seconds ago.

“Do not touch me, Neteyam te Sulli Tsyeyk’itan. I am not your yawne. I am not your childhood friend. I am not your toy or your plaything. You have destroyed everything we once had. You have crumbled every bridge that sat between you and I. I want nothing to do with you.”

This time, he falters, a look of horror and shock on his face. But you aren’t really sure if that was directed towards the fact that you’d tried to hit him or the words that had just spilled from your lips.

You turn away to hide the tears that were now burning hot and fresh in your eyes, refusing to allow him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. He didn’t even deserve that.

Your feet move before you can think about it, taking you rapidly farther away from the stunned form of the boy who’d ruined your life. You were certain he’d leave you alone now. After all, he was smart, quick to understand the things people were telling him.

Or at least, he used to be.

Your ears twitch to the sound of him running to catch up once more and you sigh, rolling your eyes. Obviously, the ways of the water have dumbed down that intelligence, considering how desperate he was to ignore your stinging-sharp words and your ice-cold disposition towards him specifically.

“Y/n, stop walking.”

You don’t belong to him. You never did. So why did your feet falter in your path? Why did you hesitate to keep going, even as you turn to face him once more?

“Open up, Y/n. I’m back. I’m here. I’m here and I want to talk to you. I want to fix what I broke before. Please, let me explain myself to you.”

There’s a hint of desperation in that smooth tone of his, a soft drop of pleading that didn’t belong to the body that spoke the words. He’d never been the begging type before.

You open your mouth, prepared to respond in the same way as before, when a sharp sting erupted in your cheek and you tumbled to the ground in an ungraceful heap.

Your hand slides up, cupping your sore cheek, as you stare up in shock at the male looming over you, a new expression on his face. Unreadable and hard to pick apart.

“I just want you to hear me out. Just onc- oomph!”

Before he’s finished, you’re launching yourself at him, slamming your shoulder into his abdomen and knocking him to the ground, the soft grass beneath your feet doing nothing to cushion his fall.

“You don’t deserve my attention!” you shriek, grabbing and yanking at his braids as you wrestle him in an attempt to win the little brawl. He’s fighting back, which you had to give him credit for. It wasn’t something you’d expected from him.

Rolling in the grass, disrupting plants and innocent, wandering wildlife, biting and scratching and pulling at anything you can get your hands on, you realize he’s not going to let you win easily.

And for once in your life since he left, you welcome this. Everyone else had been taking it easy on you, seeing as how you were pretty destroyed by his departure. Things had been done for you if they seemed to be too hard. Your parents had doted on you for the past three years, trying to make up the love that you’d lost.

You needed a challenge.

And he was providing it.

It was exciting, exhilarating, full of promises of a frustrated loss or an awarding victory.

You put your all into this little sparring match, putting all of your otherwise-useless training to use. When it became clear that he was doomed to lose, he still refused to fold, fighting until the very end.

When he tapped out, the sensation of a satisfactory win filled you up inside and you couldn’t help the grin that began to grow on your face.

You sat in the grass, working to catch your breaths, silence spreading out between the small clearing you’d both found yourself in.

It was nice, peaceful and calm. Like the days you’d shared as children, playing in the streams under careful adult watch or laying in the grass and staring up at the sky as his siblings ran around picking flowers and playing games.

“Please, talk to me,” he murmured after a while, breaking the soft, gentle silence that had begun to fill you with melancholy as you reminisced on the days of your childhood.

You stand slowly, dusting yourself off as he watched you, trying to come up with the right way to explain yourself.

“I can’t,” you respond, finally meeting his gaze.

“Neteyam, you cannot fix this. Not now. Possibly not ever. I’ve moved on with my life. Don’t you think it is about time that you moved on with yours as well?”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even bother to get up, and you grab your discarded items from the ground, not saying another word.

Yet… as you walk away, you realize with a sinking heart, that perhaps, you’d not gotten over him as much as you wanted to believe you had.

Taglist // @earthling55

[emptyrule]

" You'll never meet the Stars face to face so unfortunately, any stabbing will have to be set aside for a different method."

❝ You know, when you're getting kidnapped, usually there's someone physically there doing it for you to stab. ❞

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Hungry Eyes

masterlist

Summary: Spencer is tired of hiding your relationship. 

A/N: The idea for this fic came from a lovely anon that requested a fic based on She’s So Nice by Pink Guy. I also drew inspo from Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen (strange mix, but stay with me here.) So basically, a lot of Dom!Spencer goodness. I’d like to say a huge thank you for almost 1k followers, because wow. I never imagined 5 people would actually want to read my writing. I love you all, and I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future works!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, jealousy, degradation, spitting, slapping, oral sex (male and female receiving), spanking, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex

Word Count: 5.5k

           “That is one fine piece of ass. Don’t think I could get any work done with a sweet little thing like that prancing around my precinct,” mutters yet another sleezeball detective, beady eyes trained on you like a lion might study their prospective prey. It’s moments like these that Spencer has to remind himself that patience is a virtue – that he must bite his tongue because he’s at work and that means he has to act professional. Even if those around him don’t seem capable of affording him the same luxury.

           So, it’s with a clenched jaw and all the self-restraint that he can muster that Spencer forces himself to focus on the task at hand. Because Spencer is a professional, and there are more pressing matters that demand his undivided attention. The detective could be dealt with later – in the form of a complaint to the higher ups. But for now, patience.

           Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem. Years on the job had taught Spencer to remain level headed no matter the circumstance. Usually, Spencer could tune out the locker room talk in favor of immersing himself into the case. But when it came to you, or rather, people who dared to look upon you with eyes laden with lustful intentions, Spencer had a rather short fuse.

           It happens often, and he supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised. You’d certainly turned his head the first time he was fortunate enough to lay eyes on you. He’d nearly broken his neck trying to steal another glimpse of you as you walked past him on your way to Emily’s office on your first day. No one would ever describe Spencer Reid as forward, but on that day, he was the most brazen he’d ever been.

           Throwing caution to the wind, Spencer made a split-second decision stop you and introduce himself.

           It was the best decision he would ever make.

           So, yes – he understood why the head of everyone you passed turned your way, eager to bask in your unparalleled beauty. But that didn’t mean that he had to like it. In fact, every time Spencer caught some imprudent bastard leering at you, he had to remind himself that enacting physical force on another person with no real reason could cost him his job. That, and he was above resorting to violence – or at least he was, until you came around.  

           Part of his anger was rooted in the obvious lack of respect. It didn’t matter if Spencer held your hand in his as the two of you walked down the street, or if he kissed you on the lips in the middle of a crowded restaurant. All the PDA in the world did nothing to assuage the lingering stares, and Spencer felt his sanity chip away with every passing day.

           In the beginning, keeping his relationship with you a secret from your colleagues seemed like a good enough idea. Both of you were in agreement that you didn’t want to your personal relationship to affect your professional one, so when the elevator doors opened up and the two of you stepped out into the bullpen, you both were on your best behavior. And it was okay at first – Spencer was able to put his romantic feelings aside and focus on his work, all while still being able to make eyes at you from across the room. It was the perfect arrangement.

           Until it wasn’t.

           Because it wasn’t enough that you were gorgeous – you were also the most selfless person that Spencer had ever met. Always eager to lend a hand to anyone in need – always seeing the best in everyone, regardless of if they deserve it or not. It was an admirable quality to have, and he loved you for it, but on days like today he wishes you were a little more perceptive.

           That, and he wishes you’d chosen to wear anything but the tight little skirt and low-cut top that you were currently sporting. Not that he didn’t love the way the fabric clung to your figure like it was tailor-made for you – because he did - it was just that every other male in the precinct seemed to enjoy it as much as he did. And that made Spencer’s blood boil.

           The tipping point comes when, just as Spencer is trying to hunt you down and propose a quick lunch break, he finds you engaging in conversation with the very same detective that had been spouting lewd comments about you all morning. You’re seated at the breakroom table, clutching a fresh cup of coffee in hand as you look up at the man, a polite smile upturning your lips as you listen to him drone on about how his amateur baseball team had won some stupid fucking tournament the previous weekend. He’s smiling down at you, endlessly smug and way too pleased with himself at having captured your attention.

           It makes Spencer sick.

           His reprieve comes when your eyes flit to the doorway and you flash him a breathtaking smile. It makes him warm from the inside out, and Spencer wants nothing more than to plant kiss after kiss on your lips. Unfortunately, he can’t, so he settles on returning your smile.

           “There you are,” Spencer greets as he crosses the room before coming to a stop next to you. “I was thinking we could go grab lunch.”

           “Is it really lunch time already?” you murmur as you glance down at your watch. “I guess I let the day get away from me. Detective Yarborough was just telling me about the baseball game his team won this weekend.”

           “Oh, was he now,” Spencer feigns interest as he turns to face the man.

           “Yup,” you say, completely oblivious to the uncomfortable tension. “Didn’t you tell me you played in a baseball game once?”

           This piques the interest of Yarborough and he raises an eyebrow at Spencer.

           “You play?” he asks, tone laden with disbelief.

           “Not exactly.”

           The detective merely harrumphs in response, and an uncomfortable silence falls on the room.

           Your eyes dart between the two men and your brows furrow adorably as you try to make sense of the almost palpable animosity.

           “Okay… So, lunch. Did you have anything in mind, Spence?”

           “There’s a really good pizza joint two blocks from here,” Yarborough chimes in. “I could show you, if you like.”

           He acts as if the offer extends to you both, but the way he looks only at you when he says it tells Spencer otherwise.

           “The hospitality is appreciated, but that won’t be necessary,” Spencer breezes, clipped and to the point. He’s able to see in his peripheral vision the way your eyebrows raise in shock, but he’s too busy glaring at the detective to care.

           “Uh, yeah. Thanks anyways, Detective,” you mutter confusedly as you stand.

           “Anything for a pretty lady such as yourself,” he replies. “And you can call me Trevor.”

           Spencer’s hands are clenched into fists and he has to actually bite down on his tongue to keep from doing something he’d surely regret later. You bid Trevor ado with a smile and a parting wave, and then Spencer’s ushering you out of the room and down the hall, hand placed firmly on your back. He can’t do much in regards to initiating physical contact, but he allows himself this miniscule act of PDA. The feeling of your warmth radiating through your blouse is the only thing keeping him from giving into his primal instincts. Instincts that are screaming at him to put that smarmy bastard in his place.

--

           The hours after lunch pass by rather uneventfully. You accompany Tara when she goes to interview the victim’s family, and for the first-time all-day Spencer is able to repress his frustration long enough to focus on piecing together a geographical profile. By the time you and Tara return, the sun has long since disappeared from the sky and fatigue is rolling off everyone in waves. When Emily finally announces the end of the day, she’s met with absolutely no resistance.

           Spencer immediately scans the room for you, only to frown when he sees that you’re nowhere in sight. In fact, he hasn’t set eyes on you in well over an hour, too busy wrapping up the days’ work to notice your absence until now.

           “Has anyone seen Y/N?” Spencer calls out. His question is met by several shaking heads.

           “I think she’s busy,” JJ sing-songs, eyebrows waggling suggestively. Spencer’s frown only deepens.

           “Busy?”

           JJ nods.

           “Yarborough has been chomping at the bit to ask her to dinner. My guess is he’s got her cornered somewhere.”

           Of fucking course.

           Spencer’s out of his seat and stomping through the precinct in second, oblivious to the way his coworkers exchange curious glances as he storms off.

           He finds the two of you in much the same way as before, only this time Trevor is blocking your path to the doorway, hand in the air as he moves to tuck a stray piece of your hair behind your ear.

           “– C’mon, babe. Say you’ll go to dinner with me,” Trevor croons in a way that’s supposed to come off as seductive. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

           You lean backwards in an attempt to evade his touch, and you barely get the chance to open your mouth when Spencer intervenes.

           “She’s not interested.”

           The detective whips around, snorting in annoyance when he sees Spencer standing in the doorway.

           “What are you, her fucking keeper?” Trevor sneers, before turning back to face you. “Who does this guy think he is?”

           Something in Spencer snaps, then – the same something that has been swelling inside him for months, threatening to spill over every time he had to pretend that the stares didn’t enrage him. He’s tired of pretending, tired of hiding, and so, so fucking tired of not putting assholes like Trevor Yarborough in their place.

           Fueled by months of suppressed anger, Spencer manages to cross the room in about two seconds. He has several inches on the detective, standing at an intimidating six-foot one inch in height, so when he comes to a stop right in front of the detective, he’s looming over him threateningly.

           “I’m her fucking boyfriend, and if you so much as try to touch her again, I’ll break your goddamn hand,�� Spencer spits out, and he’d be lying if he said the way Trevor’s eyes widen in fear doesn’t thrill him. “Are we clear?”

           “Uh, yeah. Sorry, dude,” Trevor splutters, raising his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know she was taken. My bad.”

           Spencer tears his eyes away from the detective and takes in the way you’re watching on with an amused expression. He reaches out, and you’re quick to place your hand in his. Without speaking another word to the detective, Spencer leads you from the room and out the back entrance of the precinct.

           “What was that?” you tease, eyes glistening mischievously underneath the street lights. “I thought we agreed that we weren’t taking things public just yet?”

           Spencer crowds you against the brick wall of the building, pressing his body flush against yours. He ducks down swiftly, pulling you into a frenzied kiss. His lips drag against yours relentlessly, and all it takes is one breathy moan before he’s licking into your mouth possessively. Spencer slots his knee in between your legs, simultaneously groping at your chest with one hand as the other tangles in your hair.

           When Spencer pulls away, he doesn’t go far. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck as you writhe against him, hands clinging tightly to his dress shirt. You whimper when his teeth nip at the tender spot right under your ear, and you can’t help the way your hips cant up when Spencer’s tongue brushes against reddened skin.

           “I’m tired of pretending,” Spencer murmurs as his mouth continues to move against you, sucking purple bruises against your flesh. “Don’t fucking care about how it will affect the job. Tomorrow, everyone’s gonna know that you’re mine. Gonna mark every inch of you tonight – gonna fuck you until you can’t fucking walk.”

           “Please,” you slur as you guide Spencer’s hand down until his fingers graze the end of your skirt. Spencer chuckles darkly against your neck when his hand brushes against the soiled lace of your panties.

           “Didn’t mean I’d fuck you right here,” he laughs, prompting you to let out an impatient whine. The hand that was previously tangled in your hair slides down until it’s wrapped around your throat, and Spencer’s cock twitches eagerly in his pants when you push your throat harder into his palm. “Such a needy little slut for me. Ready and willing for me to fuck you out in the open, where anyone could walk by and see how fucking desperate you are for my cock.”

           “M’ your slut,” you pant as Spencer’s middle and index fingers ghost across your center. “Only yours, Spence. I don’t care who sees, just - please fuck me!”

           “I fucking own you,” Spencer growls against your lips as he tightens his hold on your throat. “And as much as I’d love to take you right against this wall, the things I have planned for you would elicit quite an audience. I know how loud you like to be.”

           Spencer pushes your panties to the side and you let out a low hiss as he drags a finger across where want him most. You cry out in frustration when he removes his hand to bring it up to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick his finger clean.

           “Just needed a little taste to tide me over,” Spencer murmurs, smirking devilishly at you as he steps back from you. “Let’s head back to the hotel. I’ve got lots I wanna do to you, pretty girl.”

--

           As soon as the door to the hotel room clicks shut, clothes are flying off as the two of you make your way to the bed. It’s a mad dash as you both undress, and as soon as the last garment leaves your body, Spencer pounces on you. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, and the way you immediately go pliant as Spencer’s mouth works against yours makes him hum appreciatively.

           “Don’t feel like being nice tonight. Are you gonna let me use that pretty little pussy however I want?” Spencer inquires, though he already knows the answer. He’s known how tonight would pan out ever since the first roll of your hips against his back at the police station.

           You nod fervently, hopelessly, and Spencer moves his hand up to grip your chin in his hand. The pad of his thumb traces over the swollen skin of your kiss bruised lips.

           “What about this?” he asks, tapping lightly against your lip. “Are you gonna let me fuck this slutty little mouth of yours?” Spencer slips his thumb into your mouth and you immediately close your lips around the digit, suckling lightly. Your eyes never leave his.

           “You’d do anything I asked you to, wouldn’t you, pet?” Spencer muses, pressing his thumb farther into your mouth until you gag around him. Spencer withdraws his thumb and his hand tugs hard on the hair at the back of your scalp. “Open.”

           You oblige immediately, and Spencer spits into your waiting mouth. You swallow without being instructed, and the visual of it makes Spencer let out a low groan.

           “Get on your knees,” Spencer barks out, and the way you scramble to follow his order makes him let out a chuckle. “So eager to have my cock in your mouth,” he hums as he taps his dick teasingly against your cheek. You open your mouth wide for him, and Spencer guides your mouth down onto his dick at a tantalizingly slow pace. You let out a moan as you hollow your cheeks around his head, tongue lapping greedily at the precum that gathered there before Spencer makes you take him deeper.

           “Everyone thinks you’re such an innocent little thing, but here you are, letting me use you like a cheap whore while you enjoy every minute of it,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as you moan wantonly around his cock. It isn’t until he’s halfway down your throat that your eyes begin to water, mascara running down your cheeks as he fucks into your mouth.

           Spencer lets out a choked sound when your nose brushes against the skin of his abdomen, and he has to fight the urge to throw his head back in pleasure. He doesn’t want to look away, not even for a moment. Not when you’re looking up at him like that, tears running down your face as you swallow around his length.

           He pulls you off him just the tiniest bit before he’s forcing you back down, a string of curses falling from his lips as your head bobs up and down.

           “You take my cock so well, pretty girl,” Spencer praises, prompting you to let out a muffled moan around him. The vibrations send a shock of pleasure through him and he can help the way his hips stutter. “Fuck, baby. You like it when I tell you what a perfect little whore you are, don’t you?”

           You’re unable to answer, because Spencer presses down on the back of your head until you’ve taken all of him again. The pressure he puts on you doesn’t relent, not even when you gag around him.

           “Fucking choke on it, slut,” Spencer grunts. “Don’t act like you don’t want this. You were just begging me to fuck you in an alley not twenty minutes ago, like some pathetic fucking tramp. You wanna act like a tramp, I’m gonna treat you like one.”

           Spencer’s lips curl into a debauched grin when your hands come up and grip the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer and further down your throat.

           “That’s what I fucking thought,” Spencer moans, giving several more harsh thrusts before pulling you off of him completely. Spencer reaches down to wipe at the spit that coats your lips as you look up at him with a shy smile.

           “You okay, pretty girl?” Spencer asks as he caresses the side of your face.

           “Mm,” you hum, nuzzling your face against his palm. “Keep going, please. Don’t hold back.”

           “God, I fucking love you,” Spencer sighs happily. “Get on the bed.”

           By the time Spencer fishes a tie out of his suitcase, you’re sprawled out across the bed, head resting against the pillows with your legs spread wide. Your teeth are nestled against your bottom lip as you watch him stalk towards you, eyes running up and down his naked figure appreciatively.

           Spencer crawls onto the bed until he’s settled in between your legs. You present your wrists to him, just like you’ve done a million times before, and Spencer feels that familiar thrum of excitement rush through his body. He fucking lives for moments like these – moments where all his problems melt away to nothing. Moments where he has no other thought than wrecking you, thoroughly and completely.

           Once your wrists are bound you hold them above you, and Spencer sits back on his heels, eyes raking up and down every inch of you.

           “M’ so fucking lucky to be the only one who gets to see you like this.”

           Spencer pinches your right nipple in between his fingers and you let out a squeak, hips bucking up, desperate for some friction. He kneads your breast in his hand as he lowers his mouth to the other one, tongue laving around you. A light nip from his teeth is all that it takes for you to cry out, eyelids fluttering closed.

           “Spence, please. Need you to touch me now, pl-”

           Spencer’s hand connecting with your cheek stops you from finishing your sentence.

           “Do not tell me what to do,” Spencer seethes, once again gripping your chin to keep you from looking away. “Ungrateful slut. I should just leave you here, fucking dripping and desperate for a release that you won’t get. Maybe then you’d learn to take what’s given to you.”

           “Please, no! I’ll be good, I swear. I’m sorry!”

           Spencer narrows his eyes at you, contemplative.

           “Open.”

           You do as he says, and without another word Spencer inserts two fingers into your mouth, pressing down hard on your tongue.

           “Get them nice and wet, and maybe I’ll think about using them on you.”

           You do as he tells you, and by the time Spencer removes his fingers from your mouth, you’re trembling underneath him from anticipation.

           “D-Did I do good?” you stutter out, batting your lashes at him as you squirm under his gaze.

           “So good, baby. I think you’ve earned my fingers,” Spencer hums. “Need you to be still, okay? You’re not gonna like what happens if you try to move.”

           You nod enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut when his fingers brush across your clit. Spencer spends ample time rubbing deliciously slow circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves, relishing in every gasp and whimper that falls from your lips. Lips that he’d very much like to kiss, so he does, and you’re more than happy to reciprocate. Spencer lets out a happy sigh into your mouth.

           You get lost in the kiss, so lost in the way that Spencer licks into your mouth that it catches you completely off guard when he slides two fingers into you.

           “Oh, God,” you moan when Spencer curls his fingers against your walls, fucking them in and out of you, slow and unrelenting.

           “S’that feel good, princess?” Spencer asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Tell me how it feels.”

           Your head falls back against the pillows as you struggle to keep your hips firmly placed on the mattress.

           “Feels amazing, Spence. Always feels so good with you. Never want anyone else, only you.”

           And fuck, if that sentiment doesn’t shoot straight to his heart - amongst other places. Spencer places a tender kiss to your cheek before he’s moving down to your neck and sucking a bruise right under your jaw.

           “Yeah?” Spencer prompts. “Not even that stupid fucking detective? I’m sure he’d love a chance to see you like this.”

           “So, you were jealous,” you chuckle between moans, and Spencer bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder.

           “F-Fuck, Spencer!”

           “Should I be jealous?” Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers, scissoring them at such an unforgiving pace that you can’t help but roll your hips against them.

           You regret this instantly, because Spencer’s fingers immediately pull out of you, leaving you empty and cold. Spencer tuts, shaking his head disappointedly.

           “Dumb little whore can’t even sit still long enough to cum on my fingers.”

           “Please, let me try again. I’ll do better, I promise!”

           Spencer shakes his head and scoots up until his back is rested against the pillows.

           “C’mere,” he commands. “Lay across my lap. Or can you not follow simple commands?”

           “I-I can,” you whisper as you crawl across him, splaying out so that you rest on your elbows with your ass in the air.

           Spencer grabs a handful of your ass and kneads it in his hands.

           “How many do you think you deserve?”

           You blush and smile shyly at him from over your shoulder.

           “However many you want to give me. I can take it.”

           Spencer returns your smile.

           “Good answer. I think you can handle fifteen. How does that sound?”

           “Sounds perfect. T-Thank you, Spencer,” you mumble, cheeks burning red. Spencer continues to caress the tender skin of your bare ass, admiring the way the skin is completely blank; the perfect canvas.

           You let out a whimper when his hand comes down hard on your ass before kneading the sensitive, reddening skin.

           “T-Thank you,” you gasp out, and Spencer is quick to follow up with another strike against the opposite cheek.

           It goes on like this until it’s time for the fifteenth strike, and by then you’ve devolved into garbled whines, ass bright red and marked up with the imprint of Spencer’s hands. His dick is painfully hard underneath you, and you’re in a similar state – arousal dripping onto Spencer’s thigh, coating it.

           “Last one, baby. Do you think you can handle it?”

          “Y-Yes,” you choke out. “Please, I need it. Hurt me, please.”

           The desperation in your voice does things to him, makes him practically feral with the need to fucking tear you apart, and Spencer is quick to deliver the final blow. You barely even have it in you to cry out anymore – a feeble sob is all that falls from your lips.

          Spencer’s hand ghosts down across your bruised skin until his fingertips trace over where you drip for him.

          “You like it when I punish you, don’t you, dirty girl?” Spencer hums as his fingers glide over your soaked folds. 

          “Y-Yes,” you mewl, shifting so that your cunt grinds back onto his hand. Spencer indulges you - allows you to rock your hips against his palm as he watches on in awe, soaking up every desperate sound that tumbles past your lips. 

          Spencer pulls his hand away after a moment and you keen in protest.

           “Can you sit up for me, sweet girl?” Spencer asks, and you nod, because of course you do – you’d do anything if you thought it’d please him. You struggle to pull yourself up with shaky limbs, and Spencer puts a hand on your lower back to steady you. “Can you straddle my leg? Yeah, just like that.” Spencer pulls you down and places a slow kiss to your lips, one hand coming up to wipe away the tears gliding down your face. After a moment of slow, sweet kisses are shared, Spencer unties your wrists.

           “I want you to ride my thigh – can you do that, princess?”

           You whimper as you lower yourself down onto his leg, eyes fluttering shut as you begin to rock against the hardened muscle of his leg.

           Spencer continues placing kisses on your lips, your face, your neck – worshipping every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth, all while whispering praises against you.

           “So perfect for me. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs as he grips your hips with steady hands, urging you to increase the speed of your hips. “Can’t wait to have that perfect pussy wrapped around my cock. Always so tight, yet you take it so well every time.”

           “S-Spence, m’ close,” you slur, hands clinging desperately to his shoulders.

           “Already? You usually last a bit longer than that, baby.”

           “P-Please, Spencer, I can’t-” you whimper, tears once again pricking at the corners of your eyes at the thought of having to wait a second longer.

           “Shh, baby. It’s okay, you can cum,” Spencer reassures you, and your shoulders visibly untense. “Cum for me, pretty girl.”

           It takes two more rolls of your hips for you to cum on Spencer’s thigh with a cry of his name. Spencer rubs soothing circles into your hips as you ride out your high, murmuring broken thank yous as you come down.

           Finally, you still, and your eyes open, pupils so dilated that your eyes look almost black in the dim light of the hotel room.

          “You okay, princess?”

           You give a weak nod.

           “M’great,” you smile, sounding as fucked out as he’s ever heard you. You lean down and slot your mouth against his, and the kiss is slow and languid – soft and unhurried.

            Spencer is the first to pull away.

           “Need you to get on all fours for me,” he instructs. “Don’t think you need to put any pressure on that pretty little ass of yours right now.”

           You giggle at that, before crawling off of Spencer’s lap. You assume the position, and Spencer places a pillow underneath your hips before trailing a line of kisses down your spine. By the time he reaches your ass, you’re writing against him, wiggling your hips eagerly. Spencer places a kiss to both of your bruised cheeks before pulling away.

           You let out a startled oh! when Spencer licks up your center, parting you with his fingers before fucking in and out of you with his tongue.

           “S-Spence, oh my God, yes!” you cry out, hands fisting in the sheets as he continues to work his mouth against your core.

           “Love your fucking pussy so much,” Spencer sighs against you, lapping at your clit hungrily. “Could fucking lick you out for hours. You taste so perfect, Y/N.”

            Spencer lets out a filthy groan against you, and that’s all it takes for you to fall over the edge, wrecked moans filling the otherwise silent hotel room. This orgasm hits you both quicker and harder than the first, and he can’t help but smile against you as you rock back against his face, desperate to prolong the sensation. Spencer continues to work you through your orgasm, stopping only when you cease to twitch underneath him.

           “Such a good girl for me. Think you can handle one more?”

            You raise up just enough that you can look at him from over your shoulder.

           “Yes, please,” you beg, voice scratchy and raw. “Please, fuck me.”

           “Yes, ma’am,” Spencer chuckles. “Do you think you can lay on your back? I wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum on my cock.”

           You answer by rolling over, wincing slightly when your ass comes in contact with the sheets. You look up at Spencer with wide, doe eyes. You have mascara smeared all down your cheeks and your lips are swollen, and to top it all off, deep, purple love bites are dusted across the entire expanse of your neck and chest. Spencer had set out to mark you as his – so that no one would be able to deny that you belonged to him – and he’d done a spectacular job, if he said so himself.

           “God, you’re so fucking pretty.”

           “Then come fuck me already,” you challenge, looking sated in every possible way – yet still, your eyes hold the same hunger that he’s sure is reflected in his own eyes.

           Spencer leans down and traps your lips in a bruising kiss, and without warning he thrusts in you to the hilt. You cry out into the kiss, startled by the sudden intrusion, but Spencer sets a brutal pace that leaves you no time to recover.

           “You said you wanted me to fuck you,” he growls against your lips. “Now fucking take it.”

           He’s fucking into you so hard that you can’t even manage a reply – you just tighten your legs around his waist and drag your nails across the expanse of his back, no doubt leaving bright red marks in your wake. Spencer can feel his own release fast approaching – honestly, he’s been close ever since the first drag of his tongue against your pussy. And now that he’s finally enveloped into your tight, wet heat, that all too familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach is threatening to consume him.

           Spencer’s hand descends from its place next to your head down to your clit, and your whole body jolts with the first swipe of his thumb. You clench around him as a litany of particularly filthy utterances escapes you, and Spencer’s hips stutter.

           “Fuck, princess,” he groans, head coming to rest on your shoulder as he struggles to regain his rhythm. “You don’t even know what you do to me. You’ve ruined me for anyone else. Never fucking want to lose you. Love you so much.”

           “I love you, I love you, I love you,” you chant into his ear, sounding like some kind of siren, luring him straight to his inevitable ruination. “I’m so close, Spence. Cum with me, please? I want to feel you. Please, baby.”

           “Y-Yeah, fuck,” Spencer chokes out. “Say my name when you cum, princess. Want everyone to know how good I fuck you.”

           And when you cum with a shout of his name, walls pulsating deliciously around his cock, Spencer is quick to join you. He continues to roll his hips against yours as you both ride it out, whispers of almost intelligible affirmations being shared between slow, loving kisses.

           After a moment of post-orgasm bliss, Spencer leaves and returns with a bottle of cocoa butter lotion and a warm, wet rag. You watch on with heavy lidded eyes as he cleans you up, and for a moment, he thinks you’ve fallen asleep. It’s not until he finishes slathering your reddened backside with lotion that you speak again.

           “You shouldn’t be jealous, by the way,” you murmur as he lays down beside you. “You’re it for me, Spencer Reid. I don’t ever want you to doubt that I’m anything less than crazy about you.”

           It’s everything that Spencer’s ever wanted to hear, and just like that, every fear – every insecurity that had plagued him in the past several months – fell away to nothing. Suddenly, he couldn’t remember why he’d ever been worried in the first place.

           “You’re it for me, too,” Spencer whispers as he pulls you until his arms and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

           “We’re going to have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow, you know,” you remark as you nuzzle into Spencer’s side.

           “Don’t care,” he sighs happily. “I’ll shout it from the roof tops if I have to. I want everyone to know you’re my girl.”

           “You’re a sap, Doctor Reid.”

           “Only for you.”

           A moment of blissful silence passes, before the sound of your growling stomach sets you both into a fit of giggles.

           “We never did get dinner, did we?” Spencer muses as he lightly runs his fingernails across your scalp. You hum appreciatively and a pleased shiver rolls through you.

           “Nope. You were a little too preoccupied with marking your territory to even offer to feed me,” you tease as you run your fingertips down the planes of his chest.

           “Well, now that that’s been taken care of - could I interest you in some takeout?”

          “Possibly,” you sigh, flattening your palm on his chest, right over his heart. “Do you think that pizza place Trevor mentioned delivers?”

          “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

          “Is that a no?”

          “... Look up the number.”

-

-

-

taglist: @90spumkin​ @moon-light-jukebox​ @thebookamongmen​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @itsametaphorbriansblog​ @eldahae​

[vicious-vixxxen]

Hi, first of all ur work is amazing and awesome, especially the Kiri fics they make me feel so warm inside :)) ANYWAYS I have a drabble idea: Katsuki with a flirty male reader from 1-B that likes to tease him and make him flustered and fired up as much as possible (kinda like Monoma but not as aggressive) and finally Katsuki decides that it’s reader’s turn to get all flustered and blushing and all that hehe :)

AH I absolutely LOVE this idea! Sorry it took me so long to get to it babes, but I hope you enjoy it :3 <3 Bakugou Katsuki X Flirty Male!Reader

“You think /you’re/ tired? I heard class A had to go through ten times the beasts we did yesterday, /and/ they didn’t get to camp until five.” TetsuTetsu huffed, rolling his eyes as he continued to rub at his sore biceps- falling behind as the class walked to their first official day of training. “They’re probably still struggling to work as an actual unit, how disappointing,” Monoma drawled, flinching as Kendo raised a hand at him in warning- her gaze cutting back to you with an apologetic smile, but you shrugged her off. “I’m just saying, if they were half as good as everyone assumes they are, then we wouldn’t have had to make dinner for everyone /alone/ yesterday. A bunch of unimpressive slackers, the fame is definitely getting to them.” “Oh give it a rest, Monoma! I swear if I have to keep listening to your incessant whining i’m going to roundhouse you so hard you slip into an alternate dimension,” You teased, though the sharpness of your tone, and the look you fixed the other boy with managed to reduce him to nothing more than some bitter grumbling, as you jogged ahead to follow directly behind Vlad-Sensei.

“Young Y/N is right! No use in comparing yourself to a separately tiered class, what you all should be doing is preparing yourselves for a day full of grueling training!” Vlad called out to the class behind him, as they came to their final stop. Looking out across the vast fields of the camp, where class 1A was already deep in training. All of them spread out to various areas of the site, some farther out than others, you assumed due to the volatile nature of their quirks. Some out of site all together, given the specificity needed to train their quirks. “The Wild Wild Pussycats have strict regimens for you all to follow, and I as well have critiques for you all regarding your fighting style, and quirk application. Check in with them across the field first, and regroup back to me so we can begin!” “Yes Sensei!” You all chanted back, before hurrying off across the field to do as you were told. Though once you caught sight of- and really, it was more his blood curdling death screams that you noticed first, music to your ears honestly- unruly blonde spikes off in the distance, you reasoned you had at least a few minutes to spare. Giving your classmates time to get their schedules and regimes before you could swoop in for yours last minute. The heat from Bakugou’s blasts was intense- your hair blowing back each time the other boy extended his palms to the sky, screamed, and released an explosion. The air felt thick, the scent of sweaty flesh, and deep, rich caramel wafting against your face, heady, and thick, with each blast. It was intoxicating. The closer you got, the more your cheeks flushed- though it had nothing to do with the heat anymore. Up close, or as close as you could get without being blown back entirely, that is- the more handsome Bakugou became. Pinched, angry expression and all. His front fringe of hair hanging low on his forehead, dripping sweat down onto his cheeks, and then onto the exposed upper half of his chest, bared due to his low rising tank top. When was Bakugou not absolutely breathtaking, you wondered idly, as you reached into your backpack for a bottle of water, and whistled loudly between blasts to catch the blonde's attention. Though the glare he fixed you with as your eyes met almost, almost deterred you from closing the distance between you both, it didn’t quite reach the innermost parts of your brain, meant for rational thought. “What the hell do you want!? Can’t you see i’m busy? Take your ass back to your class, extra!” Bakugou shouted, gaze falling to the bottle of water in your hand, before he focused back in on his task, baring his teeth in pain as the boiling water engulfed his hands. But you were too close now, it was too risky, and before you could think to back away on your own, Bakugou was crowding up against you. Spinning around on his heels and blasting in the opposite direction, back to you now. Shoving you backwards so hard with his own body you fell to the ground. Hissing as you landed on a particularly sharp rock. “See what you did?! I could’ve accidentally taken someone else out because of you! Fucking...gimme that,” Bakugou growled, shaking his hands of the smoke from his blast, before bending down to snatch the chilled bottle of water from your hand with one of his- his other reaching down to take hold of the front of your shirt, and tug you back up to stand next to him. “Always in my way!” Bakugou hissed, before throwing his head back and chugging down the entire bottle in a matter of seconds. Wiping at his mouth roughly, he turned to you slightly, noting the mischievous smile on your face, and the dirt on your shorts. “Tch...what?” He asked, knowing he was walking himself right into a trap. “Just admiring the view,” You sing-songed, skirting around his sudden extended fist easily, and dancing around the boy to get a good look at his training clothes. “It’s not everyday I get to see UA’s own Bakugou Katsuki in the midst of an intense training session. All sweaty, and bulking- muscles just….grr,” You laughed, holding your hands up in front of your face as you growled and made pawing motions at the other boy- bursting into a fit of laughter ass he reeled back, blush high on his cheeks, fingers twitching with the urge to blas your fucking face off. “You’re an insufferable piece of!-” “What I can’t seem to wrap my head around, is how you have such a big chest, such defined shoulders, and such a teeny, tiny waist,” You sighed, cutting Bakugou off with your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side curiously as you scanned him up and down. “Your tits are bigger than most of the girls in your class, ya know,” You added, as if an afterthought, waving a hand passively at the thought, though you couldn’t help but grin as Bakugou charged you- dragging you up by the front of your shirt again, and pinning you to the barrel of boiling water. One hand holding your head down near the bubbling surface, and one right next to your ear, sparking with unlit nitroglycerin. “I. Don’t. Have. Tits. You. Shitty. Extra.” Each word was laced with venom, husky and full of rage right next to your ear, and god. Was it fucked up you were kind of turned on? Probably. About as fucked up as it was to be genuinely attracted to Bakugou in the first place, you supposed. Oh well. Not much to be done about it now. “Say that to the mounds pressing up against my back right now, babe,” You teased, turning your head to face Bakugou, your noses barely brushing as you leaned in as best you could, given the hand in your hair- mouth curling into a knowing smirk as Bakugou’s face twisted back and forth- confusion, rage, annoyance, misunderstanding...want. “I’m sure your teacher would be thrilled to see you over here keeping one of my students from his training, instead of focusing on your own abilities,” Someone sighed from your right, and both you and Bakugou’s head whipped up to see Aizawa leaning against a tree, staring at the both of you with the most bored expression you could imagine someone having. “Tried to get the loser away from me, but he’s as persistent as the rest of his annoying class,” Bakugou huffed, letting you go, but not before pushing you in the direction of his teacher roughly- crackling his knuckles out in front of himself, and shaking his hands out. Prepared to continue his training. Though thoughts of your stupid face, so close to his- scent of your shampoo, and minty breath still searing his nose made him a trillion times more annoyed then he’d already been. The color of your eyes stuck with him the most though. So clear. So shiny. Full of authority, of mirth, and something so...gut wrenchingly /cute/, he couldn’t stand it. “Sorry, EraserHead. Didn’t mean to disturb your student. Was just being friendly is all,” You assured the older Hero, hands up in surrender as you walked alongside side him, and back to regroup with your class- smiling smugly to yourself when you noticed the barest hint of a smirk on Eraserheads face, just before he turned away and skulked off to whatever dark, cozy corner he had been observing his students from.

Training felt like it had lasted forever, and then some. The following days were no easier. Your bodies were pushed to their limits, and then thrown off the metaphorical cliff afterwards. Every day, class A and B were sore, tired, irritable. But even then, once lunch, and dinner came around, it offered you all a chance to get to know one another more intimately. You talked, and mingled with class 1A- flirting with Todoroki for fun, and picking Midoriya’s brain about his hero notebook- unaware of the red eyes following your every move amongst the classmates. Your flirting with Bakugou was at an all time high- given you could usually spare a handful of minutes each day teasing the young man, whether it be with words during training, lingering touches, or brushes of hands, and legs during dinner, or with outright winks, and kisses blown to the blonde as you all departed to your cabins for the night. It infuriated Bakugou to no end. Your presence. The way he acted out against you...his mother would suggest he needed an attitude adjustment, and that he should allow the fun part of camp to take precedent over his ultimate number one hero goal. As if he’d ever. But still, her frustrated words of encouragement never ceased to ease up as the days went by, and you became bolder with your flirting. Bakugou felt on edge constantly, like someone was going to crack a whip at him at any moment. Say something about it, say something about /him/, but no one ever did. Probably because they were scared. His only saving grace, he supposed. Being intimidating. Though he didn’t intimidate /you/, which was the part he hated the most. ...He’d just have to switch up his tactics, then. His mother would be proud. God, he hated that. After a particularly grueling day of training, everyone was running on fumes, more or less, as they shuffled around the outdoor kitchen, prepping dinner lazily. Monoma picking stupid fights with whoever he came across first, as though he were too tired to even do that. You’d been chatting quietly to Mina and Jirou about some of your favorite albums, when a whistle from across the counters had all three of you lifting your heads. Curiosity piqued to the fullest extent, as your gaze landed on Bakugou- pointing at you with a hard expression, before gesturing to the spot next to him at the cutting board station. His eyes downcast again before you could even register what was going on, before hurrying to head over before whatever demon that had possessed Bakugou, decided to get the fuck out of such a toxic human host. Beaming, you came to stand at Bakugou’s side, arms brushing against each other as you glanced down at the finely minced veggies the boy was working on. “You rang?” Brows raised in question, you ducked your head to try and catch the boy’s eyes again- stopping dead in your tracks as he grabbed a hold of your wrist tightly, and slid a knife between your fingers. Tugging you impossibly closer to his side, and reaching an arm around you to grab a stray carrot. Boxing you into the bench, and maneuvering your fingers carefully as he began to force you to chop the carrot below. His front was flush with your back, and suddenly you couldn’t breath. Breath hitched in your throat, flush high on your cheeks, as Bakugou bent down, face right next to yours, as he forced you to chop, knife always skirting a little /too/ close to your fingertips, but fuck it all if you weren’t willing to lose them for this encounter to continue. “All this time and you haven’t even learned to chop properly. Make yourself more useful, you shitty extra,” He grunted, right into your ear. A sharp shock of arousal shooting down your spine as he spoke, looking away suddenly as Bakugou turned to try and meet your gaze. “Eh? What’s the problem, extra? Cat got your fucking tongue?’ He teased, harshly, though his grasp on your hands lessened, and fuck you were gonna pass out if you didn’t start breathing soon. “Oh,” He huffed suddenly, snickering under his breath, as he crowded you in up against the bench entirely, completely flush with your back, before his lips ghosted the shelf of your ear, and he whispered “-probably because of my big tits, huh? Tch.” And then he was gone. Gone from your back, gone from the shell of your ear, gone from giving you a religious fucking experience, and thankfully gone from nearly making you jizz your jeans in front of the entireety of class A and B. Your hands shook where they now held the knife solo, and you glanced over your shoulder- watching Bakugou stuff his hands in his pockets, arch his shoulders, and stalk off to the cabins. Though not before you also caught the sharp, devilish smirk that twisted up on his face. What a fucking DICK. But a dick who was handsome as fuck, and knew exactly what he was doing. “Alright, Bakugou, you wanna play, big boy?” You whispered to yourself, voice shaky as you continued chopping vegetables. “I’ll bite. Show you how it’s done...right after I pass out, Jesus fucking Chri-” 

[the-passenger-if]

one of my favorite angst tropes is someone breaking up with their partner in order to keep them safe! how would the ros handle this if newman did this to them? (also, would any of the ro’s break up with newman to keep them safe?)

combining it with

How would the ROs react to Newman who just texts them out of nowhere and the message just say "I love you always bye sorry" as if Newman was in a hurry and no matter how hard they try to contact them, no one picks up.

also

some angST!! How would the ROs react to Newman breaking up with them after being together for a looooong time?

and

ROs reaction to Newman wanting to break up with them after a while of being together?

Jonny and Horizon would break up with Newman to keep them safe. Fiama knows she can keep both of them safe, and Roach will do their best but if they have to die then they will die together xD

Combining Newman just up and disappears one day with Newman breaks up with RO after being together for a long time.

Long angsty scenarios under the cut.

“Mommy… kisses me… on the… cheek. Cheek. Cheek, Bruno. Listen, cheeeek. That’s chek.”

Bruno mutters the word ‘cheek’ under his breath a few times before adding another ‘e’ just on top of the first one.

“No,” Fiama tells him. “Erase the word and rewrite it. Well this time.”

Her son scowls but he does as he’s told. His round eyes slip away from the exercise book to the front door and stay there.

“Bruno,” she calls him. “Bruno.” He looks at her, and she knows. She just knows what he’s thinking about. Who he’s thinking about. “Cheek.” She points at the book.

He writes down the word very slowly and forcefully on the page. She still can read the wrong word under it, but she decides to let it go.

“The chick eats corn,” Fiama continues, “The… chick… Chick, Bruno.”

He bites his lower lip, staring at her.

“Remember the chicks? Grandpa took you to see them…”

Bruno mutters ‘chick’ under his breath a couple of times, then his eyes go to the front door again.

“Bruno,” and she doesn’t want to lose her patience like this, but she’s tired and she wants to… she doesn’t know what she wants to do yet, but doing homework in the living room with a very distracted Bruno isn’t it.

Her boy scowls at her, pencil shaking in a tiny angry fist. He opens his mouth to retort when someone knocks on the door. His eyes widen, the scowl vanishes. He jumps off the chair, homework and pencil and Fiama completely forgotten.

“Bruno!” she calls out, but he’s already dashing to the door and yanking it open.

“Oh! Hi there, rabbit,” Fiama’s mother says.

“No!” Bruno replies trying to close the door again.

That’s when Fiama stands up and grabs him by the arm. “Don’t you shut the door in your grandma’s face!”

“Don’t you grab him like that!” her mother yells at her, and she lets go of Bruno as if he was a hot iron.

“Why are you here?” Bruno screams at Fiama’s mother. “I wanted it to be them!”

“Bruno!” Fiama scolds.

“No!” her boy yells at her. “This is your fault! You did this!” Then he’s running off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Fiama isn’t the type to care about metaphors, but right now she completely understands what people mean when they say 'it felt like a bucket of cold water'.

The one that breaks the silence is her mother. “Well, didn’t I tell you this would happen?”

“Not now, mom.” Fiama grits out.

“Let us hope it doesn’t affect Bruno too much…”

“I said not now.” The glare she sends her mother’s way is enough for the woman to shake her head and turn away.

Fiama closes the door very carefully, and then rests her back against it, scowl set on the table where Bruno’s homework was left unfinished. A thought like a flash; the table toppling over, books and pencils, and the ceramic fruit basket flying in the air. It passes quickly. Fiama is taking slow deep breaths. She still remembers what happened the last time she let her emotions get the best of her. That familiar wave of shame and guilt washes over her as she remembers Bruno’s stunned silence when he found her sobbing in her room, sat in the midst of broken pieces of whatever she had lying about in there.

A single tear rolls down her cheek, one Fiama swiftly washes away. She promises herself this is the last she’ll ever waste on them.

---

There's one lonely cloud floating in the blue sky and Jonny's eyes have been following its snail-like march for the last ten minutes or so. His neck is starting to feel stiff but he doesn't shift his position; watching the lazy parade happening outside of his window has kept his mind in silence. Sweet, sweet silence.

It isn’t surprising that it doesn’t last. Somebody is knocking on his bedroom door and Jonny really doesn't have the energy for this. He closes his eyes shut, focuses on the inverted shadow cloud burned in his tired retina. The door clicks open and he keeps still on his bed, chest barely moving. It's childish, he knows this, but it's the only thing that seems to keep Joaquin and Lucia from asking how he's doing or commenting about his love life, or even worse, trying to give him advice.

The visitor lingers there where they stand for another moment, before closing the door again. Jonny thinks he’s been left alone to go back to what apparently has become his favorite hobby as of late, when he hears approaching footsteps.

“I know you’re awake.”

“Don’t tell me they called you,” he says in a drawl, opening his eyes and fixing them on the man sitting on the bed across from his. Quino has the same green eyes, straight nose, and wavy brown hair Jonny has, however, his twin chooses to wear it shorter and well out of his face. He is, after all, the good-looking one.

“They didn’t,” Quino assures him with a conciliatory smile. Jonny’s skepticism must be written all over his face because his brother crosses his heart and shrugs.

“Why are you here?” Jonny knows why, but he also knows Quino too well and his twin has never been the type to start awkward conversations unless Jonny opens that door for him first.

“Do I need a reason? Can’t I—?”

“They broke up with me,” Jonny cuts him off, “I’m feeling like shit, I just want to sleep until I forget I ever met them, but every time people ask about it I think about them, and every time they tell me ‘it will pass’, and that I’ll ‘find someone new’ I just want to jump in front of a car.” Quino doesn’t say anything, he just nods while picking at his nails. Jonny rolls on his back, stares at the ceiling. “I know I’m way too old to be acting like this, but I don’t know what else to do.”

“You aren’t too old to feel like shit, Jonny. You loved them, and they left you. It’s completely understandable.”

He presses his lips together. He did love them. He does love them still. Stupid, so stupid.

“If you want to cry—“

“Screw off.”

“Not in front of me, heaven forbid,” Quino says with mock horror, “but you should cry sometimes. Crying is good for you, you know?”

Maybe it is, Jonny guesses, but he might have cried himself dry the night Newman broke up with him over the phone. Over the fucking phone, of fucking course. He rubs at his dry eyes. He doesn’t want to think about that. “Yeah,” he mutters.

The silence stretches until Quino clears his throat. “So, do you want to know why I’m here or not?”

Jonny turns his head and then frowns at the tickets in his brother’s hand. He blinks twice, recognizing the iconic font printed on them at once. He sits up an instant later. “You’re shitting me.”

“No, I’m inviting you to see Metallica in Columbia.”

“Their last two albums suck,” Jonny says, yet he still takes the ticket from Quino’s hand.

“What doesn’t?” his twin asks with a laugh, and this time Jonny can feel himself smile.

---

One of the humans is awake. Shit. Roach thought they had at least another hour or two, now they’ll have to deal with them and their overfamiliarity and their hands and their faces.

The stub between their lips trembles and they realize it has gone out. They take it, frown at it and then flick it off. It flies in an arc, landing among its dozen of dead brothers. Roach knows at least ten of those are theirs—not that the parking lot of this dingy motel could look any worse by having more dead cigs lying about.

They look for their smokes in the denim jacket they are wearing—a gift from a trucker with a tendency to comment on people’s appearances and leave his jacket behind when going to the restroom—and almost drop the entire pack when the door at their left opens.

“Those things will kill you,” says the woman coming out of their shared motel room.

“Life is killing me,” Roach replies without missing a beat, but they don’t smile; she won’t see their face anyway, not when the sun has yet to come out, and the only lightbulb over their head suddenly burned out.

“Do you have another one?”

She comes to sit next to them on the bench and Roach doesn’t need light to see the deep crow's feet at the corner of her eyes and the dark circles under them. Their conquests always look immensely better under synthetic lighting, once outside, once they’ve used one another, it’s like the spell breaks.

Roach holds two cigs between their lips and lights them with practiced ease. They offer one to their broken Juliette. It’s the least they can do; they do remember biting her hard at some point in the middle of their sexcapade… or maybe they bit one of the others, they aren’t sure anymore.

She accepts it with a thanks and takes a long drag. She sighs out the smoke, peers at Roach as if she could somehow pierce through the shadows and take a good look at them. “You are young, darling,” she croaks out. “Way too young to be doing this shit.”

“Smoking?” Roach asks innocently. Words read out from a script, tone sweet, face immobile. The face of a ghost really, one that haunts and judges them.

The woman shakes her head and then points with her thumb at the room behind them. “I bet you aren’t even thirty yet.” She tilts her head at them, eyes narrowing and still trying to see. “Whatever happened to you… you can opt out. It isn’t easy, but you can move on, you can leave your old self behind. It’s never too late…” A coughing fit interrupts her fortune cookie monologue, and Roach is super ready to skedaddle now.

They stand up, rub their hands together. “Speaking of,” they exclaim with fake enthusiasm, “I should hit the road now. It was a pleasure, really,” they add just as if they were wrapping a 5-cents bow around used pair of socks. Here, happy birthday.

Roach jogs off before she can add anything else.

“Hag,” they mutter around their cigarette. They stop as they catch a glimpse of their reflection in the window of a stripped car. The face scowling at them is silently judging them for stealing it and then using it to lure in humans. “It’s poetic, ok?” Roach explains with a tense grin. “You fucked me over so this is my way to return the favor, pet.” The reflection doesn’t reply, but Roach doesn’t care. They don’t care. They never cared, actually. Who said they ever did?

---

Slow, deep breaths. Inhale, one… two… three… four. Exhale, one… two… three… four… five… six…

Horizon opens their eyes. They are crouched in front of the ceremonial pitcher. Looking down at their reflection in the water makes something like a thumb-size metal ball roll in the back of their skull. They wince in pain and lose whatever little balance they had before. Horizon doesn’t yelp when they fall back on their ass; the sudden waves of nausea coming up like lava inside a volcano could turn a bad situation into a nightmarish one at the flip of a hat.

“Ah,” they whine in a whisper, “if there truly is anything out there, up there, or around, please make it stop.” They run a hand down their face, suppress a fiery belch.

They blindly look for the pitcher and submerge their other hand in the cold water. Dominus Dove and Domina Basil would blanch in horror and anger, but right now, this is the best Horizon has felt since Velour dragged them out of bed, wrapped their robes around them, and pushed them into their office.

Running wet, cold fingers through their messy hair is the best feeling in the world, so they continue this little ritual for a while… and another while… and a little longer…

The door opens just a crack and Horizon’s gaze jumps to Velour’s so fast that the metal ball comes back with a vengeance. An arrow piercing their brain back to front.

“Ahh!”

“This isn’t happening,” Velour hisses as they slink into the room and close the door behind them. “Tell me this isn’t happening.”

“This isn’t happening,” Horizon mutters trying to smile through the pain. They open their eyes to find a very frowny, very serious Velour staring down at them. The smile slips off their face like a slug going down the drain. “I’m so sorry, Velour.”

“As you should,” they reply coldly, and Horizon wants to cry because there’s so much more to their tone than just scorn; they are truly disappointed and they have all the right to be.

“I’m a mess,” the words sound strained to Horizon’s ears, and they can feel new tears threatening to spill down their face again.

Velour’s jaw tightens before they crouch down shaking their head. “You are drunk,” they whisper in a mellow way. “And we can’t let anyone know that.”

“No, we can’t.”

“Alright, I’ll tell them you are indisposed. Wait here, and please, stop playing with the sacred water, Domini.”

Horizon can feel themself blushing in embarrassment, but they nod nonetheless and almost don’t wince when the metal ball ricochets around their skull.

Velour steps out of the room, their voice booming in the cabin, “Domini Horizon has fallen ill with a fever. Today’s prayers will be under my supervision.”

“Are they ok?” somebody asks.

“Yes, but they are very tired and would appreciate being left alone in their cabin. Any concerns or questions you have can be brought to me.”

Efficiently, they march into the office again. “Lean on me, Domini,” they instruct and Horizon does as they say. A few moments later, The Domini is back on their feet and being herded out of the office and through the cabin. They keep their head down, letting their hair cover their face.

“Poor Domini,” another person loud-whispers, “they are drenched in sweat.”

Next to them, Velour tenses up, but they don’t let their discomfort show in any other way.

Once in Horizon’s cabin, their assistant sits them on the bed and fetches them a glass of water.

“They aren’t worth any of this, Domini,” Velour says, and Horizon keeps still, lips barely touching the water. They look up at their assistant but say nothing. “That’s all I wanted to say, and that’s all I’ll say on the subject.”

Horizon puts down the glass on their lap, both hands holding it still. They lower their gaze before softly replying, “Noted.”

Velour makes to leave. They open the door before saying over their shoulder, “And stop drinking. If I come back to find you drunk again, I swear I’m leaving. For real this time.”

Horizon nods slowly, and doesn’t look up until Velour closes the door behind them. Once they are out, the Domini puts the glass down, next to the bed, carefully lies down, and lets the ugly sobs come gushing out of them like muddy water from a broken levee.

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine leaving the fire nation with Zuko when he was banished and helping comfort him when he’s having his breakdown.

Your years of banishment had been pretty uneventful at first, just travelling the seas and every corner of the earth looking for the avatar who didn’t exist. Then he suddenly did and your life was turned into an endless chase. You honestly didn’t care that the avatar was the biggest threat to the fire nation but as it was Zuko’s mission to capture him you helped. Then after Zuko’s many failed attempts Ozai sent Azula and you went from being the hunters to the hunted. You, Iroh and Zuko all had to go into hiding and Zuko took it the hardest. He’d been in an awful mood for days but when Iroh offered to teach him lightning bending he perked up and put all his effort into learning the skill.

You however, were more than happy to stand and watch from a distance. You had always been scared of lightning and although you’d done a good job hiding it in the palace (if you showed it you knew Azula would constantly do it so you managed to stifle your flinches) you still didn’t want to get too close. So you stayed by camp preparing food for later when suddenly you heard yelling. You stood up and frowned to see Iroh and Zuko arguing. Zuko was clearly angry at Iroh and pushed past him storming away. You ran over to Iroh and watched as Zuko stalked away from your camp. “What happened, what’s wrong with him?”. Iroh sighed “he wanted me to fire lightning at him but I refused and now he’s heading out into the middle of a storm”. You frowned looking up at the sky, it was drizzling but it didn’t seem like storm weather. "I’ll go after him, see if I can get him to calm down" you suggested and Iroh nodded “thank you y/n”.

As you rushed after Zuko you were hit with the irony that this was what you always seemed to be doing. Following Zuko around, trying to calm him down, but that’s was friends did. When Zuko was banished you weren’t sure if it was the thought of being truly alone in the fire nation or just all the pain and sadness you knew he must be feeling but for some reason you demanded to go with him. The whole point of a banishment was to make people leave not stay and so you managed to talk your way into accompanying Zuko easily. You helped Iroh nurse Zuko back to health from his injury and it was really hard at first. When his burn was fresh it was so angry and painful but Ozai didn’t let you have the royal physician work on him. It was mainly up to you and Iroh and you did everything you could. At first the main worry was if Zuko would lose his eyesight or even his eye but Iroh managed to save both. When Zuko did wake up he was in excruciating pain constantly and it killed you to see him lie so clearly wreathing in pain but refusing to show it. He thought he deserved it and that killed you further. You wanted to shake him and yell that it wasn’t his fault, that it was Ozai’s but Zuko had a problem seeing who his father was. You’d given up trying to tell him and for the sake of your friendship decided to just support him, Iroh assured you Zuko would eventually realise the truth of everything and you prayed he was right.

You continued following Zuko but through the countryside but he was moving very quickly and you struggled to gain any ground on him. Soon Zuko disappeared from your view altogether and you just carried on hoping you’d find him. Iroh was right and soon the light rain turned into a downpour. Then the lightning started and you jumped every time a bolt boomed across the valley. If it was anyone else the lightning would’ve scared you off but Zuko was your closest friend, you had to find him. Your foot slipped as another lightning bolt lit up the sky and you sighed but continued to follow the direction Zuko had gone in. You were beginning to give up finding him when you came to the top of the hill and saw him stood on a cliff edge. You paused taken back at the sight and then you realised what he was yelling. He was  screaming for lightning to hit him, sobbing and yelling at the storm to strike him. He looked the most broken you’d ever seen him. Even worse than when he was first banished, at least then he’d had a mission he pretended was reasonable, now as a fugitive hiding from Azula as well as the earth kingdom he didn’t have that. He didn’t have any hope. Zuko was broken and Ozai had done this to him. The thought alone brought tears to your eyes and reaffirmed the fierce protectiveness you felt for him. "Zuko!" you yelled through the storm and somehow he heard you. He turned around shocked before returning his gaze to the lightning "what are you doing here y/n?". "I’m making sure you’re not doing anything stupid like trying to get hit by lightning". Zuko didn’t respond to your joke "go back y/n" he said simply and you paused. "No i...Zuko this is dangerous the storm is really close". "So go" Zuko said yelling at you now. He was angry at the world and you were the nearest thing for him to vent it through.  "I don’t want you here i didn’t ask you to come with me! If it’s so dangerous then go! You never should've come here with me anyway, you should be back in the fire nation not here with me". "Wait why is this about me leaving the fire nation with you?" you asked and Zuko glared. "Because you and my uncle are always so selfless, it makes me sick! You changed your whole lives for me, you helped me recover from my burn you both try and appease me but it’s useless! I will never accomplish my mission, i will never be able to take us back home! I’ve ruined both of your lives and seeing you trying to help me makes me sick with anger. I can’t fix it y/n, i can't repair the damage, i can’t get my honour back, I can’t" he yelled and collapsed on his knees shaking with tears. You wrapped your arms around him and held him as he carried on sobbing. "No wonder father prefers Azula i’m useless! Useless, useless" he carried on hitting the ground with his fists until you grabbed them so he couldn’t. Zuko kept repeating the world useless however and so you just held onto him tightly as he cried. Eventually he stopped talking and just sobbed into your neck. You were crying too seeing him so defeated and just held onto him tightly. The rain was mercilessly pelting you both but you didn’t even register it, you were too focused on what was happening to your best friend. "You’re not alone and you’re not useless" you told him "we don’t care for you because we think you’ll save us but because we love you, you are worth it Zuko" you told him raising his face to yours "you are worthy". Zuko just stared so you hugged him again and Zuko clutched you tightly. The rain showed no signs of stopping and after a close lightning bolt you managed to get Zuko to stand and come with you. You found shelter in a small cave and led him inside. Zuko collapsed on the floor as soon as he was inside and you helped him lean against the side of the cave. He was shaking and still crying so you wrapped your arms around him again. Zuko leant into you and you patted his back trying to soothe him. Finally Zuko stopped crying but he didn’t move away from you. You supposed he needed the comfort and had no intention of denying him that...but you were still so close to all the rain and cold. Your feet and hands were freezing and you were itching to make a fire and move further into the cave. After waiting as long as you could you spoke softly "Zuko we should make a fire....you’re freezing". Zuko got off you without a word and followed you as you walked further into the cave. You found the makings of an old campfire and the wood lit instantly. Zuko moved closer to the fire and sat hunched over his knees. You came to sit beside him and silence settled. You were sure he must be hungry and searched through your bag for some food. It was soaked but you managed to find an only slightly damp packet of fire flakes at the bottom. You opened it and held it out to Zuko. He glanced at you over his shoulder and you shook it "we won’t be able to travel in this weather so we'll be stuck here for the night, i’m sorry but this is the only food i have". Zuko sniffed "it’s okay" and took a handful. You both sat munching on the food quietly until it was all gone. You added the packet to the flame and tried warming your hands on the fire. "You’re shivering" Zuko noticed and you shrugged "it’s okay". "No it’s not, you’re soaking wet and trapped in this cave all because of me". You shook your head "not because of you, yes i choose to follow you but not because I had to. I did it because i wanted to, i’m not your responsibility". Zuko shrugged "i guess but you wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for me". You knew he actually meant this whole situation not just the cave and sighed worried he still blamed himself. "Maybe but we are here so the only thing to do is to make the best of it, how about we try to sleep? Things will look better in the morning". Zuko didn’t reply but you laid down close to the fire and hoped he’d copy you. "Make the best of it" you heard Zuko mutter "okay". Zuko suddenly grabbed your shoulders and began dragging you to the side of the fire nearest the cave opening. "What are you doing?" you asked laughing and Zuko smiled "making the best of it, if we have to sleep here then you should be near the fire but we also need to make sure it doesn’t go out so we’ll block the wind with our bodies and still get the benefit of the fire”. The wind blew angrily against your back and you frowned before Zuko sat down putting himself between it and you. He blocked the cold and the fire’s warmth was more noticeable. "Better?" he asked and you nodded "thanks". A massive lightning bolt struck right outside the cave and your whole body jumped. Zuko laughed “what was that?”. “I...I hate lightning”. “What since when?” Zuko asked and you shrugged “since forever, i can usually hide it when i’m safe inside but when I’m in the middle of a storm....” you trailed off when another bolt struck and you flinched again. They seemed to be getting closer. Zuko smirked “it’s okay it can’t get us in here”. You nodded “i know that but...”. Zuko paused and cautiously put an arm around you “does this help?”. You managed not to blush but you couldn’t look at his face. “I...yes”. Zuko nodded and he smiled slightly before pausing. "Y/n about today....". "It’s okay" you said immediately but Zuko shook his head. "No it’s not, i didn’t mean to yell at you but i did and that was wrong. I’m so sorry". "You were just upset" you shrugged and Zuko nodded "i was but you are not the person to direct that at, all you and my uncle have ever done is be there for me, even changing your whole lives for me and i guess i feel guilty about that, like i’ve dragged you down with me". "You didn’t drag me anywhere i came willingly and so did your uncle because we care about you, you don’t have to be held responsible for that, we don’t hold you to that and so you shouldn’t. We made our decision and neither of us would change it". "Really you’d still decide to follow me out here in the storm?" Zuko asked with a smirk. "I’d like to say yes but i can’t feel my toes". Zuko laughed but noticed you were indeed still shivering. Zuko moved closer to you again and tightened his grip on you. You didn’t manage to hide your blush this time but luckily Zuko was looking away to also hide his own blush so he didn’t notice. "Thank you" Zuko said suddenly "that’s what i’m trying to say....i don’t know what i did to deserve someone like you in my life but somehow you’re here and i want to thank you, i don’t do it enough but thank you for being with me, for not giving up on me, it means a lot". "I’ll always be here for you" you smiled. "Really?" Zuko asked smiling, you knew he was joking but could also hear the sharp undertone of his voice, that part that was seriously asking, scared you didn’t mean it. "Always" you nodded and laid a hand on his cheek. Zuko’s blush deepened and you pretended not to notice. "We should go to sleep” you smiled and Zuko nodded still pink "erm good idea". You lowered your head against his chest to hide your smirk at Zuko’s awkwardness and folded into his side. With the rain pouring outside and the warm fire you were actually very comfortable. Zuko seemed to be too and you smiled as he stroked your arm absentmindedly "goodnight y/n" he said softly and you smiled "goodnight Zuko".

[yanderemommabean]

A Yiga attacks you, drawing blood. A mighty roar sounds in the distance, and not even a minute later, a feral Sidon emerges from the water, enraged and ready to kill. With a few well-placed snaps of his powerful jaws, Sidon has ripped the Yiga to shreds. When you get back to the Domain, Sidon is livid with you, berating you for trying to run away.

Tears run down your face uncontrollably as the Zora prince begins screaming at you, angry and ballistic as his stance makes you feel small and pathetic. You honestly weren’t trying to do anything! All of this started because of a misunderstanding and he won’t even take a second to listen to you!

Words are stuck in your throat as he sighs and turns around, too angry to look at you. You’re always starting trouble! Always ignoring his warnings! Why is it so hard for you to listen?!

“Sidon please I wasn’t-“

“I don’t want to hear it!”

“If you would just listen to me-“

“I SAID I DONT WANT TO HEAR IT!” He snaps, eyes turned to slits as he glared at you, mouth formed into a snarl “I don’t want to hear another word from you. You’ve deliberately disobeyed me and nearly gotten yourself killed! Unless the next words from you are an apology you can keep quiet for the rest of the day”.

You clench your fists, his words hurting and making you feel like a child being scolded. “If I knew you would treat me like a fucking child I would’ve let the Yiga kill me. I’m so tired of you acting like I can’t take care of myself. Fine. You want silence? Have it”.

Dramatic theatrics always pissed you off, and Sidon having the gall and audacity to act like he was scolding you out of love was asinine and grating on your nerves. Perhaps you should have been the one shredded by his teeth, at least then he’d actually do you a favor.

Not being allowed to go anywhere, be allowed to do anything, or even be allowed to speak your mind was absolute hell! You’re so fucking tired of it! If he wants to play games and be emotional then you can too.

Childish? Yeah but nothing about this situation was mature or on a level of calm and collected.

Hours go by, and you’re examining the bruises left by the attack as you sit by the waterfall. Another Zora guard is by your side, and he seems to want to say something but only nervously rocks on his feet as you stare down at the waters below.

“...He’s just looking out for you...you know?”.

You make a noise, looking up at the pale green Zora as he clears his throat and looks away. “The prince. He’s not doing it in the best way but...he just really cares about you and your well-being”.

You shake your head, not believing a word the fish said. “He’s got a funny way of showing it. That’s for fuckin’ sure” you bite out, looking up where the prince was pacing back and forth in the throne room. He still seemed livid and feral, but there was a hint of remorse behind those usually kind eyes.

With a sigh, the guard nods his head, toying with the shaft of his spear “The prince has had many hardships that he had no control over. You’re the closest person he’s been able to have in centuries. He doesn’t want to lose someone important again. I know he goes about it in a strange way, but you must know it comes from a good place”.

Sure. A good place. Right.

What’s so good about being treated like an incompetent child? Or being blamed for something you had zero control over? No, Sidon is just being cruel and controlling. Nothing sweet about it.

The Zora could tell you were hard set on brooding and frowing. Understandable given your circumstances. However he felt the need to try and cheer you up, even if just a little.

“Perhaps now that things have calmed down...you two could try to talk again? I’m sure even if you have choice words to say, it’s better than giving him the silent treatment”.

“HE’S THE ONE WHO WANTED ONE!” You spit, splashing the water slightly with the gesture you made with your hands. You huff, seeing the look on the guards face and turning to face the waterfalls again. “He won’t listen anyway. He’s mad at me and I’m tired of him. He only cares about how he feels, not about how I feel”.

“That’s not true, my pearl” a familiar, deep voice replied. You stiffen, turning to face the larger, more colorful Zora. Even now his eyes still held anger, but not for you. No he was angry with himself for letting his emotions take over, allowing instinct to muddle what he was truly trying to say.

He hurt you, and he can’t forgive himself. He swore to protect you and all he has done is smother the light you used to shine.

“...” you say nothing, turning back around and trying your best to stay silent. Crossing your arms over your chest, you shrug your shoulders as the only attempt at communication. Sidon nibbles his lips as he plays with his fingers nervously, debating on how to apologize and approach you.

He too stayed silent, giving a head tilt towards the guard to leave his post. Once the other left, he sat down in the waters beside you, drumming his fingers on the floor as his lips pout in thought. The sky was turning into a beautiful twilight, and the moons light casting upon you only made you look even more stunning. He could see the bruises made on you, and his chest ached knowing you were hurt.

You had defensive signs all over you. Signs that you didn’t go with the Yiga warrior willingly. Marks that proved you were scared and needing his protection and all he offered in return was anger and blame.

“...I’m sorry...” he said softly, eyes lowered “I...I thought you and the yiga...I...well-“

You cut him off, not looking in his direction as you finish what he was struggling to say “You assumed I was teaming with the enemy. I know” you bitterly state, fingers clenching your elbows as your arms were folded over, cradling yourself as a form of comfort. “Shows how much you trust me....”you weakly added, voice cracking.

Guilt was bubbling inside of him. He’s known you for so long yet he let his insecurities taint his image of you. And look where that’s gotten him! Your warmth was dying out because he can’t seem to realize that you aren’t like the others. Sidon knows you aren’t fragile and that you’ll always be by his side, but time and time again he ignores these facts over his emotion.

It goes silent again, the crickets chirping in the distance being the only noise for a while as he watches your face glimmer in the starlight. Amazing and breath taking as ever. His hand reaches over towards you, gently laying ontop of your own, his fingers intertwining with yours.

“I can’t take back what I did. But I can say that it’s eating me alive and that I hate how it even left my mouth. And...I want you to know I do care about you. I know I’m controlling and intense and unreasonable...and the fact you haven’t tried to kill me yet is amazing “ he jokes, smiling when he sees the little bit of amusement etched into your face.

You squeeze his hand and give half a smirk “well...you make up for it when you let me get away with stealing snacks from the store...so I’d say it’s even”.

Both of you share a soft laugh, and you swing your feet over the falls as you clear your throat. “I-I know you’re just worried about me but...Sidon, I’m not some fragile toy. I’m not some bad guy either. I wouldn’t ever do anything dangerous and despicable like join the Yiga...or leave you”.

Sidon lowers his head, pressing it against Yours as he holds your clasped hands to his chest. “I know...I know and I’m such a fool for thinking otherwise. I’ll make this up to you darling, anyway you want! Just say the word and it’s yours!”.

You gently kiss his cheek, and give a soft breath in thought. “Anything?”.

He nods in affirmation “Anything.”

You grunt, standing up to maneuver onto his lap “Well...for now just hold me. I’ll think of something extravagant later. Deal?”.

He laughs, holding you closer and nodding his head “Deal”.

-Mommabean (was this ok???)

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 2

First

Interdimensional travel? Awful. Don’t try it at home. It’s a lot like how one would imagine getting sucked up a straw: you get squished and pulled until you come out the other side a goopy mess.

Speaking of goopy messes: Tim keeled over and threw up.

He ignored the yelling right next to him because, honestly, he couldn’t even bring himself to look up at the moment. The bright light of this world -- apparently it was daytime here, ew -- hurt his eyes even through his sunglasses and he really didn’t want to move from where he had curled up in what seemed to be grass.

But, eventually, he did. He pushed himself up onto his knees and squinted over at her.

Ladybug had detransformed at some point and was now wearing an old t-shirt and some sweats… and she was apparently fighting off a baby. Damian kicked, screamed, and wiggled in her hold as she tried her hardest to trap him in the blanket again.

“... how are you losing to a baby?”

She sent a glare at him and then mumbled a curse as a tiny fist connected with her face and Damian wriggled away from her.

“Let me think about that, Red. What could go wrong if I, a meta used to fighting other metas, tried to use force against a human child?”

Okay, yeah. It was probably for the best that she hadn’t tried anything.

Oddly enough, when Tim walked over and replaced Marinette, Damian started behaving immediately.

He frowned, tipping his head to the side confusedly. He picked up his younger brother and stood up. “Why’d he start freaking out?”

She did the exact opposite of standing up, opting to spread out in the grass and glare at the sky. “I don’t know. He just started freaking out when I tried to put the watch around his neck.”

“Weird,” he mumbled.

“Yeah.”

He took the time to look around properly for once. They were in a park but it must have been a weekday because there was hardly anyone around. The only people that had paid them any mind were a group of teenagers -- probably ditching, he thought -- that were staring at them with wide eyes.

Tim glanced at a street sign to make sure the common language was English before sending them a glare. “It’s rude to stare, y’know.”

The teenagers quickly looked down at their phones. Tim knew better than to believe that they were actually paying attention, they had the same posture that a lot of lookouts did, but whatever. No one would believe them, anyways.

He gave her a few more minutes before he adjusted his hold on Damian and offered a hand up.

Ladybug took it with a faint smile and he pulled her to her feet. She grabbed their discarded suitcase and they started walking aimlessly.

“Okay, we’re here… but we still need a cover.”

“Um… you’re the one that’s good at hacking, right?”

He nodded. Damian reached a hand out of the blanket and began touching his hair. He was too busy wondering what to do to really mind.

“Great. How about… we’re the kid’s siblings?”

“We can pass as his parents. I mean, it’d be a teen pregnancy but it wouldn’t be bad,” said Tim. “We still had him at eighteen-ish.”

She shook her head. “He’s darker than both of us, it wouldn’t make sense. Maybe I had him with some… darker guy and now you’re my boyfriend? No, that feels racist for some reason. I’m his half-sister, our parents died, and you’re my boyfriend.”

Tim frowned. “Why am I always the boyfriend? He’s my brother.”

“Well, frankly, you look nothing like him. He and I, at least, have similar noses.”

He scowled. It made sense but it still annoyed him. “Fine. I’m your husband, though. I want to have at least some rights.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Guess that’s good for tax benefits, too. Better get me a cute ring.”

“Okay, but the diamond is going to be fake.”

“Cheapskate.”

“Cheskae,” Damian said, yanking Tim’s hair like the little shit he was.

“See, he agrees,” Ladybug said with a victorious grin.

~

They went up to a hotel (Red Robin had tried to talk her into a five-star one but she managed to bring it down to a two-star when showing him the cost) and tried to reserve a room.

“May I have a name for the reservation?” The nice lady at the front counter said, smiling at them.

Red Robin glanced up from where he was awkwardly bouncing with the baby in his arms to shoot her A Look. It was unfortunate that she had no clue what the look meant. She considered the question for a moment before eventually saying:

“Dupain-Cheng.”

Red Robin relaxed a little so she was pretty sure she had gotten it right.

She hesitantly took the baby from him -- the kid had apparently forgotten about his earlier freakout because he was just as weirdly still as he had been back in Gotham -- so he could pay.

The moment they got into the hotel room she fell back in the bed. The baby squirmed a little on her stomach to get comfortable before joining her in her laziness.

Red Robin sighed and sat next to them, resting his head in his hands. “Okay. We’re going to need supplies for him. Do you want to do a supply run or should I?”

She shrugged a little, much to the baby’s dismay. Have you ever had a baby babble angrily at you? It’s very cute.

“You’re so helpful. Thanks, Ladybug.”

“No problem,” she said as if she couldn’t hear the blatant sarcasm in his tone. Then she pushed herself up to squint at him, the baby sliding down to her lap smoothly. “Wait, are we still going to be using codenames?”

He frowned. “Obviously.”

“... for fifteen years?”

“Obviously.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great, so when we take the kid back we’re going to explain to him that, on top of all the adjustment of moving to a different dimension, he needs to now use a different name for you, and messing up isn’t an option. Also, I feel like people are going to question two random people called ‘Red Robin’ and ‘Ladybug’ at some point.”

Red Robin frowned, clearly thinking hard, and then nodded slightly. He removed his glasses and looked at her with an awkward smile. “This is Damian, I’m Tim.”

She raised her eyebrows because he was looking at her expectantly and she really didn’t know what he wanted from her. “Uh… am I supposed to know you?”

“I mean… kinda?”

She squinted at him for a while before shrugging. “That one guy? Timothy --.”

“Yep!”

“-- Chalamet?”

He looked oddly hurt now. “You think I look like Timothy Chalamet?”

“I mean you both have the same sickly Victorian boy look about you.”

“... for the sake of our fake marriage I’m going to pretend that you didn’t say that. I’m Tim Drake.” She still didn’t show any hint of recognition (probably because she didn’t recognize him) so he groaned and motioned to Damian. “This is Damian Wayne.”

“Wayne? Like Waynetech?”

“There you go,” he said.

She grinned at him. “It’s not my fault you made me guess.”

He huffed a little. “Alright, fine, then who are you, then?”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“... who’s that?”

“A nobody. Like secret identities should be,” she said, giving him a smug look.

He rolled his eyes. “I feel like this is going to be a long fifteen years.”

“Shouldn’t have dragged me into your mess, now you gotta deal with the consequences.”

He stuck his tongue out at her. She returned it. So did the baby.

~

It was decided that Marinette should be the one to go on a supply run since Tim needed to start making identities for them.

… it would be a lot easier if there wasn’t a baby crawling all over him. She’d better get a crib while she was out because he didn’t know if he could deal with a baby smashing the keys for much longer.

“Dami -- no, stop, I -- I swear to god -- you’re a baby okay I can literally just drop you and you would -- please stop --,” Tim cut off his irritated rambling when Damian nearly got them on a good few government watchlists by smashing the keys at the wrong time.

Fed up, he grabbed the kid and set him on the ground. It’ll probably be fine. He only needed to do a few quick things, anyways.

He was shocked to find that there was a version of him in this world. The idea of a Tim who didn’t do vigilante-work was foreign to him. He had apparently stayed with his parents and was now working towards a business degree. This dimension’s Tim wasn’t nearly as famous as he was and the three of them had landed in Texas so it was unlikely that he would be recognized but he would prefer not using the name if he didn’t have to. Just to be safe.

Damian didn’t exist, as far as he could tell, but Bruce Wayne did and he was still famous so it wouldn’t be a good idea to use his last name either.

There was a version of Marinette, too, but she was currently in France helping her parents run their bakery. Very little chance of her getting recognized.

So, he decided to use her last name for all of them. Quick and easy. He’d have to tell her that he changed her birthplace to New Jersey when she got back to the hotel but he doubted she’d have much of a problem with that.

… oh. His phone was ringing. Apparently he could tell her now.

He picked up and wedged it between his ear and his shoulder as he worked at finding them a few social security numbers to… ‘borrow’.

“Yeah?”

“How big is the baby?”

Tim blinked a few times. “... baby sized?”

“No. Like… what size diaper do you think he would use?”

He scoffed. “Do I look like I would know the diaper sizes?”

“Do I look like I do? Just… how old do you think he is?”

Tim looked over the edge of the bed to where Damian was currently shaking Kaalki like she was a maraca. Kaalki, for her part, only looked vaguely annoyed as she bounced around in his tiny baby fists.

“I dunno. Like… a year-ish? Just buy one of everything we can see what fits.”

“Fucking hell I forgot you were rich. You said a year? I’m using that.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay -- OH SHIT DAMIAN NO!”

He tumbled out of bed and raced over to Damian before he could stick his finger in a socket. He didn’t really know if that was enough to get shocked but this was not the way to find out.

Damian was apparently very annoyed about him foiling his attempt at dying because he squirmed around in his grip and yelled incomprehensibly. Tim ignored the baby fists trying to knock his teeth out -- his teeth had faced far worse before -- and scooted across the ground to his phone.

“-- to god, Tim, what happened if you don’t answer I will run over there --.”

“It’s fine. Just get… you know the things that cover electrical sockets? Make sure to get some of those,” he said, tipping his head back to rest against the bed so he could kind of relax despite the ball of anger in his arms.

Marinette groaned. “Fuck, you can’t just scare me like that.”

“Yeah, you were the one that suffered the most during that.”

She scoffed but he swore he could hear a tiny laugh hidden under her mumbled ‘shut up’.

He smiled a little.

She didn’t hang up, probably expecting to ask him something else soon, so he listened in idly as he tried to calm Damian down enough to start working again.

She mumbled to herself while she looked for things. Some of the speech was normal but most of it was pretty much as incomprehensible as Damian’s babbling (admittedly, it probably didn’t help that he was only half paying attention).

“... tty trai… now?... oh... alright… oh, great, does she work here?” She murmured to herself. Then, louder: “Hey, lady --!”

“We’re in Texas,” he reminded her. “People are expected to be more polite down here.”

He was too late. Someone started yelling on Marinette’s end and, if the tiny sigh of annoyance was anything to go off of, it wasn’t her.

The yelling lasted approximately five minutes before someone intervened.

He heard her speak in rapid Spanish to the employee and, to his surprise, he could actually understand every word of them talking shit about the lady who had screamed at her. He didn’t know what to think of this outside of pulling the phone away from his mouth so he could try and roll an r. He was delighted to find that he had gained that ability as well. He continued rolling his tongue.

Damian stopped his squirming and gave Tim a confused look… and then he started to giggle. He twisted around in Tim’s lap and started trying to mimic the sound.

He tried to hide his smile as the two of them kept making r sounds at each other. He didn’t think he’d succeeded at keeping his face relatively neutral, but he didn’t really mind.

~~~~~

Next

@nathleigh @peachmuses @unoriginalmess

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Din Djaren x force sensitive reader - A Moment Of Bliss

Summary: You’re trying to meditate but your boys have other plans for you.

Warning: child being cute, fluff, SMUT, Din being the best space husband

Side note: wrote this before I learned the child’s name is Grogu, that is all.

Masterlist

You and your small clan of two have been stationed on a beautiful rolling grassland of a planet, ginormous stocky umbrella like trees sprouting from the flat land every couple miles from one another. They’re honestly quite the sight to behold, and something that you’re grateful for considering there’s no sand in sight. Honestly the most blessed thing of all that this wonderous planet has to offer, you can’t say you’re a real fan of the desert by any means.

Although you’re not exactly fond of the real reasoning why you’re here, it just so happened that Mando had gotten himself into some trouble when he captured the last bounty. A trafficking lord who just wasn’t as clever as he thought, earning himself some chains and a go around in a fun little thing called carbonite.

Nonetheless, his minions had tracked you two down after the bounty had been cashed in, slightly damaging the Razor Crest before Mando was able to lose them with some quick witted maneuvering. But you’re certain they’re still hunting you guys somewhere close by in the galaxy. 

So for the time being, Din has decided for your band of three to lay low on this beautiful planet until he’s sure that the petty criminals have given up, or until you both get bored enough and decide to finish them off yourselves.

Which is all fine for you, what could be better then a tiny vacation away from shady scavengers and untrustworthy pimps? Nothing really, so to make the most out of your fortunately unfortunate escape/ temporary vacation. You’ve chosen to spend your afternoon helping the child practice his growing powers. Although it appears the little guy is more interested in a shiny purple crystal that he found minding its business on the gravely ground.

Sitting yourself in a criss cross position upon the soft grass, you close your eyes as you prepare to meditate when suddenly the child makes the most adorable babbling sound, with an amused smile you open your eyes to look down at him, “I’ll let that slide.” He gurgles while tilting his head to the side, his big green ears flopping ever so slightly as he possibly considers your comment.

Watching him decide to sit down and instead play with the purple crystal, earns a little smirk upon your face as you shut your eyes once again. This time he doesn’t do anything to break your concentration, so taking the blessed opportunity you’re finally able to zone in on the force. Laying your arms onto your folded legs you open your palms, feeling the world around you, sensing the energy flowing in as you begin to rise from the ground.

The child watches in silent awe as small fist sized rocks begin to float and flow in circles around you, your contact with the grass no more. For a couple minutes you’re able to sustain your deep meditation, then a tiny little coo is heard from below as it shuffles in the dirt. You almost lose focus at the intruding noise, but your zoned out enough to come back to the welcoming bleary void of the force.

Another couple minutes go by before an adorable noticeably louder coo pricks at your ears, letting out a huff, you remain in the air, the pebbles and rocks around you keeping themselves suspended just the same. You focus even harder, letting yourself feel weightless and in control as you levitate above the grass, the child deciding to coo and babble once more.

“Shut up you’re gonna break my concentration,” You whisper softly as you carefully continue to levitate mere inches off of the ground. Just then the child suddenly lets out a loud messy sneeze, your face falling in irritation, “Aaaand it’s gone.” You deadpan before falling on your butt with a hmph, the little guy giggling in amusement. You fake glare at him before falling back into the soft grass as you look up to the blue sea of sky when suddenly a dark shinning shadow towers above you.

“How’s the meditation going?” Wonders Din as he joins your little party from where he once was, tending to the ship that is.

Sighing, you pull yourself up from the grass and into a proper seated position as you turn your attention to Din, “Not terribly.” You reply with a love struck grin as you lightly pat the grassy spot next to you, “Sit with me?” He looks at the area before bringing himself down to your level.

“Couldn’t hurt to relax for a minute.” Inquires Din as you roll your eyes.

“We’re being hunted Din, I think this little get away vacation of ours calls for a bit more then just a minute of relaxation. Don’t you agree?” He turns his helmet to you, the black T of his armored face showing you back your own distorted reflection.

“Gives me time to work on the ship.”

Nudging his arm that’s mere inches from your own you look at him with a smile, “Okay so that’s how it’s gonna be, you’re just glad to be working on the ship?” You muse with a fake scoff while shaking your head at him, “I should have known.”

“What? No that’s not...that’s not what I meant Y/N.” He rushes worriedly as you scoot yourself closer to him.

Softly chuckling at his quick reaction, you lean into his side as you casually lace his gloved hand with your own, “I know what you meant. But just cause I’m me, I’d rather have you in my arms then fiddling with that hunk of metal.” You explain before setting your chin against his beskar covered shoulder. You can’t see it, but he’s smiling underneath that helmet of his, looking deeply into your loving gaze.

“Likewise.”

Snaking your arms around the one closest to you, he ever so slightly leans into your touch, “Please take off your helmet so I can see those enticing dark eyes of yours. Please?” You urge with a light squeeze of his arm, “I can’t exactly kiss you like this...no ones around to see anything....and anyways we’re married so I automatically get a free pass.”

He gently squeezes your hand before reaching his arms up to his head, you hear a soft click and a whoosh of air as he pulls off his helmet. A blissful smile breaks out onto your beaming face as his fluffy brown locks appear before you, styled every which way as they embrace their new freedom.

He sets his shiny silver helmet to the side before pulling off his gloves as his dark irises find your face, you’re unabashedly biting your lip while you take in every single feature of his handsome face, “It’s a good thing you wear that helmet of yours,” You lean in close, “cause all the ladies would be fighting each other for a chance to get with you. There’s no doubt in my mind.” You muse as the most adorable of smiles graces his stunning features while he leans his head against yours, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“I have a great suspicion that you’d fight them before they even had a chance to breath in my direction.” Retorts Din as his hands gently grasp your own.

“What? No way.....okay....maybe yes.” He smiles brightly before pulling back, only to let go of your hands as he engulfs you into a giant hug. You quickly squeeze back as you push him into the grass, laughing as the both of you fall onto the soft earth.

Your eyes find his shining dark ones as you lean in close, “We should stay here, disappear from the rest of the galaxy and go M.I.A forever.” He kisses you in reply, his lips are soft and inviting as he holds you impossibly close, the scruff of his day old unkept facial hair scratching your cheek.

He slowly pulls away, earning a pout from you once he’s able to see your face again, “That does sound appealing, but I know you’d get bored with the calmness. You like adventure too much to stay in one spot for very long.” He says with a knowing look as he leans in to plant soft kisses over your cheeks, “I know you Y/N.”

Rolling your eyes you lean down to kiss his nose, “That you do, Din. Sometimes annoyingly so.” You reply before breaking out into an abrupt laugh as you watch him study your face lovingly.

Suddenly you feel a little nudge by your boot, shifting your gaze away from Din you look over to your feet where the little womp rat is. He’s smiling adorably as he babbles some more, stretching his little arms out for one of you to take, making a cute grabby motion with his hands.

Heeding to his silent yearning you sit up to gently pick up the beaming child, “Oh and how could I forget you, my little green bean....you can have all the cuddles too.” He squeals in delight as you hold him close in your lap, Din scoots over so his head is by your thighs as he gently pets his little green son on his wrinkly head.

Running your fingers through Din’s helmet hair you make a funny face at the child causing him to laugh, “I guess staying here for another week couldn’t hurt. I’ve got my two favorite people in the whole galaxy....no need to rush things.” Mutters Din as he looks to you with the biggest heart eyes while you stick your tongue out at the child.

“I’d like that very much, our little green boy....you and me, alone, a ship all to ourselves...no one to bother us.” You add, a suggestive tone laced throughout your sly voice, Din’s eyebrows raise in interest at your intriguing words, much to your amusement.

“And I have time to work on my ship.” Replies Din, side eyeing you to see your reaction to his lackluster comment.

Shaking your head you lightly tug at his tangled hair while he laughs, “You little shit. I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you...you fucker.” A giggle escapes from your lips as you try and keep a serious face, Din attempting to do the same, though you’re both about to crack.

The baby starts to babble, as he wiggles his little body from side to side in an attempt at gaining back the both of your wandering attentions. Not being able to handle the sheer silliness in the atmosphere you let out a loud burst of laughter, Din following suite.

You watch as the sides of his eyes crinkle in joy, his belly rippling with each new inhalation and exhalation of air, “Din, would you like to see what we’ve been practicing on?” You ask as he finally calms down again.

“You’ve been practicing with him?” He asks with a smile, “I’d love to.”

Turning to the child in your lap you grab his sides before gently setting him onto the ground, “Okay little guy, remember you’re training....what we we’re doing yesterday. First we stick our hand out....and then we focus really hard on wanting to lift up the rocks. Okay.” The child coos in excitement as he lifts his clawed hand out to mirror your own, “Now close your eyes and feel...feel the power around you, the wind, the earth...call to it, let it flow.”

He suddenly lets out a little tut of determination as he does his best to focus, Din watches silently in anticipation for what may happen next. A beaming smile breaks out onto your face as a couple tiny pebbles begin floating off of the grass, the child lets out an excited babble as he celebrates his achievement, “You’re doing fantastic my little love, I’m so proud of you.” He coos even more as you gush in amazement, the pebbles falling to the grass as he gets distracted by your words of encouragement.

“But can Y/N lift some little stones?” Jokes Din as he gently nudges your arm, you raise an eyebrow to him before using the force to lift him a couple inches off of the grass. His eyes go wide for a second, clearly not expecting you to mess with him before you drop him onto the soft grass once again.

He lands with a dramatic huff, you look to him and your heart skips a beat as he eyes you up like a wolf to his prey, you swallow just as he suddenly tackles you into the soft green grass. You fall back with a yelp as your Mandalorian pins you to the ground, his beaming face so close to your own as he stares into your eyes with his dark ones.

“You think you’re real funny, hmm Y/N?” His voice is low and husky, his breath fanning your smirking face as he attempts to take the upper hand, “Cause that kinda hurt my arm.”

You simply roll your eyes, “I’ve seen you get swallowed by a Krayt dragon, you reckless man. Tough it out my love, you don’t want to make a bad impression on the little guy now do yo...” His soft lips are suddenly on yours as he shuts you up with his soft plush lips. The child waddles over towards the Razor Crest, uninterested with training and with whatever wrestling game you and Din are becoming entangled in.

You smile into the kiss as Din rests his weight in between your opened thighs and stomach, he rests his forearm upon the grass as his other hand caresses the side of your face. You bask in his body as your hands feel through his soft wavy locks, he moans into your mouth at the pleasant sensation, earning an amused chuckle from you.

Your opened mouth giving him enough space to stick his tongue into it as he teases you, you answer back just the same, your tongues dancing in the dark as he consumes you. He feels rather nice, you can’t help but to begin feeling a bit heated in your nether regions from the close proximity in this compromising position he has you in. Your body erupts with electricity as he starts to grind into you, the slow small friction against your clothed womanhood sending you into another realm of pleasure, and he’s not even inside you yet. 

“Right in the grass?” You mumble against his lips as he bucks against your hips, the sensation driving you insane.

Knowing exactly how it’s making you squirm, he feels rather proud of himself, “Ships too far.” Mutters Din between kisses as he reaches down to unclasp his belt.

Your lips stay locked, a surprised gasp leaving your mouth as Din tugs down your own pants. He sits up and quickly makes haste with discarding his armored torso, flinging off top clothing and undershirt as you lift up your arms for him to pull off yours. The fabric falling to the grass as the both of you take in each other’s nearly naked bodies, your thin undergarments the only pieces keeping you away from total bliss.

He rests himself upon his bent knees while dark pleading irises stare into your own, he’s asking silent permission to disrobe you of all clothing. A smile breaks out upon your flushed face, nodding in a silent yes, his eyes flash with excitement and lust as he reaches over to tug at the edges of the tight fabric, he gently pulls off your bra. Your breasts bounce once they’re free from their constraints, Din’s brows raising in excited surprise before leaning down to kiss each one before he captures your lips with his once more.

Din you have no idea what you do to me.

Deciding you’d quite like it if both of you were naked, you pull away, Din’s face following yours as he pouts. In reply to his protests you fall back into the grass, “My undies aren’t gonna take themselves off.” You muse with a lustful gaze upon your man, god you already feel so wet, Din’s most obviously hard and you’re so ready for him.

His cheeks are flushed as he gently grasps the hem of your underwear on either side of your hips, you lift your bum up when he slides them down your legs, abandoning them in the grassy field. Your heart soars when he leans down to plant a kiss on the inside of your bare thigh, then another and another as he trails up to your knee. He pulls away to look at you once again, his face a mask of pure love and adoration as he shimmies out of his bulging boxers.

Biting your lip, you lean up to meet his lips, he kisses you deeply as he rests his calloused hands into each one of your knees, ever so carefully he parts them. Your nerves sending a wave of heat into your core for the anticipation of what’s to come, both literally and figuratively. If not for the current events you’d be laughing, your wandering thoughts quickly dissipating away once he pushes you back so that you’re laying in the soft earth as he locks eyes with you.

Giving you the most beautiful of smiles he kisses your abdomen, then below your bellybutton, up to your stomach, and in between your breasts. He’s hovering annoyingly close to you. You arch into him, the skin of his torso meeting your exposed womanhood, a moan escapes him from the wet contact against his stomach. You let out a breathy laugh as he squeezes and kneads your left breast, his mouth consuming the other one, his tongue working wonders as he sucks and licks at your perked nibbles.

Your hands tangle in his wavy dark hair as he continues his pleasurable assault in your breasts, his fingers may cause a little discomfort as he squeezes but you’re enjoying it too much to give a shit. His hot wet tongue dances in circles around your skin, he lets go of your breast to then lick up your turned neck. Doing everything in your power to keep it all inside, you bite your lip in an attempt at suppressing a moan, your voice breaking free once his hardened member rubs past your entrance without warning.

“There’s that pretty voice of yours.” Mutters Din before capturing his lips with yours, his hands held firmly against the ground as he holds himself up inches from you.

How annoying you can be, Din. Just get closer you idiot. 

You feel so warm and fuzzy, his body mere inches from your wanting skin, your legs already open and ready as his length stays firm only centimeters away from your lower abdomen. Tugging at his hair, he parts from your lips as a confused expression crosses his features, you simply chuckle, “Stop making me wait my love, I’m ready for you.” His eyes closing in bliss as you purr sweetly into his ear, “I need you in me, now.”

Heeding to your straightforward command, he reaches a hand down as he guides his hardened cock to your awaiting entrance. He rubs it against your clit in a teasing manner before he slowly pushes into you, your hands flying to his muscular back as your walls adjust to his length. With a soft moan from his sweet lips, he fills you entirely, for a couple seconds does he pause. Letting himself enjoy the sensation of his cock inside you as he presses butterfly kisses all over your face.

Yes, fucking finally.

Not being able to stand it anymore, you buck your hips into him, this giving Din the cue to start working his magic. He completely pulls out of you before slamming himself into your slickness once again, a gasp leaving your lips as he does it again and again and again. Until he decides to keep himself flush against you, his new close contact vigorous thrusts sending more waves of euphoria coursing throughout your entire vessel. All that’s heard in the breeze is the sounds of your moaning and the slabs of skin on skin as Din pumps relentlessly into you.

You’re honestly rather glad that those bastard scavengers ran you into hiding on this planet, it had been a while since you and Din had had any real intimate time together and this was the perfect opportunity. Humming in pleasure, you kiss his scruffy cheek as his head falls into the crook of your neck, “Din I fucking love you so much, you have no idea.” More deep strokes are thrust into you as he kisses the side of your head.

“Y/N ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.....” His all he manages to mutter as another satisfied moan escapes him. You chuckle at how absolutely adorable and hot he’s acting right now, another thrust into you emitting a moan from your lips. He feels so good with how he’s treating you in this special moment, your two bodies colliding like stars in the sky.

You suck in a breath as a warmness builds in the pit of your stomach, you can feel your orgasm slowly rising with each and every pump into you. Din hums as he pushes you into the grass even more now, you can tell from how much more rigorous his thrusts are becoming that he’s on the edge of paradise. 

And soon after he grunts, does he spill into you, the new added sensation enough to drive you wild with bliss. Your own high finally reached as your body shakes with euphoria and the last sloppy thrusts that he’s giving you freely.

A whimper escapes from your mouth as he enjoys himself inside of you for a couple more seconds before he slowly pulls out and flops by your side on the soft grass. He’s breathing heavily as you let the cool breeze fan over your sensitive swollen womanhood, the wind doing wonders for your hot sweaty skin as you try and calm down from your buzz. You close your eyes with a satisfied smile upon your content face as Din turns over to you with an equally joyous grin.

You listen and feel as he scoots himself against your side so that he can rest his arm over your stomach, his scruffy face inches from your cheek as he gently kisses you before resting his head against your temple. You lift your arm up to lay it over top of his as he hugs your side, doing his best to keep you as close to him as physically possible.

A pleasant sigh departs from his pouty lips, fanning the side of your face as you smile, “Y/N, you are very special to me...I just thought that you should know. Incase you ever forget.”

A small chuckle escapes you at his soft words, “Din I don’t think I could ever forget, you mean more to me then all the stars in the sky...more than the most valuable gems to ever exist or even my lightsaber.” He kisses your temple once again, “I believe the force has brought me to you my love, and I’m forever grateful for that.” You voice is a soft whisper on the breeze, yet he hears it all the same.

“Y/N I love you more than life, you are too sweet my beloved.” Your heart skips at his truthful reply, a small lump in your throat forming as he presses his nose against your hairline.

You turn your head to see his face better, he locks eyes with your own as a shy smile appears on his face, “Din Djaren you’re going to make me cry, shut up.” You muse with a quick kiss to his lips, looking into his dark brown irises like they hold all the answers to the universe.

He smiles against your cheek, kissing you there once more, “Never.”

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Masterlist Here

AO3 Link Here

‘Hello, Miya-san? Yes, please don’t worry, Shino-chan is fine, just that your husband hasn’t come to pick her up?’ the nervous childcare assistant murmurs her apologies as she hangs up, ready to dial Atsumu to chew him out for yet another display of his bloody lack of responsibility. But it’s no use because Atsumu’s number is engaged, and after five minutes, she gives it up as a lost cause and after a moment’s hesitation, dials the other number most used on her phone. 

‘Samu – I’m so sorry to trouble you, could you…? Yes – Atsumu forgot to pick her up again. I’m sorry – I’m at work so I can’t just step out… Thanks ‘Samu – I owe you again’. 

She sighs, leaning her head against the cubicle wall in her office toilet. Then she squares her shoulders before heading back to her cubicle, preparing to tackle the stack of work on her desk until office hours end.  

She picks Shino up from Onigiri Miya later that night, promising treats to her daughter to persuade her to give up her perch from Osamu’s neck. 

‘He’s an ass’, he tells her, voice heavy with sympathy, and she lets herself rest her head on his shoulder. 

‘Yes, you’ve told me that’, she responds with a tired smile. ‘Maybe I should’ve listened’. 

He pats her back, and she departs with Shino in hand.

A storm blows into the city from the sea, so she shutters the windows and locks the doors, but the house still shakes from the blitz of thunder and lightning. She rocks Shino to bed, and sings her to sleep amidst the gale wailing outside their walls. 

She can hear the jangle of keys and opens the front door to let Atsumu in. He ignores her baleful glare and shoulders his way in, dripping rainwater all over the floor. 

‘Well?’ she demands, hackles rising at his sullen silence. ‘Would you like to explain how you managed to forget to pick up your daughter from childcare today?’ 

‘It just slipped my mind, alright?!’, he replies, face arranged into a sneer, and with a few strides he’s already halfway to their room, back turned against her. ‘You don’t need to make a big fuss about everything all the time’, he says, his hand on the doorknob. 

‘Atsumu!’ she snaps, her fists clenched by her side. ‘Do you know how embarrassing it is for me to keep bothering Osamu to help clean up your messes? Could you dig deep and grow the fuck up so you can act like a decent husband and father for once? I wish I listened to Osamu when he warned me about you, even before we started going out’.

He whirls around and grabs her wrist in a painful grip, a blaze growing in his eyes. ‘All I ever hear from you these days is  Osamu this,  Osamu that. If goddamned Osamu is so fucking perfect, why didn’t you just marry him when you had the chance? It would’ve been easy enough to pass Shino off as his, aren’t I right?’ 

‘Maybe I should’ve - then I wouldn’t be in such a state’, she snarls, wrenching her wrist from his grasp. ‘But my fate was sealed the moment I was stupid enough to fall in love with you instead.’ 

He snorts through his nose, the sound bitter, twisted. ‘Well, the feeling ain’t mutual, darlin’. Who said I ever loved you?’ 

She reels back from the force of his words, the bruises on her wrist nothing  compared to those in her heart. His eyes widen in shock – but he does not take his words back. 

The rain turns the apartment freezing cold and she shudders, fighting the urge to shrink into herself, counting the seconds in the strained stillness between them before stepping tentatively towards him to cup his face in her hands. 

‘What’s with you, Atsumu?’ she asks, more gently this time. ‘This isn’t like you.’

Her words break his silence, and he sinks onto the couch with a groan, dropping his head in his hands. ‘I’ve been offered a chance to play in Italy for a year, and MSBY’s agreed to let me go for a season. I just haven’t told you yet’, he finally says, shoulders hunched. 

‘Are you going to accept it?’ She manages to ask, a lump of ice lodging itself at the back of her throat, choking the airflow to her lungs. 

He nods mutely, and a storm erupts in her heart.  

‘Gods, Atsumu. Does it mean nothing to you that you have a wife and child now? Couldn’t you have talked to me first before making such a move? You know I can’t just up and leave Japan with my job and Shino. Are you going to just get up and leave? What’s going to happen to us?’ 

‘I’m just tired of all of this, ok?’ He shouts, jumping to his feet, his tone sharp enough to pierce right through her heart. ‘We got married and had a kid so fuckin’ young, and there’s so much out there that I could be chasing that I wonder sometimes if all of this is a mistake’. 

‘You asked me to jump off a cliff. This is what you wanted, Atsumu, don’t you dare pin this on me!’ she screams back, not even bothering to staunch the bleeding from her multitude of wounds.  

He throws his head back and laughs, the sound drenched with bitterness and contempt. 

‘Osamu fuckin’ talked me into it – do you think I actually wanted all of this?’ he says, with a callousness she always knew he was capable of but never experienced first-hand. ‘I wish I'd never listened to him, I should’ve just stayed away. Then all of my problems – all of  this - would’ve never existed.’

His words finally strike the breath from her lungs, and she chokes, chilled to the bone, unable to speak as she watches him grab his bag and storm out of the house again. 

‘He’s not picking up my calls either’, Osamu tells her, when she drops by his store a day later. ‘I could hunt him down for you and beat some sense into his thick head’. 

‘Don’t bother’, she says, shaking her head. ‘He’ll resent me even more if you take my side again’. 

‘What are you going to do then?’ Osamu asks, the steam from freshly cooked rice rising between them. 

‘Come home’, her mother said when she called to break the news, her words ringing clear even over the cacophony of threats her older brothers make in the background about ‘slicing that bastard’s balls off with a knife’. She'd be lying if she said she weren't tempted by the promise of her family's support - her father had always taught her to run for the bamboo grove if there were ever an earthquake, to trust in the strength of the bamboo’s roots to hold the foundations of the earth in its place. But she’s built a career in the city, a life for her and Shino in a small apartment between buildings that seem to burst through the clouds in the sky, and she’s not sure she can walk away from all that just yet. 

‘I don’t know’, she says to Osamu. ‘I guess I’ll figure it out along the way’. 

Atsumu evades all of her attempts to talk through matters again, and a month later, he’s packed his bags, ready to get on a flight to Italy. He pauses to kiss Shino goodbye, and slips her two stuffed toys – a fox and a jackal, and she almost smiles at the sentimentality of it. Then he turns to her but does not look her in the eye. 

‘It’s ok to forget me as long as you remember that we have a child’, she says softly.   

He parts his lips to respond but decides against it, eyes hardening as he drops his set of house keys and his wedding ring on the countertop by the front door and storms off. 

She does not cry until Shino is safely tucked into bed, and she finds Atsumu’s old jacket, carelessly thrown in a heap at the back of the closet. She holds it close to her chest, breathing in the memories sewn into its seams, and lets herself finally break. 

‘Miya-san, I saw on the news that your husband is playing in Italy now. We’re all so surprised you didn’t go with him?’ Yuna-san asks in a too-loud voice, and she has to suppress a cringe when the rest of the office hyenas swoop in, hungry for a kill. 

‘We decided that I should stay in Japan to ensure Shino has some stability in her life’, she answers with a tight smile, the practiced statement she and Atsumu’s manager eventually agreed on spilling easily from her mouth. The ladies slink away, and she sighs in relief. 

Atsumu thankfully heeds her words and sends money and gifts to Shino, and even calls their little girl twice weekly, so she still manages to recognise her father - she’s grateful for that. 

He only responds to her texts once, when she messages him to let him know that Shino got admitted to the hospital for a high fever, but seemed to be responding well to treatment, and would be discharged the next day. He promised to pay the hospital bill, and said nothing more. She does not allow herself to be crushed by her disappointment and stops texting him after that. 

Osamu does his best to step in to fill Atsumu’s shoes in his absence, fetching Shino from childcare and letting her hang around his shop until she’s done with work. He spoils her with far too much affection and food, doling both out interchangeably, and his staff and customers treat the little girl like their mascot. 

‘Thank you for all of this’, she says one night, when Osamu insists on walking her and Shino home. ‘I’m sorry for making you clean up Atsumu’s mess.’ 

‘Don’t thank me. Sometimes I wonder if I should be blamed for stepping in to meddle with ‘Tsumu in the first place’ he responds with a strained laugh. 

‘Don’t be’, she responds, pressing a chaste kiss to Osamu’s cheek. ‘Your interference gave me Shino. I could never regret that’.  

But Osamu can never fully step into Atsumu’s place - they may look heartbreakingly similar but he is not her husband, a fact she’s painfully reminded of when they drive back to Hyogo to the Miya family home for Obon without Atsumu. She does her duty with her head held high and Shino strapped to her back, placing the offerings by the family graves, releasing lanterns down the lake to guide the Miya ancestral spirits back to the mortal realm, but the matriarch of the family sniffed her disapproval when Atsumu’s mother shakily informs her that he isn’t visiting this year. 

‘You’re his wife - what good are you for if you can’t even make your husband come back home’, the old lady snapped. 

She bent herself into a low bow to murmur a litany of apologies, shaking her head minutely at Osamu before he even tries to put his foot in his mouth in a misguided attempt to defend her - dear boy that he is, but he does not deserve the burden of his brother’s sins, and she will not let him go to battle for her when she can hold her own - until the old lady stalks off, only vaguely appeased. The smile on her face for the rest of the night is unflinching but she still cries herself to sleep because she hates herself for being so goddamned stupid  - it should have occurred to her that chasing Atsumu into the eye of the storm would leave her with nothing more than a ruined home and a broken heart. 

But when the morning dawns and the sunrise reflects its colours in her daughter’s eyes, she’s reminded afresh that she's a knife maker’s daughter, and her spine is forged with steel. So she hammers the pieces of her heart back together and does not let herself break again. 

The months pass and the pain recedes. It slowly becomes easier to breathe. 

[restlessfandoming]

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 5) (chilumi fic)

“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

hey all so sorry for the delay—i was playing through dragonspine and got busy with the holiday season too ;__;

[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link]

the president and the troublemaker (part 5)

“You sure you got proper training?” Childe asked Lumine as he circled her, noting her various fighting forms. 

“I got training,” Lumine said, her muscles feeling shaky after holding her form for so long. “Proper might be stretching it.”

Childe raised a brow, and Lumine sighed, relaxing her body. “Classes are expensive,” she explained. “Even if I wanted proper training, I wouldn’t have been able to pay for it.” 

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m teaching you for free,” Childe said. “Out of the goodness of my heart.” 

“Thank you, O Kind One,” Lumine said sarcastically. “Proper training didn’t even matter in Kaeya’s arena. It was kind of just like a free for all.” 

“That won’t pass here. The fighters here aren’t just some thugs off the streets; these people have had that proper training, and are going to quickly outclass you if you don’t get that training in as well.” 

“I thought you and Kaeya both said I was good at this?”

“Talent is one thing, but it will only get you so far. You’ve still got to train and hone your skills if you ever want to progress further and better yourself.” 

“You sound so wise.” Lumine tilted her head. “If only you could do this at school too, you’d stop causing so much trouble for me and my student council.” 

Childe shrugged, a smirk on his lips. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, c’mon. This is the only time where I have to listen to you, so let’s get it over with.”  

With enthusiasm, he walked her through various forms of punches and kicks—foot placements, weight distribution, where to send her strength—and soon enough Lumine was sprawled on the soft gym floor, all of her muscles aching and sweat pooling on her skin. Childe sat a few feet away from her, stretching. 

“You’re not even breaking a sweat,” Lumine said between gasps of breath. 

He smiled. “Been doing this a long time.” 

She sighed. “I can’t wait for my first fight next week.” 

“You’re not nervous at all?”

“Of course not,” Lumine answered with a scoff. “I’ve been waiting for that paycheck for a while now.” 

“How interesting,” Childe said looking around the gym. “Your little Vice President brother not here today?” 

“No, he’s covering some student council work for me while I’m here,” she replied. 

“Oh? Finally delegating your work instead of doing it all yourself?”

“Yup. If there’s anyone I trust to do the work as competently as me, it’s Aether.” 

“You two are really close, then.”

“He’s my twin,” Lumine said. She glanced at Childe who in turn was looking out one of the large windows. She realized she knew nothing about him—except that he liked to stir up trouble wherever he went. “Do you have any siblings?” 

A small smile. “I do. Too many, in fact.” He held up his hand. “Five siblings.”

“Oh god.” Lumine grimaced. “There’s five of you running around out there?” 

He laughed. “C’mon, Pres. I’m not that bad once you get to know me, right?”

“I don’t know you.” 

“You wound me,” he teased. There was a slight pause. Then, “Two older siblings: one brother, one sister. Then three younger ones: two brothers and one sister.” He started counting them off on his hands. “Alexei, Misha, Anthon, Tonia, Teucer.” 

“So you’re the middle child,” Lumine noted. “Is that why you do all this? For attention?” 

“Nope,” he replied, shaking his head. “Haven’t I told you already? This is all for fun.”

“Fun,” she muttered. She was doing what she had to for her family; would it be so horrible to enjoy it along the way? Childe seemed perfectly happy where he was. Could she ever be the same way? How does he do it?

“Trying to figure me out, Pres?” Childe smirked. “I’m flattered.” 

She looked at him, at his glinting blue eyes, and rugged orange hair—scars running up and down his arms and legs. 

Don’t get too involved with him. Aether’s words rang out in her mind. 

“Absolutely not,” she said, quickly getting up off the floor. “Well, I think we should call it a day. Thanks for the training today.” 

As she was leaving the gym, she couldn’t help but feel like she was disappointing Aether somehow. 

But it was natural right? Childe was going to be coaching her for the foreseeable future, and they were bound to get closer. It didn’t mean she was going to become involved with whatever delinquent activities he was doing. She was just learning from him. 

She clenched her fist. Just...learning....

* * * 

The student council room was abuzz as the members rushed around, finishing their end-of-month reports: budgets, expenses, cataloguing—anything and everything that needed to be tracked. 

Soon enough, the room was flooded with the orange hues of the sunset, and the council treasurer, a soft-spoken student named Noelle, timidly walked up to Lumine’s desk. 

“Madame President?” she asked. “Some of the members were wondering if we could go home soon?” 

Lumine blinked. “Is all your work done?”

“Ah, n-no,” Noelle responded. She clasped her two hands together. “W-we just wanted to get home before it got too dark.” 

Amber came up beside Noelle, a worried expression on her face. “Yes, there have been reports of some creeps targeting high school girls and assaulting them at night.” She pursed her lips. “I know there’s still a lot of work to be done, but I think it’s safest if all of us leave earlier than usual.” 

Bennett stood up, thumb pointing to his chest. “No worries! Me and Xiao will do our best to protect you ladies! Right, Xiao?”

The council historian, Xiao, glanced up from his own paperwork. “Yes,” he agreed simply in his usual monotonous voice. 

“Hey, where’s Aether anyways?” Bennett asked Lumine. 

“He got called into work right after school today,” she told him. She looked at Amber and Noelle. “I agree, it would probably be safest if we all leave now.” Then, she pursed her lips. “But, like you said, there still is a lot of work to be done, and the deadline is the day after tomorrow…” 

“We can try finishing it all tomorrow then!” Amber suggested enthusiastically. 

Lumine shook her head. “It’s too much, even if we tried finishing it all tomorrow.” She stood up. “Okay, everyone is dismissed. I will stay behind and complete some things to make sure we can finish by tomorrow.”

“B-but, Madame President! What about you?” Noelle protested. 

“Don’t worry about me. My priority as your President is to make sure you all are taken care of.” Lumine gave them a small smile. “If I can’t protect you guys, and step up when you all need me, what kind of President would I be?” 

“I’ll stay behind to protect you!” Bennett offered. 

Lumine laughed. “Thank you, Bennett, really. But I need you and Xiao to make sure these ladies get home safe, okay?” 

Her council was all looking at her, expressions worn with worry. 

“I promise you, I will be okay.” Lumine walked to the door, gesturing out of it. “Now please: your President is ordering you all to go home.” 

After much reluctance, all the student council members were on their way: Bennett walking Amber home and Xiao walking Noelle home. 

Eventually, as the sky turned darker and darker, Lumine finished up enough work to ensure that her council could finish by their deadline. 

She walked through the school gates as the last of the sunlight was dipping below the horizon, and a little inkling of worry bubbled in her gut.

She shook her head. I’ll be fine, she thought, shaking out her hands to loosen them up—just in case she needed to throw out a few punches later. 

Walking a bit further, she mentally ran through all the forms Childe had taught her yesterday. For this kick, I need my right foot forward, then my arms need to be—

A hand clamped over her mouth from behind. 

An arm wrapped around her waist, trapping her own arms to her sides. 

Shit! Is this the attacker they were talking about earlier?!

She clenched her jaw. I’ll stop you right now, you creep!

Lumine brought her foot up, and slammed down on her attacker’s foot with all her force. They stumbled a bit, loosening their grip on her, which gave her the perfect opportunity to break out of their grasp, elbowing them in the gut. She heard them fall on the ground behind her. She spun around, raising her fists, ready to strike—

“Childe?”

The tall ginger let out a sheepish laugh while holding his side. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Lumine blurted. 

He slowly stood. “Playing stalker, I guess.” He rubbed his side. “God, your elbow is strong.”

She clenched her fists. “Anyone else would report you to the cops right away.” 

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings,” Childe said, ignoring her comments. “Haven’t you heard the news recently?”

Lumine threw him a glare. “I have heard about it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that attacker is you.” 

“Just keeping you on your toes, Pres.” He smiled, but something about it was...off. A little more strained than usual. 

“A simple warning would have been fine,” Lumine said. “I could have seriously injured you.” 

“Ah, but you didn’t,” he retorted. “If I was actually the attacker, you would have been knocked out by now.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Let me walk you home.” 

Lumine gripped the strap of her school bag, walking away. “No thank you. Especially not after what you just did.”

“Lumine, wait—”

She stopped in place. He hadn’t ever said her name before, she realized, and her heart fluttered at how it sounded coming from him. Too close for comfort.

��Don’t you dare follow me,” she said through gritted teeth, continuing to walk home. 

After a bit, she glanced back, and Childe was still standing there, hands in his pockets, looking back behind at the school. 

Lumine trusted her brother more than anyone in the world. She knew he wanted the best for her, and she knew the best thing would be to do what Aether said: don’t get involved with Childe.

Then...why did it hurt to push him away?

* * * 

The next day, the student council was again in a hurry to get their work done on time, before the sun set. After stacking piles upon piles of papers on Lumine’s desk, the council collectively let out a sigh when the last stack was put down. 

“Aether isn’t here again?” Xiao asked. 

“Someone at his store quit suddenly, so he’s been called in to cover their shifts for now,” Lumine explained. “He sends his apologies.”

“Well, let’s get out of here quickly,” Amber said. 

Soon the council was walking through the hallways, towards the entrance, ready to part ways.

“Amber and I have to rush to the store before they close,” Bennett said, him and Amber already running down the halls. “We gotta get some supplies for our Outdoors Club!”

“Bye! Thank you for your work!” Lumine called after them. She turned to Noelle and Xiao. “Are you good to walk Noelle home, Xiao?” 

Xiao nodded. “What about you, Madame President?”

“Hey, I survived last night,” she said. “I’ll survive tonight as well. Plus, I have to help lock up anyways.” 

The boy frowned slightly. “If you insist.” 

“I do insist,” Lumine said quickly. “Thank you both for your work also. Get home safe, okay?”

“Thank you, Madame President,” Noelle responded softly. 

Xiao and Noelle walked away, and Lumine started to make her way around the school, locking up all the entrances. She had been such a stellar president that all the administration trusted her with this task if she and her council had to stay late into the evening. 

As she locked the last entrance, she heard footsteps behind her. 

She turned quickly, eyes scanning the entire hallway. 

But there was nothing there. The hall was empty, and it was silent. 

She let out an exasperated sigh. Maybe she was overworking herself again and her brain was playing tricks on her. She made her way towards the front gates. 

BZZZT!

The lights above her flickered then went out, plunging her into darkness. 

What?

“Don’t move,” a voice said behind her. 

“If you listen to us, we won’t hurt you,” a second voice added. 

Something plastic pressed into her back, and she recognized it as a taser. Then, someone started to wrap her arms in duct tape. They put a piece of tape across her mouth. 

They walked around her, looking down at her. One of the men was short and stocky, wearing glasses, while the other man was tall and thin, glassesless. 

“We’ve been watching you for a while, Lumine,” Glasses said. “And we’ve really gotten to know you. We know you’re such a good student council president.”

“Yes, so diligent and selfless,” No Glasses added. “Just relax, okay? We’ll show you a good time as your reward.” 

As they rambled, Lumine’s mind ran through all the possibilities of how to absolutely pummel them. 

The only thing stopping her was the taser, currently in Glasses’ hand; she couldn’t be hit by that, otherwise she was done for. 

She knew what to do. Now to just wait for the right moment. 

* * *

She’s taking longer than usual, Childe thought, leaning against the wall of the school building. A while had passed since he had seen the rest of her student council leave, which meant she was all alone now. 

Sure, she was going to be mad at him for coming here again, but he needed to. His thoughts wouldn’t settle unless he saw her get home safe. 

He knew she was more than capable on her own. She wasn’t weak. 

But she was human. And there are some bad people in the world, ready to do anything to hurt you, Lumine. 

He sighed, starting to walk away. Maybe she already left and I just missed it…

“Lumine.”

Childe froze. His head snapped to the door, eyes wide. He had barely heard it, but someone had said her name. Inside the school. 

He didn’t move a muscle, straining to hear more. 

“...so diligent…” another voice spoke. 

Two. There were two attackers.

Feeling the muscles in his body ignite, Childe quickly moved to the nearest window. 

An icy dagger ripped into his heart. 

Kneeling on the ground was Lumine, her arms bound, her mouth sealed, and two men were standing before her, one wielding a taser. The two men started walking towards her.

Childe’s face twitched, like he was subconsciously suppressing a snarl. 

He stepped back, winding his body up, ready to kick through the window and go flying in. 

Just as his foot shattered the glass, Lumine stood up, ripping through her bindings. 

…

Huh?

* * * 

Glasses and his friend started walking towards her, practically drooling. 

Now!

Lumine stood up, pulling her arms apart, and breaking through the duct tape bindings. She ripped the duct tape off her mouth.

“You know me?” Lumine shouted as the two men watched her with wide eyes. “You don’t know a single thing about me.”

Using their shock to her advantage, she kicked the taser out of Glasses’ hand, then grabbed him by his collar, easily throwing him over her shoulder. She turned her attention to No Glasses, who was still frozen in shock. She easily swung her fist at his face, and he passed out on the floor next to Glasses. 

Standing over their bodies, breathing heavily, a loud burst of laughter sounded behind her. Leaping back, ready to strike another attacker, she stopped when she saw who it was.

“Childe?!” she cried between heavy breaths. 

Childe continued laughing hysterically, then wiped at the corners of his eyes. “Just...wow,” he managed to get out. 

Lumine looked past him. Her jaw dropped. “Th-the window!”

Childe blinked, then looked behind him. “Oh. About that…”

* * *

After giving their reports to the police, Childe and Lumine stood side by side as the police car drove away, the two perpetrators locked away in the back of the cruiser. 

“You’re really going to pay for the window?” Lumine asked, breaking the silence. 

“Of course. I broke it.”

“It’s going to be expensive.” 

He shrugged. “A small price to pay.”

Lumine bit her lip. 

He came to my rescue. Again. She looked at the shattered glass on the floor. He was really ready to save me.

All she had done was push him away. And yet, here he was, by her side, coming to her rescue again. 

“Thank you,” Lumine said softly. 

Childe looked at her, his eyes slightly widened. Then a smile, just as soft. “Anytime.”

She returned the smile, and it felt okay. It felt right. 

Maybe Aether was wrong. Afterall, he wasn’t the one spending time with Childe and learning more about him. How Childe could be caring and selfless and so patient with her.

Yes. Aether, I think…

...I think you may be wrong about Childe.

* * *

[part 6]

[bookwormsid1015]

Operation: Baby Talk [1/3]

Hizashi pounds his fist against the mahogany door rapidly while Shouta and Oboro stand behind him, Shouta with his standard bored expression and Oboro with shifting, anxious feet. Beside them, a small white cloud floats drowsily with a small grocery bag full of chili bean soup and medicine inside it. 

Unlike the three boys, Nemuri is already living alone in a small apartment complex a few streets away from UA High School, working two jobs to keep up with rent and her own chaotic interests. Although her independence gives them a great place to hang out to play video games on weekends, it also draws most of her attention away from them most of the week. Despite this, Nemuri has always been a punctual, upstanding student who turns in her homework on time and always makes room for friends. Nothing has ever stopped her before, and it still amazes Oboro to see her act like such an… adult. 

Bottom line: Nemuri is a busy bee and it’s not uncommon to not see her for days on end. What is uncommon, however, is discovering she hasn’t been at school or internship for the past three days and apparently called off work for the next two weeks.

This knowledge has been bothering Oboro nonstop. Is she okay? Did she get hurt while on patrol with His Purple Highness? Did she get sick? Is she all alone? Her parents live in Saitama Prefecture, a whole three hours away from Musutafu. If she is sick, knowing Nemuri and her stupid habit of hoarding her burdens to herself, she didn’t tell them or anyone else. Oboro knows for a fact she didn’t tell him, Shouta or Hizashi; the only reason they know of her strange absence was through Iida Tensei, who Oboro shares his math class with. 

“Oh, she called His Purple Highness and told him something came up and that she wouldn’t be coming in for a while,” Iida had told him casually. “Why? She didn’t tell you?”

It pissed Shouta and Hizashi off that Nemuri wouldn’t let them-- her best friends-- know about her getting sick, but it just worried Oboro. It took a lot of convincing, but he managed to drag them with him to the local grocery store, grab Nemuri her favorite soup and some medicine, and come all the way over here. Shouta and Hizashi kept on glancing at Oboro strangely and whispering to each other, but Oboro doesn’t understand why they would act so weird about it. He’s Nemuri’s friend! Friends are supposed to look out for each other, right?

“Nemuriiii!” Hizashi shouts through the door between rapid knocking. “I know you’re in there, I can smell hoe for miles! Open up the mcfuckin’ dooooorrr!”

Shouta lifts an unamused eyebrow at Hizashi. “Dude, what the fuck?” he deadpans, and Hizashi glares at the ravenette from over his shoulder. 

“We’re friends! I’m allowed to call her a hoe.” Hizashi turns back to the door. “Nemuri! Open the DOOR!” He emphasizes “door” with a high pitched shriek, and Oboro shoves his palm into his face to stifle his snorts.

“You guys are both assholes,” Shouta grumbles, though it’s obvious he’s smiling.

The door swings open in a quick arc that slams into Hizashi’s forehead with a comical bonk. Nemuri is standing in the doorway, clad in her pajamas with baggy pink sweatpants and a white tank top with spaghetti straps. Her red glasses sit on the bridge of her nose, her deep indigo hair tied up into a short messy bun atop her head, and her tired blue eyes glare at the boys with exhausted irritation. Seeing Nemuri without her usual playful smile is surprising in and of itself, but Oboro’s sky blue eyes widen at what she’s holding against her chest with one arm. 

A small baby dressed in a cute little sailor suit is leaning into her chest, snoozing quietly with one thumb in his mouth. He looks like the splitting image of Nemuri, with a matching mole under his right eye and pale skin. The only thing that differs from her is the baby’s hairstyle, which is short and curly. 

Nemuri releases the door knob and readjusts her grip on the baby, still glaring at the boys. “What the fuck, guys? You couldn’t even call in advance?” she hisses at them. 

Shouta and Hizashi stare between Nemuri and the baby, speechless, while Oboro’s brain turns like slow moving gears. After a solid three seconds, he suddenly utters a horrified gasp that attracts the eyes of all three friends. “Nemuri! You were pregnant?!” he shrieks.

The accusation breaks the shocked spell in an instant, and suddenly Hizashi is lying flat on his ass, howling with laughter. Even Shouta ducks his face away, trying to stifle his giggles; Nemuri narrows her eyes at Oboro pointedly.

“Oh yeah, I got pregnant and gave birth in three days. Of course I wasn’t pregnant, dipshit.” Nemuri readjusts her grip on the baby again, holding him up a little higher. “This is my older sister’s kid. Say hello to baby Haito, everyone.”

Not knowing what else to do, everyone waves at the little baby, and the baby lifts his head drowsily. When he opens his eyes, Oboro is surprised to find the baby’s eyes are a light blue that matches the hue of the sky above, with faint freckles dusting over his cheeks. Upon seeing the newcomers, the baby fusses anxiously and buries his face in Nemuri’s bust. 

Nemuri’s attitude changes in an instant, from tired and angry to worried and tender. She lifts one hand to gently pat the baby’s back and she rocks him from side to side. “Shh, shh, shh. It’s okay Haito-baby. It’s okay. Auntie Nemi’s here. You’re safe with me,” she coos into his hair, and the baby’s whines quiet down. Her voice is so soft and gentle it warms Oboro’s heart just by hearing it, and he can tell Hizashi and Shouta are just as shocked by her motherly tone.

After the baby quiets down, Nemuri lifts her head to peer at her friends, suddenly tired all over again. “Sorry for being a bitch, guys. My sister and her boyfriend had to go abroad for some job interview in South Korea, and since my parents think her boyfriend is a deadbeat, they want nothing to do with him or the baby. So she gave Haito to me,” Nemuri explains, punctuating her words with a tired sigh. “I’ve had, like, no sleep for the past three days. Damn… and my rent’s due next Thursday…”

Shouta and Hizashi look between themselves, unsure of how to react. Only Oboro is willing to meet Nemuri’s eyes, and worry pangs to life in his chest at the dark bags under her eyes. “When will they be back?” he asks her.

“Hm? In about two weeks, I think,” she says, and Oboro can almost feel her invisible walls rising, guarding her from their worry. “Don’t worry, guys. I’m fine. I’ve pulled all-nighters before, this is nothing.”

“You weren’t taking care of someone’s kid, though,” Oboro gently protests. “Have you been eating anything? Anything at all?”

Nemuri pries her eyes away from his concerned stare. “I had a protein shake yesterday,” she replies stiffly.

Oboro’s brows lower into a frown. “For breakfast or dinner?” he presses.

Nemuri sighs. “Breakfast…” she mutters in response, then quickly shakes her head as a wobbly smile forces its way onto her lips. “It’s nothing. I mean it. You guys don’t have to worry about me.”

Oboro is already shaking his head. “That’s bullshit,” he tells her, and when he sees her shoulders haunching defensively, he quickly adds, “I know you can take care of yourself, but as your friend, I still worry about you. I mean, look at you! You look like you could pass out any second now!”

“I’m fine,” she replies, her tone harder this time.

Oboro stares at her incredulously. Why can’t she just let them help for once? She has it in her mind that she has to be the strong one, the responsible one. Why can’t she see that she’s a kid just like the rest of them? It frustrates him to no end, yet in the depths of his exasperation, an epiphany comes to mind.

“Why don’t I help you take care of him?” he offers, and his friends’ eyes fall on him in surprise. 

“You? Help me? Take care of… a baby?” Nemuri echoes, her words slow and meticulous as if she were taking her time tasting a treat, figuring out whether she liked it or not. She glances down at the baby in her arms, then to the small cloud floating beside the taller boy, eyeing the small grocery bag full of medicine in particular. Oboro has never seen her look so… anxious before.

Assuming she’s just not used to being offered help, Oboro goes on cheerfully, “Yeah! I have a little brother, remember? I’m a pro at babysitting!” Something about his words is bothering him, the reason flapping seamlessly in the back of his mind, though Oboro can’t pin down why. He just smiles joyfully at her, hoping his smile is convincing enough.

Finally, Nemuri sighs. “Come around six tonight,” she tells him, her tone strange. “Haito usually gets fussy around dinner time.”

Oboro flashes her a thumbs up. “Bet!” he cheers.

Nemuri smiles at him, and Oboro’s heart gives an unexpected beat; somehow it feels different from her usual broad, gleaming smiles. He doesn’t have enough time to decipher it before Nemuri quickly bids them goodbye and closes the door, disappearing back into her apartment. 

A long beat of silence passes between them, and Oboro doesn’t dare move his eyes away from the front door. He can feel the hot stares of Shouta and Hizashi on his back, pinning him in place like a butterfly on a bulletin board.

“Holy fucking shit. Did you just…?” Suddenly, Hizashi’s face splits apart into a bright smile, and he latches his arms around Oboro’s to shake rapidly. “Dude, I can’t believe you did that! You’re so smooth!”

Oboro blinks at him owlishly, still not comprehending what just happened. The flapping in the back of his mind is deafening, now. “Eh? What’d I do?” he asks.

Hizashi laughs loudly. “Don’t play coy with me, bro! You totally went, ‘fear not, my love. Even if this child is not mine, I shall support both you and the baby!’ That was so domestic it made me blush!” he squeals.

The puzzle pieces finally fit together in his brain, and a blush hits him with the speed of an oncoming train. Suddenly, he remembers the faint blush on her cheeks, and the tender pull of her smile. Although Nemuri is the type of person to extend a helping hand out to anyone in need, she rarely accepts help from anyone else. In spite of that, she’s letting him help her with taking care of her sister’s baby? 

Oboro has no idea what expression is on his face right now.

“Oboro.” Shouta’s stern voice reaches his ears, grounding him before his brain could float into the sky like a balloon. He slowly turns to face the ravenette, and finds Shouta watching him with dark, serious eyes. “Do you have any idea what you just did?” he asks, his tone flat.

Oboro blinks slowly, his brain slow and muddled yet filled with thoughts moving at the speed of light. “I… said I’d help wit’ da baby…” he murmurs dumbly, the words feeling alien on his tongue. Shouta sighs.

The trio finally gather their wits and begin walking away from Nemuri’s doorstep. Oboro is suddenly thankful her apartment is on the first floor; he doesn’t think he has the motor skills to walk down stairs right now. “I know you said you have a little brother, but it’s been seven years since you had to change a diaper. Do you think you can handle this?” Shouta asks the taller boy, and Oboro wrings his hands together tightly. 

“I mean, yeah, why not?” he replies, more so to convince himself. “Between me and Nemuri, how hard can it be?”

[fandomlit]

lost bet (zuko x reader)

requested by anon “could you do a work with zuko or sokka with prompts 5, 8*, 9, 16*, 20, 27*, 35, 36, 48, 50*, 54, 70, 73*, 79*, 87, and 100*? You of course don't have to do all of these in one fic (i don't even know how that would work) but all these prompts caught my eye especially the ones with asterisks. you could also combine 2-3 of the prompts if you like. welp, now you know i'm thirsty and indecisive. have a good day!”

summary during a small battle with azula, mai, and ty lee, you go down hard. zuko is by your side in an instant, guilt-ridden and determined.

warning kinda angsty, mentions of injury, swearing

o hey i do writing prompts,, those used in this fic will be in bold

gif cred belongs to @twotheleft​

toph had been teasing zuko just days before about how soft he was for you.

“i bet you would drop everything to save her in an instant,” toph snickered.

zuko’s cheeks were on fire. “wouldn’t you?”

“are you blushing?”

“shut it.”

zuko knew he’d lose that miniature, insignificant bet. but he didn’t expect it to be like this.

the second you hit the ground, he disregarded the taunts he had been taking from azula to fend off mai from you. suki took his place in the battle.

“y/n!” he exclaimed as he slid to his knees next to you. “holy shit, you’re bleeding.”

you hit the ground with your fist, teeth grit in pain. “go get azula, zuko.” you barely sat up to glare at mai, who was regaining herself from the attack you had landed before you went down. “i can handle her.” zuko didn’t move an inch. you didn’t force him to. 

when mai looked back to you, you hit her hard with a block of earth to the chest, then another to her side. you hit her from the other side to keep her standing, and completed your attack with a light pebble to her forehead. but it was enough to knock her down.

your body went limp and you left out a harsh breath.

“you should’ve-”

“shut up,” you huffed, placing a hand to your bleeding abdomen. zuko scooped you in his arms and stood, turning to suki. she had knocked down ty lee, and now azula was going to drag mai up and away from the scene. suki ran over to zuko and nodded, and they began to swiftly make their way back to camp.

“i’ll run ahead and make sure katara’s ready,” suki nodded. zuko nodded in return as the warrior ran forward. zuko slowed down his pace when he felt he was far enough away from that brutal scene.

“what are you doing, zuko?” you muttered, prompting him to look down to your half-conscious expression. your eyes were heavy and twitching, your forehead covered in a sheen of sweat that had accumulated from the pure effort of keeping yourself together.

he knew exactly what you words meant. he had dropped the battle for you. he had let his sister win another battle of wits for you. he had dropped his guard.. for you.

“i lost a bet.”

when he finally reached your small camp, katara was quick to usher him into a tent and then right back out. he sat outside of that tent for about an hour before katara came back out. he shot up in an instant.

“is she alright?” was the first thing he asked.

“yes,” katara nodded. “but she needs rest, she-”

“please let me in,” zuko pleaded. “this is all my fault; i led azula to us.”

“zuko-”

“please,” he begged. katara let out a sigh, closing her eyes as she tucked her empty water bowl under her arm.

“fine. but don’t irritate her, and don’t let her move too much,” she said sternly. but zuko was already in before she got to finish her statement. the waterbender rolled her eyes and made her way toward the shore.

zuko let out a breath when he saw you laying peacefully on a blanket, gaze focused on the cloth shielding you from the night sky. his eyes fell to your tightly wrapped stomach. “y/n..”

“don’t say it was your fault,” you sighed. “because it’s not. and don’t attempt to argue.” you finally looked over to him. “you’ll lose.”

he took a breath, thinking of what to say instead. “im sorry.”

“don’t be,” you said, shaking your head slightly. zuko made his way to kneel next to you as you continued, “i let my guard down. you’re not to blame for that.”

“i-”

“im not winning an argument right now, zuko. don’t try.”

the firebender sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment. when he opened them again, he offered you a light smile. “it’s good to know your wit’s intact.”

“you shouldn’t be relieved by that.” he offered you a chuckle. a small silence fell between the two of you, only filled by your still slightly uneven breathing and the sounds of nature just outside of the makeshift med tent.

“im sorry,” zuko said, his voice so quiet that you barely heard it. he wasn’t meeting your gaze any longer. you reached up a hand to place over his, and he finally met your eyes again. but his shining eyes were filled with guilt.

you shook your head at him, “zuko, we knew exactly what we were getting into when we allowed you to join us. if you didn’t think that i expected to get stabbed at some point on this journey, then you’re not as smart as i perceived.”

he offered you a short smile. “i just.. really care about you. i don’t like seeing you hurt, and knowing that it was mostly my fault..”

you gave him a flattered smile. “i care about you, too, zuko.” you squeezed his hand, and his heart jumped as he realized your cold fingers were yet to pull away from him. “i’ll be fine.”

he nodded, giving you a sweet smile. “you’re strong.”

“i learned from the best,” you said, offering him a playful wink as katara re-entered the tent.

“ready for some more mending?” she asked as she approached your duo. your hand finally slipped away from zuko’s. he found himself feelings disappointed as you nodded at katara. “could you leave us alone?”

“sure,” he nodded, bringing himself back to his feet. “let me know when you’re done.” katara nodded back, kneeling next to you as zuko exited the tent.

“so, hand holding?”

“oh my spirits, my heart is racing-”

forever tags

@bombardia​ @simonsbluee​ @ari-shipping-stuff​​

zuko tags

@fiantomartell​

if you’d like to be added to the taglist for zuko and/or others, send me an ask, message, or leave a comment! <3

[isolemnlyswear]

hello! can i request a modern marauder (you pick) x popstar!fem!reader (while they're still in hogwarts) to the song breathin by ariana grande as if it were the reader's song? <3 <3

breathin

a/n : this is the most specified request i've ever gotten, so it's kinda shitty ! i really have never wrote anything like this - at all - and i didn’t know if the reader was meant to be a muggle or not ????????? so i made them not one. bc you’re anon i cant ask you questions abt your request, so next time please specify!

continued a/n : wow, this is interesting. i dont like it, but !!! hope u enjoy????

warnings : swearing, bad writing

taglist : @oldschoolkiddo @amourtentiaa @anchoeritic @faeinorbit @tomriddleswifey @inks-and-jinx @jxsperhxle @punkrific @the-gazette-of-tea @krasivayadarling @orifortheweeknd @fallin-4-ya @incxndio @daisyyy2516 @hoe4cedricdiggory @vsawyer1989

Remus sighed, glaring at the raven-haired boy beside him.

“What, s’gonna be fun!” Sirius grins, and the lycanthrope who’s refuting him simply laughs.

“Fun? Your idea of fun is a packed concert - full of muggles, nonetheless - for this...popstar woman?” Remus says incredulously, and Sirius raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, ho, ho, this is not any popstar, Moony. Plus, what else are we gonna do over the summer? Sulk around at your parents’ house?” Sirius grins again, and Remus lets out a sigh.

“The latter I can agree with. But who is this girl, anyway?” Remus inquires, and Sirius reaches into his back pocket to acquire his phone. Although Hogwarts doesn't allow modern technology, both Sirius and Remus have their own each for the summers. With how phone-centered the modern world is, they couldn't not.

He swipes through to find a picture of you - one obtained from your Instagram, which has over four million followers - and holds it up to Remus.

“Merlin,” he breathes, eyes scanning the image.

You're wearing a brown leather dress, the shoulders poking up just barely. Your hair is framing your face, legs tucked under you in a half-crouch, and you're looking into the camera with lips perfectly parted. It was one you took for the shoot of your newest album, and a particular favorite of yours.

“Gorgeous, right? She’s really talented, as well.” Sirius grins, looking at his best friend, who is unresponsive, with eyes glued on the screen. “Moony?” he waves a hand over the brunette’s face, who snaps out of his trance.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sure.” Remus says, blinking a few too many times.

“So, you up for it now?”

“Alright,” Remus replies, nodding at Sirius, who pumps his fists into the air with a grin.

“She's American, but doing a show in London in a few weeks,” Sirius informs, smiling.

“American, huh? How old is she?” Remus asks, settling back into the couch they're perched on.

“That's the best part. She's our age - just turned eighteen.” Sirius grins again, putting his phone away.

“Oh yeah? You say that like she'd notice us. Never gonna happen, Pads.” Remus smiles, shaking his head.

“Expect the unexpected, mon amie.”

---

You're fiddling anxiously with your fingers, hands out of use as someone else is doing your makeup, rather than yourself.

“Almost done, Miss L/N,” Madelyn, your makeup artist, says, brushing a soft highlighter over your cheekbones.

“Mads, I told you that you can call me Y/N. You only do my makeup every day,” you say, closing your eyes as the woman pats highlighter into your inner corner.

“And...” she mists your face with setting spray, “...Done!”

---

About four hours later, your back is facing the crowd that's piled into the venue, stage lights shut off as only the sounds of quiet murmurs and shuffling feet hit your ears.

And then, the lights come on with a thumping click, and you begin the routine that you've practiced time and time again.

The music to your first song, the least vocally challenging of the set, begins, and you turn around with a sway of your hips.

Holding the mic to your mouth, you begin a one-step, two-step rhythm, one that's second nature to you; your eyes survey the crowd, left hand reaching to flip your hair.

The tune changes, and the beat is faster, now, as the lights begin to flash and your voice, in a habitual fashion, changes to match. You stride out rhythmically to the center of the stage.

You crouch in a fluid movement, thankful for the coverage your outfit gives you. It's a black sparkling jumpsuit, bottoms being a high-waisted, glimmering fabric with two side flaps, connected at your stomach to a matching corset-like top.

After a few minutes of usual song/dance routines, followed by cheers from the crowd, you decide it's time for a crowd interaction. It's difficult, resisting the urge to pull out your wand and cast a silencing charm to get the group's attention, but you opt for speech, instead.

"Alright, alright, everybody," you say into the mic with a laugh, eyes scanning the crowd for someone to converse with.

There's one man - his ebony hair is swishing as he speaks - who's bouncing up and down like an eager dog, and you laugh.

"We all excited to be here? In London!" you say, garnering numerous cheers and screams from the group.

"I can tell you are." You walk over to the raven-haired boy, who's in front row, and crouch down. He'd previously cheered extremely loud, confirming his excitement.

The boy makes a loud whoop'ing noise, getting a laugh from his friend.

His friend.

You continue to speak, walking over to someone else, but now your eyes are glued on him.

He looks about your age, with beautifully disheveled sandy brown hair and chocolate eyes. He has numerous scars littering his face, some new and red, some older and whitening.

You can't help but wonder what the scars are from, and you feel a strange attachment to the boy, though you've never spoken before.

And after a while, it's time for your final song. About a thirds of the way through, at your favorite part, you meander back over to the boys.

You lean over, disguising your position as a simple concert move, but you're really staring into the brunette's eyes.

"You remind me of a time when things weren't so complicated." The words fall from your mouth effortlessly, and you're able to search the boy's eyes as you sing. There's a spark in them, a glimmer of light that pulls you in.

"All I need is to see your face." You sing, still singing almost directly to the brunette.

You need to see more of him, you suddenly think. And you continue to sing the song, but all that swims around in your brain is a plan. A plan to erase the mystery behind the boy.

The show comes to a close, but before everyone has left, you pull your manager aside.

"Hey, Martin, this- this is an odd request, but could you ask these two boys to come backstage? That sounds, um, interesting, but would y'mind-"

"What do they look like?" Martin interrupts you, and you sigh in relief.

"One has longer black hair, and the other... sorta sandy brown hair, and some scars on his face. Can you find them from that?"

"I'll try."

You nod and thank him, running backstage to your small lounge and bathroom to await your mysterious visitors, changing quickly into clothes that are more comfortable; a simple silk dress, in a y/f/c hue, and a sweater to go over it.

You fiddle with your wand in your hands, mentally berating yourself.

It was quite a reckless decision, really. It's not like you had a valid reason for inviting these people to such a VIP space such as this. Just because you feel some weird connection to one of them didn't mean you could disregard everything. These boys are probably muggles, and you are not. Merlin, you're getting shipped off to Scotland next year after being home-schooled by your magical parents for eighteen years - just in time for your last year of school -going to a boarding school called Hogwarts (which would be a PR nightmare, but your parents insisted you needed some 'real-life experience').

But amidst your train of thought, you hear a knock at your door - two taps, three taps, your manager's code that it's okay to open the door - and you shove your wand into your (enlarged via Engorgio charm) pocket.

You stride over to the door, fiddling with the hem of your sweater, and open it to see Martin.

"Here they are, Miss L/N." He steps to the side to reveal the two boys, the darker-haired male standing in front, and you refrain from gasping when he steps forward, allowing you full view of the other boy.

The scars on his face are glimmering in the light, and his eyes are warm, pulling you in with every glance. His hair is perfectly tousled, and he's tall, over six foot two, or so you'd guess.

"Come in," you say, stepping aside to allow them entrance. You nod to Martin, signalling him to leave, and he does so, shutting the door and leaving you with the pair.

"Holy shit," the raven-haired boy says, and you realize he's only slightly shorter, about an inch less.

You laugh slightly, gesturing for them to sit down.

"Why are we back here?" the shorter one says, and you smile. He's made himself comfortable, seemingly the more outgoing, but the other one is still standing awkwardly beside you.

"You can relax, I'm not interrogating you," you say, smiling at the taller boy, who seems to let out a breath. "Why don't you introduce yourselves, and then we can talk, okay?"

"I'm Sirius, Sirius Black." The boy runs a hand through his dark hair, grinning.

"Ah, like the constellation? Brightest star in the sky," you say, and he nods.

"I'm, um, Remus. Remus Lupin," the other boy says tentatively, offering a smile.

"Hi, Remus," you say, nodding. "I don't want to assume you know my name, I'm aware you're not American, but considering you're at this concert-"

"Of course, we know your name, we're British, not daft," Sirius says with a playful scoff, and you laugh. "You're Y/N."

"That I am," you say with a giggle, and Remus grins. Your heart stops for a moment, the world coming to a halt as his eyes meet yours.

Sirius clears his throat, and a blush spreads onto the apples of your cheeks. You gulp, looking down.

"So, you didn't answer my question," Sirius starts, tilting his head, but Remus kicks his shin.

"Pads, chill," he whispers, shaking his head. Sirius shakes his head, looking at you.

"It's fine, really. 'M not that interesting, no need to be uptight," you say, smiling again.

"I'd beg to differ," Remus breathes.

After what feels like no time at all, but is really three hours, you've gotten any and all formalities out of the way. Well, all but one - you're still unsure if they're muggles, and they don't know that you're a witch, either.

That is, until Remus gets up to go to the restroom, and something tumbles out of his pocket.

Your first thought is how did something that long fit in a jean pocket, but then you see what it is.

It's a wand, about ten inches, cypress wood, with a small bulb at the end of it. You gasp, and Remus goes pale, stumbling to pick it up.

"Is that-" you start, but Sirius cuts you off.

"It's nothing," he says quickly, but you shake your head.

"That's a wand," you say slowly, and Remus is wide-eyed, nervously fidgeting.

"It-"

"No, no, no," you say, reaching into the pocket of your sweater and pulling out your own. Sirius and Remus simultaneously gasp as you brandish it in your hands, and you grin.

"You're a witch?" Remus asks, jaw slack.

"You're a wizard?" you return, raising an eyebrow.

"Fuck yeah we are!" Sirius says, and you grin.

"What school?" Remus inquires, and you purse your lips.

"I was home-schooled, but this year - for my last one - I'm going to this school called Hogwarts? D'you know it?" you explain, garnering another gasp from the pair.

"That's where we go," Remus says, and your eyes light up.

"Really?!" you ask excitedly.

"Yeah! I guess you'll have some friends when you get there, at least," Remus assures, grinning.

"I bet Remus wishes you had a boyfriend to greet you," Sirius says, disguised with some coughs, and you blush. Remus kicks his friend in the shin again, and turns to you with a sigh.

"Sorry, he doesn't know what he's talking about," he says, and you raise an eyebrow.

"Does he not?" you ask flirtatiously, and it's Remus's turn to blush.

"Uh-"

"We'll just have to see, won't we?" you say with a mischievous grin, one returned by the sandy-haired boy in front of you.

[waiting4inspiration]

Tell Them II (Ivar x reader)

Summary: Confessing the secrets you kept doesn’t go so well for you and you learn that you’ve trusted the wrong person. Ivar says he’ll never love again, but might it be because he still love you?

Warnings: oh boy, angsty, little fluff, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of blood, strong language, mentions of whipping, I feel like I’m missing something...

Word Count: 3,763

A/n: I took inspiration from the song I’ll never love again by Lady Gaga. You can listen to it while or before reading this if you want to. 

Part 1 Here II Vikings Masterlist

The King has been like a father to you since you joined him as his spy. It is why you are allowed to call him by name - Weset - on almost all occasions and why there’s no real formality between you and him. It’s why when he found you crying, actually crying, in your chambers that night that you confessed your heart out to him. And in doing so, told him all the things you kept secret from your original report.

It’s why you ride next to him in the morning to meet Ivar and his brothers in a clearing to discuss everything that wasn’t said last night. 

The stern look on your face has everyone fooled. No one would think that you cried through the night or that you barely got any sleep. It probably helps that there are a bit of clouds covering the sun to hide the redness of your eyes. Even Ivar is impressed at the stone-cold expression on your face as you walk towards him and his brothers after dismounting your horse. 

You glance up at Ivar for a moment when you come to a stop a few feet from him and his brother, but you find that he’s not looking at you. Instead, he has his eyes fixed on King Weset and the two guards behind him. That’s when you look up at Hvitserk who is looking at you. All he does is shake his head; as if to tell you that Ivar’s not handling what happened well. 

“Let’s not drag this out for too long, King Ivar,” Weset starts. You know it’s because he knows what he wants and doesn’t want to waste time getting to it. “I know you are here to form an alliance. And who wouldn’t want to be in cohorts with the Sons of Ragnar Lothbrok? But I must ask what I will be getting out of the alliance.”

This is where you get bored. You never enjoyed the bargaining, the deal being made between Kings, Jarls, or any other man. It might be because you always know how it’s going to turn out because the person on the other side of the stick is the one that you were told to study and you know what they’ll be willing to give up. 

With Ivar, you don’t have the heart to think about that. If what he said last night is true, then you know that there is nothing Weset can do to make him look like a fool.

“What is it that you’re looking to get out of it?” Ivar asks back as he shifts in his seat, his voice cold and almost snappy. You’re the only one that knows that it’s the wrong response for King Weset. 

The King beside you chuckles making your head turn up to him as he shakes his head. “Perhaps now is the time I tell you that I know far more about you than I did last night,” Weset states, his words making your heart drop in your chest and your head to turn to Ivar. 

Ivar glares at you. He knows now that you did as he said. You told Weset everything you kept secret including your relation with him. You revealed the weaknesses no one has ever found out because the only one that figured it out was you. Because he allowed you to. 

But Weset’s next words aren’t ones that you ever expected to hear. “Seize her.”

“What?”

“What?” 

You and Ivar question at the same time just before the two guards behind Weset move behind you and grab your arms. Hvitserk and Ubbe pull out their weapons but are stopped by Ivar as he raises his hand, his eyes narrowing at Weset and his body leaning a bit forward. “You see, Ivar the Boneless, I have your heart,” Weset states, holding his hand out to gesture to you while you continue fighting to get out of the guards’ grip. “And if I don’t have an offer from you tomorrow, I will break it.”

Looking over to Ivar with wide eyes that now start to well up with tears, you see his eyes flicker over to you for a moment before he looks back at Weset. He gulps, grips the arm of his chair tightly, and breathes out a long breath. “You would never kill your best spy,” Ivar says, calling the bluff he thinks Weset is pulling.

“Did I say kill?” Weset laughs as he takes a few steps forward, you struggling against the grip of the two guards now stopped as you watch what’s happening in front of you. “When the sunsets today, you’ll hear her screaming for mercy. Mark my words. Maybe it will make you think of an offer quicker,” he mentions, your eyes growing wide in terror when he turns back around to you. 

The guards lead you to your horse and force you to climb onto it while holding the reins to make sure you don’t decide to escape. “You son of a bitch,” you sneer at Weset when he mounts his horse.

He gives you a sly smile before ordering his horse forward, you and the two guards following. In a last effort of help, you turn your head over your shoulder to look back at Ivar sitting in his seat. 

He’s staring at you with, dare you say it, worry in his eyes. 

You weren’t placed in a cell like you thought you would be, considering that your King had you seized a few moments ago. Instead, you were taken back to your room as if nothing happened. Weset closes the door behind him, sighs as he walks towards you but you slowly step away from him until your back hits the wall. 

“I trusted you,” you sneer, pressing your hands against the wooden wall and your teeth grinding together as he continues to walk closer to you. 

“A big mistake,” he chuckles, stops when he’s just about in front of you and folds his hands in front of me. “Did you really think I wouldn’t expect something like this to happen sometime? You’re a woman. It was bound to happen that you would fall in love with one of my targets. How fitting that it would be the almighty-”

“Shut up!” you shout, push yourself off the wall to rush across the room to put more distance between you and him. “I told you the secrets of my heart and you’re using it against me? Against him?” Your voice breaks as you speak, your chest heaving as you try to push down the feeling of your heart being ripped apart. Again. 

Weset rolls his eyes at you and takes one step forward. “Don’t make such a big deal of it,” he murmurs, turns to the pitcher of water on the table and lifts it to pour some water into a cup. “When the sun rises tomorrow, you will be a better spy with no one holding you back,” he says, lifting the cup to his lips and takes a sip as you frown up at him. “You’ll never love anyone again.”

You’re shocked at his words because they were the words you used when you poured your heart out to him. 

“Even if Ivar gives you an offer?” you softly question, your head dropping between your shoulders and your gaze staring at your hands that you fold in front of you. You feel like a complete and utter idiot for falling into love with Ivar and then for telling Weset all the truth. You should have kept that to yourself. It was the right choice in the beginning and you fucked up. 

Weset chuckles, places the cup back on the table and walks towards you. “Whatever that cripple offers won’t be what I want,” he states, your head snapping up in defense when you hear him calling Ivar ‘cripple’. You’ve often defended Ivar when someone called him that when you were in Kattegat, and you can’t help but want to carry on with that now. “I think the title of King of Kattegat will do good for my reputation.”

He plans to kill Ivar, you can see it in his eyes. You can see the thought turn in his mind and you can’t believe that you were so blind in the sorrow of your heartache to notice that. When he reaches out to touch your cheek, you take a step away from him and shake your head. “You have a choice here, (Y/n),” he begins, his hand that had the intention of touching you curling into a fist as he takes a step closer. “Obey me and help me now and I’ll spare your life. You can be the greatest spy anyone has ever seen. And maybe, I can make you more than a spy,” he offers. 

Your mouth drops in shock as you take a step away from him. You can’t believe all this is happening because you did as Ivar told you to do. You told Weset everything you didn’t- everything you wouldn’t tell him. Shaking your head, you drop your head and close your eyes to stop the tears from leaving them. “I stand by what I said last night,” you say, trying with all your might to sound confident even if there is a small break in your voice when you lift your gaze up at him again. 

Weset sighs, shakes his head in disappointment and bites his lower lip as he shrugs his shoulders. “Well, that’s a shame.” 

Then, he brings the back of his hand across your face, sending you to the ground and yelping in pain when his royal ring cuts straight across your cheek. And before you can push yourself up, he grabs you by the collar and starts dragging you across the floor towards the door. 

You know exactly where he’s taking you. 

The camp is silent. It has been ever since the screaming started. People only know who’s screams they are because Hvitserk let it slip and the news spread like wildfire around the camp. It suddenly became a question of why they chose to set up camp so close to Weset’s holding. 

It’s screams of torture. Everyone knows that. And when it sounds like they’re finished, the screams start again a few moments later. They can only imagine what must be happening to cause the bone-chilling sound. 

Ivar can’t stand thinking about that. He knows it’s you. He knows from Weset’s words earlier that day, but he didn’t actually think he’d carry them out. Ivar thought that you were like a precious jewel to Weset and that he would never harm you. Apparently, he thought wrong. Even though he told you that he was ready for anything, he definitely was not ready to hear your screams echo through the sky. 

It’s been quiet for a while now and Ivar hasn’t even thought of something to offer Weset. All he could think about were the times he cherished with you. The moments he could look into your eyes and feel as if he was in Valhalla already. Times where he thought that there was nothing you could do to break his heart because of how much he loved you. 

The times where he was a fool to let someone get so close to him. 

“You have to do something about this, Ivar,” Ubbe demands as he barges into the tent a few moments after the screaming started again. This time, it’s clear that the person screaming is in tears too. 

Ivar glances up to Ubbe with a cold look on his face and folds his arms over his chest as he leans back in his seat. “I have to do something? Why must I do anything about this?” he asks back with a sneer, tilts his head to the side as he narrows his eyes at his older brother. 

“Because you were talking about making her your wife not so long ago and you still love her no matter what you say,” Ubbe responds quickly, moving closer to Ivar when he rolls his eyes. “Don’t deny it, Ivar. You say you won’t love again because you are still in love with her-”

“She was a spy. Or weren’t you paying attention, Ubbe?” Ivar snaps at him, aiming to make him back off. But he doesn’t. Ubbe just stands there, arms folded over his chest and a raised eyebrow on his face. 

Sighing, Ivar pushes himself off his seat and to the ground so he can leave this conversation seeing as Ubbe won’t leave it to an end. “She loved you,” Ubbe says, making Ivar freeze and stare at the ground. “We all could see that she did. And maybe she still does. She might have been a spy, but her affections weren’t an act before she left.”

Ivar’s jaw tenses at his brother’s words as his head drops between his shoulders. It’s quiet between them for a moment before Ubbe sighs, shakes his head to himself, and turns to walk out of the tent, leaving Ivar alone at the realization that the conversation won’t go anywhere from there. 

Turning over so he can sit, he stares at his hands as Ubbe’s cursed words float around in his mind. It’s hard to pin-point the moment your faked affection became true. If Ubbe says that everyone could see you loved him, then he can’t say that you didn’t. And though he can’t pinpoint the moment, he does remember that glimmer in your eyes suddenly changing the one day. He remembers it, can’t say when that happened. 

Then, he finds himself playing through the memories of the times he’s spent with you. The time where you bested his brother in a duel with a smile on your face. The time where he would stare into your eyes as you told him stories that he doesn’t know now how true they are, but he was still lost in them. The times where you would make him feel like any other man other there and like he could do anything. 

He’s so caught up in these memories that he doesn’t realize your screams have stopped, that it’s been quiet for way too long before there’s a commotion in the camp until someone barges into the tent, urgently calling his name and looking at him as if he had seen the Goddess Hel herself. 

“It’s (Y/n).”

The last time your eyes were open, you were begging for the pain to end with tear-stained cheeks and your feet barely keeping you standing. You were counting on the chains around your wrists that had you bound to a pillar from keeping you off the ground. And you remember the pain rising up inside you like a heatwave before everything went black. 

There are small things you remember, but it’s almost like they’re part of a dream. The man who stands in front of your room, guarding it at night and the chambermaid you’ve formed a small friendship with; both sneaking you through hallways and out of Weset’s holding. 

Now, you’re lying on your stomach, in a place you’ve never seen, a tent you’ve never been in. You know your back is open from the gentle dabbing of material again your wounds. Each gentle touch makes you remember how you received the cut and the ‘crack’ that comes with it. It makes tears fill your eyes and you whimper in pain as you turn your face into the pillow your head rests on. 

Turning your head to the side, you see bloodied cloths that has been tossed to the side. You don’t need to be told it’s your blood, but the thought only makes you cry more. The healer thinks your sobs are from the pain and tries to comfort you, but no one can heal the true pain you feel. 

All this happened because you fell in love. If this is what happens when you love, you don’t want to love again. Even though you know that this is Weset’s intention, you will easily let him win. 

The frantic buzz around you seems to die down but the healer continues to work on the lashes on your back. You feel eyes on you, running up and down your broken skin as a familiar sound makes your eyes squeeze tightly shut. The sound of someone crawling on the ground, dragging their lower body behind them. 

You know it’s Ivar. 

What Ivar doesn’t know as he makes his way closer towards you is that you’re awake. He thinks you're unconscious, considering the number of wounds he counted on your back... Gods know how many others there are.

Your skin is clammy, but it’s the tear on your cheek that has Ivar’s attention and it’s the reason he reaches up to touch your face. You jump at his touch and your eyes snap open. They’re red. Ivar hates that because it knows that it means you have been crying. 

“Ivar,” you whisper as he moves away from you. And what you thought would be affection turns into hostility. His face changes, reminding you that he hates you. He doesn’t love you and why should he? You were caught up in the happy memories you had with him to remember that all that is now in the past. 

“What are you doing here, (Y/n)?” he questions, pulling his legs in front of him as he sits, his arms then folding over his chest as he glares at you with those cold eyes. 

You shake your head, because you don’t exactly know what you are doing here. You exactly know how you got here in the first place. “Weset is planning on killing you no matter what offer you give him,” a voice says at the entrance of the tent, making both yours and Ivar’s head turn. It’s your guard, the one you vaguely remember sneaking you out the holding. “He’ll attack tomorrow at dusk.”

Ivar rolls his eyes, which you catch. “It’s true, Ivar,” you whisper, knowing that Ivar doesn’t trust the word of a stranger. But maybe you can convince him. “Weset wants to be King of Kattegat and he won’t stop at anything to get what he wants,” you add, his eyes shifting up to you.

“And you will walk away unharmed-”

“He’ll kill me too,” you cut him off, so used to being able to freely speak to him without any repercussions. But when he narrows his eyes at you, you immediately shrink into yourself, quietly hissing as the healer starts to apply some kind of paste to your wounds. 

Ivar scoffs at your words, chuckles to himself as he shifts in his spot. “Weset would never kill his beloved spy,” he hisses, glaring at you and making your heart break a bit. “You’re lying. Again. And I’m sick of your lies,” he states as he moves to leave. 

“Do you want to know what I told him?” you question. He stops, slowly looks at you and you shift so that your eyes meet his. “Yes, I told him everything I didn’t tell him as you told me I should. But do you know what else I confessed to him that made him realize I’m really your weakness and you’re mine?” 

He doesn’t say anything, but you can see that he wants to know. He wants you to tell him. He’s not sure if you should with the healer and a few other people still in the tent, but you don’t seem to care as you slowly lift yourself onto your arms, lifting your head off the pillow you’ve cried into. “When I first met you, it wasn’t my intention to fall in love with you. I was supposed to get close, be a friend, someone you trusted. But I never thought I’d find myself lying in your arms, completely in love with you,” you confess, making Ivar breathe in deeply and his hands tightly curling into a fist.  

“I thought that after leaving Kattegat, I’d move on, but I couldn’t get you out of my mind. It became so bad that I never want to feel anyone else’s touch,” you continue, your voice breaking slightly as tears start to build up in your eyes. “I don’t want to start something with anyone else, I don’t want to know what it’s like to kiss someone else, or have another’s name falling off my lips.” 

Ivar swallows deeply at your words, at the tears that fall down your cheeks, and at the quiver in your words. “I don’t want to love anyone else. And I will never love again, because I’m still in love with you.”

“You say you won’t love again because you are still in love with her.” Ubbe’s words come back to Ivar after you’ve spoken, making his head drop between his shoulders as his eyes stare at his hands as the words in his mind replay over and over. 

He doesn’t say anything. You’ve confessed your love in front of a handful of other people and Ivar doesn’t say anything. It makes your heart sink in your chest and the hope that he says something similar to what you had said fades away. “I wish I didn’t break your heart or your trust,” you whisper as you fall back onto your stomach.

This time, you turn your head away from him to hide the growing tears in your eyes. You fear that looking at him longer will break your heart past repair. 

Ivar stares at the back of your head, licks his lips as he swallows past the dry lump in his throat before he moves to exit the tent again. No one makes eye contact with him or says anything. Before he leaves, he stops for a moment and turns his head over his shoulder to look at you. 

His gaze falls on your hand as the healer moves your arms to rest at your sides. He remembers how you used to run your fingers through his hair, how he loved that. “I’ll never love anyone else because of you,” he softly says, but in the quiet, you hear his words. 

It’s what he said to you the previous night, when he told you to confess the secrets you’ve been keeping from your King. But they have a different meaning this time. You can tell from his voice and from the way his eyes soften when you turn your head to look back at him. 

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[sauzwriting]

if you're lost, you can look and you will find me

The echo of a corner that at some point had been part of his life. He could almost hear the hustle of life seeping through. Voices. Laughter.

Now it was all silence.

--

Megumi watches Yuuji go through a breakdown in the ruins of Shibuya. He tries his best to ground him. He tries his best to show how much he loves him. Despite it all.

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Yuuji/Megumi

Tags: angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, music, childhood memories

Warnings: self-harm,a bit angsty, manga spoilers of shibuya arc 

ao3 link

There was so, so much silence.

To him, it was deafening, overwhelming. His heart fell everytime he stopped to listen, realizing how it was his fault.

He knew. This silence was his.

Yuuji walked through the streets, deep in thought. The only light reaching his eyes, a pale yellow tint dying the night sky. He didn't know what hour it was. He didn't care.

He just dragged his feet forward.

Ahead of him were the silhouettes of the people who kept saving his life, somehow. He wondered why, once more. He wondered, but never said anything about it. All he could do, all he had left to do was offer up his tainted hands to them, so he could make up for all of it. So he could feel like, maybe, he was allowed to live for a little bit more.

Yuuji could barely look at the debris around them.

It reminded him of all the voices he silenced. Every little piece of the ruins oozed life, memories lost to a power that words couldn't even describe.

But, for once, he stopped on his tracks and dared to raise his gaze and regard the wrecked city before him.

He met cracks, lost shoes and the wind howling at his heart. His breath hitched as he shifted the whole weight of his body, turning around to see, to watch what was left.

A flicker of color hit his eyes, getting his attention.

It was a neon sign of what seemed to be some kind of shop. It was barely hanging from its original place, half of it was completely broken and resting miserably on the ground. But the rest of it was still standing, seemingly fighting to light up the street. Blues and reds flickered, illuminating Yuuji, coloring him, his body, his hair, even his scars. It almost looked like it was alive. The colors, beating, like a human heart.

All it lacked was blood, to pour out of it.

"Hey," he felt something on his shoulder. A touch so soft it was barely noticeable. But still, the fingers lingered. "You're staying behind. Is something the matter?"

Yuuji turned around, slowly. Megumi was looking at him, his uniform stained with dust and ripped in some places. God, he looked so tired. Under the neon flickering lights his features popped up even more and Yuuji could notice dark eyebags painted just below his eyes. How many days has he gone without sleep, he wondered.

"I'm fine." He teared his gaze away from Megumi, back to the sign. "You can go on ahead, I'll catch up in a bit. It's okay." It was strange, hearing his own voice among all the silence. His lips trembled as the words came out of his throat. It felt foreign, like it wasn't his.

"No, it's not." Megumi took a step forward, getting a bit closer to him. Yuuji heard the rubble crumble under his feet. "I'm not doing that." Something inside Yuuji's chest shrunk and shivered. Just a sudden twinge of pain.

There's no way you could leave Sukuna's vessel by himself, he thought, eyes fixated on the ground. He understood, after all.

"I'm not leaving you alone." Megumi hit him lightly on his chest with his fist. "Okkotsu and Choso are strong. They're going to look for a safe place to spend the night. It's not safe to stay here by yourself." Yuuji looked up at him, surprised.

All he saw was a furred brow crowning tired green eyes glaring at him. Somehow, it was the same gaze as always. Slightly annoyed, warm, fond. The same green as always. It hadn't changed.

He was not looking at a murderer or Sukuna.

Yuuji wanted to cry. He didn't deserve that.

"We can catch up later, together." Megumi sighed. "Why did you stay behind?"

Yuuji kept silent for a bit before walking up to the ruins of an entrance right below the neon sign. He bent, moving a boulder that was stuck there, blocking the way.

"Itadori. What are you doing?"

Pieces of rubble fell down to the floor as Yuuji pushed the rock away. His fingers were calloused, blood coming out from irritated, patches of flesh that had been peeled off. It hurt, touching something as rough as stone. But he didn't mind.

"I hadn't realized before, Fushiguro." His voice was raspy and low, inbetween sighs. The knot in his chest made it hard from him to breathe, for the words to come out. "But I know this place."

There were no lights inside. Everything was dark, except for the intermitent colors of the sign, leaking surreal lighting inside the abandoned shop. And yet, Yuuji didn't need to see to remember the shapes of this place. His memories were vivid, painting over the darkness; the echo of a corner that at some point had been part of his life. He could almost hear the hustle of life seeping through. Voices. Laughter.

Now it was all silence.

Yuuji just stood there, while Megumi followed him inside, turning on the flashlight on his phone so he could find out what all this was about. White washed up the darkness and the memories vanished from Yuuji's sight, replaced by the harsh reality.

Here, too, his hands had spoiled it all.

Yuuji wanted to laugh. He wanted that awful sound to tear up his throat, to dismantle and claw at his insides. Sukuna probably found this amusing. In his rampage, in a lost of control, he had even shattered pieces of him.

"I came here once with grandpa. When his — well. When he was...better."

Megumi stayed silent but Yuuji felt his eyes on him. He looked around too, drinking it all in.

"Was this a music shop?" Megumi muttered, walking carefully towards Yuuji. His voice was lower, softer.

There were records, album covers with different colors and styles, CDs scattered all around the floor. Broken, reflecting the light of the flash and creating ripples of rainbows on the ceiling.

"Yeah. He took me here once, years ago. He was really grumpy, he never quite liked the music I listened to." He laughed, bitterly. Still, there was a touch of fondness in his voice. "He came here, with me, and shared his favorite songs with me. He constantly spoke of this place...He didn't even know how to use his phone...so we just...came here, picked up some Cds and..." Yuuji kneeled over the pieces of cds on the floor and tried to gather some up. "I know it's stupid. To feel like this after — well, after I. I — I have no right to feel sad over this. I did this." He breathed in and flinched when he cut his finger with one of the fragments. "It's just shitty. It's so shitty. He's gone now and now I just erased and destroyed part of him."

"It's not your f—"

"It doesn't matter." Yuuji closed his eyes, held the shards tightly, so tight they pierced his skin. He didn't care, he didn't care because he hated his voice, he despised hearing his own shame. He had no right to these feelings. The pain grounded him, because up until now it was all he'd felt since Shibuya. And he'd gotten used to it. And he wanted it to be a comfort, because it was all he felt he deserved. "Do you know— he was actually such a big, damn softie. He loved ballads, god. Do you know Time after Time ? He— I— ," his voice cracked. He cracked. He tried, with trembling, bloodied hands, to cover his face as his breathing became erratic. Tears mixed up with blood, running down bruised skin. He whimpered, trying to keep down his pathetic voice, bit his lip in an useless attempt to stop crying. His whole body, even his soul, felt like it was shaking without control.

"I'm. I'm sorry. I just— there is no way, no way I can say it enough. To anyone." He could hardly speak. It was barely a whimper. "It doesn't matter. Nothing's the same anymore—I'm not the same, I can't go back. It doesn't matter." Silence. "I barely know who I am anymore."

"Yuuji. Fuck."

Megumi said his name. He kneeled right beside him but Yuuji didn't want to look at him. He tried to take his hands away from his face but Yuuji flinched, scared of his touch. Scared of himself.

"Please."

Megumi's voice was so soft, so tender, he just frozed up. He could feel Megumi's breathing brushing his hands. And then, long fingers reached for them, slowly taking them away from his face. The touch was so gentle and careful, it made Yuuji stop trembling altogether. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like this.

He'd almost forgot he had yearned for this, for so long.

"Stop hurting yourself."

Yuuji saw his face. Megumi had left his phone on the ground and the light was illuminating him from the back. He looked mad.

But his voice was so kind. His hands were on his, cleaning up the wounds and wrapping some bandages around them. Even after that was done, Megumi didn't let go of his hands. He slowly traced the shape of them with his fingers, caressing them with care. His eyes went up, checking Yuuji's face just for a moment. The tears were still flowing, his gaze still watery.

"Don't you dare apologize." Megumi looked down again, just to carefully touch the scars that ran up his arms. "You're Yuuji." He sighed and breathed in. "And you deserve so much better than this."

He looked up and locked his eyes with Yuuji's.

"I still don't regret saving you. And I won't, ever ." Yuuji's tears stopped falling. "This is our reality. It's unfair. But you're still you. I know that. I didn't doubt it for a second." Megumi reached up to clean the tears off his cheeks. "So for god's sake, let me carry that weight with you."

A knot, deep, deep inside Yuuji's chest untangled.

"But Sukuna—"

"No buts. I trust you." He muttered. He inched a bit closer to him, carefully. "Stop running from me."

Megumi looked away and remained silent. Yuuji couldn't move. He didn't want to, but he felt like he had to. But as soon as he tried to shift away, Megumi pulled him closer and embraced him.

Yuuji knew. Megumi wasn't good with words. That's why he said nothing more. But there was an unspoken feeling in how he could feel the warmth of his body against his. He could hear Megumi's heartbeat ripple through his own chest. It was almost like a song.

Yuuji was tired, too. He had no energy to fight back. And he wanted this.

So he gave up.

They stood like that for a while, in silence. In each others' arms, hearing each others' breathing. Megumi slowly rubbing circles in Yuuji's back and Yuuji holding him tightly, his head in the crook of his neck.

And then, Megumi started humming someting. Low, barely audible.

But it sounded familiar.

Ah, he realized.

Eyes closed, Yuuji hummed back. His voice cracked, it was probably off key. But god, it felt so good. It felt so relieving. That he could still do this, remember this.

This feeling would probably only last for a little longer but it was warm, so, so warm.

And well, knowing his grandpa wasn't the only one liking sappy ballads made his heart flutter. It made his heart feel just a bit like it used to. Just a bit.

Yuuji smiled. It was a weak smile but Megumi could feel it on his shoulder. So he moved, pulled away to look at his face and gently place a kiss on the corner of his mouth, right where an ugly scar had sunk in his flesh.

"Let's go back."

Megumi brushed pink hair away from brown eyes and helped him up.

He didn't let go of his hand for the rest of the night.

That hand in his, that warmth. It seemed to give back a bit of his humanity.

He was Yuuji.

And Megumi loved Yuuji.