#because paper is better for shaky-ish hands | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyuckssunchip · 3 years ago

Text

Love Over Lifetimes: Taeyong

Diligence is Dreary

Pairings: Taeyong x Reader

Words: 4.3K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), mentions of death, fluff, slow-ish burn

Synopsis:

Part of the Love Over Lifetimes series.

**NOTE: Anything in italics is a ‘flashback’

“Hi, sorry to bother you, but do you happen to know if you have McKinley's Guide to PhysicDynamics?” You asked quietly, hating to interrupt the studying cashier.

He glanced up through his glasses, which were barely hanging on to his nose. The boy stared blankly at you for a few seconds, which had you fidgeting in nerves.

“If you don’t…” You mumbled out, suddenly regretting bothering the boy.

“No, I-mean yes. I can look that up for you.” He scrambled, shoving his own books and papers aside to make room for the computer.

“McKinley's Guide to PhysicDynamics?” He mumbled out typing away, frowning to himself.

You nodded silently, finally taking a good look at the boy.

‘Lee Taeyong’ his name tag read. He was a good looking boy, around the same age as yourself, obviously a college student as well. Your eyes traveled over his features, entranced by the sharpness, yet softness of his appearance.

“It looks like it’s checked out at the moment.” He offered up, returning his gaze to yours.

“Oh,” You mumbled out your thanks, hesitating at the idea of heading back empty handed.

Taeyong opened his mouth slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but thought the better of it and reached for his books again.

Taeyong looked up the moment he heard the bell ring, indicating your exit. He let out a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding.

He ran his hand through his hair, ruffling the already messy hair he was sporting.

He had never seen you before in his life, but he was almost positive that he knew you. There were things that he seemed to know about you, despite seeing you for the very first time today.

He recognized your voice, the way your eyes sparkled, the very way that you smiled. Almost as if he had experienced it before.

He shook his head, knowing that was crazy. How could he possibly know you? It was just Deja Vu. Right?

For the rest of his shift, he couldn’t focus any longer on his work, mind constantly wandering back to you.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t frequenting the library for no reason. You would slowly walk down the aisles, skimming the books halfheartedly, every once in a while peeking through the cracks to get a glimpse of the boy at the counter.

After a good twenty minutes of deliberation you pulled out a novel, heading towards the front to check out.

“Just the one today?” You raised your eyebrows at his question, catching you off guard.

“Oh, Um... yeah. Just the one.” You slid it towards him with shaky fingers, quickly pulling them away to hide them behind your back.

He paused, reading over the cover, mouthing along. Then there was a faint flicker of a smile.

“This is a good one.” He looked up at you, a ghost of the smile still lingering over his features. You could see it in his eyes.

He handed it over to you before turning back to the books of his own.

“Thank you.” You all but whispered out, padding towards the exit.

This time it took much less than twenty minutes to make your way to the front desk.

“Did you enjoy it?” The smile was more evident this time around.

You nodded shyly, glancing at the book now in his hands.

“The sequel’s even better.” He cocked his head to the side, a friendly aura emitting from him. “Should I grab it for you?”

You could feel your muscles strain as you tried to hide your smile, failing miserably. “I’d like that.”

And for the first time, you saw Taeyong leave his desk. He was much taller than you imagined, his slim build giving him great proportions.

Not knowing whether to follow him or not you ended up leaning against the desk, watching as he walked away.

He seemed to be awfully familiar with the placement because he returned in moments, bearing a blue book.

Making his way behind the desk he promptly scanned it, scooting it towards you.

You grabbed the book softly, glancing at him with a smile. “Thank you.”

This time he nodded back before returning to his books.

Taeyong looked up at the sound of the bell ringing, smiling at you entering.

You shuffled up to the desk, placing the finished book in front of him with a smile of your own.

Taeyong silently moved to check the book back in, smiling at the cover.

“You were right.” He looked up at you, eyes wide with curiosity. “This one was much better than the first.”

He grinned at your agreement, nodding in satisfaction. There was a moment of silence where you watched him place the book in the return bin.

Suddenly his eyes resembled crescent moons, “Would you mind if I recommended you a book?”

You nodded excitedly, “Of course. I trust your judgement after that last one.”

Taeyong grinned at your praise, holding up a finger, motioning that he would be right back.

The moment he left, you bit your lip, feeling your heart flutter at his offer.

He returned faster than you anticipated, catching you off guard. You could tell that he had noticed the look on your face, causing you to blush in embarrassment.

“Here. This one has a fantastic ending. It really makes you think.” He showed it to you, at which you nodded for him to check it out for you.

“If it goes over my head, I’m going to blame it on you though.” You teased him jokingly.

He shyly returned the smile, stuffing his hands in his pocket after sliding it back to you.

Your smile faded at his minimal reaction, making you feel even more embarrassed.

You mumbled out a quick thanks, turning quickly to take your leave.

The loud thud of a book falling onto the desk startled Taeyong, who had been intently listening to his music.

He pulled his headphones out, looking up at you. A smile growing on his face at the sight of your very frustrated expression.

“My head is exhausted.” You complained, exaggerating by rubbing your temple.

He reached for the book, turning it over in his hands, before looking back at you. “Too much?”

You widened your eyes, “I wouldn’t say it went completely over my head, but it made me think way more than I wanted to.”

You sighed dramatically.

But you straightened back up immediately, because, for the first time since you met Taeyong, he laughed.

It was a small chuckle, a laugh nevertheless. You grinned, watching as he seemed to let loose.

“Alright, something less... intense this time?” He asked with a smile, his shoulders lifting slightly as if he was laughing.

“Yes, please.” You exhaled out, watching as he left to find something new.

But this time you couldn’t stand still. You turned to follow him, wandering amiably, glancing ever so often at the rows of books.

“Oh.” He was clearly startled when he turned around, and found you just feet behind him. But he covered it up with a small smile, turning his head up to scan the shelf.

Then as if he suddenly was stricken by an epiphany he reached up and picked a book off a high shelf.

“Here.” He showed it to you, but you gave it a look over with a wary eye. Taeyong seemed to understand right away.

“This one won’t hurt your head, I promise.” He grinned, pushing it towards you.

You grabbed it with gentle hands, flipping it over to read the cover. You gave him a look, and it seemed like he was eagerly waiting for your approval.

“Okay.” You paused, narrowing your eyes teasingly, “But if I come in next time with a head ache, it’s on you okay?”

He chuckled, pushing past you towards his desk. You followed, adorning a goofy grin on your way.

He checked you out, pushing the book towards you, and accepting you thanks as routine.

“Better?” Taeyong was the first to speak, watching as you made your way to his desk.

“Much.” You smiled, “It was such a sweet book.”

He took the book from you smiling at you in return.

“Do you have anything else?” You asked, eager for a suggestion. You were beginning to really enjoy his books.

“Of course.” He grinned, motioning for you to leave the book as he stood up from his desk. Again you followed him, running your hand along the spines of the books.

Because you were no longer focusing on him in front of you, you ran into his back, not noticing that he had stopped.

He turned his head slightly, smiling to himself at your aloofness. “This one.” He pulled a book off a shelf, handing it to you.

You bit you lip, feeling your cheeks heat up, and you failed to notice the way Taeyong grinned at the sight.

Upon returning to his desk, like always he checked you out and you thanked him.

“Tae why would you recommend that book?” He raised his eyebrows, watching as you pouted.

“Why? Did you not like it?” He frowned, an odd feeling in his stomach at the thought of disappointing you.

“No I really liked it. But you wouldn’t believe how many times I cried.” He chuckled, enjoying the way you were sulking. “And it was my favorite so far. How can you make such a sad book my favorite?”

His smile was so endearing, you had no choice but to drop the act and smile back.

“Fine, something a little happier?” He stood before you could reply, obviously knowing your answer.

You shuffled behind him, treading close on his tail.

You didn’t doubt that Taeyong knew the library well. Every other time he found the book he wanted in minutes. But this time, either he didn’t have a book in mind, or for some reason he couldn’t find it, because you had been walking around for about fifteen minutes.

But you didn’t say anything. Just enjoying his presence, wandering in silence was comfortable enough. Eventually Taeyong found what he was looking for, and almost reluctantly he handed it to you.

The way back to the desk was once again silent.

“This one is good, I promise.” He smiled at you, after checking you out.

“If you say so.” You smiled, walking backwards cheekily towards the exit.

Taeyong glanced at his watch, frowning at the time. He once more looked at the door, begging for the bell to ring.

Although he tried to focus on his books, intently reading over the same line again and again, the moment the bell rang his heart leaped and his head turned towards the entrance.

He never thought he would feel the immense disappointment at not seeing your face under that door.

He smiled politely at the customer before returning to his thoughts.

Again, he couldn’t help but look again at his watch, noting how late you were.

Not that you were always on time or anything, but still, usually you would have left by now. But you hadn’t even arrived.

The day passed without you, and a very agitated Taeyong.

Two very stressful days passed without you.

But you walked in on the third, as if nothing happened.

You placed the book on the desk pushing it towards him.

Taeyong grabbed the book robotically not even glancing at you. That is, until he read the title of the book.

With a double take, he met eyes with yours. “Y/N.” It was nearly a whisper.

You gave him a smile that didn’t seem so genuine to Taeyong.

“It really lifted my spirits, this one.” You spoke up, though it came out very quietly. He tried to believe you.

Taeyong frowned, eyes grazing over your features. You seemed tired, exhausted beyond belief.

But he just nodded, biting his lip distracted by you worn appearance.

You stood there, waiting as usual for his recommendation. But it never came.

“Do you have anything in mind this time?” You asked, tilting your head at his silence. But he was busy mulling over something.

You averted your eyes, feeling dejected at his lack of response. “Right.”

The moment you moved to leave he stood up.

“I’ll be right back.”

And he was. He checked out a book for you, not bothering to show you the title, and placed it in your hands.

Taeyong was glad to see that you looked much better, and much happier when you returned the following day.

“That was great.” You clamored with a cheerful smile, a far cry from the day before.

Taeyong grinned at your mood, happy that you were feeling better. In turn his own mood was lifted, a contagious feeling.

As he checked in the book you leaned against the desk, peering over at the books he himself was pouring over. Your eyes grazed over the may lines of text, the well worn pages signs of a well loved book.

A smile bloomed over your face, “I should’ve known. A literature major.” You giggled, “It suits you well.”

He smiled back at you, standing up to get his next recommendation, but you stopped him.

You bit your lip. “Could you recommend two? I won’t be able to visit for a while.” Taeyong raised his eyebrows, but you avoided eye contact at all costs.

He nodded reluctantly, dragging his feet to the farthest aisle, turning once to make sure you were following him.

Once he was assured that you were, he took his time picking out a few books for you and then returning to the desk.

He took longer than usual, studying your face before asking softly, “Why can’t you come?”

He knew it was prying, but he didn’t think he could go another two days waiting like before.

You bit your lip, staring at the stack of books. “It’s uh... personal.” You mumbled out, embarrassed to admit the real reason.

Taeyong felt abashed at the way he intruded and immediately pushed the books towards you. “Oh. Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to pry. I just...” He trailed off.

You shook your head, “It’s fine.” But the smile you sent him was tight.

“Thanks for the books.”

True to your word, you didn’t return.

It was nearly a week later when Taeyong got to see you.

Closing time was just around the corner when you rushed in, heaving the books onto the desk.

“Thank you.” You smiled at him, breathing a little heavy at the work you did to great here before he locked up.

Taeyong’s eyes widened, reaching to return the books, but looking at you with an odd gaze.

Before you could even ask, he pulled a book out from under the desk, checking it out for you.

“I thought of it while you were gone.” He explained, noticing the look of surprise on your face.

But he didn’t give you the book, and instead held on to it.

He packed up his own things, walking around the desk and finally handing the book to you.

You smiled, following him to the door as he locked up.

“Did you drive?” He asked, too shy to look at your face.

You shook your head.

“Could I walk you home then?”

You wanted so badly to accept his offer, but you were too prideful to let him.

“I-uh... I take the bus.” You mumbled out, backing away from him slightly.

“Oh.” He bit his lip. “Do you feel safe enough though?”

You nodded aggressively, trying desperately to have him leave you on your own.

“Okay.” He uttered out, watching as you bid him goodbye with a wave and hurried off in the other direction.

In all honesty, he was right. It was late and dark, and to walk alone was dangerous. It would’ve been better, safer for him to walk with you, and you did want it. But you couldn’t bear to let him see where you were staying.

Taeyong was always a very diligent person. He didn’t break rules, he didn’t disobey. He liked being a good person.

And because of this he lived a comfy, but bland life. That was what he thought, until you walked in that door. Taeyong became interested, if not infatuated with curiosity of you.

His slow mundane life had suddenly brightened with your presence, though he was slow to admit it.

Something about you drew him to you, and that’s exactly why, against his every principle, he chose this moment to ignore what you had said.

He felt the need to make sure that you were safe.

That’s exactly why he followed you.

And why he stood where he was.

Taeyong frowned as he watched your back enter the tall glass doors. His eyes traveled over the large letters that let him clarify that it was what he thought.

Suddenly he was hit with a wave of pain in the back of his head.

There was a rush of people pushing past him, his senses overwhelmed by the chaos and noise. His head hurt, it was pulsating as he watched people in white coats rush around.

Gurneys upon gurneys were pushed in, and his eyes followed them. Heart nearly stopping at the sight of a hand hanging off the side.

Then suddenly it stopped. The ringing in his ears, the chaos slowed, and his heavy heart slowed.

His feet moved, as if he was drawn to the door. 113. Thirteen was always an unlucky number. But he didn’t believe superstitions. He pushed the door aside, stumbling into the white room. His breath caught in his throat, the feeling of his chest caving in at the sight that lay before him.

Taeyong shook his head, touching it and wincing at the sudden feeling. He frowned at the building one last time before heading away.

Taeyong didn’t let on anything when you stopped by the next day.

“Another one for the books.” You giggled, attempting at a lame pun in hopes of making him laugh.

It worked. At least that’s what he showed you.

What he saw last night bothered him. But for some reason you didn’t want him knowing about it, and he was going to make you believe that, until he couldn’t anymore.

The day followed the routine, and over the days Taeyong took longer and longer to find the perfect book. He was no longer using his knowledge of the library to find your book, but rather leisurely taking in the aisles as he went. Of course you weren’t opposed.

But routine doesn’t last forever.

Taeyong had never felt so panicked at a sight before. You were crumpled on the floor, looking so lifeless and pale. He couldn’t feel his heart beating any more, nor did he hear the books he was holding tumbled to the floor with a thud.

All he saw was you.

It was only when the paramedics arrived did he come back to reality.

Luckily another customer had called in, begging for an ambulance. Taeyong felt a hole in his stomach grow, as if eating at his heart. It was the gnawing feeling of guilt that had him on the verge of hurling. There was a dull ache that he had never felt before, but he wanted so badly to satisfy the unnerving feeling.

It was only after the chaos had subsided, and you were lying pale and stiff on the bed did he breathe steadily again. His hands instinctively grasped yours in his own, rubbing his fingers over the back of your hand soothingly.

For a moment his mind flashed to a distant memory. The similarities of the current situation were uncanny. You laid, upon a hard bed, within clean white walls, with nothing but the strong beeps emulating your life.

Almost as if he couldn’t stop himself. No, almost as if he was acting as someone else, his hand reached to caress yours. His eyes wetted with tears that threatened to fall. He felt his throat tighten at the sight of you, but he couldn’t understand why. Who were you to make him feel this way?

HIs eyes flitted over your body, the sounds of the steady beeping making him anxious for no reason. He gripped your hand tighter.

At the sound of a voice whimpering a foreign name, he realized that it was his own. A name he didn’t recognize, perhaps one that neither of you could recognize.

What was this?

With his mind reeling he missed the steady beep stutter.

As if it were slow motion he watched hordes of people rush in, dragging him away. Although he couldn’t seem to hear, his voice felt raw, indication that he was screaming. He felt the drop of his heart ache, he felt the feeling in his stomach making him sick.

He felt-

“Taeyong?” A familiar voice pulled him from his daze.

His eyes returned to focus on you, laying uncomfortably on the bed, his hand gripping yours.

He pulled away as if burned.

“Y/N. You’re awake.”

You smiled faintly at him, “You’ve caught me at a bad time.”

He frowned at you joke. “This isn’t funny.”

That wiped the smile off your face. “Sorry.”

At this he sighed, “You don’t have to be sorry. I just wish it didn’t happen.”

He didn’t miss the look of guilt that flashed over you face. Taeyong didn’t want to make you feel bad, he was just stressed out himself.

“Uh... what happened?” You asked nervously. It’s not like you were used to waking up in the hospital, but unfortunately it wasn’t new to you either.

“You passed out.” He mumbled, glancing at the monitor next to you, steadily reading your heartbeat.

He felt like he could breath at the sight of the steady numbers, but there was something that still had him anxious.

“Oh. Just randomly?” You asked quietly, fumbling with the corner of the stale sheets.

He nodded solemnly, returning to face you. “I brought you here as fast as I could.” He paused, watching your expression. “Are you not freaking out?”

Taeyong was bewildered with your calm expression, unfazed by how you just woke up in the hospital and accepted it.

You widened your eyes, your mouth falling open slightly sucking in a quick breath. “Oh, yeah. O-of course I am.”

But he didn’t believe you for one second.

“But-”

“Ms. Y/L/N.” A familiar face popped into the room. “Are you feeling any better?”

At your doctor’s entrance Taeyong stepped aside, watching from the corner of the room, hands deep in his pockets. Then, Taeyong did what he did best. Observe.

Your face flitted with a nervous expression, but you focused back on your doctor. “Yes. I feel fine.”

“That’s good news.” Your doctor flipped through his papers, glancing quietly between you and Taeyong. He cleared his throat once before smiling sternly at you. “Y/N, I told you last time you need to keep up with your medicine. If you have such low iron you’ll pass out again.”

Your eyes flashed towards Taeyong for a moment, watching to see his reaction.

You turned back to your doctor, hanging your head remorsefully, “I know. I didn’t mean to miss it. I just...” You knew that excuses were not acceptable and just chose to admit your faults.

“Okay.” Doctor Kim raised his eyebrows. “But I can’t let you leave for another three days. We need to make sure nothing else is below level.” He shot you a stern look. “Don’t miss any more. Okay?”

You nodded silently.

“I’ll be back to check on you later.” With a kind smile, he left, leaving you and Taeyong choking on silence.

You eventually broke it, sighing deeply and running your hand through your hair,

Taeyong returned to his spot by your bed, a solemn look on his face.

“This isn’t you first time here is it?” He mumbled out, refusing to look at you.

Whether he saw you nod or not, he took your silence as admission to what he already knew.

He must have felt your anxiousness, “You don’t have to tell me.”

But you felt that you had to, after all had saved you. Seeing that would have taken a toll on anyone.

“I have cancer.”

Taeyong’s breath caught in his throat, he felt a lump form, making it harder than it already was to breathe. It hit him harder than he thought it would.

You noticed the strained look on his face, quickly backtracking.

“It’s not like I’m gonna die or anything.” You mumbled out, eyes trained on him. “They caught it early, but.... I still have to get treatments and it kind of makes me sick.”

Taeyong couldn’t seem to find his voice.

You sunk your head, staring intently had your thin fingers, the wires connected still a sick reminder of your deteriorating health.

Taeyong stole away your fingers, caressing them softly so that you could feel his emotions.

His voice wavered, “Aren’t you scared?”

You tilted your head, watching his face scrunch. “Of course I’m scared. But I have good doctors and I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with it.”

You glanced hat him under your eyelashes. “I’m going to be fine Taeyong, technology is amazing these days.”

He winced at those words, a discomforting feeling struck him. It was the feeling of familiarity that frightened him.

Unconsciously his grip tightened on you. “Taeyong. I promise that I’ll be fine.”

All he could do was trust in your words.

masterlist

90 notes · View notes

anordinarymuse · 3 years ago

Note

Heyy so could u please write a Fic where the reader had like a stressful day and Teddy who's her partner suggests they go get stoned becuase she usually does that but she has to teach him how to smoke becuase its his first time

i hope this is ok bc low-key made teddy up as i went-

blunts.

Teddy Lupin x Fem!Reader

Summary : request

Warnings : bf/gf roles *not explicit* (bf!teddy + gf!reader); angst-ish; fluffy; recreational drug use; unedited

Word Count : 560

A/N : updated request rules :3

the masterlist.

request here.

don't do drugs kids.

"Y/N?" You heard Teddy ask, knocking on the other side of the door. You were sitting on your bed, knees tucked in and starting out the window. The window was open and let in a chilly breeze, but you were too drained to close it, so you dealt with it.

"Come in," you mumbled, sighing, turning to move your cheek onto your knee so you could see Teddy when he entered your dorm.

"S'there something wrong?" Teddy asked, sitting beside you, swinging his long legs over the bed frame.

"I'm just so tired," you let out with an exhaling breath. Teddy stroked your hair and drew your chin in with his hand so you could let your head fall onto his lap.

"Want to explain?" Teddy asked quietly, twirling his fingers i your hair. "I'm here to listen."

You took a deep shaky breath before speaking, "There's just so much schoolwork, and all these exams and shit. And everyone keeps asking me what to do for- for just- things, and I don't know either and it's so much.

"I don't even know what I'm doing," you said in defeat. You refused to cry but your eyes burned as you forced them open because if you knew if you closer them, tears would slip.

"It's going to be ok, Y/N. I know it really sucks but- but I promise it'll get better," Teddy assured in a not so reassuring voice. "I promise I'll make it better."

"Mhm," you hummed sadly, dropping you shoulders as if weight had toppled them over.

"How about we smoke? You'd like that wouldn't you?" Teddy asked softly, continuing to pet your hair.

"Smoke?" You repeated, ears perking up.

"You can teach me how to roll," Teddy grinned, helping you sit up straight. "Hm? How does that sound?"

You give Teddy an agreeing smile before hopping off bed and going through the bottom drawer of your nightstand. Moving to the open window, you motioned Teddy to join you.

"Ok, here take this filter and put it at the end of your paper," you instructed, watiting for Teddy to follow.

"Like this?"

"Yup, just like that, and take about this much." You pinched some weed out of your tin and placed it carefully in the roll. "S'posed to be a gram but you can just eye it."

You watched as Teddy followed your instructions, he worked slowly as to get everything right, which made you bite back a smirk.

"Then next, take this end, yup just like that, and start to roll it, you want the shape at the bottom to be like a pearl.

"And then when you're done, twist the end. If you did it right it should be tight enough so the filter doesn't fall out."

You waited for Teddy to finish rolling before placing your blunt between your lips, concentrating on it to light it with wordless magic.

Even though Teddy had never rolled before, he knew how to do wordless magic and easily lit his joint.

"Not bad for your first time," you laughed, looking at Teddy's janky roll. "It's actually much better than my first."

"I must be a natural," he coughed as he inhaled smoke.

"Oh yeah, for sure," you grinned, proud of Teddy as he took another hit, this time letting the smoke drift from his lips naturally.

**********

The Gryffindor Common Room - A03

taglist : @marimorena06 @missryerye @agirlwholovescoffee @nicole198205 @blackpinkdolan @siriuspvdfoot @hufflepuffflowers-blog @thatguppienamedbae @peachykeen3502 @youngblood199456 @oranee @bobbyjohnsonbeat @jasgreen101 @will-to-live-who @bellatrixscurls @krishavania @thegirlwhocriedlupin @mrsaliciamalfoy @wwweasleystan @modernvellichor @westantheweasleys @lolaperezb @zaraskyla @v4l3nt1n44 @sirisuorionblack @rinbyo @xdancinggurlx @lupinsravenclaw @hogwarts-boys @inglourious-imagines @siriuslyslyslytherin @the-abyss-gazed-back @eunoia-kth @kaqua @erinruby003 @famdomhideout @rudypankowisdaddy @story-scribbler @youreso-golden @666cookies @i-love-scott-mccall @sprucewoodlover

137 notes · View notes

mandoalorian · 4 years ago

Text

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Seven: Humanity

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, unprotected p in v, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, reader is a virgin.

Word count: 6,300>

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Seven - Next

Max stood outside, his back pressed against his car. He closed his eyes as the morning sun warmed his skin - only it felt more like an unpleasant, burning sensation. He felt a fire of anguish rife within him. He was furious. How had he let all this happen? How had little Maxwell Lorenzano let this happen? He scrunched up his nose in disdain as a single tear slipped from his eye and rolled down his cheek. He had nobody to blame but himself, and that’s what hurt the most. He had come so close to losing everything. He could still lose everything. You had preached to him about how Diana was symbolic of hope and that she’d never judge him, yet, Max couldn’t help but feel like she was judging him. When she told him that the consequences of his actions lay in his fate with Alistair. And in that moment, he felt so undeserving. He was a bad man who had done bad things and maybe he just wasn’t cut out to be a father. Maybe Alistair would be better off with Julianna. Maxwell found himself losing hope.

You were still inside, looking over some documents about Dolos’ dreamstone that Diana had been collecting. She explained to you that most of it had been provided by her old friend, Dr Barbara Minerva. Dr Minerva was a gemologist, according to Diana, who had looked into Romulus’ dreamstone just a few days ago. “Where is she now?” you asked Diana as your finger traced the sketch of the stone. At least you knew what exactly you were looking for. A gorgeous citrine stone with Greek scripture engraved into it.

Diana smiled faintly, but the glaze in her dark eyes were not lost on you. “She’s gone.” Diana whispered, looking into the distance.

“Oh Diana, I’m so sorry,” you frowned, placing a gentle and comforting hand in the small of Diana’s back. “Did Max know her?”

Diana took a sharp breath. “Yes.” she said coldly, before spinning around on her heel and walking over to her desk. You wanted to prod further and find out more but you noticed how stand off-ish Diana had become over your brief mention of Max and his relationship with Barbara. You figured it might not be best to push it. At least not right now.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about Maxwell and you were aware that he had been standing outside for quite a long while. You hoped that he was okay. You sighed, taking Diana and Barbara’s research and composing it into a pile for you to take away. “I should be going then. If we want to catch the flight to Athens.” you shrugged with a caring smile. Diana glanced back at you.

“Did my mother grant you permission to come here?” Diana asked, quirking her eyebrow.

You bit your lip nervously. “No,” you admitted. “Queen Hippolyta believed I was foolish for wanting to come here. I told her I had my calling but she didn’t care. My mother Hestia granted me a secret passage. Queen Hippolyta hasn’t been the same since you left.”

Diana nodded knowingly before saying your name gently, almost cautiously. “My mother didn’t grant you permission to come to the world of man because you’re too powerful.” Diana informed you. Her face hardened and she had become incredibly serious. You knotted your eyebrows in bewilderment and slowly shook your head.

“I- I don’t understand.” you said weakly. Too powerful for the world of man?

“You are the daughter of Zeus and Hestia. You are a goddess,” Diana smiled, cupping your face with her hand. “I’m only a demi-God, I have half the power you have. I can be here. But to have a whole Goddess walking on this earth, utilizing her powers… you’re playing a dangerous game. I’ve read about this in ancient Amazonian mythology. It would lead to the world’s destruction.” Diana explained quietly. “I would never want to harm this world.” you reassured Diana, pulling out of her grip and narrowing your eyes in disbelief.

“I know,” Diana hushed you. “I know you would never want to harm this world. But it’s not about what you want. It’s about the inevitable. Do you think Maxwell wanted to cause all the death and destruction? All the hate and war?”

“No of course not.” you replied.

“But he did. And now he’s… dealing with the aftermath. You might be here to help Maxwell and that’s okay. That is your duty. But you cannot stay. You must return to Themyscira once this is over with. You have to.”

“Yes but Max-” you began to protest but Diana cut you off.

“Once you fulfill your calling and bring him and Alistair together, you will have satisfied your duty as the goddess of home and hearth. You have no reason to stay, right?”

She was right. No reason to stay. But shit- you had become so attached to Max Lord and his son, you never even considered the fact you might have to leave them. It wasn’t even a ‘might’. You were going to have to leave them eventually and you didn’t have long at all. “Right,” you confirmed sadly, but trying to remain as composed as possible. “But I don’t even know how to get back to Themyscira.” you sighed.

Diana grabbed the rope of your lasso and traced the patterned ridges in between her father. “By combining both our lassos, I can create a one-way portal back home. When all this is over, you know where to find me,” Diana promised. Your heart ached. You felt nauseous. And you knew now you had to go outside and face Maxwell. You had to tell him. Your mind was racing as you wondered how he’d react to the news. “I know how you feel...” Diana said softly before looking out the window and into the sky above. “Once you’re back home, you’ll miss him. You’ll think about Max every single day. Just like I think about Steve.”

You didn’t even know how to answer, you were hurting too much. You knew Diana was only looking out for you and what was best for the world of man, but this wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t you stay? Why did you have to leave Maxwell? You picked up the papers and held them close to your chest. “I’ll see you in Athens, Diana.” was all you said, before leaving the Smithsonian.

Maxwell saw you approaching before you set eyes on him. He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath before giving you a small wave so you knew where he had parked his car. As he caught your attention, a bout of relief washed over you. He was beautiful - his hair golden under the sun and the gold rings on his fingers sparkling as the rays of light bounced off them. He made you feel safe and happy. But as you got closer to him, you began to feel afraid. Leaving him was going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do.

The car ride to the airport was difficult. Maxwell hadn’t put the radio on this time, and so the journey was filled with an unwelcome silence. Every few minutes you would take a shaky exhale and try and work up the courage to tell him what Diana had told you. About how you couldn’t stay. You had to leave. But even before you said anything, you could cut the tension with a knife. He wasn’t okay and you knew it.

-----

“Flight RD270401 from Washington D.C. to Athens, Greece, is now boarding from gate 8.” echoed the airport speakers overhead. With your hand pressed against the cold window glass, you looked in awe at the airplane. It was unlike anything you had ever seen before. You looked back at Maxwell, who was pinching the bridge of his nose, talking to one of the airport employees. She was clearly saying something he had no interest in hearing. He shook his head to whatever she had told him, and he wiggled his finger at her. The conversation ended with him signing an autograph for her and then sauntering towards you.

You had managed to swindle your way past passport security thanks to your trusted lasso of Hestia, but Maxwell was still anxious you'd somehow get stuck in Athens without a passport and wouldn't be able to return to D.C. back in time for the court hearing. You tried reassuring him that everything would be alright, but he had a stubborn mind and he was already worked up from what Diana had told him earlier. That the consequence of his actions lied in the fate of his and Alistair's relationship. He knew that couldn't be good.

“She changed our one-way plane tickets to return tickets, so we have two days to get the dreamstone and then we must head back to D.C.” Maxwell informed you with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair. Only two days in Greece, and then it was back home to prepare for court. And then you had to go. He had barely spoken to you since the museum. You understood his stress and you missed hearing his sweet voice, but you didn't want to push him to talk about what happened back there if he wasn't ready.

"What did it cost you?" you asked hesitantly.

"She just wanted an autograph and my number," Maxwell shrugged, narrowing his eyes in the direction of the airplane. He was trying to read the docking gate number. "Come on, that's our flight."

Even though Diana had clearly explained that the world had forgotten about the broadcast, he couldn’t shake his guilty conscience. It felt strange- people still approaching him and asking him for autographs, giving him attention. It only added to his feeling of shame.

Maxwell walked hurriedly and you felt like you were practically chasing after him. There was hardly a rush. The airplane had just landed. "Your number?" you asked curiously.

"So she can call me." Maxwell explained further, his voice stone cold and emotionless. His comment was abrupt and to the point. It wasn’t a big deal. She might have believed she had a chance to go on a date with Maxwell Lord, but she really didn’t, and Maxwell knew that. He had more important things going on, and besides, his mind was already unwillingly preoccupied with you.

"Why would she want to do that?" you asked and Maxwell scoffed. He knew you weren’t accustomed to the nature of exchanging numbers and what that meant, but his frustration was increasing by the second. The thought of getting on a flight made him feel anxious and uneasy. He hadn’t been on a flight since he used the President’s chopper, Marine One, to fly to the bunker. Every little thing was reminding him of the incident and it was traumatic. Maxwell hadn’t even prepared himself for the chance of coming into contact with the dreamstone again.

"Jesus, do you have to question everything?" Maxwell snapped, abruptly halting in his footsteps and turning to you. You froze, your blood running cold as you sensed his anger. You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling timid, and ducked your head down. He shouted at you, and the ferocity in his voice made you feel small and vulnerable. "I'm sorry," Max sighed when he saw the change in your conduct. His heart sank in his chest, knowing that he was to blame for your demeanor. Just like he was to blame for everything else. "Let's just get seated, okay?"

You didn't reply, but followed him to gate 8 in silence as you queued up to get your tickets checked so you could board. Everything about this experience was brand new and awe-inspiring. You had watched many airplanes jet off into the sky and fly into the clouds above. Despite being so far away from home, you found comfort in knowing that both you and the Amazons were underneath the same sky. You had never felt so close to them.

Maxwell was truly more than happy to help you find the dreamstone. He knew it was something you needed to do, and after all, you were helping him with Alistair. You had warned him that if you didn't find the dreamstone, it could cause the world to end. The world had almost ended just a few days ago before Max had renounced his wish. It was serious. But to Max, all that mattered was Alistair. Even if you successfully destroyed the dreamstone, if he lost custody of Alistair then his life would be over. Alistair was his whole world. His only reason. He couldn't lose him. His life depended on it.

Just as you got strapped in, a flight attendant walked by. "Ah, are you two on your honeymoon?" she smiled, her blue eyes glittering. "Two seats in first class have just opened up, if you'd like."

"Yes!" Maxwell exhaled sharply, unclipping his belt and then reaching down to your lap unclip yours and pull you up. He needed the luxury of first class. It brought him a sense of normality.

“What’s a honeymoon?” you hissed, looking around the cabin.

“Just pretend we’re married, okay?” Maxwell hissed back before putting on a fake smile to present his charming exterior.

As the air hostess guided you to first class, she swooned over Maxwell.

“I love your infomercials,” she cooed, placing her hand on his arm and tracing the curve of his bicep. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy in your chest. “The part where you’re on a yacht and you say that thing about how you don’t need a business degree to get started is so inspiring. And sexy.” she sighed longingly, fluttering her dark eyelashes.

Before Max could reply, you grabbed his hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. He looked at you, his eyes widening slightly with shock. Maybe he was always going to be taken aback by your touch. You made him feel a way he had never felt before.

“Yes,” you smiled leaning over to take her hand off Maxwell. “My husband is very talented.”

There was no denying the way Max’s heart raced at your words. He swore he’d never remarry after Julianna. He’d also sworn that he’d never fall in love again. But then you came into his life and things changed. For a second, he actually imagined what it would be like to marry you. He imagined a life where he could show you off on his arm. He could treat you, spoil you, kiss you all day and all night. He imagined you looking over Alistair. He had already become familiar with the maternal side of you. As his mind wandered, he imagined the possibility of you giving him some more children. He cursed himself for letting himself get carried away; lost in thoughts that could never happen.

About an hour later, you were finally in the air and looking over Diana’s documents about Dolos’ dreamstone, provided by Dr Minerva. Maxwell was slumped against the blue velveteen chair, his legs spread as he nursed a glass of whiskey and picked at some peanuts. You sighed, feeling defeated. Your mind was overcome by all this new-found knowledge about the stone and you just wanted to relax. If you could do anything, you’d curl into Maxwell’s lap and fall asleep in his strong arms. But there was one thing preying on your mind. One thing you still needed to tell him.

“How are you feeling?” you asked quietly, and Maxwell looked up at you, his chocolate brown eyes meeting yours.

“Better,” he admitted with a small smile. “Athens is very beautiful. I think you’ll like it,” Your heart warmed knowing that he was feeling better. It was probably due to his intake of alcohol but nevertheless, his anxiety had eased and that’s all that mattered. Maxwell took a deep breath and tried to repress the smirk that was threatening to play on his lips. “You’re beautiful. Come here,” he said, patting his thigh. You bit your lip and walked over to Max, sliding down and sitting in his lap. He wrapped his arm around your body and pressed a soft kiss into your neck. Whiskey always gave him a boost of confidence but nothing had ever felt so right. You belonged in his arms. You belonged with him. He dragged his tongue up your skin and pressed a kiss into your jaw, nibbling at you gently with his teeth. You hummed in delight, loving the way his lips felt against you. “I am so glad you’re here,” Maxwell admitted, looking into your eyes. “I’m so glad you came into my life. I don’t know what I’d be doing if you weren’t here. I don’t know how I’d cope.” he confessed before pressing another kiss into you.

Your blood ran cold at his words. He might not know what he’d do without you, but he’d have to learn. You couldn’t stay with him in DC no matter how much you wanted to and he was going to have to learn to accept that. You had to tell him. It was now or never.

You pulled away from his lips and smoothed your hands over his hair. You noticed the way his roots were a dark brown colour and thought about how it faded into a dirty blonde. Did he dye his hair? You remembered your vision of him when he was younger and he had dark brown hair. That was why you hadn’t recognised him as Lorenzano. You still had so many questions to ask him but so little time.

“Max...” you croaked as tears pricked your eyes.

“Hey, what is it?” Maxwell cooed, rubbing circles into your back. You rest your head on his shoulder. You really were in love with him.

But you had to suck up your feelings. You closed your eyes. “I can’t stay,” you revealed, taking a deep breath. When Max didn’t reply, you managed to bring yourself to open your eyes and look at him, trying to judge his reaction. “Diana said I can’t stay.”

Maxwell was perplexed. He looked at you, then looked at his surroundings on the airplane and then looked back at you. “You can’t stay where? D.C.?”

“The world of man,” You sighed, playing with his hair. It was so difficult to read Maxwell’s expression. It felt like he was frozen in time. “She said I’m a goddess and I’m too powerful to stay. I could accidentally cause the world’s destruction.” you scoffed at how ridiculous Diana’s claim sounded, but deep down, you knew it made sense. She was your princess and you had to trust her, no matter what.

“But- what- how- what?” Maxwell exclaimed. He felt sick. He didn’t understand, but his stomach was in knots. There was a chance he was going to lose Alistair, and now you were going to leave him too. Maybe this is what he deserved, but he didn’t like it one bit. You had only just come into his life and you were like a blessing in disguise. Now you were going to leave?

“Max,” you whimpered, letting the tears drip down your face. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go back home. I want to stay here with you and Alistair.” you sniffed, pressing your palm flat against his chest. Seeing you cry was pushing him to cry.

“Don’t go,” he begged, shaking his head. “There must be a way you can stay. A loophole or something.”

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head in defeat. “I wasn’t even meant to come here. Our queen denied my request but my mother granted me passage to the world of man. She shouldn’t have, but she just wanted me to complete my calling and fulfil my duty as the goddess of home and hearth.”

“Hey, we’ll figure something out okay?” Max reassured, but his expression showed anything but assurity.

“We can’t,” you sobbed. Your tears were beginning to dampen his shirt but he didn't care. He held you close and tight as if it was going to be the last time. “I have to go.” you confirmed, hating the way the words sounded as they parted your lips.

“How long do we have?” Maxwell asked you, letting a tear slip down his cheek. You gasped and quickly wiped his tear away with your thumb.

“No longer than a week. Five days, maybe. As soon as the court case is over. As soon as you gain custody of Alistair, I must go.” you informed Max, exhaling shakily as you fought for composure. Max shook his head profusely in disbelief.

“I wish we had more time.” he choked out, resting his forehead against yours, his grip around you tightening.

You stayed in Maxwell’s arms for the rest of the journey. You’d both even fallen asleep at one point. When you landed in Athens, everything still felt bittersweet. The sky was dark and it was in the middle of the night. The resort was isolated but Maxwell was right, it was beautiful. Pearly white stars pierced the sky and small waves rippled through the turquoise tranquil waters. You followed your guide group to the hotel in silence.

“I don’t want this to ruin our trip, or ruin our final few days together.” Maxwell whispered as you queued in the lobby for the key to your hotel room.

“Me neither,” you hummed, resting your head on his shoulder and taking his hand. “I love your hands.” you whispered back, tracing his fingers and brushing over his knuckles.

“Yeah?” he asked, his breath hitching as you brought his hand up to your lips.

“Yeah.” you confirmed.

-----

“We only have five days until this is all over.” you purred, tugging on Maxwell’s shirt and falling backwards onto the bed. You giggled when you heard the springs in the mattress go as Maxwell hovered above you. Your hands found Max’s cheeks and you looked him in the eyes.

“I’m going to miss you so much.” Maxwell admitted although his tone was low, gravely and almost dark as he planted sloppy kisses along your jaw and down your neck. He never wanted this moment to end - or any moment that he shared with you, for that matter. Nothing had changed. You still revelled in the way he kissed you and the way his touch erupted a frenzy of butterflies in your stomach.

“Me too,” you huffed, bringing your hands down to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. “But all I know is that I want to make every second that I’m with you count. I never want to forget this, Maxwell Lord.” you smiled, pulling him down to kiss you again. He moaned as your tongues intertwined and he guided his large hands over your frame.

As you made out, you relished the way he touched you and your bodies moved together in sync. It was like they were made for each other. That Zeus had sculpted you to fit with Maxwell Lord; to be with him, guide him, and love him when he didn’t feel loved. Maxwell had always laughed off the concept of ‘soulmates’, seeing himself as nothing more than an independent, stone cold businessman. But maybe, after all this time, he was wrong. In the past week he’d learned so much about himself, and what really mattered. You were teaching him that it was okay to rely on others for comfort and affection.

You reminded yourself of the reason you were in Greece. You had to focus on obtaining the dreamstone. It was important, but with this clash of tongues and teeth and Maxwell Lord on top of you, it was easy to forget about why you had come to Athens in the first place. Sure, destroying the remaining dreamstone was important, but so was Maxwell.

“There’s something I want to know,” you huffed, drawing away from him for just a second to regain your breath. “During my time studying the world of man, I took particular interest in family and babies, probably due to me being the goddess of home and hearth. I spent a lot of time studying babies and… how they’re made. The history books describe it as beautiful. An indescribable pleasure that you know I’ve never experienced before. There are no men on Themyscira. But I want to feel it. I want to feel the pleasure and I want you to show me. Please Max. Show me.” you whispered, bucking your hips upwards and rolling yourself over his crotch. You’d thought about it a lot, maybe even just as much as he’d thought about you in that way. You already knew you trusted him, especially with something like this.

His brown eyes turned a whole shade darker with lust as he slid his hands under your shirt.

“Are you sure?” he questioned, wanting to make absolute sure you certainly wanted this.

“I am,” you confirmed. “But only if you want to too.”

“I do,” Maxwell nodded, his lips curving into a smile. “Believe me, I really do.”

You grinned ecstatically, kissing him again and moaning into his mouth when he squeezed your breast, just like he'd done the previous night when you were both making out in his bed. He knew you liked it. “Let me take this off,” Maxwell groaned and you nodded, stretching your arms in the air so he could pull your shirt off you. “Fuck, you're so perfect.” he whispered to himself, as he stared down at your bare chest. He leaned in and kissed between the valley of your breasts. He peppered kisses along the soft plushness and licked a stripe along your hardening nipple. As he cared for your breast with his lips, he fondled your other breast with his hand, squeezing it lovingly before switching it up again. He was so skilled at this. He knew all the right ways to make you feel good.

Soon, you began to feel that familiar fire heat up in your core. The same fire you had felt when you were kissing him in his own bed. Your new panties felt like they were soaked with your arousal as he peppered kisses down your stomach and to the hem of your pants. “How do you feel?” Max asked you, looking up with concern. He just wanted to make sure you were still okay with this. He cared about you so much.

"Nervous, but excited," you exclaimed. "Will- will it hurt?"

"It might, just a little. Might be slightly uncomfortable at first. But if it gets too much you can tell me, okay?" Maxwell reassured, kissing the lobe of your ear. "I'd never ever want to hurt you honey."

"I know," you smiled, running your fingers through his soft locks of hair. "But first, let me take care of you."

Unsure what you even meant, Maxwell doubled back. You were new to this, inexperienced, and yet he found himself intrigued by what you meant when you said 'take care'. You shuffled out from beneath him and kneeled on the mattress. You unbuttoned Maxwell's shirt and tossed it on the floor, and then unzipped his pants. As you pulled down the silver zipper, you noticed the imprint of his bulge pressed against the tight tailored pants. It was long, thick, and achingly hard, precum already beading at his tip. You subconsciously licked your lips and Maxwell chuckled over your eagerness. It was adorable. But his laughter was cut short into a choked moan as you traced the shape of it through the material, gently with your index finger. "You look so big…" you trailed off, biting your lip nervously.

"Take off my pants and find out." Maxwell urged and you nodded your head. You pulled down his pants and his cock sprung free, bouncing against his tummy. The head was dark pink in colour and already leaking.

“Wow…” you gasped, wiping his precum and letting it wet your hand before wrapping your fingers around his length and starting to pump him. He tossed his head back and moaned wantonly, whispering your name like it was a prayer.

“You really don’t have to-” Maxwell stiffened up as you kitten-licked the tip of his cock. You let your fingers stroke the base and play with his balls as wrapped your lips around his thickness. “-I-fuck. This is your first-first time. I want to make you feel good.”

You pulled your lips off him with a pop and looked at him with doe eyes. “This feels good for me. Tastes good too.” you promised before sinking your mouth back down onto him, deeper this time. He stretched your mouth so wide your jaw began to ache and you gagged around him. You bopped your head up and down, loving the way his fingers tugged on your hair and the way he bucked his hips deeper into your throat.

“Won’t last,” Maxwell warned. “Fuck. Pull off.” he gasped for breath and you followed his instruction, removing your lips from his throbbing length. He wished he could’ve just spilled his seed down your throat but he wanted to make this as memorable as possible for you. It wasn’t just going to be a quick blowjob. You deserved more.

“How was it?” you asked, pouting your swollen lips. Maxwell leaned in and kissed you, tasting his own saltiness on your tongue.

“Perfect,” he sighed lovingly. “You’re perfect.”

Max gently pushed you down amongst the sheets and discarded the rest of your clothes so you were laying in bed completely naked. He pressed his hand on the apex of your thigh and opened up your legs. His cock jumped when he looked down at your glistening folds. You were already so wet for him and he’d hardly even touched you.

Maxwell kissed up the inside of your thighs, revelling in the softness of your skin. He knew he’d never be able to forget this. As he neared your core, your heart began to race with anticipation. Max pressed a soft kiss into your clit and you let out a gasp that you didn’t even realise you were holding back. You felt Max smirk against you and he separated your folds with his two thumbs. Now that you were completely spread open for him, he began to lick you up and down, his cock twitching as he tasted you. He’d eaten the widest variety of expensive desserts in his lifetime, but you were by far the most delicious thing he’d devoured. Everytime his tongue flicked upwards against your clit, your entire body would involuntarily quiver. He loved it. He loved watching you become putty under his touch.

He decided to focus more of his mouth on your clit and began to quickly flick his tongue over your bundle of nerves before sucking on it. His moans sent vibrations straight through you and he noticed how your hole began to clench over nothing. He was desperate to fill you up. To feel you. But he had to prep you first. He didn’t stop with the licking, but he did nudge a finger over your hole. You pushed your hips closer to him, wanting more.

“I’m going to finger you now, is that okay?” Maxwell asked, pulling off you. His lips shone with your slick and you swore he had never looked so beautiful.

“Yes please.” you whimpered.

“If it gets too much, tell me.” Maxwell whispered before reattaching his lips to your pussy and poking his index finger into your entrance. He kissed your clit one last time before pulling away and pushing his finger deep into you. He flushed pink as your soft walls tightened around his finger, and he couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel if he replaced his finger with his cock. He watched you in awe, thrusting his finger in and out of you, experimenting and curling it upwards until he was satisfied that he’d located your g-spot. “Sweet girl,” he moaned, watching you intently as you brought your free hand down to rub your clit as he fingered you. “I wish you could see how pretty you look.”

You moaned something incoherent but Maxwell felt his heart race as he took in your appearance. You were a sight he could never forget - all spread out for him, your back arched in pleasure. He pushed his middle finger inside of you, as well as his index finger, and you squealed with pleasure as he stretched you open.

“Oh Max, oh fuck Max.” you whined as obscene wet noises filled the room. He loved the way you said his name. He always had. This whole experience felt like a dream come true.

“So fucking beautiful.” he growled before ducking his head back in between your thighs and continuing to eat you out. With the combination of his tongue and fingers, it wasn’t long at all until your climax washed over you.

Maxwell pulled off you and reached down to stroke his own cock which was achingly hard, desperate for any kind of relief. “I want you inside of me.” you begged, reaching out to pull Max on top of you.

Maxwell leaned over you, propping himself up on his elbows and you shivered as his cock nudged against your entrance. He rolled his hips up and down, his tip rubbing against your folds. He was teasing. You grabbed onto his shoulders and dug your nails into his skin. “Please Max,” you panted. “Make love to me.”

Maxwell moaned at your words and pressed a quick peck to your soft lips before obliging and pushing himself into you.

"How does that feel?" Maxwell murmured, his breath fanning over your neck as he sat himself deep inside of you. You could feel every vein and ridge of his cock as waves of pleasure jolted through your body. You knew that the tales had described intercourse as pleasurable but you never imagined it could feel so good.

"I feel so full," you gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as your walls adjusted to his length. Max knew the second he started moving he wouldn’t be able to last long. He’d imagined this so much. He’d gone so long without sex. And you were so fucking perfect. "Move, please."

"Ngh— fuck, are you sure?" Maxwell asked, giving your breasts a gentle squeeze. You nodded and Max doubled out slightly before pushing himself back in with a wanton groan. He felt your cunt clench around him. "So fucking tight." he whispered. You bit your lip, wondering what it meant to be ‘tight’ and hoping he was enjoying it as much as you were.

"Is that okay?" You asked, holding onto his bicep for support as he pushed a few shallow thrusts into you.

"More- more than ‘okay’ honey. You’re amazing." He mumbled, his eyes snapping shut. You gasped as you felt every perfect ridge and vein rub against the inside of your walls. "You feel so perfect, sweet girl."

Max brought his hand down to your cunt and began to circle your clit with his thumb, mirroring your own previous actions. The pleasure flooded through your body and you arched your back as he hit your sweet spot. "Mmm," you couldn't even find words. You found your toes curling and your mouth slack as he throbbed inside of you. His fingers worked at you like magic and it wasn't long until your legs began to involuntarily shake. Max could feel your oncoming high too, when your pussy walls squeezed his cock, aching to milk him for all he had.

"Are you close baby girl?" Maxwell asked, his thumb speeding up and his thrusts becoming deeper and harder. “Oh you are, aren’t you?”

"Maaaax," you groaned, feeling your juices drip down his manhood as he fucked you faster, his balls slapping against your cunt.

"I'm close," He warned, gently biting down on your shoulder. "I'm going to count down from three and- and I want you to let go. Relax. Cum with me." Max ordered and you nodded your head against his sticky, sweaty skin.

"O-okay," you gasped.

"Three, two, one- fuck!" Maxwell exclaimed when your body limped in his arms and your pussy contracted around him, twitching as you reached your climax. He spilled his salty seed inside of you, painting your walls just like he'd painted the bathroom tiles when he'd masturbated over the thought of you previously.

“Oh my- Max, Max, Max,” you chanted as he slowly softened inside you before pulling out. You whimpered at the loss of his fullness and Maxwell rolled off you. You both spent a few moments to regain your breath and you felt his cum leak out of you. You curled up into his tan chest and pressed a kiss into his pink lips. “Thank you Max.” you whispered with gratitude, bumping your nose with his.

He was so in love with you, there was no question about it. If he could, he’d spend the rest of his life doing that. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. The thought of you leaving him was eating Max alive. Maxwell wrapped his arm around you and held you tight, just like he’d done so on the airplane. He wanted to tell you that he loved you, but if you were leaving, it might just make things worse. He leaned over to the nightstand and switched off the lamp.

“Goodnight honey.” he whispered as the room became enveloped with darkness.

“Goodnight Max.”

Taglists - let me know if you wish to be added!

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat

I Believe In Love: @thebloodrobin @greatvaluedazzler @bxxbxy @marydjarin @the-feckless-wonder @typicalnerd98 @biharryjames @thwiso @pedrolorian @julieteagk @starsandmando @kishie8 @supernaturalcat7 @depressedchillipepper @galaxypox @cocastyle @welcometothepedroverse @galactic-rhi @honestlystop @walkerchick007 @winchesterxxi @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @why-cant-i-hold-all-my-husbanda @criminalmind1927 @seasonschange-butpeopledont @lola-max-sugar @thesadvampire @wonder-jedi @eternallyvenus @way-too-addicted-to-anime @spacedaddydinn @fandommastermind @persephonequeenofthedead @computeringturtle @skullchik89 @ashamed23 @honimello @jaa1682-27 @savannah-elliott @drinkingwhileblogging @tanyaherondale @vonschweetz

#max lord #maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #ww84 #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

243 notes · View notes

mammonshuman92 · 4 years ago

Text

- Watched -

Mammon & GN!MC

** TW: Stalking, cussing, religion (ish? I guess?)

| part two | | part three |

It’s been nearly 6 months since you left the Devildom. You picked up where you had left off in the human world: college, work, home, repeat. Sure, you missed your family while you were away, but now your heart aches almost constantly for the new family you loved so much, that you had to leave behind. (Not that you really had a choice in the matter.)

As much as it hurt to leave the brothers, Diavolo was right. Establishing harmony and unity with the three realms won’t go over too well if one of the human representatives doesn’t go back to the human world, now will it? Still, it sucks. Life is so boring without all of them.

And quiet.

It’s not like you don’t talk though. Yeah, Diavolo has that rule in place where they have to take turns talking to you because “human’s lives are short” and they were “taking up too much of your time”, but that’s not really going to stop them, is it?

Well kinda, actually.

You can’t really argue with a direct order from the demon lord, after all.

Is it Asmo's day to call? You thought to yourself, trying to remember (not that you ever could) the schedule Lucifer came up with. Your own schedule was hard enough to remember.

You had been picking up extra shifts at work and staying late to study at school when you could. Finding any reason to stay busy or get out of the house. The deafening silence was too much to bear.

"I wonder when I can go visit? I should call Diavolo.." you said to yourself quietly.

You were walking home from your shift at the coffee shop near campus. The sun was just starting to set and the air was slightly crisp, causing you to pull your jacket a little tighter.

If it weren't for the brilliant pinks and warm oranges cast on the sky by the setting sun, it would've felt like a regular night in the Devildom. Memories of your last few days spent there came flooding back, bringing the sadness along with them.

In just one year, you had gotten so close to everyone, but you had gotten especially close to Mammon. He was responsible for you in the beginning of course, but the connection was undeniable (no matter how much he did deny it). He was a total simp for you, and you for him. It was rather cringey to everyone else. He could be a handful at times, but that tsundere really is a great boyfriend. Leaving him behind was... well, there's no words for it.

Rounding the corner, you could see your house perfectly. Now that the sun had gone down a bit more, it was getting darker and you were suddenly thankful that you remembered to turn on the porch light before you left.

You pulled your keys from your jacket pocket while climbing the few steps to your front door, and something caught your eye. Your stomach dropped.

Not again..

You plucked the folded piece of paper that was stuck in the screen door and quickly made your way inside, locking the door behind you.With a heavy sigh, you tossed your keys on the table by the door and dropped your bag on the floor beside you. You immediately went to shower and change not giving the paper a second thought.

Not everyone in the human world agreed with the Devildom exchange student program. After you and Solomon had arrived in the Devildom, there were numerous protests by a group much like the Westboro lunatics. They were without a doubt against the program and called for it’s immediate termination. Thankfully, their personal hatred was no match for the opportunity for the realms to find peace.

When you had returned, you noticed people whispering about you, calling you names and giving you dirty looks. You've even received quite a few pieces of hate mail. Granted, the people opposed to the program were very small in numbers, even if it didn’t seem that way. It didn't bother you though. Demons ended up being some of the most important people to you. Not to mention you were kinda in love with one of them. People could say what they wanted about the Devildom and about you, their words didn't bother you.

You were still towel drying your hair when your phone rang. Tossing the towel, you rushed to the living room to fish it out of your bag, Asmo's face popping up on the caller ID. You were right, it was Asmo’s night. You were secretly hoping it was a certain greedy demon’s turn to call (not that he doesn’t text you almost constantly.)

Asmo was the same as usual. Talking animatedly about this and that, gushing over new beauty products and outfits, filling you in on all the gossip you were missing. While he was rambling, your eyes fell onto the paper that was in your door. Might as well look at the newest piece of hate mail, right?

You began unfolding the paper, quickly giving Asmo an “omg!” about the gossip he was dishing (even though you hadn’t been paying attention.)

Upon seeing the contents, all the color drained from your face. You were sure your heart sank into your stomach, but you could hear the rapid beating in your ears. You suddenly felt hot, and the air around you seemed thick.

Then the adrenaline kicked in.

With shaky hands, you quickly checked the front door making sure it was locked, and headed to the back door to do the same. You rushed around checking the windows and pulling all the curtains closed. Everything seemed fine, nothing out of the ordinary. Still, that didn’t settle your nerves any.

“MC, dear? Did you hear me?” The sound of Asmo’s voice brought you out of your frantic state.

“Huh? S-sorry Asmo. I guess I s-spaced out.” You tried your best to keep your tone normal and steady your breathing, as to not alert him to anything. You really should give him more credit, though.

“MC? Is everything alright?” His tone was different, no longer playful and flirty. You could hear the concern.

Shit.

“Yeah, I’m fine. More hate mail is all. No biggie.” You lied. Maybe he would believe it..

There was a pause on his end, “You’re STILL getting it? Don’t they have anything better to do?” Good, he bought it. For now, anyway.

After about 10 more minutes Asmo said his goodbyes, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

This piece hate mail turned out to be something much worse than the run of the mill stuff you usually received. Inside there were pictures. Of you. At work, at school, the grocery store, ...outside your house. There was also a newspaper clipping that had a picture of you and your family, from when your parents first opened their bakery a few years back. There were red ‘Xs’ marked through everyone’s faces...

The only words scrawled inside read, “I’ve been watching you. You will pay for what you’ve done, whore. And don’t even think about telling your demon fuck buddies. I know everything about you and your family. It’d be a shame if anything happened to poor old Mom and Dad because their child is an unholy slut.”

You read it over and over, tears streaking your cheeks. Hate mail was nothing new, but now this? A stalker?

Maybe I’m just over thinking it. The other hate mail was spicy too. But these pictures... There is NO way I’m over thinking this..

“Regardless, I can’t tell the brothers.” You shuddered at what their reaction would be like. It would definitely make all of Diavolo’s hard work on the exchange program obsolete. It wouldn’t be good for any of the three realms. There was still a long way to go, but the program was a giant step in the right direction to obtaining peace and understanding. If dealing with some backlash and hate mail could help get closer to that goal, then for the sake of the greater could, you could handle it.

“For now, I will bear this burden myself.”

- {3 weeks later} -

“Are you okay?”

The simple question nearly made you squeak and nearly jump out of your skin. You turn and meet the worried gaze of your lab partner. You weren’t super close with her, so you knew your current state had to be bad if she was picking up on it.

God, do I really look that bad? You got a good look at yourself this morning, and yeah, you absolutely look that bad. But then again, you haven’t really slept in a few weeks. You had gigantic purple eye bags, your hair looked like a family of birds took up residence in it. Your skin was pale and lifeless, and you began skin picking at your nails due to the anxiety. You’d even lost about twenty pounds.

“Sorry, I guess I was spacing out.”

“It’s alright. It’s just- no offense, but you look awful. Have you been sleeping?” She asked, eyes scanning your face.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I'm fine. Promise.” You lied. She nodded and gave you a weak smile, dropping the subject for now.

You hadn’t really been paying attention to class today. Well, for the last several days, really. You’ve been putting in less effort for a lot of things lately. You’ve been slacking off bad at school and barely keeping up at work. Not to mention you never sleep anymore. How can you though?

You left class early and although it was still early in the day, you decided to skip the rest of your lectures for the day. You’ve always been a fantastic student, so taking a day off wouldn’t really hurt anything. And seeing as today was Thursday, you didn’t even have work today. Same as every week.

Upon arriving home, you were relieved to see that there weren’t any notes left for you. Yet, anyway.

Ever since the first letter a few weeks ago, they’ve been showing up constantly. Only a few times the first week or so, but now you get at least one every single day. They’re also increasing in severity. The sender seems to be becoming more and more unhinged with every passing day.

“Dirty demon whore!!”

“You’re a HUMAN!! How dare you taint your body with demons!”

“I will cleanse you and make you pure again.”

There was so, so much more. All of it growing more and more explicit with each letter.

The whole thing was taking a huge tool on you, but what could you do? Your family’s safety was on the line. You so badly wanted to tell Mammon of even the cops, but you couldn’t live with yourself if anything bad were to happen. Whatever this psycho had planned, you would gladly put yourself in the line of fire to save those closest to you.

The whole situation has also affected your relationship with Mammon and the rest of the brothers as well. At first, you tried to hide what was happening, but they started getting suspicious and asking questions. Always wondering why you sounded so tired and why you kept cutting their phone calls super short. You always rejected their face time requests, knowing that your drastic change in appearance would be alarming and alert them that something was wrong. Lately, you’ve barely talked to any of them. Especially Mammon. He’d be the first to figure out something was wrong with you and come here ready to fight.

That honestly didn’t sound too bad. You wanted nothing more than for him to hold you while you ugly cried. Breathing in his scent while he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

Your heart started to ache.

When you got home you decided to take a nice, hot shower to hopefully help ease some of your tension and possibly begin to get a handle on your quickly deteriorating self care status.

Once you felt somewhat normal again, you put on your comfiest pj’s (which included one of Mammon’s shirts) and plopped yourself on your bed in the fetal position. It was the only thing that kinda helped ease a tiny bit of the feeling that everything was spiraling out of control. The warm scent of your most favorite demon helped calm you.

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz*

Damn. I almost fell asleep..

You sat up, rubbing your eyes and reached for your D.D.D. on your nightstand. The called ID made your heart rate accelerate and your palms sweaty.

It’s him.

“Mammon..? I thought it was Beel’s turn to call?”

“I don’t care about Lucifer’s stupid schedule. I need to talk to ya.” His tone made him sound like he was on edge.

“Oh, ok. What’s up?”

He scoffed, “Really? You’ve barely messaged me back in three days. The last time I called, ya hung up after five minutes.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.” Every lie helps break your heart just a little more.

“You’ve never been too busy before. Besides, shouldn’t ya be in a class right now or somethin’? It ain’t even noon.”

“I left class early and I’m skipping the rest of the day.” You explained.

“..Hmm.” He replied, you could detect suspicion in his response.

It was quiet on his end for a moment.

“MC?”

“Yeah?”

“..Do ya got another boyfriend? Cause The Great Mammon is definitely better! And-and, I’ll kick their ass!”

“What? Mammon, no. One boyfriend is almost more than I can handle.”

“Wha- hey!”

For the first time in who knows when, you actually giggled. It felt so good.

“So, you swear nothin’ is wrong? You’ve been actin’ so weird.” His voice was heavy with concern.

“Yeah, I swear.” Lie.

As good as it felt to talk to him, you needed to end the call before he ended up dragging the truth out of you. If any one could figure out what was wrong with you, it’d be him. The two of you had spent so much time together, that you can practically read each other like a book.

“I gotta go, ok? I have work later and I need to get ready.” Lie. But, you needed to get off the phone with him before he suspects anything.

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded so defeated. You could almost hear him pouting.

After a quicker goodbye than you usually have when getting off the phone with Mammon, you fell back onto your bed with a heavy sigh.

That was a little rough, but he seemed to believe it. I hope this will all be over soon.

With that, you quickly fell asleep, lulled by the memory of your demon’s voice. Although you wouldn’t sleep long, at least you got to fall asleep to the thought of him.

*bzzz* *bzzz* *bzzz*

Geez, are ya gonna answer or not? Ya always pick up on the second ring when I call ya.., Mammon thought.

Finally, on the sixth ring, “Mammon..? I thought it was Beel’s turn to call?”

Man, hearing your voice is like music.

“I don’t care about Lucifer’s stupid schedule. I need to talk to ya.” His tone made him sound a little rougher than intended, but it was all the same. He needed to hear you voice.

“Oh, ok. What’s up?”

He scoffed, “Really? You’ve barely messaged me back in three days. The last time I called, ya hung up after five minutes.”

I miss ya like crazy. Ya keep avoiding me..

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy.”

Huh? But, MC is always busy doing somethin’ and it never stopped em’ before..

He started getting an uneasy feeling deep in his stomach. He could tell something was off, but he just didn’t know what it was.

Is it ...someone else? Nah, MC wouldn’t do that. ...Right??

“You’ve never been too busy before. Besides, shouldn’t ya be in a class right now or somethin’? It ain’t even noon.” He didn’t try to hide the pout, that he knew you could hear, in his voice. His own thoughts were beginning to hurt his feelings.

“I left class early and I’m skipping the rest of the day.” MC explained.

“..Hmm.” He hummed. Thoughts started swirling around in his head.

MC never skips school, not even at RAD. Somethin’ is definitely going on. And what’s with the short answers? MC always talks like crazy. Maybe they’re mad at me?

It was quiet for a moment while he tried to sort through his thoughts.

“MC?” He asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“..D-do ya got another boyfriend? Cause The Great Mammon is definitely better! And-and, I’ll kick their ass!”

“What? Mammon, no. One boyfriend is almost more than I can handle.”

“Wha- hey!” You giggled at his response. It was small, but he heard it. It made his heart swim.

All joking aside, he did believe you. Something was definitely not right with you though.

“So, you swear nothin’ is wrong? You’ve been actin’ so weird.” His voice was heavy with concern.

“Yeah, I swear.” Those three words caused his heart to sink.

That was a lie.. MC only says ‘I swear’ while tryin’ to act like somethin’ ain’t wrong..

He pushed his thoughts aside for the time being and continued the conversation. It only lasted a few more minutes before you started saying your goodbyes. Again, cutting the call short.

“I gotta go, ok? I have work later and I need to get ready.”

Hmm. Why does that seem weird?

“Yeah, sure.” He sounded so defeated.

There was, without a doubt in his mind, something going on. Something that would make you lie to him..

One way or another, he was going to find out.

“Mammon? Are you alright?”

Mammon was sprawled out on the couch in the common room. After talking to you, he was lost in his thoughts and feeling rather down. Beel passed by the common room on his was back from the kitchen when he saw his older brother. Noticing that he looked sad, Beel went to investigate.

Mammon looked up to meet Bee’s concerned gaze and with a sigh, he sat up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Mammon said, as he stood up to leave. Beel could tell he was obviously lying, but decided not to press the issue.

Mammon stopped a few paces away from Beel, and turned back around to face him.

“Hey, Beel. Was MC actin’, I don’t know, “off”, the last time ya talked to em’?” He asked the sixth born, thinking maybe you had accidentally let something slip.

Beel’s face seemed to twist up a little bit, and he nodded.

“Yeah, kind of. MC used to sound excited when I called, but now they hardly talk at all. And they used to send me pictures of the food they were eating and new recipes, at least twice a day, but it’s been about two weeks since the last one they sent.” He explained, sadness in his voice. While in the Devildom, you were his favorite person to eat with.

Mammon nodded at his brother, getting lost in his thoughts again.

So, it’s not just me. MC is actin’ strange with Beel too..

Neither of them had paid been paying enough attention to see Asmo enter the room.

“Mammon, there you are. I’m going out, and I need my new bag from Majolish. The one I let you borrow. And i swear, if you sold it-” Asmo stopped mid sentence when he noticed the sad state two of his brothers.

“Is it about MC?” He asked, nonchalaunt.

Mammon’s head snapped toward his brother.

“What do you mean? Did they say somethin’ to ya?” Mammon asked quickly, taking a few steps closer to his brother.

MC and Asmo always gossip with each other, so maybe they’d tell him somethin’..

“Calm down. MC really hasn’t talked to me much in the last month. I’m so hurt! Who else am I going to talk beauty products with? Lucifer? Goodness, no.”

“Asmo!” Mammon said loudly, trying to get the fifth born back on track.

“Oh, right. Let’s see.” He put a finger to his chin and thought about it. “Hmm. The only thing I can think of was during the last normal conversation I had with them. They said something about receiving a piece of hate mail. They said it was no big deal, but I distinctly remember MC seemed flustered by it. Which I thought was weird, considering it’s definitely not the first one they’d received..” Asmo explained.

Hate mail? MC has only mentioned it to me a couple times. Do they really get it that often..?

“How long ago was that?” Mammon asked. He felt like he was on the brink of something. Just a few more puzzle pieces..

“Hmm, it was right before MC started acting distant toward me. So, about three or four weeks, maybe.” Asmo explained. That’s around the time you had started acting weird with Mammon too.

“So, maybe something happened to MC.” Beel suggested.

“No, MC would tell us. ..Right?” Asmo questioned.

Mammon was so confused.

What is goin’ on with you, MC?

After talking with his brothers, Mammon holed himself up in his room. He didn’t really want to be around anyone at the moment. His thoughts were driving him crazy and giving him a headache. What was he not seeing? What piece of the puzzle was he missing?

He started going over your last conversation again, for the millionth time, looking for any kind of clue. But, you seemed normal. Well, your new normal, anyway. Distant, short answers, not giving too much to the conversation. What were you hiding?

It was something about the end of your conversation, but what was it?

He remembered your small giggle. The memory caused a smile to break out across his face. It gave him a tiny bit of hope that you were still there. That you still loved him. That whatever was troubling you, wasn’t making you forget them completely.

It was after that though. You had said “I swear”, which was a red flag, considering you only say it when you’re trying to convince him you’re ok when you’re really not.

He sighed, and rolled over on his bed. He looked at the alarm clock on his night stand, numbers glowing an angry red.

MC is probably at work right now..

Something caught his eye.

Today is Thursday... MC never works on Thursday. I guess the schedule coulda changed. No, cause MC specifically requested to always have that day off for some reason. Delivery day at their family’s bakery, I think. ...MC lied, again..

Then it hit him.

The small little lies. Avoiding all of them, even him for weeks now. Barely talking when you do answer the phone. The way you always sounded so tired and out of it.

It had something to do with what Asmo said about the hate mail.

“Hmm. The only thing I can think of was during the last normal conversation I had with them. They said something about receiving a piece of hate mail. They said it was no big deal, but I distinctly remember MC seemed flustered by it. Which I thought was weird, considering it’s definitely not the first one they’d received..”

Mammon didn’t even know that you’d been receiving that much hate mail. Sure, you’d told him about it a couple times, but he didn’t think it was that bad. Maybe it was actually pretty serious. Is that why you’d been so distant.

Mammon got up from his bed, and began pacing around the room. He almost had it figured out, he could feel it.

Asmo said MC seemed flustered, so it had to have somethin’ to do with the hate mail they received that day, since after that is when MC started actin’ weird.What if it’s somethin’ bad. Like, bad bad.

He stopped pacing.

The thought of MC being in danger was...

Mammon grabbed his jacket, where it was thrown onto the pool table and left his room in a hurry. He was on his way to Lucifer’s study, mentally preparing himself on the way. He was sure he knew what his brother’s answer would be, but he wasn’t going to just sit here. He needed to know that you were, in fact alright, with his own eyes.

I’m going to the human world. Whether Lucifer allows it or not.

| part two | | part three |

#obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me #mammon x mc

86 notes · View notes

youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 4 years ago

Text

Finally | Kakashi Hatake

✦ pairing — Kakashi Hatake x gender neutral!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 800-ish

✦ summary — you finally get Kakashi’s attention.

✦ request — Any chance you could do a Kakashi (naruto) smut w/ Prompt A35 and an age gap situation?

✶ A35 - “You may be attractive, but I’m not sleeping with you.”

✦ warnings — suggestive content and language, age gap, light fluff.

✦ author's note — I definitely need to practice writing Kakashi to be able to characterize him better. I ran out of gas this time so this is shorter than I intended.

════════════════════════

Your team and friends knew exactly why you dressed the way you did. Some still thought your feelings were nothing more than a little girl’s crush, and others, like Sakura, worried over your inability to let go of said crush.

You never intended on crushing on your sensei, why would you? But then you saw Kakashi-sensei for the first time and how couldn’t you?

So after the mission you quickly changed your attire, warranting lustful glances from a few of your friends and strangers alike.

You knew you were attractive, perhaps not for the same reasons or in the same ways that other people around you were, but attractive at the same level and with your own qualities.

There was just a small problem: Kakashi had never reacted to your attractiveness. He praised your abilities and was supportive of you, but that wasn’t what you wanted from him.

“I told Naruto to deliver the report himself.”

“He’s injured,” you explained, not quite lying. Of course Naruto wasn’t gravely harmed, but he had been injured in the mission.

Kakashi hummed. “Leave it on the desk.”

You whined lowly. His eyes should have been on you, not on those stupid papers.

“I know why you dress the way you do,” he said, turning the page. “You may be attractive, but I’m not sleeping with you.”

“I am not a child.”

“Never said you were. But I watched you grow up, it would be inappropriate.”

“Worst things have happened in this place. I can name a few if you so desire.”

Kakashi sighed heavily. Unbeknownst to him, his exasperation only made you want him more. Call it selective hearing or whatever, but the fact that he said it would be inappropriate implied that he had thought about it before.

“You could have any guy your age,” he reminded you.

Oh, you had had a few, he knew that very well. “It’s okay if you don’t want me, but please stop feigning concern for my romantic and sexual life.”

That made him look up. You couldn’t read his semblance, not entirely with the mask, and for once his gaze was blank.

You felt exposed as he eyed you up and down. Finally. A twinge of self-consciousness made you stand taller as his unwavering gaze picked a spot on your body.

“Take a seat,” he commanded.

You obliged.

Kakashi pushed his chair back and rounded his desk, watching you like a hawk. Once his knees brushed yours, he stopped.

“When did I say I didn’t want you? Hmm?”

You looked down. He ignored all your advances, what did he want you to believe?

Kakashi gripped your chin with one hand, forcing you to face him. “I asked you a question.”

“You’ve never shown interest in me.”

“Because it’s inappropriate.”

“I’m an adult.”

He didn’t disagree. “A very needy one at that.”

His eyes fell to your form. “Are you wearing this for me?” When you didn’t answer, Kakashi placed his free hand on your thigh. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” you mumbled.

He dragged his hand up, caressing his way to your waist and slipping towards your back. Pushing you to stand up, he brought you onto his chest as he leaned against his desk.

“Did all your friends see you on your way here?”

You took a shaky breath, nodding.

Kakashi hummed. “I figured as much.”

You didn’t dare to ask what he was talking about. Not because you were intimidated but because you didn’t want him to snap out of it and push you off him.

Yet he didn’t seem to have such a thing in mind — not entirely. He did let go of your face. His eyes stayed on you as he pulled his face mask down.

Unabashedly, you stared at his lips. He rarely allowed you to see him without his mask. Such a shame when he was so handsome.

He finally pulled you into a kiss, lowly whimpering when you wrapped your arms around him and took control.

Recovering quite quickly, he switched places with you, pushing you against the edge of his desk as he tickled your mouth open with his tongue.

He toyed with the hem of your top, although he didn’t follow through by lifting it up. It drove you crazy. He finally wanted you and instead of taking you, he dived to tease you as though he hadn’t done as such for years.

“You wanted to be treated like an adult, didn’t you?” he asked, staring at you dead in the eye while his hands continued exploring your body, fondling with anything he got a hold of.

You hummed before biting your lip, unable to speak without moaning.

“Use your words. Come on, you can do it.”

“Y—Yes.”

“So good,” he murmured while groping your breasts, “so good for me.”

“Kakashi,” you whined.

“Ah. I always liked the way you said my name,” he said casually, canting his hips forward to put emphasis on the type of effect you had on him. “I’ve wondered for a while if you’d scream it just as beautifully.”

You rubbed your crotch against his. “Why don’t you make me and find out?”

#kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake x plus size reader #kakashi hatake

106 notes · View notes

infinitegalahad · 4 years ago

Note

Uhmmm hey I hope you had a nice day! I saw the reqs are open so I was wondering if you'd write yandere prompt 19 with Speirs? 🥺👉👈

TYRANT FOR A WAR PIG

Summary: When Speirs had made a promise to you he'd do anything for you; he not only meant it, but proved it-with blood on his hands. Prompt: "Killing for you is my favorite hobby."

Word-Count: 5.4k

Warnings: PLEASE READ! Sexual assault (not done by Speirs; but the rest is), blood, guns, manipulation, stockholm syndrome, stalker like behavior, violence, forced-ish marriage, oh and some suggestive parts (with consent bc consent is sexy) BUT this is VERY DARK. BE WARNED.

Notes: Hello anon-I had an okay day! I got a little carried away with this prompt. You asked for crazy and here is our murder daddy-with a tint of angst *knocks over the whole bottle*. Anyways, this was beyond fun to write. Now it's time to write my modern euro paper and drool about everybody's favorite war criminal. Enjoy! ❣️

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @easy-company-tradition @liebgotttme @50svibes @ricksmorty @pennyllanne

Masterlist | Send A Prompt!

With the sounds of muffled, pained grunts and the gurgling of blood in the room right next to year, you were finding it hard to focus on the ongoing game of Go Fish. You slugged in the uncomfortable chair as you looked down at your legs-your once neat red dress covered in dirt and all ruffled all, your neatly done makeup all smeared with a red mark on your cheek, and your thighs turning yellow-new bruises beginning to form.

Whenever you’d heard a noise, you’d shut your eyes and flinch. Right in there was not only your assaulter but a killer. He was a drunk replacement and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whoever this drunk replacement was, he had one thing on his mind-you. He held your arms down as you kicked and screamed, attempting to rip your dress open. You kicked, fought, spit, and did whatever you could to get the fiend off of you. He responded back and left you with purple and red marks all over your body and face. Chuck had been driving by and attempted to break the situation up, but was met with a shot to the head. You didn’t remember much of the events after that besides the screams and blood.

Talbert threw his cards down in frustration and buried his hands in his face. Luz, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, held back a frustrated sigh.

You looked up, and you could see Luz's face of frustration rotate into pity. There was a small cut right under your eye. The blood was dry, and you didn’t even care to wipe it.

“Come on, let’s just play cards. That sound good?” Luz bargained, holding up the cards. He was desperately trying to lighten up the mood and distract the two of you, a man who might lose his best friend and a woman who was sexually assaulted, away from the commotion in the other room.

Talbert was being stubborn and stood up to catch a breather. Luz let him go and turned his gaze back to you. You had a poker face on-a minute away from bursting into tears. Your arms were shaky and your eyes warm and watery as you grasped onto the ends of your torn dress at the commotion coming from the other room. It played out in your head-easy company, surrounding your bloodied and beat abuser, taunting him.

“Y/n,” Luz gently called. He stood right behind you, holding out a cigarette back.

You looked up and wiped your eyes. “M’fine.”

“Yeah, and I’m back in Rhode Island,” Luz held out a hand, “There’s a bedroom upstairs. I’ll make sure you are as snug as a bug.”

You accepted Luz’s kind offer and took his hand. He helped you up and led you up the dark stairs to one of the bedrooms. It was a small quarter with a floral wall print, pristine sheets, and slanted walls.

“There’s a shower and some fresh clothes. I mean, if you wanna be a paratrooper at least.” Luz stated, adding some of his humor. You faked a subtle smile and thanked him before he headed out, leaving the door creaked open.

Tears began to stream down your eyes. You fell back and buried your face into a pillow. You felt disgusted with yourself. You felt dirty, untouched, a total whore. It wasn’t your fault-but that didn’t mean you still couldn’t carry the guilt on your shoulders. As much as you fought back, you still came out traumatized, scared, alone. The screams, the blood, it was all too much. You just wished it would go all just go away.

As you found yourself unable to shed more tears, the loud sound of a door slamming open caught your attention with booming footsteps. You slowly rose from the pillow and rubbed your eyes, hopping off of the bed to peek through the crack. Talbert and Floyd before stood up to walk over to the incoming figure-Ronald Speirs.

Your heart dropped as your nails dug into the door. The infamous captain who gave out free cigarettes as a “last meal” to German POWs, the infamous captain who ran through Foy like the madman he was, the infamous captain nicknamed “sparky” and “killer, the infamous captain who was nice to nobody-except you.

You were terrified of him; yet intrigued. He certainly wasn’t afraid of the enemy and didn’t mind shooting at them. It seemed that nothing scared him, and everybody accepted that. He was a killer, and you were simply a soldier who hated seeing blood. And yet, somehow in the grand scheme of things-Sparky had an obsession with you.

The two of you were so different and yet he followed you around like a lost puppy. Maybe it was because you were the only woman and he felt obliged to look after you, but you never knew and simply played along in fear of becoming like a German POW. You were assigned to follow him around. You got used to him and noticed how he was a magpie and psychopath. He showed you kindness and wasn’t as harsh to you as other members of easy company, and was insanely attractive, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating. Over time, you found it less scary to take a cigarette from him or be close to him.

You saw Speirs walk in with a blank face, but anger burning in his eyes.

“Where is he?”

Talbert stood up and walked towards him, “How’s Chuck?”

“I said-Where is he.” Speirs reiterated, sounding more annoyed.

“How is he doing?”

“Where is he!” Speris boomed as he shoved past Talbert and into the room. His scream made you jump, goosebumps appearing fresh over your body.

You were too far to hear the conversation, but you could hear Speirs’s low voice and the drunken replacement choking on his own blood. Once things had died down, your shoulders had loosened as you let out a sigh.

A gunshot rang through the room, causing you to jolt upwards. The sounds of a body thumping to the ground came from downstairs-and you knew what room it was coming from. Your heart sunk into your stomach as you came to realize what had just occurred.

The first night in Austria had sparked again in your mind. You and Speirs both sat on the Balcony, overlooking the beautiful Austrian lake and mountains that shimmered in the moonlight. There was a peaceful silence between you as Speris stood right next to you; dangerously close with his arm and legs breezing against your own arms and thighs. He made you look at him and he made a promise to you at the time that baffled you completely-but now had made sense.

“I would do anything for you,” He confidently stated, resting his hands on your shoulders. His thumb caressed the bare skin and went lower onto your back.

You raised an eyebrow at the sudden remark. Speirs’s dark eyes were burning into your soul. Feeling obliged you respond, you spat on what was on your mind.

“What do you mean?” Your voice shakes, along with your body. Was this it? What had you done wrong? It was better to accept that you were dead now.

Speris tightened his grasp onto you and pulled you close, “I would. I want you to know that, y/n. Understand?” He gently growled. Your bodies were close-and tight. You gulped and nodded your head. Once he loosened, you wiggled out of his arms and headed back into the ballroom with the rest of the drunken Easy company. You looked back once to see Speris standing there, a shadow covering half of his face as he looked at you-his features soft with an obsessed look in his eyes-like the way a hunter looks at its prey.

When Speirs had made a promise to you that he’d do anything for you-he not only meant it but proved it-with blood on his hands.

You could hear a silence followed by Speirs, asking Luz or Talbert where you were. With goosebumps overtaking your body, you stood up and backed towards the bed, gently sitting on it as you looked down at your shaking, bruised legs.

Oh, God-whatever mess you were in, you were certainly going to be stuck in it-especially with Ronald Speirs, who lived up to his childish nickname of “The Killer.”

The door slammed up and you jerked your head up to see “The Killer” in all of his glory. His hair had been ruffled and messed into its gorgeous glory, his shirt was two buttons loose and showed off the dark hair on his chest- His sheer appearance sent goosebumps all over your body. Once he entered the form, his gaze averted tight to you-unable to move with a fixed gaze.

“You’re here,” He said with a sigh of relief. Turning to close the door, he began to talk. “I was worried about you.”

You didn’t respond. Once the door clicked close, he threw his cap and gun to the bedside and sat right next to you. His fingers tenderly titled your head in his direction. You didn’t want to look at Speirs-and simply see what wrong he had done. You knew he was insane, but this-it was another step, especially since it was a personal matter. You attempted to yank your head away, but his grasp became firm.

Speirs’s thumb’s caressed the side of your cheek. “You’re hurt,” Speirs acknowledged. He seemed disappointed-you were left in a room all by yourself with no ice, bandages, nothing. He scooted closer to you, “Y/n. Answer me.” He pulled you closer to him, his voice in a low and dark growl. You grabbed his grist and shoved him off as you nearly fell off the bed, but caught yourself, and backed up against the wall.

“You killed him. Put a gun to his head and shot him-” You spat as bits of saliva came from your mouth. Your finger touched your chin to reveal a warm, red liquid. Looking down at Speirs’s hands, they were covered in them. It only made you feel more enraged than you already were. “-Murdered him in cold blood. You monster. How could you do that? Just shoot them and...” You buried your face in your hands as a sob escaped your mouth. It felt like someone was standing on your chest; the pain, the guilt, everything- it was unbearable.

Speirs knew that if he wanted, he could have held you down. But he didn’t want to do that, especially to you, his guardian angel. You had already been hurt tonight, and he didn’t want to add onto that by accidentally bruising you. He was well aware of his infamous reputation and power over others-everybody was scared of him, all accept you.

The two of you were opposites; one was a war criminal, the other someone who felt guilty for killing even if it was justified. You made Speirs believe that there was an ounce of good left in his world. You were the most beautiful woman Speirs that laid eyes on; your pretty pink lips, your soft (y/s/c) skin, your flowery scent, your long and soft locks, you must have been a fallen angel, lost in a wicked war. He was obsessed with you, and it became harder to hide his obsession with you-especially in Austria. He stole jewelry, expensive dresses, perfumes-anything to make you smile. Seeing your face brighten at the gifts made Speirs’s lip’s uncomfortable as a smile would form on his lips-which was uncommon. You were always beautiful, but in Austria-you were truly no longer an angel in disguise. You had blossomed and spread your wings.

Speirs rose from the bed and looked perplexed; like a lost puppy. He was saddened by your sudden jerk away, seeing the raw emotion and hypersensitivity that you displayed. Furrowing his eyebrows, he titled his head.

“Do you think a man like him deserved to walk around? Do you know what else he could have done, y/n? Would you want to see more dead soldiers and battered women?” Speirs coldly denounced, “Just another useless body of oxygen. And as for a monster,” He took slow steps for you, a low growl, “I’m no monster compared to him. Be careful with your words. Do I make myself clear?”

Like a stubborn and misconceiving child, you looked away and squinted your eyes, holding back your forming tears. Speirs was insane, but he had a point-the replacement had to be stopped, but it meant taking a human life. The blood was all over Speirs’s hands, and he had no issue with it. You, even though you had been hurt, did. And it frustrated you.

Speirs walked right up to you and slammed his fist into the wall. You jumped away at the loud noise and he exploded at you. “Do I make myself clear, damint!” He bared teeth, his face flushed red. You could feel his heavy breaths right on you, just a foot away. Fidgeting and sweating, you were scared. You backed away into another wall, your hair falling in front of your face. Your legs were shaking as you tried to hold something for comfort. But once you couldn;t find them, the tears had finally overcome. Big tears ran down your cheeks as you let out a sob, falling down as you buried your face in your hands. Your world was finally dark-and all you wanted to be was ok and not scared, confused, alone-all those horrible feelings that you were currently stuck with.

Speirs saw that his fit wasn’t helping the situation. He saw that you were hurting, and he wanted to pull out a wand and make it all disappear, he wanted to see you smile again, but he didn’t know how to do that and it made him not only mad at the world but himself. It broke his stone-cold here to see you on the floor, sobbing your eyes out, a complete mess.

Speirs walked over and bent down your level. You hadn’t even noticed, lost in your loud sobs. He gently put his arms around you and brought you close to his chest. You had looked up from your darkness to see Ronald with a sympathetic look in his eyes. Instead of pushing him away and calling him a monster, you fell right into the monster’s grasp. The beauty falling for the beast. Falling in his chest, Speirs gently sighed as he secured you in his protective grasp, letting you sob into his chest as he stroked your [y/h/c] [y/h/t], comforting you.

Speirs's grasp was comforting to you. Unlike the replacement, his touch was loving and kind, not forced and harsh. He kissed your hair and stroked it, whispering soft reassuring words as you cried into his chest.

“Shhh,” He cooed into your hair, his fingers getting entangled in your long, silky locks. “You’re here with me, Mo ghràdh. I promise you that nobody will ever hurt you again-ever.”

Once your tears had faded, you leaned in his chest and looked up at him. A faint smile appeared on his cheeks as he caressed your cheek, his other hands playing with your hair, which smelt of the flowery perfume that he had stolen for you. The aroma drove him madder than he already was.

“Do you realize how beautiful you are?” He stated as he wiped away spare tears. You tried to look down in embarrassment, but he held your chin. “You truly are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Too kind and good for this world.”

“Thank you…” That is all you could mutter. You felt comforted and secure in Speirs’s hug. “I’m not innocent.”

Speirs bite a smile back, “You say that, but you are. This world is a terrible place, and they don’t deserve an angel like you. Too good, too kind, too pretty for this war.” His words were becoming possessive as he grabbed your head and held it to his shoulder, his fingers once again stroking your hair until it reached the middle of your lower back. “Have you heard of Hades and Persephone?”

You were confused at the analogy but nodded. “Hades, the lord of the underworld and Persephone is his wife, no?”

“Yes. Hades was alone in the underworld and saw Persephone on the surface, picking flowers. He was so in love with her that he took her down to the underworld. She was unhappy at first but grew to love him. She made him a better person,” Speirs told as he averted his gaze down to you. Once you realized the analogy, you felt your heart drop. Speirs had an interest in history and would blurt it out when he pleased. But now that it had affected you, and you didn’t know how to take it.

“Ron…” You said, speechless. Was this his confession?

“Y/n, my pretty little angel, I love you,” Speirs confessed with his pupils enlarged and cheeks red, his hand resting on your lower back as he pulled you close to his face, “From the first day I saw you, I knew I was in love. You’re too good for me, but just like I said, Persephone made Hades a better person.” His hand ran down your neck and noticed a fresh bruise, placing a kiss right onto it. “Isn’t it obvious?” His nose buried into your soft skin, “You smell nice. You’re wearing the perfume I gave you.”

“...you left that there?” You questioned. The dresses, the jewelry, everything had been left for you in your room-it was all from him?

“Of course, angel.” Speirs planted a kiss on your neck, “Remember the promise I had made to you?” He left a trail of kisses on his neck, leaving marks all over your pretty neck to make sure the world knew that you were his angel.

“Anything…” You held back a moan as he dug hands into his messy hair. His hands wrapped around your waist as they picked you up, taking you to the loveseat. He placed you down as he leaned on top of you, passionately kissing you. He loved to see you so flustered and red, caught in his grasp.

You looked down at him with your red face and stuttered, “That man…the one who hurt me...you…”

“Killing for you is my favorite hobby,” He stated with pride, “And I’d do it again for you, until the end of time. Nobody hurts you, ever.”

Your eyes widened with horror as your hands fell down into your lap. Speirs had shot him, for you. It was his way of expressing his sick and twisted obsession, or his “love” for you. He grabbed your hands and held them close to his chest.

“Say it,” He demanded.

“Say what?”

“Say you love me.”

You shook your head as Speirs’s face became dark once again. The kind and loving Speirs was forming into the possessive and aggressive one that had killed for you.

“Fine. You need time, I understand,” Speirs sighed and stood up, leaving on alone on the loveseat. Running a hand through his messy hair, he grabbed his hat and threw it back on. “You are to stay in this room and not leave for any reason”.

You rose through the chair, baffled. “What?”

“You heard me the first time. You will not leave this room under any circumstance.” He reiterated.

You shook your head and walked right past him, “You’re not my mother.”

Speirs grabbed your wrist and twisted you around to face him, a hand on your lower back.

“But you are mine. You listen to me, angel.”

Just as you were about to break away, a faked cough interrupted your intimate session. Both of you turned to see Eugene Roe, the quiet medic, standing at the doorway with widened eyes. He had seen most of everything that had occurred.

Speirs looked at him with annoyance, “Yes?”

Eugene looked at you with his big sad eyes before turning to Speirs, clearing this throat. “ We think ‘there's a docta’ in ‘da town ‘overah that can ‘help Grant. Rather go sooner 'than later.”

Speris sighs and nods. “Fair,” He let go of your hands and began to walk towards the door to leave, only to see Eugene look over at you. Eugene witnessed something he was not supposed to see occur, and now he was worried for you. You looked back at him, your eyes pleading for him to go, but he stood there and looked at you.

Speirs had noticed the strange behavior and tapped Eugene on the shoulder as he looked back at you. “Eugene, did you see y/n when she first arrived?”

Eugene looked over at Speris with a glance and nodded, “Yesir’. Why ask?”

“Because from the looks of it, she’s got cuts and bruises all over her body, and yet she doesn’t have a single bandage or ice pack.” Speris noticed with a disappointed look. “What do you have to say to that?”

“Sir, I had no idea-“ Eugene put his hands up, “I was dealing’ with a dying’ man while you were guilt tripping’ ‘day poor ‘girl ‘inta ‘luvin yah.”

Speirs towered over Eugene and was about to bark at him, but you interviend.

“Please, just go save Chuck’s life. That’s all I ask you to do,” You pleased with the men, “Ron, do it for me. Please..” Eugene looked at you as his eyes screamed for you to say no, but you exhaled and looked at him. “I love you…”

Speirs didn’t hesitate and pulled your head into his, leaving a quick peck on your forehead. “Oh, Angel...don’t worry your pretty little head. I’ll be back soon. In the meantime, you take care of yourself. Okay?”

You nodded and watched Eugene and Speirs leave the room. Eugene looked back, but Speirs grabbed his shoulders and forced him to walk on. You closed the room and leaned against it, letting out a sigh as you buried your hands on your face, wiping your red eyes.

You should have known this whole time that Speirs was in love with you-it was as clear as day. The gifts, the looks, everything-it was all for you. Now you were trapped in his gaze, unable to leave it. He had left marks all over your neck just to mark you as his and only his. The outfit you wore and the perfume were especially from him. He truly was in love with you, and you had claimed you were as well.

You wanted to love Speirs since he comforted you in your worst moments, but he was obsessed with you and would do anything to have you as only his.

But it didn’t matter. Just like Persephone had eaten the pomegranate seeds to tie herself to Hades, you had said those three fatal words that tied you to Speirs. There was no escaping or leaving. You were Speirs’s guardian angel, bound to him. His and his only.

———

May 8th not only marked Victory in Europe, but it was also the date that Speirs had proposed to you in front of the company. You accepted, even though you hesitated to do so. In the crowd of drunken men, your eyes met with Roe’s worried ones. What you had wished was a rumor about Speirs shooting the drunk replacement wasn’t true-but it all was. The man refused to talk in front of you since you were his fiance, but that didn’t mean that their whispers weren’t loud enough for you to hear.

Speirs saw no time to wait to get back to the states and wanted to get married right in Austria. You simply stood there and smiled, just following along. The two of you had gone from technician to lientaunt, friends, lovers, and eventually, fiances in the span of five years, and yet even though he was your betrothed-you were still scared of him. You knew he’d never hurt you, but to think of the blood that stained his hands-all of the lives he took regardless if they were good or bad-it always made you think what he was capable of.

But you could tell that Speirs knew about the rumors and the fear he spread around. He could’ve been serious or could've done conversation actions simply for shock factor. With you, he wanted to spend every second with you, whether that be stealing new jewelry for you or drinking your days away in the Austrian sun. With you slung in his lap, he’d talk to you about the life he had planned for the two of you; a nice house in Massachusetts, a dog or two, maybe children, and some travel to Europe.

Sure, he knew that he was moving fast in your sudden relationship, but Speirs loved you more than anything in the world, and he made it clear. You truly did love him, but you found it hard too since he was a killer. He had no issue with violence and death. Maybe the war had made him numb, but down the road, it would affect him down the line-and so with you. How would you tell your family that your future husband was not only possessive of you and kept you always by his side, but that he was a war criminal? A killer-and prideful.

Your wedding was intimate and set by the lake. Everyone was dressed in their new uniforms, showered, and looking cut. You wore a white dress that had “magically” appeared in your bedroom-you knew it was Ron, but you chose not to ruin the surprise. He would, in his words, “borrow” outfits and bring them to you along with matching jewelry, shoes, and whatever accessory he could find for you. He refused to let you deny it and you simply wore the outfits.

Just like he had promised you a thousand nights ago, in his speech as he held your hands under the moonlight, he promised that he would do anything for you. Blood flashed upon your eyes and it made you look away. Once he had said his vows, it was your turn. Looking down, you could feel a sweat overcome you. In the busy crowd, Roe’s eyes met with yours. He always looked down, and became good at hiding it, but his eyes screamed “it’s not too late”. Ron squeezed your hands, impatient for those simple words that would bind you and him until your dying days.

You were conflicted-you loved Ron, yet you were scared of him. What he was capable of doing and his obsessive love for you.

Letting out a sigh, you looked up at Ron and put on a smile to shield the nerves that ran down your body. “I do.”

And it was settled-you were a married woman. Ron pulled you close and placed a kiss on your lips, tender, but his tongue fought for entry. The company simply clapped and cheered for you. The two of you walked down the aisle, hand in hand to the reception.

Once the crowd had passed you, it was just Ronald and you, in the dark hallway. You looked to the side, thinking about your decision. Was it right, or were you walking into a death trap?

“Y/n,” Speirs said your name in a sweet voice. You looked over and put on a smile not to worry him. He took a minute to examine your features, the makeup you had put on, and the jewelry that he had stolen-just for you-his wife.

“Is Doc bothering you at all?” He questioned as he slowed down his walking to a full halt. “He kept looking at you.”

You felt your heart drop a little as you let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your head. “Not at all. He’s just a friend.”

Speirs looked annoyed with a dark look in his eyes, “He should keep his nose out of our business.”

“Ron,” You insisted. The last thing the two of you needed was another person missing or dead and more rumors to follow along. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Then stay away from him. He’s bad news.” Ron stated, his arm pulling you close to his shoulder. Your eyes widened as you bit your lip. Eugene had done nothing wrong and was a case of the wrong place, the wrong time. He had tried to talk to you, but you distanced yourself. It was for his safety, not yours. Holding back a sigh, you looked at your husband and nodded.

“I will.” You lowly promised.

Ron’s gloomy expression twisted into a smile as he patted your head, placing a kiss on your forehead. “That’s a good girl,” His hand stroked the top of your head as he looked down at you in admiration, “I don’t mean to be so harsh-you know I’m just looking out for you.”

You fought the urge to use his logic against him, but you bite your tongue to loosen the tension. “I know you are, and I appreciate you making me feel safe. Thank you, love.” You caressed your knuckles against his sharp cheekbone. “Can we move past this now and celebrate?”

With no words spoken, you and Ron headed to the balcony to celebrate with your friends. It was full of alcohol and food. You and the company sat at a long table and drank, sang, and cried your hearts out. Ron and you had decided to leave early and headed back to your room. You wished you had stayed behind and had said hello to your friends, but Ron had dragged you out. He wanted the ceremony to be as small as possible, and it was time for you and him to have alone time. Ron was well aware of the situation that had happened recently. Seeing you walk down the aisle, all cleaned up and pretty for him, made him go mad. He made sure to be gentle with you, asking every minute if whatever he was doing was ok. He wanted to make sure that you were enjoying the experience. It was hard to be gentle with you, but he wanted to learn how to.

Your clothes had been thrown all over the floor along with the sheets. You laid near the headboard as Speirs held your hips, gently thrusting into you. Your moans and cries of his name and “Liteuant” made his cock throb. Despite everything he had done, in that moment, you loved him.

Blast, you were stunning, even in the dim lights of their bedchambers. Sweat glistened on your smooth skin, and your already-growing breasts that he had paid great attention to were still reddened, rising and falling with each heavy breath. Her hair was spread out in curls on the pillow, and your smile could warm a thousand worlds. And inside her lay would lay life that Ron would help create.

Ron didn’t balk down from his feelings. This was y/n, his wife. And in this moment, despite the confusion and fear, he was glad to be with her.

“Then they would be jealous,” he told her, thrusting back and forth. “Jealous that I have you while others cannot, jealous that we created something special that they could only ever dream about. Y/n, I love you. I love our baby. I love our family.”

Suddenly, you let out a little grunt, and Ron felt that tiny jolt in her.

In reality, you had froze. He had climaxed in your and fell down right next to you, pulling you into a sloppy and wet kiss as you held onto your hair, your nails digging in. He was jealous and passionate for you and only you. Ron wanted to make the world know that you were his wife by all means, which meant hovering over you like an overprotective mother with their child.

You were a free sprint who was known for your independence and stubbornness. That part of you wanted to rebel against Speirs’s tight grasp of you.

And yet, you had already chosen your fate. You were in love with a tyrant, a criminal, a killer. You had made a promise to him that you could no longer look back on and change, and Ron knew that. He wanted to keep you, his little wife, at his side at all costs.

#ronald speirs #ronald speirs x reader #Ronald Speirs imagine #band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #carrie's writing #hawt lardy #this was a RIDE to write #hbo war

120 notes · View notes

dankmyfarrik · 3 years ago

Text

The The Faults Below Our Skys | Chapter 12: The Obligation

Masterlist

Summary: After accidentally winning the Dark Saber from Moff Gideon, Din begrudgingly finds himself the ruler of Mandalore. He has to do many things to appease the warring clans including marrying a beautiful bride. | Post Season Two.

Read it here:

(Personal Preference)

Wattpad

Archive Of Our Own

Individual Chapter Warnings: Sex and alcohol (not in a malicious way), but I know this is a trigger, so stay safe! FLUFF is very sweet and self-indulgent, p in v, oral (female receiving).

Word Count: 4.8k ish

Authors Notes: I know this took a bit… I wasn’t really in the mood to write a few bits but one rewatch of Narcos season 2 episode 3 and here we are! Enjoy!

"Another shipment will be dropped tonight," the man bowed, "My Manda'lor."

Din nodded; glancing at Celeste next to him, she sat up straight, listening intently as if her own life were on the line. Every time he sees her, he hates himself just the slightest bit more. She actually cared about the world around her, and Din has just been using her to 'get off' as quickly as possible instead of showing her the pleasure she deserved. She didn't deserve to be used. All for what? A baby that will be just as unhappy as her? It made him sick; his hands balled into fits as he directed his anger at the man in front of him.

A man who would not stop talking.

"Thank you, Admiral," Din interrupted, hoping he would finally take the hint and leave.

With loud steps, the Admiral eventually left the meeting room, leaving them alone with Bo.

Not that that was necessarily any better.

"It looks bad you two have not visited Keldabe since your marriage."

Celeste's eyes lit up. Din smiled below the helmet, she did not speak of her old home often, but he could hear the passion behind her words when she did.

Bo continued, "When it is more stable, I will arrange a visit."

"Thank you," Celeste all but whispered in disbelief.

A smile creased Bo's eyes but was promptly replaced with a grimace, "Don't thank me yet. We have to take care of Wren and the miners first."

Din looked down at the mass of papers and holo letters in his hands and got to work.

—-

Celeste looked down at the negative test in her hands. She let out a shaky breath.

She didn't know why she denied herself in sex - why she requested him to hurry. It was stupid and not the way the world worked but… she felt as though it would make it real, not that it wasn't already, but that if she allowed herself to enjoy something, for once—enjoy him—then she would surely be looking down at a positive test instead.

As if that would make a difference.

And she knew she wasn't ready for a baby yet. Sex yes, she was mostly uninvolved. But a child? A living, breathing human that she would have to be responsible for and watch suffer through everything that happened to herself? Because the child wouldn't be treated any differently than her.

Her child also wouldn't be able to marry for love.

No. She doesn't want that to happen. So she shouldn't have a baby, and she shouldn't enjoy sex.

At least she recognized her emotions were misplaced. People like Bo were completely blinded by their feelings. Like when Bo told her she loved her when that obviously wasn't true - even if she let her go back to Keldabe for a trip.

Celeste's gaze had wandered to the window, past the ivy which clung to the frame, past the city below the palace, but to the concrete wall sky. She tore her eyes away, never wanting to be reminded of the dome for long. She rarely thought of it, but when she did, she missed Keldabe all over again; at least their dome was glass.

At least she could see the sky in Keldabe.

A knock at the bedroom door thankfully pulled her away. When she answered it, she was staring straight into the 'T' of his visor.

"Good Evening." Celeste cast her gaze downwards, "How is Keldabe?"

Maybe she felt terrible; she didn't ask him about his day after she had left the meeting, how he was doing, or any of the things a good partner should ask their spouse: she just wanted answers.

He stepped further into the room and removed his helmet to better eye the dish left for him. There were bags under his eyes, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted.

"Intel says the resources we are sending are subduing the immediate need, but… I don't know how long we can keep it up."

A lengthy silence then, "Celeste, I know you love them, but- we are trying to single-handedly feed an entire city."

Unspoken: Trying to feed a city, hundreds of miles away, with no substantial political support.

She felt a weight sink deep into her bones. Celeste wanted to scream, cry, make him understand that he promised her. He promised her he wouldn't let them starve.

Her husband was the Manda'lor, king of the kriffing planet! Why was this not accomplished with a snap of his fingers!

"But I will try," then softer, "I promised."

Celeste vehemently shook her head. Why was he so kind to her? She had little to offer him in return.

"Thank you. Really, thank you for everything."

He gave her a sad smile with those soulful eyes.

—-

He ate while they carried on a small conversation.

She was just waiting for her opportunity to tell him. Until finally, he finished the plate.

"Still no, baby," she murmured. Celeste could tell he was thankful she sprung it on him twice now after he had eaten.

He scanned her face intently. "Okay."

Then her husband stood up, walked to a cabinet with an assortment of drinks and glasses, and haphazardly grabbed the closest one. He set it down in front of her, where she was sitting at the table with a startlingly loud wobble.

"Drink."

"What?"

"Half the bottle- we're going to make the most of it."

He had mentioned alcohol before, saying it would make their situation… easier.

"Our bodies aren't our own, and you want to make the most of it?!" She blurted before stopping herself, probably hurting him again, but it was the truth. And it went for him too, which she had rarely considered in her self-loathing.

"I want you to be satisfied."

"You want me to get plastered, so I relax and enjoy sex."

"Yes - I'll do the same." Celeste didn't know if both of them drinking would be a smart idea. Her experience with the drink mostly revolved around champagne or wine at fancy parties with fancy glasses to soothe the egos of the rich. Like at her wedding. Now in real parties, where the volume was noisier than a murmur above a piano, she had no familiarity with. But she had heard about them from outside the palace - when drinks were involved, fights broke out. Repugnant, Bo had called them.

"You don't strike me as someone who drinks."

"I don't," he nudges the bottle slightly, eyeing its contents with a judgemental gaze.

"Not ever?" That seems hard to believe, even if he didn't come across like a rambunctious party goer. "When was the last time?"

"I don't drink." He sounded almost defensive.

Celeste was determined now, he must have, rarely, but still, she wanted to know. Warriors drink to distract themselves from the pain; surely, he was similar. Celeste wanted to learn more about him, and this may be a good start.

"I'll take a sip if you tell me."

He hesitated for a while weighing his options, "Alright."

A long pause. She counted his breaths, one, two… five… eight. Without the helmet, she thought she could discern his emotions. She was wrong; this was too complex to interpret. Frustration, sadness, longing - it was all a complicated mess to untangle.

"The night I won the Dark Saber."

The day he became the Manda'lor?

She looked back at him blankly, "And?"

"Drink - I gave you your answer." His sudden smug grin in contrast to the sadness made her furious.

"You have to give me more details! Or at least ask me a question now."

He nodded in acceptance but pushed the bottle over to her; the drink smelled sweet and sickly. It was an amber color, which she was thankful for. She had seen glasses of electric blue and green in the cabinet, which made her stomach churn. Celeste took a sip, feeling the burn on her tongue. It was not as sharp as she had expected despite the look of it. Mostly sugar. Not that she had a plethora of knowledge to differentiate. She assumed this 'game' was supposed to be done with something stronger, but neither of them appeared to have any real form of tolerance, so the results would still be the same.

"Why do you prefer Keldabe?"

She answered honestly and bluntly, a response inspired by him, "It's not plastic."

He looked as though he understood but was equally as frustrated with her unresponsiveness as she had been. He took the bottle from her and had a sip as uncertain as hers. His brows furrowed, and he gave a look of distaste before setting the bottle back in the center of the table.

Now she had her opportunity for him to elaborate: "Why was the last time you drank the night you won the saber?"

With a long-drawn breath, he shakily released it. His eyes locked to hers.

Celeste learned about the bounty gone wrong— Grogu— the same baby which made him renowned for saving from the empire. Recalling the memories, he took the bottle from her again, breaking the rules of their stupid charade, and took a long swig. And another. Before speaking, the pain evident in his voice.

"I loved him."

The Manda'lor loved a little baby. The same Manda'lor, which thrust the blade of the Dark Saber through a man's throat the moment they met, loved a little green child.

"And I gave him away to a stranger."

Celeste reached her hand out to where he was still gripping onto the bottle: resting her hand on his. She didn't know what to say, so she did not say anything at all - from what she could tell, he preferred the quiet: moments to connect with people through actions instead of words.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

Losing his child was possibly the worst thing that had happened to him. And here she was throwing a fit because she didn't want a baby. Maybe it was an unfair comparison, but she couldn't find the will to care.

He lightly squeezed her hand from where she was holding it.

How could she have ever thought he was a monster?

"Why is Keldabe your home?"

She smiled, warm and genuine, and he did too. She told him how she could run and run without hitting a dome for what felt like miles. She told him how the air was fresh, and the water was crystal. There were mosses of all kinds and trees that stretched as far as the eye could see, and there was warmth from the real Mandalorian sun.

A quick tear fell down her cheek, blushed from the drink. He quickly swiped it away with his free hand.

She told him how Leo loved it.

How there were animals there. Animals that belonged there.

No trimmed bushes. No artificial lighting. No imported marvels to display.

"We will visit soon," he assured with a smile.

She echoed, "We will visit soon."

The bottle slowly emptied as she learned more about him.

His favorite color is green, not the color of his child as she had teased but a deep, forest green like Keldabe.

He knows three languages but is working on improving his Jawaese.

He had a pet Massiff when he was young, which reminded him of Leo. She would have loved to meet her.

He lost track of how many planets he had been to after 200.

He had seen deserts, forests, jungles, oceans, tundras, wastelands, salt flats, asteroid fields, and warzones. The last of which was at far too young of an age.

He had a spear.

He didn't have a favorite song.

He prefered the meals and hot showers at the palace but hated the crown, cape, title, and saber.

He would have done anything to keep his Grogu safe.

He was nothing like she, or anyone, had assumed.

He was kind.

——

Din opened a second bottle just to learn more about her.

She preferred the rain.

Her favorite season was spring.

She hated corsets but still wore them anyways - it made him furious. But she said it was expected.

She read out loud to Leo when no one was around.

She sometimes sang in the shower.

The next bottle was forgotten to the side. Her hand still fit perfectly in his.

She liked moths more than butterflies.

She preferred stories with bittersweet endings.

She also liked the food at the palace.

Her favorite animal was a fox but he thought he should have asked anyway.

She genuinely loved the ring.

She had never seen the stars without glass in the way. He was going to change that.

She wasn't just a sad, scared girl with a pretty face. She was passionate about the world around her.

She cared.

Din's eyes drifted across her face, her cheeks almost the color of her hair. For her 'turn,' she asked, "What's my last name?"

He held his head with his free hand, "hmmm?"

"Everyone still calls me by my family name… Kryze. I never s'found out what it was changed too when we married."

Oh.

She must have seen the shift in his expression or the way he lifted his hand from his palm. Trance ended. She tried to correct herself - fidgeting slightly.

"If you don't want to tell me, or wait till we're sober—"

"Djarin."

A breath.

"Your last name is Djarin."

Her eyes widened along with her smile, and in her burst of excitement, "What's s'your first name?!"

Then the same regret as moments before flashed across her features.

"I ask the next one, remember?"

She nodded in acceptance. That question had clearly been in the back of her skull for a while now, and he had some he wanted answered from her.

It was only fair.

"Was I your first kiss?"

She shook her head dramatically, the drink evident in her mannerisms, "No, you got beat by a servant boy a s'few years back. You were the second, though."

She leaned closer to him. He could see her freckles better.

The sudden curiosity of his first name was momentarily set aside, which he had expected.

"Was I your first kiss?"

"Yes."

He didn't give her time to process before he closed the gap, pressing his lips to hers as soft as he could muster - always afraid he might break her.

She kissed back.

Din almost lost it when she lightly squeezed his hand, which they were still holding on the table.

But he pulled from her for a moment, like leaving heaven. Because he had one more question, he needed the answer to.

"Why did you tell me to hurry?"

He needed to know this wasn't a sick way to appease him since he was her 'Manda'lor.'

If she would let him show her a world of pleasure.

She broke from him further, avoiding his gaze, and leaned back into her chair.

"It's stupid."

"No. It's not."

"I feel like," she looked down, "like if I… let myself have this. Even for a moment. There will be a baby."

Their eyes locked, hers red in the corners, "I'm not ready for a baby."

The promise of an heir is the only thing keeping either of you alive. If they see no future by using you, they won't hesitate to—

Din didn't know for sure what Bo was going to say after, but he had assumed the worst. A realistic assumption.

His heart broke all over again.

But she kept staring into his eyes. Searching. Seeing something he did not think was possible without words.

"But we have to." She didn't ask it as a question. It was something she saw. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Or maybe she knew the wife of the Manda'lor was not given a choice. He wanted to burn this place to the ground.

And give her everything.

"Celeste, you are allowed happiness."

She gave him a faraway look as if she did not truly believe his words.

Oh well, he supposed he was just going to have to show her instead.

In a flash, his hands locked to her hips, and he pulled her up to his lap. He kissed her cheek, nose, and lips as she adjusted to the new positioning.

The kisses were desperate and rough, but he craved the closeness.

They paused for air; there was a moment she just looked at him, doe-eyed. Eye's that saw him for who he was without the helmet. He pressed their foreheads together, noses touching.

"What's your name?" the whisper of her lips touched his own.

"Din."

She kissed him this time. Desperate.

Their mouths moved together, and she never complained about the sure scratch of his facial hair or how he was probably too rough or how—

"Din," she broke from him, breathing heavily, "would you kiss me in that spot where I told you not to before?"

When she says his name, how could he ever say no?

Din picked her up by her hips and hauled her onto the nearest thing he could find: the liquor cabinet. Although, really, it was just a fancy dresser.

He shoved a bottle out of the way, and it clattered to the ground, forgotten.

She opened her legs to accommodate him as she sat on the dresser. He kissed her lips one last time before promptly dropping to his knees.

Her dress was white, ruffled, and lacey.

Easy access.

Din ran a hesitant hand underneath and hooked a finger on her underwear. He looked up at her, and their eyes met. If he thought her eyes were big before, it was nothing compared to now. But now, her pupils were blown.

And he didn't want to think about how they hadn't been like that before when they had tried.

He tugged, and in one motion, the undergarment dropped from her legs.

Din kept eye contact, wanting to be sure, as he nudged the dress out of the way. He ran a finger along her, and a tight grip found itself on his shoulder. He opened his mouth to ask, but she nodded and gripped him harder.

The helmet prevented him from a lot of opportunities, this being one of them. But they were both inexperienced and he was hoping he could make up for it with enthusiasm.

Maker, he has always wanted to try this.

He kissed her inner thigh. Then the other one. And closer and closer.

Celeste's gasp was very audible.

He hummed in encouragement - wanting to give her some comfort since he currently couldn't see her. Celeste was soft and tasted like honey and morning dew. He ran an ungloved hand along her thigh, slowly drawing to her center.

Her soft whimpers became more frequent; the senses were overwhelming. Touch, taste, sound. He couldn't get enough.

His hand drew closer, and with a long lick, he slipped two fingers inside.

——

Celeste didn't realize her body was capable of feeling this good.

Her hands gripped onto his shoulder, knuckles white.

She couldn't control her pants and gasps - it was embarrassing, but he seemed to relish the noises.

And, well, frankly, she was too drunk to care.

Celeste strained her head to look down, legs shaking and vision blurred in the edges. But she couldn't see him because of the stupid dress in the way.

With great strength, she yanked her grasp from his shoulder, removing her bearings but with a purpose.

Celeste pulled the light white fabric upwards to reveal the scene hidden below, and she nearly sobbed. Pleasure shot straight deep inside of her. He sucked that spot she secretly loved while his fingers pumped in and out of her and then curled.

"Din," she inhaled, wanting any excuse to use his name again. He hummed, and the vibration speared right through her.

Her hands dropped the dress and flew to his hair. Maybe tears were falling. The fingers curled again. "Maker, yes, do that." They had always been nearly silent before and now she wasn't able to control herself; the gibberish pouring out of her without Celeste really thinking, "Oh, kirff that's nice."

It was better than nice.

Her legs were shaking, and perhaps her whole body was shaking as a hand grabbed for something on the cabinet to hold but nothing was quite as delightful as his hair.

He sucked even harder, and his hands curled in harmony. Celeste let out a choked off cry, tears streaming from her eyes and her back involuntarily arched - head flung back. Stars streaked her vision, the most brilliant and bright she had ever seen. Free from a lense.

Celeste stayed in the stars and clouds for a perfect moment.

Until she was brought back down to Sundari and into his arms.

"Maker," she whispered, boneless against him, "what was that?"

"You've never…"

She shook her head, and his eyes widened. He kissed her forehead and brought his arm against her, holding her and running his fingers through her hair. Although Celeste couldn't see him she felt his chest expand, the cold beskar pressing against her. "I apologize I would have—"

"No!" she cut him off, "Don't do anything differently s'that was…nice."

But she already knew it was so much better than nice.

He nodded against her and kissed her, tasting herself on his swollen lips. His nose found its way to the crook of her neck, and his hips rolled… there was a hardness there - he must have been aching for her. Pleasure once again found its way deep into her bones and she wondered how that was possible when she had been exhausted moments ago.

But Maker, he was still hugging her and fingers subconsciously in her hair, despite his own need: helping her recover from being in the stratosphere.

This was the first time she knew without a doubt - if none of the obligations existed, she still would have wanted him.

"Din!" She grabbed his hand, pushing off the dresser, "Let's go for a walk."

She loved his name on her lips; it felt so natural, she wanted any excuse to say it again.

Celeste picked up his helmet where it was tipped over on the table and pushed it on his ruffled hair, hiding the dazed, confused look he was giving her. But before it was on all the way she pressed the lightest kiss she could muster on his bottom lip.

She was giddy from the alcohol and the high as she walked them both out the door.

—-

Din followed her like a lovesick puppy.

But the guard at their door was somewhat confused. More accurately terrified to repeat what happened last time they had left their room at this hour. Only now, they were actually tipsy rather than pretending, and instead of taking a direct left to the hanger, they were bumbling in the direction of the library.

Or maybe the guard noticed the way Celeste's dress clung to her legs slightly more than earlier, with her slick nearly at her knees. Or maybe his length, which was bulging in his flight suit, making his pants unbelievably tight.

Either way, they were left undisturbed.

She brought him to a place only around the corner he had not yet seen before. There was a small fire burning with a couch, a bookshelf, and windows to see the city below.

She pulled him closer and whispered where his ear was behind the beskar, "Din, would you have me against the window?"

His cock jumped. The drink definitely made her more forward.

"Nebula?" He rasped, but she seemed to understand. Nebula was supposed to be holding a blaster to his neck every second of every day, right? Surely she would see. And the guard down the hall, the servants in their quarters, the city below them…

Well, frankly, he was too drunk to care.

And it wasn't exactly like Celeste was protesting.

"Helmet on or off?"

"Whatever you are more comfortable with." Despite her smile, Din knew she preferred it off because he did too.

Kirff Nebula, he wanted to kiss his wife.

Din hooked a finger under the rim and pulled upwards, his hair was a mess, but she ran her fingers through it anyways. She smiled, taking him in as if it was the first time she had seen him.

With one hand on her hip, he pushed her backwards until she bumped up against the glass. She inhaled sharply. Din's other hand, still clasped on the helmet, dropped it by his side as he met her lips once more.

One palm was placed on the window above her head, and he felt the cool glass in contrast with his burning skin.

She wrapped both her legs around his waist - her hot core now brushing his infinitely tight flight suit. He yanked his pants down, allowing their skin to touch. She was still dripping from her orgasm, the memories of which gave him a wicked smile: Din had always wondered if he was talented with his tongue.

He pressed their foreheads together, "Is this still okay?"

She nodded profusely and wrapped her arms around his chest - clinging to him.

He pushed inside, their foreheads still together as she welcomed him without a hitch. His eyes clamped shut as they stayed like that for a moment before he gathered the will to move - gently rolling into her. Each time she let out these wonderful small gasps that he kept trying to pull out. He hated how she didn't do any of that before.

She made a louder noise and tried to muffle the sound between his pauldron and neck. A wonderfully failed attempt to be quiet.

To any onlooker, it would be obvious what they were doing; but the details of which were completely hidden behind his cape and her dress.

She clung to him even tighter now and whispered his name mixed with a gasp. He should have given her his name sooner if this is how she uses it.

Her breaths quickened, and her whispers grew louder. He rolled in a specific way he knew she liked, and that threw her straight over the edge. Her back arched against the glass, and more tears came from her.

The pace quickened, and the way she came back to her senses and tightened around him -nearly a strangle- pulled noises from him too.

Even if he was close: it still wasn't fair yet.

He had used her twice before this. She came once with his mouth and then again. They needed to be even.

"One more."

"Wha—"

Her perplexed expression left her immediately as his hand circled - her jaw unhinged, brows pulled together, and her eyes squeezed shut.

And just like magic, her back was arching off the glass again. Celeste resurfaced to his quickened rolling hips and a smug smile.

Her slick and warmth were inescapable, and he felt the draw.

Then in the calmest voice he had ever heard from her, "You did show me the stars."

Shit.

She deserved to see the real stars too.

But how could she when she was stuck here with a baby she was terrified to have?

I'm not ready for a baby.

Kirff.

And he would be responsible.

Blinded by the drinking and the high on the fringes of his vision, he refused to think about Saxon or Bo. If someone was stupid enough to go after the Manda'lor's wife - they would get the Dark Saber through their skull. She was scared to have a baby, so that's that. Fuck anybody who thinks otherwise.

His hips stuttered, and he pulled from her - stroking himself, one, two, three times. And then saw the stars she was talking about.

Din collapsed onto her; her legs dropped from where they were around his hips. The warmth gone.

They were both breathing heavily when he fully returned - still holding himself in his hand.

"Wait, why. Why did you just do that?!"

For a second, he doubted himself. What if he was wrong - and now he would have to subject her to this all over again.

"I thought you weren't ready… and I… I'm sorry," Din rarely ever apologized, but he felt he couldn't do anything right when it came to her. He took his cloak to wipe it away. He had dirtied her.

But when he looked back up at her, she was smiling from ear to ear.

"So we just had sex to have sex. No baby?"

"Yeah," the thought occurred to him too, "Yeah, I guess we did."

Taglist

16 notes · View notes

funkylittlebard · 4 years ago

Note

👀 hey, how's it going

I would like to request, for the sensory prompts, 46. The waver in a person’s voice when they’re stressed

Dealer's choice for pairing (or lack thereof)!

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

Hello! Thank you so much ahh

It took me a while, but I have finally done the thing. Hope you like it!

Modern AU plus they’re at uni because why not, Geralt & Jaskier being good pals, hurt/ comfort ish featuring ADHD Jaskier and lowkey autistic Geralt

CWs: he’s stressed and a bit panicked, but that’s about it.

edit 17/05: Now also on Ao3

“Hey, Jask, are you ready to go?” A voice called from outside his bedroom door. Jaskier blinked, staring down at the papers littering his desk in horror. He looked at the time in the corner of his laptop- 19:32. Shit. Fuck. That couldn’t be the time already. Oh cock, when did it get to be so late? he thought to himself as he leapt out of his chair, knocking it over in the process and panickily shoving all his papers into a messy pile- fuck, how am I going to find anything later- shit-

“Jask? You alright?” Geralt was still waiting outside. Jaskier’s eyes widened and he clutched at his hair desperately, pulling at it and making it stick out at wild angles. Well, answer the man damn it, it’s not his fault you can’t do anything on time! He screwed his eyes shut, trying desperately to stop panicking- it was making his eyes water, and he shoved his palms to his eyes to try and control it.

“I- I’ll be out in a minute,” Jaskier could hear his voice wobbling- there was no way Geralt was going to believe that. He tried again. “Really I’m fi-ne,” He choked on a sob halfway through the word. He whined and pushed his hands harder against his face. Slumping down on the floor by his desk, he ignored Geralt’s continued knocking and the increasingly nervous sounding tone of his voice, as he tried again to just calm down.

“Honestly, Geralt I’ll be out in a minute.” His voice wavered- there was no way he could get this essay finished and go out tonight, but he had promised, so he had to, didn’t he, he’d already said-

His door eased open, and he saw wisps of Geralt’s white hair poking around the frame.

“Can I come in, Jaskier? We don’t have to go out tonight if you don’t want to?”

Somehow, Geralt’s considerateness only made Jaskier feel worse. He could feel tears slipping out behind his hands. He brought his knees up to his chest and shoved his face down between them, sniffling quietly. He nodded into his legs, not trusting his voice to remain steady.

He felt Geralt sit next to him. They sat in relative quiet for a moment, the only sound Jaskier’s hushed sniffing as he tried to hold back tears. Eventually he heard Geralt clear his throat awkwardly.

“What happened, Jaskier?”

He opened his mouth to try and speak, but all that came out was a hiccup. He moved his head from his arms, and was met with the sight of Geralt’s knitted brows. He swallowed, heavily.

“Essay due tomorrow at 12.” That awful, vulnerable quiver was still in his voice. Traitor, he thought bitterly. “Got distracted. Thought I could get it done in time but I don’t know what happened.” He sniffled again, miserably. Geralt was looking at him so tenderly, with such concern in his soft brown eyes that Jaskier felt like crying all over again at how much he had bothered his friend. Geralt shifted from his spot on the floor so he was balanced on the balls of his feet. He looked as uncomfortable as Jaskier felt.

“Do you umm… do you want a cup of tea?” Geralt said, his eyes pleading. If only because he thought it would make Geralt feel better, Jaskier nodded and let out a shaky breath. Geralt wandered out, leaving the door open behind him. Still feeling jittery, Jaskier pulled himself to his feet and set about tidying his desk properly. By the time Geralt came back, he was still stressed, but feeling much calmer than he had been five minutes ago, and at least now his desk was in order. A cup of tea was placed next to him, and he smiled nervously at Geralt.

“Sorry,” he said, voice still not entirely steady, “about that. I- I didn’t mean to worry you.” Geralt just smiled at him, getting himself settled comfortably as he sat cross-legged on Jaskier’s bed, clutching his own cup of tea close. Jaskier could smell the cinnamon of the spiced blend his flatmate preferred. The simplicity of the moment calmed his racing mind further- he’d sorted his desk, now he just had to organise his thoughts, and then it would be fine.

He turned back to Geralt. “You don’t have to stay, you know. Go have fun without me.” He hid behind his cup, taking a long sip as he waited for Geralt to reply. Geralt was frowning back at him, head tilted to one side, looking thoroughly puzzled.

“Well, I want to, Jask. What's this essay about anyway?” Jaskier watched as Geralt hid behind his own cup, and looked down at the skirting board to avoid Jaskier’s eyes. He smiled reflexively and sat down in front of his computer, pulling up the document he needed.

“You're really gonna stay in with me just because I left my work too close to the deadline and got stressed about it?” Geralt nodded at him, face suddenly very serious.

“Of course I am. Will talking through it help at all?” Jaskier’s eyes lit up at the mention of it. He sat up straighter and grinned at Geralt. The other man had a way of pulling thoughts out of his head so clearly. Feeling much better than he had when Geralt knocked on his door, he carried on.

“Oh! Yeah, absolutely!” He spun his chair to face Geralt and started rambling excitedly.

“So the question is about medieval instruments, right…”

#they are simply good pals who drink tea together and i love that for them #geralt #jaskier #the witcher #witcher fic #my writing #i sure hope thats the tag ive used for my whole 4 fics so far lmao #who knows #sensory prompts

29 notes · View notes

somedayillfindit · 3 years ago

Text

C!Beeduo Actually Talk About Their Feelings

i know it’s crazy

they basically talk after the last lore stream where they like fought?? ish?? idk. they like communicate.

slight warning because tubbo’s not the most canonically mentally sound, and so there’s so his pov is a little heavy on the self-hatred and catastrophizing

anyway enjoy!!

Tubbo is laying on the floor, sketching a design for some project he’s probably working on, and trying to ignore the dread coiling in his gut.

Michael is laying next to him, studiously coloring in every square on a piece of grid paper with a different crayon.

Tubbo is trying to remember to breathe.

There’s a familiar knock on the door. Three quick raps, more of a formality at this point. It’s Ranboo.

“Papa!” Michael squeals, scrambling to his hooves and trotting to the door. He has to stand on his tiptoes to reach the handle.

Tubbo takes a deep breath.

Ranboo steps into the house. He does not look at Tubbo.

Instead, he swoops Michael up, spinning him up towards the rafters as he shrieks with joy.

“I missed you,” Ranboo says, smiling, pulling Michael close and speaking into his hair. Tubbo considers crying.

“Hey,” Ranboo mumbles to Michael. “Can you run upstairs and brush your teeth? Dad and I need to talk for a bit.”

“Gotta brush Chickie’s teeth too Papa,” Michael explains. Ranboo nods.

“Yeah, gotta make sure Chickie’s teeth are brushed. I’ll be up to read you a story in a sec, ‘kay?”

“Promise?” Michael asks, his voice getting a little trembly. Ranboo’s eyes widen, before he pulls back to look Michael in the eye.

“Promise,” he says, serious. “It’ll just be a bit.”

Michael nods surely, let’s Ranboo kiss his forehead and set him down, and trots to the ladder. Tubbo is alone with Ranboo now, and he suddenly remembers why he’s dreading this visit.

“Hey,” Tubbo says, and cringes a little at how hoarse his voice is.

“You wanted to talk,” Ranboo prompts, and Tubbo winces again at how far from the soft voice he was using with Michael this is. Usually, Ranboo can’t help but be disgustingly fond with Tubbo, and while he teases Ranboo for it, he misses it achingly now.

“Yeah,” is all he says, and it’s a struggle to even get the monosyllables out. But he does it, and then he gestures towards the couch, silently inviting Ranboo to sit, even if it’s only to prolong the inevitable.

Ranboo sits, thankfully, and nods at Tubbo, as if to say “get on with it.” Tubbo takes a deep breath.

“Okay,” he says because he doesn’t know where to start. And Ranboo is avoiding his gaze, and Tubbo really doesn’t know what to do with that. He’s gotten so used to getting to look Ranboo in the eyes that the lack of it is palpable, and for some reason, that’s the final straw.

“I’m sorry, ok,” he blurts, “I’m sorry, I know you’re mad at me, and I know I fucked up, and I know I deserve it, but I don’t- fuck, I don’t know exactly why you’re mad, and I know that’s dumb, and I probably- I should know these things, but I’m not good at this whole- whole life partners thing, and I’m sorry, but please, if you’ll just tell me why you’re mad, I’ll fix it because I hate this. And- and I want to fix it, and I just- yeah.”

He stops talking then, because what else is he going to say? That he misses Ranboo? That it physically hurts thinking about life without him? No. Fuck no. He’s being stupid and gross and selfish, making this all about himself, about how he feels, when Ranboo is obviously upset.

He doesn’t look up at Ranboo even though he’s done talking, because he doesn’t want to see if he’s angry. He wrings his hands instead. Usually, Ranboo would take his hands now, smooth his thumb over his knuckles, maybe press a kiss to the heel of his palm. He doesn’t.

“Tubbo,” he says instead, and his voice sounds resigned and pained and soft all at once and Tubbo is going to cry. “Tubbo.” He says it again, like he can’t help it. “I’m not- I’m not mad. At least not mostly. I just- I think we’re on different pages. About this. Us. About us.”

The floor drops out from under him.

Different pages. They’re on different pages because Ranboo doesn’t love him. What else could it possibly mean? Ranboo’s just in this for tax benefits, and for Michael. He doesn’t feel the same and Tubbo went and got all attached and clingy again, and he thought that the marriage was enough, that it was enough to get Ranboo to stay, but maybe now that he’s realized how pathetically needy Tubbo is he’s realized he can do better, and he’s leaving he’s leaving and it’s probably for the best.

Tubbo breathes in. He breathes out. If Ranboo wants to leave, Tubbo isn’t going to stop him. He won’t cry or beg or manipulate, because Prime knows Ranboo deserves better than that. He nods.

“Okay,” he says, and his voice is so small. He can’t bring himself to try again. “If you don’t want me- or this, or whatever, that’s okay.” He tries for a joke, and it just sounds miserable, “I mean, divorce exists for a reason.”

Ranboo doesn’t laugh. Tubbo braves looking up at him through his fringe. He doesn’t look angry. More like confused. What?

“What?” Ranboo says.

“What,” Tubbo says.

“I don’t want a divorce?” Ranboo says, not sounding entirely sure.

“You don’t?” Tubbo asks, internally cursing the swooping hope that he can’t quite tamp down in his chest.

“No,” Ranboo says, sounding more certain this time. “I kind of though you wanted to divorce me?”

“What?” Tubbo says, because he’s not following this conversation at all anymore. “Why would I want a divorce?”

“Because,” Ranboo says, and now he’s the one wringing his hands. Tubbo resists the urge to reach out and hold them. “You sold the Cookie Outpost. And you seemed so, like, adamant that this was for tax benefits. And like, I get it if it is-” He sounds like he’s going to keep talking, but Tubbo isn’t going to let him.

“This wasn’t ever just for tax benefits, dummy, that was a joke,” Tubbo says. “We don’t pay taxes.”

“Yeah, but we might have to,” Ranboo says, like he’s not quite sure why he’s arguing.

“Okay, maybe, but I wanted to marry you so you wouldn’t leave me,” Tubbo says, quietly, because he sort of hopes Ranboo won’t hear it. “I don’t even know how taxes work. And I’m sorry, because I kind of manipulated you into this, and if you want out, I get it, but I do really mean it now,” he says, and he tries, just a little, to meet Ranboo’s eyes, because he should know how serious Tubbo is. “I want to be married to you, and I want to spend my life with you.”

Ranboo looks up at him through his eyelashes.

“Really,” He breathes, like it’s foreign and impossible.

“Really,” Tubbo says, because it’s so true.

“Oh,” Ranboo says. “But you said- you said you’re happy now. Like more happy than you’ve been since L’manberg, now that you have this job with Quackity.”

“Yeah?” Tubbo says, because he doesn’t quite get why Ranboo would be upset about that, unless he had managed to convince himself that he didn’t make Tubbo happy. “Wait. Fuck. Ranboo.”

“What?”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t make me happy,” Tubbo says, and he reaches out and takes Ranboo’s hands, just to drive the point home. “You make me so happy. You and Michael and our little family? I can’t- I don’t know how to explain how happy you make me. I’ve just been going fucking insane here, playing with Michael and building nukes. I needed something to do, to like put my energy into. Not because you don’t make me happy, but because I’m fucking bored. I’ve had too much time to myself, and that makes me all paranoid and shit. Get lost in my head. I just needed to get out. Not because of you. Because of, like, everything else.” He squeezes Ranboo’s hands, to make sure he’s listening. “You make me happy, okay?”

“Okay,” Ranboo says, a little shaky. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Tubbo says, because he is.

“Okay,” Ranboo whispers. “You know you make me happy too, right?” He asks, in that fond, soft, sappy voice that makes Tubbo feel all melty.

“Yeah,” he says, trying to pretend like he isn’t blushing.

“Yeah,” Ranboo echoes, grinning at him. He meets Tubbo’s eyes, reaching up to push some hair off of his forehead. “Let’s go put Michael to bed?”

“Okay,” Tubbo says, and pulls him to his feet.

#this has been in my drafts for like a month #I thought it would be outdated really soon after i started it so i would have an excuse not to post it #but then the great lore drought happened #and i had plenty of time to procrastinate and still finish this #so um #yeah #here it is #writing that is mine #thats the tag if i hate it ill change it #tubbo #ranboo #c!tubbo #c!ranboo #dsmp #dream smp #im not second guessing this anymore hitting the post button

10 notes · View notes

chipsfics · 4 years ago

Text

part 6 2/2

2/2 is finally here! sorry for the long wait!

rated: PG-13 for swearing and crying.

Down in the basement. It's dark, musty, and everything is still covered in cobwebs. Once Tissues flicks on the light, the only thing that changes is the "dark". His brain is buzzing with activity- What could go there, what could he put here? So much wasted space in the hotel- and he was 99% sure that nobody else had been down here in a long time. He had to try and avoid being suspicious- But he'd already pretty much failed when Trophy caught him tiptoeing down the stairs to the basement at 7pm on a Wednesday. He went over to the covered-up couches and the chair surrounding the television set and small table- He carefully lifted up the sheets as if they were going to fall apart like wet paper towels. Underneath, the couch was the same dull orange-ish color as the rest of the hotel's furniture- probably a spare put down here. The furniture was suprisingly in pretty good shape, although the covers were kicking up a lot of dust that made his nose itch. He stifled a sneeze. The TV was tiny and old, but still a flatscreen- Looked like from when Meeple HQ was just dipping into television production. The small, outdated meeple logo on the power button confirmed his suspicions.

He picked up the cord attached to the back of the TV and plugged it into the small, dusty, offwhite outlet. Surprisingly, the TV almost immediately turned on with a loud startup jingle that just about made Tissues jump out of his skin. He walked over and looked at the screen, which had the old Meeple logo spinning on it's screen as it tried to boot up. Once it finally finished the startup sequence, the screen was on an empty DVD selection menu. "Hm." Tissues scratched his head as he continued to explore the area. What else could he fit in there? And more importantly, how would he get it down the stairs?

Tissues sat down on the couch and a puff of dust fluffed out of the cushion. He sniffed... sniff... achoo-! Tissues sneezed. Tissues pulled out his phone and started to browse online for something to buy to fill the room- He had a little extra cash, because despite being eliminated first, he was still compensated for participating in II. That, and the lawsuit against Mephone that OJ pulled a while ago got him enough money to last for a long time. A minifridge, a new game console, a recliner... too many options! He wanted to make this basement space absolutely perfect.

The more he thought about how hard it'd be to order all of this stuff and not have OJ- or god forbid, Trophy- notice what he was up to was leaving him puzzled as well. Maybe he needed to call in some backup... Or just do all these activities at night (although that'd be even sketchier if he got caught.) In a moment of frenzied impulse, Tissues loaded everything he was pining after into his online shopping cart and purchased them all at once. He turned off his phone and rocked back into the couch, processing what he'd just done. It was a bad idea, he knew that, but something about it was so thrilling. His heart was pounding- It was like he was making the hotel into his home, cozy underneath the earth, exciting and secret and all his. He was giddy.

After that brief moment of happiness, Tissues paused as he realized something. Oops. How was he going to pull this off? He scratched his chin, and another lightbulb went off above his head. To find someone to help him... He went back up the stairs, clinging to the handrail as he tried not to look backwards- He /has/ to find a way to get up the stairs without having to scale them. Yinyang was, of course, busy that day (with some kind of... event? He didn't say), so his only option was... sigh.

Cheesy was in his usual spot- loudly unwrapping and eating fun sized candy bars on the couch, throwing the candy wrappers on the floor after he's done with them. Tissues waved to get his attention.

"Hey Tissues, what's up?" Cheesy said, and looked around. "Where's your boyfriend?"

"He's not my-" Tissues sighed. "And he's doing something today. Listen, Cheesy, would you be willing to help me with something?"

Cheesy narrowed his eyes. "Like what?"

"Something... against the house rules," Tissues said. "It involves snacks! And TV,"

"I'm interested," Cheesy said. "I'm always down to cause some trouble. What exactly are we talking about here?"

"So." Tissues looked around. "There's a place in the basement that's completely unused, and already has chairs and a couch and stuff, and i'm planning to fix it up into a kind of secret hangout spot?"

"Hmmm, interesting..." Cheesy nodded. "Sounds fun! But how're you gonna pull that off?"

"That's what I need you for," Tissues said. "I ordered a minifridge, some video games, and a couple other things that i absolutely can't carry down the stairs myself- That's where you come in."

Cheesy looked deep in thought for a couple seconds. "I'm in. But you have to let me hang out down there too,"

"Of course! Just don't tell anyone, ok? Especially OJ." Tissues said.

"No problemo, Tissues." Cheesy said, winking. "Until then, do you wanna play Space Bubble with me? I need a player 2 to complete this level."

"Seriously?" Tissues said. "You wanna play video games with me?"

"Sure, whynot. It's not a huge deal," Cheesy said. "You seem like a cool guy."

"Ah, really? sorry, ehehe, It's just that, people don't usually want to be around me... on purpose," Tissues said bashfully, smiling, and grabbed the second controller. In his head, he was wondering when Yinyang was getting back. This game would be really fun with 3 players...

----

The next morning, Yinyang was still nowhere to be found. It'd been like this a couple times before, and Tissues wasn't too worried- They were probably just sleeping in or taking an extra long shower or something. He figured he'd be able to catch up with him later. Although, the thought lingered in the back of his mind- something was wrong. Was it him? Did something bad happen to his friend? He pulled himself out of bed all at once, stumbling a bit and catching himself before he fell, sniffing and sighing. Down the elevator, no Yinyang. Into the kitchen, no Yinyang. Past the living room, Trophy was sitting in Yinyang's usual spot. Trophy sneered at him, but Tissues was too busy with too much on his mind to really care.

Tissues took a deep breath. Into the basement. It'll clear his head. Stairs, step, step, stumble- whoops, back on his feet and step, step step again. Flick on the lightswitch. Vision blurs a little bit. Stress or vertigo? Doesn't matter.

Someone was sitting on the old couch, twiddling his thumbs, looking upset.

"Yinyang?" Tissues said, and he jolted up and looked.

"Tissues," He said, his voice was shaky.

"What- uhh, What're you doing down here?" Tissues said, sounding concerned, walking over and sitting next to his friend. "Are you... alright?"

"Umm.." Yinyang shifted in his seat, getting more choked up. "I... well."

"It's okay, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Tissues put his hand on Yinyang's, and he immediately melted into the gesture. "D-do you need a hug?" Tissues smiled sheepishly.

Yinyang wordlessly nodded and pulled Tissues closer into a soft embrace. He was shaking really bad. Clenching and unclenching his fists, gritting his teeth. Tissues pat him on the back. "Is there anything I can do to help..?"

Yinyang didn't respond. He was crying. They stayed in that hug for a long time before Yinyang stopped shaking.

Tissues pulled away, his eyes sparkling with sympathy. He pulled a tissue out from his head and handed it to Yinyang. "Here you- sniff.. go, buddy. Please feel better... It hurts my heart to see you cry."

Yinyang laughed. "You..." He sniffed, smiled, and wiped his face off. "Have to stop being so kind to me. I'll just end up disappointing you, or hurting you,"

"Wh.... no way..!" Tissues' eyes widened.. "I think- I... you're the only real friend I've ever had..! I love you and- and I really do care about you!" Tissues was getting choked up..

Yinyang laughed again, tears rolling down his face. "Dammit... this is what I'm talking about." Yinyang sniffed. "You're the only one who's ever cared about me, and it hurts- it hurts because I know that I won't ever be able to let you go." Something about Yinyang's voice was so sad.

"Stopp it- sniff, you're gonna make me cry too..!" Tissues wiped his nose, and paused for a moment... "and... sniff... You're gonna have to try really hard to get rid of me. I'm already imprinted on you like a baby duck you know like in the cartoons where-"

"Tissues, what the hell are you even talking about-?" Yinyang laughed. "You nerd...!" He punched Tissues on the shoulder.

"Aahhh, ahaha, oww.." Tissues smiled. There was a moment of silence. "Are you feeling any better... do you need to talk about anything else, i mean..?"

"ah.... Tissues." Yinyang sighed. "I'm so scared of scaring you away. But... there's something I need to tell you... I. How do I say this..." Yinyang took a deep breath, and seemed to have regained some of his composure.

"It's okay...! You can tell me anything..!" Tissues put a hand on Yinyang's shoulder, and he shivered.

"Tissues. I've never said this to anyone so ... i apologize if we mess up. But... I think I'm in love with you." Yinyang looked away in shame and embarrassment.

Tissues stared at him, wide-eyed, his face red. "W-wait. that's a funny coincidence, because.. Nobody has ever said that to me. Yinyang, I..."

"It's okay if you don't-" Yinyang sniffed, "Feel the same or, whatever. It's been forever since we were able to agree on anything, and it's kind of... terrifying. But i love you. We love you. And..."

"I love you too!!" Tissues stood up on the couch suddenly. "I was so worried you thought that I was hitting on you because I was and I was scared that you didn't like me like that and I just realized that i like liked you a couple days ago and-" Tissues rambled on and on...

"Shut up." Yang said. "Hey!" Yin scolded. "Now is not the time,"

Tissues laughed. "Sorryyy... I just got- really excited, and emotional, and I've never been in a situation like this and-..... just, wow. What does this mean? How does this work, are we like, boyfriends now?"

Yinyang blushed. "I dunno, probably. I'm too busy fighting with myself to learn how relationships work..." Yin laughed. "It's not... can we just... hang out down here for a little while...? I'm... still kind of processing. A lot of stuff."

"Of course..!" Tissues scooted up next to him and cuddled up to him. "I'm so scared, and happy, and worried, and sad, and just... emotional. Everything is changing."

"We're in it together," Yin grabbed Tissues' hand. "Thank you... for a lot. for everything," Yang added.

"I love you," Tissues smiled. "I love you too." Yinyang said.

Hotel OJ was a vague silhouette on the horizon when the sun finally set- millions and millions of uncertain years stretching before them, as inperceivable as the distance between stars.

#tissues #yinyang #inanimate insanity #ii #ii2 #tissyang #tissuyang #yissues #fanfic #fanfiction

49 notes · View notes

taxicabinmemphis · 4 years ago

Text

Red and Yellow on Your Wrist

Angsty Roceit Soulmate AU where you have your soulmate’s name on your wrist. Post-ish SvSR

Word count - 5,929

Pairing - Roceit

Warnings - No real happy ending, blood, self-harm, Roman has a meltdown, self-deprecation, mentions of murder but it’s just Janus being the angsty dork he is, please tell me if there’s anything else I should warn/tag!

“My name…”

No.

This couldn’t be happening. If Deceit reveals his name…

...they’ll trust him.

“My name is Janus.”

No! Wait…

...what?

His name is Janus?

Roman’s eyes widened in surprise, horror, and devastation. He didn’t need to look at his wrist to know the deceitful side’s name was the one written there. Unless it was Janice. Janice was a name too, right? Right, like a middle school librarian.

Roman laughed.

He laughed. Laughed, to lessen the effect of his name reveal, to show that the simple reveal of a name wasn’t enough to trust.

But it wasn’t simple, was it?

Because Roman laughed to throw suspicion from his realization too.

“Pfft, Janice. What are you, a middle school librarian?”

Yes, that’s all he was. A middle school librarian. Not some deceitful, half-snake, selfish, lying…

Not Roman’s soulmate.

i-c-e, i-c-e, i-c-e, i-c-e

“It’s a stupid name.”

Yes, it was. Deceit may not have parents, but who would name their kid Janice, if they only wanted to damn them to a life of stacking books for hormonal teenagers? A name so old, so out of style, so easy to laugh at, so out of touch…who would do that?

Who would name their kid something that would tie them forever to someone like him?

i-c-e, i-c-e, i-c-e, i-c-e

“Roman, thank god you don’t have a mustache. Otherwise, between you and Remus—I wouldn’t know who the evil twin is.”

Roman’s stomach dropped. His face contorted. Shock, pain, a stab to the heart. Why would Deceit reveal his name to him, to Roman, to someone he knew to be his soulmate, if not to tell them they were destined to love each other?

No, that couldn’t be it. If they were soulmates, why would he do that? Maybe his name was indeed…

i-c-e, i-c-e, i-c-e, i-c-e

No. He just wanted Thomas to trust him. He must have believed that revealing his name was the only way to truly get Thomas to trust him, to accept him. But that comment wasn’t a retaliation, a shallow insult.

It was Deceit telling Roman he didn’t want him.

It was a “Yes, you’re my soulmate. But don’t get any ideas.”

Because Deceit hated him. He must. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have said that. His soulmate—someone who was supposed to love him no matter what—hated him.

Was that even possible?

Deceit had just compared him to Remus, his brother, everything he didn’t want to be. Roman was heroic, light, kid-friendly, passionate, loving, protective, and above all, a good person. His brother was practically the opposite. He didn’t want to be him, to be compared to him. Deceit knew this. He knew how terrible that comment would be, how much it would hurt.

“Are you guys seriously going to take his side?”

“No, I…”

Why? Why were they taking Deceit’s side?

Roman is good. He puts what is in Thomas’ heart out into the world. He’s worked so incredibly hard to be kinder, selfless, and better because Patton, nay, everyone encourages him to. And they were going to side with a lying, manipulative, identity thieving snake?

“Over me?”

Over Roman?

“He…”

Roman was the hero. Wasn’t he?

“Thomas, I thought I was your hero.”

“Y-You are.”

But how could he be? How could he be Thomas’ hero if Thomas were to side with a cruel, evil liar over him?

So he looks at Deceit. His evil enemy, yes, but also the side who always knew when Thomas was lying. He gives him a look, one that says ‘is he lying?’.

Deceit nods. And nods only mean yes.

Roman suppresses a bitter laugh, blinking back tears before they could form. How could he still be Thomas’ hero?

“Wow. I can’t believe this. Did you forget that he’s evil?”

He’s evil, he’s evil, he’s so evil.

Roman’s soulmate is evil.

He can’t let Thomas be evil too.

“You’re not. Or, you’re not supposed to be. You’re supposed to be good. You can’t-”

“Roman. Everything’s going to be okay, kiddo.”

No. No, it wasn’t. Roman, the hero, was meant for the villain. Roman, the romantic, was meant for someone who didn’t love him.

“We love you.”

But love, love is a strong word. Too strong a word to be used for whatever this...this treatment of him was. They thought they loved him. Or, rather, Patton did. But no. They didn’t.

Should they? Should they love him?

“Right.”

Roman was meant for a villain, after all.

---

Janus was anxious about revealing his name. He knew that ultimately, he had to, so Thomas could trust him. Thomas trusting him would help him save Thomas’ mental health. But there was also Roman.

Passionate, heroic, do-gooder Roman. Roman, who was currently refusing to trust and accept him. Roman, the name written in messy but charming red script across his left wrist.

Roman, who he wished he was able to reveal his name to at any other time than this.

But he couldn’t. He had to get Thomas to trust him so he could save his mental health and perhaps teach a valuable lesson that Thomas would take to heart. So, he had to reveal his name, despite Roman’s present hatred of him.

Was there a part of him that thought that revealing his name would get Roman to lay off of his insults? Maybe. Maybe Janus thought that Roman knowing they were destined to love each other—romantic, platonic, or otherwise—would get him to stop, think, and then perhaps give him a chance. At least, he thought Roman would at least pause, think, and cool it.

But Janus didn’t expect Roman to laugh. No. That, the laughing, that took Janus by surprise.

“What are you, a middle school librarian?”

Roman was teasing him. But he was also pretending that he didn’t know the way Janus’ name was spelled. Maybe Patton and Thomas would buy Roman’s deception and think that he thought Janus meant ‘J-a-n-i-c-e’ but Janus knew better. He was Deceit, after all.

However, this could be Roman’s way of telling Janus he didn’t want him.

Was it?

Because Roman knew—he had to have known that Janus’ name was spelled ‘J-a-n-u-s’ and therefore was his soulmate. Janus had ‘Roman’ on his wrist so obviously ‘Janus’ was on his. Roman didn’t want him, did he?

No. He didn’t. And that hurt him more than he was willing to admit.

So he lashed out.

“Roman, thank god you don’t have a mustache. Otherwise, between you and Remus—I wouldn’t know who the evil twin is.”

He lashed out. And the moment the words left his mouth, he was already regretting them. He realized that the insult would hurt Roman terribly. And he would never, ever want to hurt his prince. Even if his prince wouldn’t want to have him.

And the look on Roman’s face...it was something he never wanted to see again. In any other circumstance, he would swear to murder whoever put that look on his face. Despite never wanting to, he hurt Roman. If Roman was still considering having him before, he never would now. No matter what their wrists said.

And when Roman gave him the look? The look that asked if Thomas was lying about Roman being his hero? He nodded. Nodded because Thomas was telling the truth. But when Roman took it the wrong way…

Janus couldn’t help but wonder if Roman not wanting him was a good thing after all.

---

Roman appeared in his room, just having sunken out from the conversation. The tears he had been holding in fell the second his feet were firmly planted onto the floor of his room. His cry was silent at first, the tears falling with nothing but silence accompanying them as he buried his face in his hands. He kicked what was likely a crumpled piece of paper that was on the ground near his foot, but the action did nothing to satisfy his anger.

His hands strayed from in front of his eyes enough for him to catch a glimpse of a picture of him with his fellow sides (barring Remus and Janus, of course). A few more tears escaped his eyes and a strangled sob tumbled from his lips.

He angrily kicked the picture off the desk it was resting on, letting it clatter to the floor. He repressed another sob and reached an arm out in the picture’s direction, perhaps regretting the harsh treatment of the harmless photo, but caught sight of his wrist.

Extending his arm had made his prince outfit ride up his arm a small amount.

And he could see the faintest hint of a name written in the prettiest yellow.

He collapsed onto the ground, banging his right fist into the floor. He didn’t hold his sobs in anymore. The sobs were loud, ugly, and left his body like a broken gumball machine. There was no stopping their endless attack on his throat.

What is wrong with me?

He screamed and coughed through the sobbing, and later Roman would attribute a least a few of his tears to the utter pain his crying had caused him. His right fist continued banging against the floor, not stopping even when the hand was red. The parts where the fist collided with the floor were sure to bruise up.

What is wrong with the universe?

He slammed his face into the ground, screaming into the ground and not caring whether he would be heard.

Why put me through the pain of tying me to someone I hate, if that person will never find it in their heart to love me?

He dug his nails into the floor, scratching with all his strength. He could feel a couple of his nails break.

Why was the universe so cruel?

He lifted his head a bit from the floor, rolling his left sleeve down so he could fully see what was written on his wrist. The five-letter name written in cursive, the yellow ink showing clearly despite his pale skin. It used to be beautiful and give him hope. It used to make him feel loved, worthy, and that his quest for romance was not in vain. Now, it was evil, disgusting, taunting, and made him feel like a Disney villain.

He crawled over to his desk and fumbled his hand across the surface, eventually picking up a black permanent marker. His shaky hands worked the cap open and then gripped it awkwardly in his right hand despite his left-handedness. He started to scribble over his wrist.

However, the ink ran out after a couple of seconds. The marker had apparently been very low on ink already and was now out. He sobbed, hurling the marker into the trash. He turned to lean back against the desk, still sitting on the floor. The five-letter word seemed to stare up at him mockingly. He growled and instead of a marker, he took his own hand to his wrist.

He scratched at the name, digging his nails as deep into his skin as he could manage, some nails breaking skin easier as they were already rough from scratching the floor.

He watched as blood spilled from the wounds, rolling down his arm and fingers, leaking onto both hands as his right was still marring his wrist. He didn’t allow himself to look horrified, he just focused on how the teasing, cruel thing that was the word Janus was slowly getting concealed from view by either open wound or blood.

Eventually, once Janus was fully covered, he stumbled to his feet. He dragged his right hand against the wall, trying to get the blood off, but eventually staggered his way to his bathroom when that didn’t do the whole job.

He turned the faucet on, and let warm water run over his right hand. The blood, still wet, was washing off quite easily. He refused to wash his left hand, though, as that might wash the blood off his wrist and expose his soulmate’s name to the world.

His soulmate.

Roman spat into a nearby trashcan.

He turned off the water, leaving the restroom and standing near where he had been earlier. He put his right hand to his face, crying into it. His cries weren’t as rough and painful as before, but he was still crying nonetheless.

Roman didn’t want to admit it, but he was confused. Confused about many things, but mainly this whole dark side business.

When Creativity split, he had learned that dark sides (namely his brother) were bad. Evil. Not to be trifled with. So he acted like it, especially with Virgil. Yes, Virgil did bother him by convincing Thomas to not do what Roman suggested, but he was also a dark side. And dark sides were evil, pure evil.

Weren’t they?

Apparently not, considering his fellow sides, as well as Thomas, had gotten on his back about his cruelty to Virgil. They scolded him and told him Virgil was good, and someone to be trusted. Someone to be loved.

Cut to a while later when Deceit enters the scene. Patton agrees with nothing he says, Virgil hates him, and everyone is scared of him.

But dark sides weren’t inherently bad, were they? Just look at Virgil!

So, Roman sided with Deceit in the courtroom. Deceit was advocating for what Roman wanted! Deceit agreed with him, understood him.

But then Roman is chastised for his actions—because dark sides were all evil except for Virgil.

And now, today, Deceit comes in and treats him like the others did in the courtroom. He treats him like he is an evil, manipulative liar. But instead of everyone doing the same, they get angry at Roman again?

What was the answer? Were dark sides good or evil? Roman had been getting conflicting answers from the same people.

If they were evil, what would that mean? That would mean that Virgil had defected, was an exception, and could no longer be associated with them. Roman liked Virgil now, so obviously he would be an exception if that were indeed the conclusion. It also meant the others were wrong for siding with Deceit.

If they were good, that would mean something entirely different. It would make Virgil’s defection a decision of pure preference, and his brother...good. Remus? Good? That was something he couldn’t fathom. The Duke was everything Roman didn’t want to be.

But the dark sides being good...that also meant Roman wasn’t destined for an evil man.

That Roman’s soulmate—the person he was supposed to love always and forever—was, in fact, a good person. Roman wasn’t destined for a Scooby-Doo villain.

But that would also make Roman’s words in their argument misplaced and wrong. It would make them unforgivably mean, and that their receiver was undeserving of them. It would make Roman the villain for saying such cruel things.

Such cruel things, thrown at his soulmate.

A soulmate who didn’t love him.

Roman could understand why.

---

Janus had sunk out, eventually getting bored of watching Thomas hang out with Lee and Mary Lee. He appeared in his room and tried to settle into a book.

It wasn’t far into the novel that Janus threw it down. He couldn’t focus—thoughts of Roman and what had transpired between them overwhelming his brain. He put his hands to his face, running over the skin and scales with his fingers and palms, mulling over what Roman had done. What he’d done.

He thought back to when Roman sunk out, remembering that Roman took Janus’ nod as a confirmation of a lie, that he in no way showed signs of taking Patton’s reminder of their love for him to heart, and that he sunk out looking more dejected than a person whose partner had just denied their proposal of marriage. Janus knew he messed up.

He thought over what Roman had done. Roman hated him at the time Janus revealed his name, so when he found out…

Janus understood why Roman laughed. Roman didn’t know what to say, what to think, and if he didn’t do anything or let everyone know why he was shocked then they’d have to go over a private topic Roman hadn’t even accepted yet. So he laughed—because yes, Janice is a name that people will mock. It is in no way a desirable, stylish, or attractive name. He wouldn’t be suspected of anything if he laughed, except perhaps rudeness and insensitivity. Roman didn’t know what to do, so he took the easiest way out.

Janus also figured it was a way for Roman to try to convince himself that Janus’ name was spelled ‘J-a-n-i-c-e’ instead of what was on the princely side’s wrist. By outwardly expressing belief that he interpreted the name incorrectly, he could start to believe it—especially when no one corrected him. Roman could try to believe that he was destined for a completely different Janus.

But he had to have stopped that charade by now. Roman had to have realized that he is Janus’ soulmate, and has likely acknowledged the correct way his name was spelled.

On the flip side, how could Janus expect him to? Roman learned the identity of his soulmate under one of the worst possible circumstances Janus could fathom. Roman was probably under the impression that Janus didn’t like him right now.

Oh gosh...what if Roman thought Janus hated him?

It was certainly a possibility.

This meant that there was a chance that Roman discovered the identity of his soulmate—only to believe just a moment later that said soulmate despised him. And, if this was indeed what had transpired, Roman was going through this alone. He had all of these running thoughts, revelations, assumptions, and opinions to sort through and he was going through it all alone. Yes, Patton promised to check up on him, but would anyone really think Roman would let him? Patton, while a sweetheart, was not someone suitable to consult with for such a topic. Janus knew he would refuse Patton’s comfort if he were in Roman’s shoes.

But Roman, going through all those relentless thoughts, cognitive distortions, and overall confusion alone—that was something Janus hated to think about. It didn’t matter if Janus thought Roman currently hated him. There was no one else Roman could properly speak to about the matter at hand.

Janus sunk out of his room, appearing in front of Roman’s door as he didn’t want to intrude on or scare the side. He knocked.

Janus’ knock was followed by a few seconds of silence. Eventually, he heard a voice from the other side of the door.

“I told you to leave me alone, Patton,” he heard Roman say. “I don’t want nor need your assistance.”

Janus paused, before knocking again and accompanying the action with an introduction. “I’m definitely Patton, Roman.”

Janus’ correction was followed by silence for a minute or so. Janus didn’t want to knock again as he didn’t want to be taken as rude or impatient, but he feared he might have to as Roman wasn’t interacting with him.

Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“What do you want, Deceit?” Roman asked, voice closer than it was before. Janus guessed Roman had approached the door during the silence.

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Roman scoffed. “Talk? Didn’t we do that earlier? Look how that ended.”

Janus shook his head. “This is different, Roman. It’s just you and me this time.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

Janus paused, contemplating his response. “I believe there are many things we need to go over. Would you consider letting me in?”

Roman laughed bitterly. “That’s just your way of saying that you’ve come here for my apology.”

“No, it’s not. Anything apology-related coming from you was not something that crossed my mind when coming here. And even if it did, I believe I would be right in saying you aren’t quite ready to apologize.”

Silence from the other side of the door seemed to prove him right.

“Which is fine, Roman. I don’t require it now.” Janus took a deep breath. “Look. I’ve had some time to think over our conversation and analyze everything that was said down to the letter. Suffice it to say, we have a lot we need to talk about. I understand you not wanting to speak to me—however, we have both had some time to be alone. Also, there is almost no way you aren’t being negatively affected right now by cognitive distortions, and considering where they likely come from, a conversation between the two of us would be a terrible way to resolve them. But, even if you aren’t being illusioned by your mind, we still need to talk.”

He heard a click of the lock after a substantial pause before he heard footsteps walk away from the door. Janus feared that Roman had locked the door, but waited for a statement from him before doing anything.

“You may enter.”

Janus slowly moved his hand to the doorknob, bare right hand grasping the cold metal of the door handle that made a shiver run down his spine and turned the knob with shaking fingers. He didn’t want to admit or show it, but he was just as nervous about this talk as Roman, if not more. But, he also knew it was necessary.

He entered the room, closing the door softly behind him. He turned the lock, hearing it click. Janus figured neither of them would want anyone intruding.

The serpentine side turned to face Roman. Or, rather, Roman’s back. The prince was standing at least five yards in front of him, and Janus was left facing his back. Roman had his right arm at his side, his left presumably in front of him (Janus couldn’t see a majority of Roman’s left arm), and his legs were stiff. Too stiff.

“Locking your knees cuts off blood flow to your calves and feet, and I would love for you to pass out while we’re talking,” Janus remarked.

Roman shifted and unlocked his knees. Janus noticed that the loosened legs were now shaking violently. Silence befell them for half a minute or so, Janus attempting to compose himself and his thoughts before speaking.

“Well, Roman,” Janus started quietly. “What should we start with?”

Roman didn’t respond. He just stood there in silence for a few minutes.

“You know, I don’t blame you,” Janus started. “I’m not mad anymore. Again, I didn’t come here for an ap-”

“You knew. You had to have known,” Roman interrupted, voice small. “You had to have known since the beginning. That we were...you knew, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes…”

“You knew!” Roman exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say anything? You’ve known for forever, and you didn’t say a word! And not even before or after your name reveal. You just...pretended like it didn’t exist.”

“Roman, you have to understand, I had just introduced myself to people who hated me.”

“I get not saying anything at first, but what about after? What about after the courtroom episode, you could’ve come and talked to me after that. You could’ve told me your name. Spared us this terrible day. I would’ve known, and you wouldn’t have put me on the spot like you did today! Forcing me to participate actively in a conversation when I’m going through an identity crisis—why would you do that?”

“I didn’t think there was a good time to tell you, and then I had to tell Thomas my name to get him to trust me,” Janus explained. “If I could do it all again, I would, and I’d tell you sooner. I just didn’t think I’d have to reveal my name.”

“It...it doesn’t matter anymore, Deceit!”

“My name is Janus, you might as well use it, now that I’ve said it!”

“Why should I?” Roman shot back. “Its first usage decimated me. I don’t have to write with what penned my execution warrant.”

Janus took a few seconds to process Roman’s scathing statements. “That’s not an expression, Roman.”

“You know what I mean!”

Janus sighed. “Either way, I don’t call you Creativity.”

“That’s because the title belongs to my brother too.” Roman took a deep breath when Janus said nothing. “Look, Deceit. What’s done is done and we can’t change it.”

“I know. And I’m sorry for not telling you earlier.”

Roman ignored him. “You knew what would happen to me. You knew what I was going through. You had to have known.” Roman paused, shaking his head. “You know why I reacted the way I did. There’s no question!”

“Eventually, yes, but-”

“So why did you say it?!”

A small silence followed Roman’s words. They seemed to echo across his room, but that could have just been Janus’ mind exaggerating as he processed the exclamation. “I…”

“You knew what I was going through. Everything...all of my actions. They had a reason. My mind was working a mile a second and I had to react somehow. You knew this. You probably considered it before you revealed your name.”

Janus opened his mouth to reply, but Roman beat him to it.

“But you said it anyway! You said it, that statement, that insult, that you knew would break my heart. You knew it would! You knew exactly what it would do to me. But you...oh, you. Despite knowing what revealing your name then and there would do to me, despite knowing my reaction was very likely going to be bad, you took time out of your day to craft the perfect little scathing remark that would ruin me on the spot.”

“Roman-”

“I bet you thought it up earlier! I bet you planned this all along. You knew you would reveal your name, you knew I would respond like I did, and used that as an opportunity to insult me. I could probably find the exact words you said to me written down on a sticky note in your room.”

“Roman, no! That’s not-” Janus was getting desperate.

“How fun was it? How satisfying? How completely and utterly fulfilling was it to finally be able to knock me down?” Roman asked venomously.

“That’s not how it was at all!” Janus cried. “I...I didn’t mean to hurt you. Your insult to my name hurt me...I thought-”

“And yours didn’t hurt me?”

“I thought you were rejecting me!” Janus blurted.

A small silence followed his words, Roman eventually breaking it with a scoff.

“Why would you say what you did, then, if not to destroy any possibility of something happening between us?” Roman asked, shaking his head. “No. I know how you lie, Deceit, and you lie all the time. You needed to make sure I knew your name reveal meant nothing. Did you need everyone to know of your hatred for me? Or did you say it just in case I said something to the others about our wrists, to let them know nothing would come of us? You just said that to-”

“No, no I didn’t. I said that because I was stupid and selfish and hurt. I don’t hate you, Roman. I never have and I never will. I never could.”

“You don’t show that well!” Roman paused for a quick second. “You can’t say you care right after you destroy any possibility of good things happening between us.”

Janus closed his eyes and turned his head to the floor. He didn’t want to damn him and Roman to a hateful relationship, but Roman said he did—and Janus knew he’d never be able to forgive himself if that ended up being true.

“I thought you did,” Janus responded after a few moments.

“W-What?”

“I thought your laugh...your comment...I thought it was an indication that you didn’t want me.”

“I don’t want you.”

Janus winced. “I thought you meant it as a way to say you hated me, that you didn’t want us to be what we are, that you wanted to destroy any chance of it happening.”

Roman sighed. “I didn’t want to destroy it, I was just surprised! I said it as a knee-jerk reaction to mask my shock and identity crisis—who knows, maybe I would consider something happening if I was given time to process—but then you said what you said, and I can’t help but see it as your way of stomping on a young flower that has yet to bloom. You don’t need to sugarcoat it and pretend you’re sorry, didn’t want to hurt me, and didn’t mean for what you said to have that much of an effect on the future of our relationship.”

“Look, Roman,” Janus started, trying to keep his emotions separate from his voice. “I was hurt and lashed out and I'm sorry, however, I now understand your actions and don't need nor want an apology from you. My name reveal was cruel to you and I'm sorry about that. Just please believe me when I say I mean mine with all my heart. I don't hate you. How could I, with your name on my wrist? I've known your name for forever, but I didn't tell you earlier because I didn't think you were ready. I ended up being too late. Please know that I meant nothing of that insult; you and your brother are so incredibly different and you are not evil. You're not evil at all. You're Roman, good Roman, Roman who gives his heart away too much and now tries his best to hold it close to his chest.” And now he keeps his heart from Janus. Roman didn’t want him, after all.

But did Janus want Roman?

Yes. Absolutely. Of course he did.

“Roman. I didn't mean to destroy us. I don't want to destroy us, and I hope you know that. I hope you know that Patton was right; we love you. I hope you know that I care for and love you. And I hope you know that I want you. So, so badly.” Janus shook his head. “And here I am, having ruined my chances.”

He took a couple of steps forward, before stopping. He didn’t want to alarm the prince right before saying what he was preparing to.

“I know this. I don't expect anything more. But please, before I leave, let me see the face of the man I have been so incredibly stupid with and wronged. Please, let me see you before I go,” Janus pleaded, not hiding the begging tone of his voice. He wanted to see his soulmate, for what could be the last time when it was just the two of them. He wanted to see the damage he had done. He wanted to feel all the guilt he should be feeling.

“I can’t,” Roman said harshly, voice firm. It sounded like he was trying to take all emotion out of it.

Janus sighed, staying put behind Roman for a second. Janus had just opened his heart to Roman, and now...well, who could blame Roman?

“Just go!” Roman shouted, throwing his left arm out forcefully and pointing to the door. He then winced in pain, immediately retracting his arm and clutching his wrist.

Janus’ eyes widened. Concern crossed his features, and he approached Roman. “What happened, Roman? Are you in pain?”

“N-No, just go.” Tears started to fall down Roman’s face.

Janus shook his head in refusal and stood on the prince’s left. He tilted his head, eyes focused on the wrist Roman was clutching, but not able to see what had transpired. He placed his right hand on Roman’s shoulder lightly and used his other to softly work Roman’s fingers away from what Janus presumed to be a wound.

“P-Please, Deceit. Please leave,” he begged, gasping in a breath. “I don’t want you to see me like this.” Janus was hardly able to hear Roman’s last sentence.

Janus sighed, tsking. “Oh, Roman.” His voice was delicate, not wanting to sound overbearing or teasing. “I would never judge you. You are clearly in need of help, so let me.”

Janus had finally worked the last of Roman’s fingers from his wrist, and Janus pulled up Roman’s sleeve, causing whimpers of protest to leave the creative side. He looked down and saw it.

Roman’s wrist had been scratched like it was done by a werewolf who hadn’t had dinner. Blood, some of it in somewhat of a liquid form but a lot of it dried, covered his wrist and a good amount of his forearm. There were scratch marks all over Roman’s wrist, and Janus knew instantly what had happened.

“Oh, Roman,” Janus lamented quietly. “I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t,” Roman said through tears. “Please. J-Just go.”

Janus frowned, fingers hovering over the wound. “I didn’t want to push you to this.”

“It’s not your fault,” Roman replied, gritting his teeth.

“Maybe not directly,” Janus agreed, “but this was to cover my name, wasn’t it?”

Roman didn’t reply. Janus took that as a yes. He wiped away a small amount of blood with his thumb, uncovered a cursive J that had a scratch through it.

“Why would you let me stand and talk to you,” Janus started almost silently, “when your wrist has become all but a canvas for the yellow of my name and the red of your blood?”

“Leave me alone, Deceit!” Roman started to raise his voice. “Go away!”

Janus shook his head, indicating a refusal. “No. I won’t let you suffer. Let me help; it’s the least I can do. I can take you to the bathroom, we can clean you up-”

“No!” Roman yelled. “I can deal with it on my own.”

“What a great idea, Roman. Marvelous, really. Just let your wrist bleed until-”

“Stop,” Roman said, shaking his head. “No. I won’t let you help. The door is over there, I trust you know how to walk.”

“Roman-”

“You’ve done enough already.”

“I…”

Janus couldn’t speak. Tears came to his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. Roman’s current pain was enough for both of them. Roman didn’t want Janus’ help, his care, his words. He just wanted him gone. Janus couldn’t blame him, but gosh, did it hurt.

“Roman, you know how much I play into self-preservation. It would be infringing on my function as a side to just leave you here and let your blood dry till it hurts to wash off and let your wound be exposed so long it gets infected. You can’t just expect me to-”

Roman raised his right hand, and Janus disappeared from his room. Janus’ eyes widened, but instead of directing his surprise to Roman’s beautiful face, it was to the empty space in front of him in his room.

---

Roman sighed, dropping his hand. He walked over to his desk, slamming his right hand onto it in exasperation. Deceit had been so nice—or was at least trying to be.

Maybe that was the problem.

Roman had seen Deceit as evil, unkind, inconsiderate, and unloveable. To see him be kind, caring, and protective challenged all that Roman had decided about him. Considering how confused Roman already was, it only made whatever was going on inside his head worse.

Roman wanted love. He had always been excited to meet his soulmate. But did he want Deceit?

No, he couldn’t keep calling him that. He was his soulmate, whether Roman liked it or not. His name was on Roman’s wrist.

Did Roman want Janus, even after everything he did?

Maybe. He didn’t know.

Only time could tell.

This is something I wrote a few weeks ago. I hope you liked it! (Also I do have an addition which is a happier ending but it's nonessential to read it's just to make things end happier.) Tell me if I should tag/put anything else in the warnings!

#sanders sides #romantic roceit #roceit #roceit soulmate au #fic #self harm tw #tw self harm #roman sanders #janus sanders #kill writes

120 notes · View notes

skzsauce01 · 4 years ago

Text

Cold, White

Synopsis: While competing in a QR code treasure hunt event at your friend’s Halloween party, an unexpected companion gives you a little company.

A districtninewriters event.

Warning: slight sexual harassment, mentions of creepy-ish props

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: gn!reader x exbf!Seo Changbin

Genre: fluff, college party au

Read intro here. Return with the “pink Among Us astronaut” link

But which one?

After a few moments, you spotted two vampires talking softly to each other. It shouldn’t be too hard to strike up a conversation with them, you decided and began walking over. Halfway there though, you turned around, feeling someone or something staring at you back. However, you didn’t spot anything, and turned back around to head towards your destination, all the while still feeling like you had eyes glued to your back.

“Hi,” you greeted, walking up to the vampires. “I’m Y/N. How are you two doing tonight?”

They turned to you, and you immediately regretted choosing them to walk up to.

“Oh, a little skeleton,” one of them smirked, looking you up and down. You crossed your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

The other one slung his arm around your waist and leaned in far too close. “Can I get you something to drink, Lil Boo?”

Oh, you did not skip studying for this. “Actually, I’m going to--”

Out of nowhere, the lights turned off. There were a few screams, but none as loud as the one in your heart when the vampire used the darkness as a chance to slide his hand down to other areas. You tried stepping away, but his grip was strong, so you just squeezed your eyes shut and hoped the moment would pass quickly.

Before he got all the way down, however, you heard a loud crack and felt his hand flying off of you as he tumbled a few feet backwards.

“What on earth, man?” he cursed, and you were suddenly aware of a new presence beside you.

The newcomer made a weird noise as if he was breathing through a machine and turned towards you. He offered you a hand, and when you tentatively put yours into it, he dragged you away, leaving behind the vampires.

“Thanks,” you gasped once he finally stopped at a faraway corner.

He placed one hand on his hip and used the other to rub the back of his… head? It was much too big to be a human head, you decided. Was he wearing some sort of mask? It was hard to see in the dark, but he sensed your curiosity and leaned forward for you to take a better look. You reached for it slowly, and when he didn’t resist, you placed your hands onto his costume. The majority of it was warm and fabric-y except for where your thumbs landed. There, it was cold and possibly white like a one-way glass. A visor of some sort, you decided, and tried to push it up to see his face.

As soon as you do, however, he jerked back and quickly shut the glass back down.

“S-sorry,” you stuttered out.

He seemed too distracted to respond to your apology. You turned to see what he was looking at and saw smoke rising from BamBam’s mezzanine. Was there a fire? No, the kitchen is to your right. Before you could question any further, the lights came back on, but only on the second floor, casting a spotlight over your best friend who stepped grandly out of the smoke.

“Good evening, ghouls and fools, snitches and witches!” his voice boomed. “Are you ready for tonight’s main event?”

Ah, that’s right. The reason why BamBam’s parties were so popular was because there was always a special kick to them, be it a go cart race or a game of Running Man. This must be why the lights are off, you realized.

“Around the house, I have hidden a QR code on each floor of the house. Each one will give you a couple of words which when unscrambled will give you the name of the item. The person who makes it to the backyard gazebo first with their item first wins,” he explained. “Each code is locked by their own minigame which you have to complete to access, but of course, your efforts will not be without reward.” There were a few ooh’s at that announcement. “Whoever brings me their time first wins… two tickets to the Caribbeans!”

Your ears perked up at that; maybe you were glad to have skipped studying after all. The Caribbeans! You’d heard many good things about that vacation spot and had always wanted to go with someone special. Someone special. You looked sadly down at your hand that felt oddly empty without a familiar warmth around it.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go!” prompted BamBam.

Around you, footsteps of partygoers dispersed in a frenzy and excited squeals filled the air. You looked around, surprised to see the masked man still standing beside you.

“Are you going to participate?” you asked.

Instead of answering, he pointed at you.

“Me? Yeah, I guess I am.”

He seemed to perk up at your answer and shyly tugged on your sleeve.

“Do you want to come with me?” you guessed.

He nods.

“Alright, but if you win, you’ve gotta give me one of those tickets,” you joked, but to your surprise, he agreed to your condition readily.

The first minigame was not hard to find since there was a crowd around it. It was a simple ring toss game where you had to throw pumpkin shaped hoops onto brooms labeled with different point values until you reached 100.

The task proved to be more difficult than anticipated, but you were making considerable progress compared to others because your pink friend ran back and forths, picking up your rings for you.

At last, you got to a hundred, and the gamemaster revealed the code to you. You scanned it with your phone and read the clue.

친. (Chin)

Satisfied, you looked up, expecting to see the astronaut throwing his rings. Instead, you found him waiting for you just around the corner.

“You aren’t participating?” you asked, walking up to him.

Again, instead of answering, he pulled you by the sleeve to the next floor. By the pep in his step, you could imagine him smiling behind that cold white mask, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he knew something you didn’t.

You nearly laughed when you saw what challenge awaited you on the next floor. The room was decorated to the top with zombies and blood, but at the center of it all was a wizard stirring a pot labeled “love potion.”

“Who dares step foot into my lair?” hissed the sorcerer with an accent that was too over the top even for his character.

“Just tell us what the mission is, Felix.” You shook your head with a smile. You knew Felix through your ex-boyfriend, and you stayed in touch even after whom you thought was your soulmate left you for college.

Felix faltered for a moment from you calling him out, but quickly recomposed himself. “Very well, brave one. Your next mission is to prove that my potion works.”

You raised a brow. “How?”

“By drinking it, of course. And then--” he smirked in a way that set off alarms in your system-- “kiss me.”

“Oh, come on. What are we, twelve?” you scoffed at the reverse kissing booth challenge. Still, you crossed your arms and stepped over plastic bones and foam eyeballs to make your way over to him.

When you were about halfway, you noticed Felix’s smirk suddenly growing wider and questioned why. Your curiosity was soon satisfied, however, when the pink astronaut suddenly overtook you with large strides and beat you to the cauldron.

“Hey!” you complained, but your words fell on deaf ears.

The pink man kept his face turned away from you as he flipped up his cold white visor and downed the potion. It must have tasted horrible since this was a challenge after all, but he didn’t miss a beat slamming the now-empty vial on an adjacent table and planting a smooch squarely on Felix’s green face. He then flipped his visor back down and gestured at your phone.

“Me? Scan?” you frowned. “But you--”

Growing impatient, he took the phone from you and scanned Felix’s code. He then stuffed the device back into your hands and dragged you up the next flight of stairs.

You questioned his sudden change in demeanor but kept it to yourself. Instead, you looked at the next clue.

자. (Ja)

As soon as you arrived on the third floor, you immediately decided that its minigame was the hardest. Your eye twitched, not that anyone could see it doing so since the floor was completely blacked out. The only thing you could see was some glow-in-the-dark thread, and you were supposed to thread it through a normal, matte needle.

“This can’t be possible,” you deadpanned.

The gamemaster, someone you couldn’t see but very much wanted to give a piece of your mind, “wooooo’ed” unhelpfully at your misery.

Your eyes struggled to switch between the different light levels, making your whole body tense up and your hand to shake. You let out a frustrated grunt after your nth attempt. By then, other competitors also entered the room, making you nervous and even more shaky.

As you were about to hang your head in surrender, you saw a pink glove clasping over your hand and steadying it. The touch sent a familiar sense of electricity up your spine, but you ignored it in favor of the task at hand. Together, you finally got the thread through after five tries.

“Yes!” you celebrated, startling a few other competitors around you.

The gamemaster handed you a slip of paper with the code on it, and your new friend led you to the exit by hand. When you realized that his hand hadn’t let go of yours since the game, a blush crept over your cheeks. You cleared your throat twice to push down the heat, but it seemed the astronaut took it the wrong way and immediately dropped it and looked at you with worry.

“It’s fine,” you shook your head when he started bowing. “I, uh, I just had something in my throat. I should thank you, actually, for helping me back there… and for all the times before that too.”

He stared at you for a few moments, looking down as he was a few steps above you on the staircase, and you couldn’t help but wonder again what he was hiding behind that cold white mask. Just as you were about to reach forward again, however, he turned back around and resumed climbing the stairs.

The last minigame was on the roof. There, a sign greeted you, telling you that multiple QR codes are hidden around the place, and that you had to find one of the many to complete your word hunt.

You looked at the code you received from the thread game. 구 (gu), it read. What could the last hint be?

You and your pink friend looked and looked, but struggled to find anything. BamBam sure didn’t make things easy for you, did he, you scoffed dryly, looking at all the pools of slime and hollowed out pumpkins where the code could be hiding.

It didn’t help that it was particularly cold that night and that you were on the roof of a three story house. As you shuffled around some prop mummy’s linen for the code, you felt a chill run up your body.

The astronaut must have been at least ten broomsticks away, but as soon you shivered, you heard him walking right up to you.

“Hey. Did you find it?” you asked, not grasping why he was here.

He shook his head and rubbed his hands up and down his upper arms before pointing at you.

“Me? Yeah, I guess it’s a little cold, but I’m okay. Let’s just find this thing quickly and head back down.”

You turned back to your mummy, but your new friend didn’t move. Despite wanting to keep you warm, he realized he wasn’t equipped with a jacket to give you.

Finding nothing in the mummy, you moved on to the next coffin, oblivious to the man’s distress behind you, and patted down a plastic vampire for any goods. As you were distracted, you didn’t realize a figure looming over you from behind. By the time you noticed the shadow being casted over you, it was too late to avoid--

“Wha--”

-- the hug.

The pink astronaut, unable to come up with any other solutions, decided to share his body heat with you. It warmed you up alright, but you weren’t sure if it was because of him or the fire that ignited on your cheeks.

“H-how are we supposed to search like this?” you stuttered.

He thought for a minute before waddling side to side to show you how you could walk.

You chuckled at his antics. “This isn’t going to--”

And then you saw it. Right there. Stuck on his arm. The last QR code.

“You found it!” you exclaimed, surprising him with how quickly you whipped out your phone and took a picture of the code. “You must have brushed up against it when you were looking around.

This time, you grabbed his hand and made your way downstairs to the backyard as the scanning process loaded on your phone. Once there, you looked at your last clue.

“남(nam),” you read aloud now that no competitors were around you. “친. 자. 구 . 남.” The words were scrambled, so you read them out a few more times until the realization hit you.

Your eyes widened. “남자 친구(namja chingu). Boyfriend. But I don’t--”

And then you looked up at the pink astronaut. He stared back at you, unmovingly, and your hands gravitated to his visor again. This time, he didn’t stop you, so you pushed the cold, white glass up to reveal the warmest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Changbin…” you breathed, recognizing him right away.

“Y/N, I know no amount of apologies can ever atone for me leaving you, but I’d do anything for you to take me baaaaaaa-aack!”

Without even hearing the rest of it, you dragged him to the balcony where BamBam was waiting.

“I got it!” you shout at your friend. “The item! I’ve got it right here!”

BamBam looked amused. “This is your boyfriend, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you said without missing a beat. Both the boys jumped a little in surprise at your eagerness.

“Alright then,” chuckled your best friend into a microphone. “We have a winner!”

You could hear groans coming from the house as gold confetti rained down from the gazebo. BamBam handed you the tickets and shot you a wink before making himself scarce. You gleamed at the prize until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Y/N-- oof!”

You attacked Changbin with a hug and wrapped your arms around him, frowning when you noticed he lost weight. “You’re back…”

After overcoming his shock, he returned the hug and patted you on the head. “I’m sorry I left you.”

You shook your head against him. “No, don’t be. You were chasing your dreams. What kind of person would I be if I held you back just because of our relationship?”

“But I hurt you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you did, so--” You pulled your face away from his body to look him in the eyes-- “make it up to me at the Caribbeans?”

Another loving smile spread across his face as he cupped yours with his hand. “I will, but be warned: I’m never letting you go again after that.”

You laughed together. “Ooh, spooky.”

~ ad.gold

#Changbin #stray kids changbin #districtninewriters #halloween event #stray kids #skz #seo changbin #stray kids fic #skz fic #changbin fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #changbin fic #gender neutral reader #20201030

95 notes · View notes

shadedrose01 · 4 years ago

Note

random prompt: harley in a tornado???? bro i need the angst

This is very very late, I'm so so sorry about that. But its finally here! I actually had to do research for this, because where I live I don't get any natural disasters (thankfully), so hopefully its accurate? Ish? But if it still isn't 100%, I'm sorry about that. Hope you can enjoy, anon!! 💗

Tw: an almost panic/anxiety attack. Stay safe yall

"-and it was crazy, cause he came out of nowhere, right?" He hears a hum across the line, soft and affirmative. "But then, all of a sudden, he just... turned into a frog."

The hum turns into a faint laugh, and Peter's heart sings. God he loves it when Harley laughs, soft and right from his chest. He loves him. "He turned into a frog?"

"Yeah!" Peter exclaims, leaning back in his swivel chair and glancing up at his ceiling, the popcorn texture staring back. The itch to pick it all off comes back, and he grumbles internally at being reminded of Aunt May refusing. "The magic man just- turned into a frog! I think he messed up his own spell or something, and it ended up going to him instead of me. And he looked at me, all sad afterwards, but I wasn't about to go kiss him back to normal."

Harley laughs again, brighter and closer to the mic this time, and Peter grins. "Only you, Pete. Only you."

It was a random day in the middle of fall when Harley had called him, sporadically, moaning about having so much homework and needing some background noise/entertainment to keep him going as he works through it. And Peter, having the Biggest crush known to human kind on the boy, couldn't refuse (like he ever would), choosing to tell the funniest, craziest Spider-Man stories he could remember to try and make Harley laugh. So far, he was 4 for 4, and beaming (and, if he silently hoped that Harley didn't call him just for entertainment, but to also hear his voice and be closer to him, too, well. That was just for him to know.)

Time to try 5 for 5.

Peter leans back forward again, glancing down at the phone thrown haphazardly on his desk with soft eyes, as if he were staring at Harley himself instead of a clear case surrounding a black electronic. "And then, maaybe a few months ago? There was this other villain, right? His name was The Prowler, gave me creepy "being stalked by a cheetah/owl hybrid" type of vibes, not a very cool dude. Anyways, so he was following me one day on patrol, as he tended to do, and I was just about to help some older lady-"

Suddenly, the faint scratching of a pencil on paper stops, and the other end of the line goes dead. Peter scooches towards the phone again, planting both feet onto the floor as he calls out, "Hello? Harley, you still there?"

There's a moment of silence, and he's about to check whether the call dropped (because that's happened, before, where the line had cut out mid conversation and Peter had taken way, way too long to notice), when Harley speaks back up again, sounding frazzled. "Yeah, yeah im- hold on a sec, Peter." And then there's loud shuffling, the sounds of someone picking up the phone and moving with it in their pocket, or their hand, and Peter tilts his head, listening closer as the sounds of more voices gets closer and closer, slightly staticed as if from a TV, until Harley asks, "Ma? Whats happening?" There's a moment, a sharp inhale. "Tornado warning? But we weren't under a watch-"

And Peter's stomach drops. "Harley?" He asks quietly, nervous, staring down at the phone with wide eyes, his stomach twisting into knots.

"Go to the basement, now." A feminine voice, soft and wispy, his mom, utters, and then there's more shuffling, more movement, the sound of footsteps heavy and paced, panting breaths.

Another shift. "Peter, I gotta go."

Harley sounds urgent, nervous, afraid, and Peter can't help but to pick up the phone, hold it up to his face as he asks, begs, "Harley, whats going on? Whats-"

"Theres a tornado, gonna hit soon, the service is gonna cut out." Harley shoots up rapidly, as a door slams shut in the background. "We're in the basement, we should be safe. I'll call you back after."

"Harley-"

"I love you."

The call clicks off, and Peter's left in silence.

Silence, and his racing thoughts, swirling in his head around and around, just enough to start a faint throbbing in the front of his mind. Silence, and his thumping heart, a racing horse rushing back the competitors as he tries to figure out what just happened.

Because so many things just happened.

He retraces his steps, starts from the beginning. Okay. Okay.

They were talking on the phone. Harley interrupted him, and went into the living room? Seemingly. Where he found out that there was a tornado on the way, oh god, and then they went into their basement to hide, oh no, and then-

And then he said that he loved him. Harley said that he loved him.

He hates how his mind wants to focus on that, out of everything, how selfish it is, before he pushes it away. He'll- He'll figure that out later, he's got- got to figure out a way to help, somehow.

But how? How can he help when he's across the country? How could he stop a natural disaster?

Before Peter realizes it, he's up and pacing around, rushing to one side of the room before pivoting and doing the same to the other, back and forth, back and forth, his thoughts running in circles.

He feels so helpless, right now. Helpless, knowing Harley and his mom, his sister, his family are huddled into a corner, holding each other, waiting, waiting for the tornado to strike, knowing he's there, without him, knowing- knowing there's nothing he can do, but to wait. Nothing but pace the floors, and wonder, ponder, think.

Harley, he said he loved him. Love, not past tense, he loves him. Did he- did he mean it in a friend way? He had to right? There's no way he means it in the other way, right? But- but why would he say it then, right before a tornado hits, right before he could get hurt, really hurt, right before he could-

No, he forces himself to think, grabbing onto his hair and tugging as his ribcage grabs at his lungs with its claw like talons and squeezes, roughly. No, he's not going to get hurt, he's not going to- to die.

But he could, a little voice in the back of his mind chips in, he could, and you'd never get to say it back. You'd never get to see him again.

Is the air getting thicker, or is it just him?

He claws at the front of his t-shirt and pulls it from his chest, gasping in breath after breath, just trying to keep breathing as his thoughts start to spiral, falling falling, down down down, swirling just like the spins of a tornado, coming to crash into his house and crush him, too, kill him, too, oh god-

And then his phone rings, vibrating in his hand, making him jump.

Before he can even blink, the phones up to his ear. "Harley?!?"

"We're okay!" Just hearing his voice, slightly out of breath and full of nerves, just like his, makes his shoulders sag back down, and makes his burning eyes squeeze shut as a rush of relief washes over him. "It was a small one, thankfully. A few people lost a few shingles, or their siding, maybe their fence, but nothing- nothing bad, nobody- everything is okay."

He doesn't know who Harley's trying to convince, himself or Peter, but either way, it works, the grip around his lungs easing quickly as his heart rate slowly lowers back to normal, as he silently gulps down air like its candy. "Okay," He croaks out, throat and voice raw from his almost attack. "Okay."

"I'm sorry," Harley murmurs, whispers after a moment of silence, of static across the line. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Peter unexpectedly bursts into chuckles, hysterical, rubbing at his cheeks and wiping away the liquid he didn't even know was there. "Please don't tell me you're apologizing for a tornado."

A pause, and a shift of fabric, as if Harley is shrugging. "It scared you."

"Scared you too." Peter rebuttals, leaning back against the wall next to him and slowly slipping onto the floor, pushing his legs close to him until he's curled into a ball, wrapping an arm around his knees. "You were the- the one actually experiencing it. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah 'm good." Harley sighs, his voice trembling slightly. "This has happened before. Though I dont-" He chuckles, too, but its less hysterical, and much more dull, tired. "I don't remember much of it. I was pretty young, but I do know it was a lot worse than this."

Peter just hums, and then they're sitting in silence again. An awkward type of silence that they haven't experienced in months, having grown out of that phase of their friendship a long time ago. But suddenly, it feels like they're back at the beginning, and Peter couldn't understand why, until Harley spoke back up.

"You don't- uh," He sounds upset, low, and it makes Peter's heart ache, makes his body scream at him to make it better. "I'm- I'm sorry about what I said, uhm, before, too. It just kind of slipped, I-I know you dont- feel that way, I just-"

"Wait," Peter blinks down at the floor, and Harley goes quiet. Waits, like he asked. "You meant it? In a- a like, more than friends way?"

There's a moment, the air full of an electric charge, full of tension that Peter can't tell is good or bad, before Harley speaks back up, voice hush, shaky, scared, but honest, "Y-yeah? But I know you don't feel the same way, it's okay-"

"I do," Peter interrupts, and Harley goes silent, again. "I do, feel the same way."

"Oh."

Another pause, but one full of promise, this time, of thoughts racing, of faces flushing, of smiles growing on faces and hearts beginning to race. Of new beginnings in general.

And later, they're talk all of it through, the anxiety and fear still thrumming through Harleys veins, the feelings swirling around them, exactly what they are, now, now that the secret is out, now that they know.

But for now, they just breathe, together, and wonder where this new whirlwind will take them.

#parkner #harley keener #peter parker #parley #spiderlad #harley keener/peter parker #tornado #tw tornado #tornado tw #panic attack #panic attack tw #tw panic attack #i hate the ending of this but sofjkdkfkf #i also wrote it very fast so sorry its v sucky

51 notes · View notes