#first a peaceful life and now their name what else will this world take

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Defenseless I remain before the first light breaks (part 1)

Younger!Dracule Mihawk x younger!reader.

This fic is part of the Beast in Black series. This is part one of two.

This fic takes place before Mihawk joined the Seven Warlords.

*****

The woman is smiling at him. Lying on her back, an arm bent under her head as the other lies on the grass so close to his he could easily take her hand if only he wanted, she’s a vision of such rapturous beauty he can feel his heart break with joy and gratitude. He’s not usually the sort of a man who doubts his own value, but in the depth of his heart, the heart of a child who has been valued by few and loved by even fewer, he still can’t quite believe that this is true - that she has wanted him, chosen him, and loved him.  

A slight breeze gently stirs their clothes. A mile away below them, surrounded by the hills in such a picturesque scene of pastoral landscape any artist would cry happy tears at the thought of painting it, is the town they have escaped from to enjoy a few hours alone; the remains of their lunch lie abandoned on the blanket only a few steps away, the singing of the birds strangely subdued, as if even the small creatures of the woods didn’t dare disturb their peace.   

Suddenly, her lovely eyes turn in his direction; she smiles, languid and vaguely sleepy, and he doesn’t bother breaking the gaze as he finally intertwines their fingers. The woman by his side smiles, and for a moment, he’s the King of the world.

“Make a wish.” she invites him softly, and he raises an eyebrow, amused.

“There’s nothing I wish.” he truthfully admits “I already have everything I could ever want, here with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“A wish. Ask for something you’d like to see come true.”

“Hmm, you’re such a flatterer…”

She giggles, and a moment later she’s moved to straddle him, her shapely legs caging his hips. “I got you.” she murmurs, openly pleased as she observes the man under him, her fingers ghosting over the portion of his chest left naked by his coat “You’re in my power now, I can do whatever I want with you…”

Now he’s grinning, all too aware of the pressure of her pelvis against his as his hands raise to cradle her hips. They’ve never made love in the open, and he’s never had any interest in filling that gap, but after all they’re far from the town, alone save for the birds and critters populating the woods nearby and who will tell no one what they’re doing, and the sensation of her rocking on his already hardening member is too delicious, too sensual and heavenly to resist…

“... I wish?”

“What, my beauty?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs, confused for a moment “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said, do you know what I would wish for?”

Her smile softens; she stops moving to simply look at him, vaguely pensive, her hands now taking his. “I wish this moment would never end.“ she answers in the end. She’s not smiling anymore, as if already aware of how fragile and inconsequential dreams are when facing the harshness of reality, or maybe she’s unsettled, almost scared, by the intensity of her own feelings… as if she feared that what she feels, all the love and the desire and the affection, could destroy her “That we could stay here for the rest of our lives, forgetting everything else.”

“And what would we do?”

“Whatever we please. We’d talk. We’d eat and drink. We’d make love. You and I, and no one else to disturb us. I know it’s absurd, but… it’d be nice.”

It is absurd, they both know it perfectly: they’re both busy people, with duties and interests and ambitions of their own, but it would be nice to forget everything, he thinks, say to hell with everything else and simply live of love, like in the cheesiest and most unrealistic of films and novels. They’d move to a place where no one knows their names, build a little house, and spend their days fishing and tilling the soil… maybe raise a couple children…

As if. I could never be content with a life like that, and neither could she.

The woman pouts, adorable in her displeasure; she rolls her hips, and he yelps. “You’re making fun of me.”

“I swear I’m not!”

“You were smiling. I know it’s stupid, it was just a thought… You know I miss you when you’re away…”

He misses her as well, he says, so much at times he feels suffocating, but that makes his returns even sweeter - when he reaches the harbour of her island, and she’s there waiting for him, happy and relieved, and ready to enjoy their time together, however short it might be.

“Listen, I can’t promise you we’ll run away, leave the world behind and live like a couple of hermits, having sex from morning till evening.” he says gently in the end; he sits up, and a moment later he has embraced her, the soft body filling the space in his arms as if it had been created for it “You know it would only make us miserable. But this I can promise: wherever we go, no matter how far from each other we’ll be… I’ll always come back to you.”

“Always?”

“Always. I swear to you, (name); nothing and no one, not even death itself, will ever stop me from returning to you.”

The conversation has started as little more than a joke, the sort of sweet nothings lovers (and this is what they are, he reflects; friendship and respect and mind-blowing sex would have sufficed, but almost a decade has passed since his and (name)’s first encounter, and by now he knows beyond any doubt he is completely lost, lost for her beauty and grace and intelligence and strength. He loves her, and he will never be able to live without her) share during their intimacy, but both have perceived the real meaning of those words… a promise, instinctive but not naive, to keep no matter what.

(name) nods. “Then I'll be waiting.” she promises; she's dead serious, almost stern, as if to warn him against failing to keep his word “No matter how long you make me wait, even if it means spending the rest of my life here, I promise I'll wait for you.”

“I don't want you to spend…”

“Then don't stay away for so long. We both know what we feel; now we need to make sure to live it to the fullest. Come back to me, my love; I promise you'll never have to regret it.”

He already knows that he won’t. He sighs when she finally lowers herself to press her mouth, warm and soft, against his; holding her by the hips, he cautiously shifts so as to lay her on the grass under him. “I want you.” he murmurs, breaking the kiss; he’s been aware of the fact since their very first encounter, when he had only had to see the way her hips swayed as she walked in front of him to feel unable to swallow, but the intensity of his desire never ceases to amaze him… not because she doesn’t deserve it, but because he never thought he could feel this way, for anyone “(name), I want you so much.”

(name)’s smile is all the answer he needs; not breaking the gaze they’re sharing, she takes his hand to guide it under her skirt. “Then take me.” she murmurs “Take me now, my love, I’m yours and I swear I’ll be forever.”

*

He’s been sailing for at least three hours, letting the wind and the tide guide him in the absence of a map, when land finally appears on the horizon, and he allows himself to heave a sigh of relief. There, he tells himself, on that small island he doesn't even know the name of, he’ll find what he’s looking for. He’ll find help -a doctor for his wounds, perhaps, and food and water to satiate the hunger and thirst that are literally devouring him from the inside- and answers to the questions he has kept obsessing over ever since he woke up, lying on the wooden deck of this tiny boat, under the unforgiving sun of a midsummer morning.

What happened to me?

Where am I going, or at least, where do I come from?

And most important of all…

Who am I?

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t have the slightest idea, not of his own name, nor of the town or country he was born in, nor of the reason he found himself at sea, completely alone, and this is… well, not scary -he is not afraid, even though perhaps he should be- but somehow destabilising, as if he had been asked to translate a text in a foreign language he doesn’t speak, or to make a long journey without telling him his destination. He’s completely devoid of any reference point, regarding himself and his course both, and he doesn’t like it. Not one bit. 

He doesn’t even know what part of the Sea he is on, whether the Grand Line or one of the Four Blues. When he opened his eyes, brusquely awoken from his dreamless slumber by a combination of the sun on his eyes and the grumbling of his empty stomach, there was nothing around him but water, fortunately smooth, in all directions. He doesn’t recognise the ship he is on, a tiny but well-built -but how could he know?, he wondered; he felt confident in his judgement, but had no idea where that security came from, how he acquired it. Is he a shipwright, used to build vessels and to repair them? Looking at his hands, strong but free from calluses and blisters, it seemed unlikely; then what? Is he a sailor? A fisherman? A waiter on a goddamned cruise ship?- craft with a single white sail, but thank the Gods, searching in his memory, he has realised he knows how to sail, even though he has no idea of who taught him, or how he learnt, so he has been able to govern the ship in search of land. The island in front of him gets bigger by the minute, its well-kept buildings and lush vegetation already discernible. He’s almost there, he tells himself, searching for an ounce of optimism in his heart and finding none; and once he has reached his destination, everything will fall into place. 

He'll be able to eat and drink, he'll feel better, and at that point he'll decide what to do. Who knows, maybe luck will smile on him, and he'll find someone who knows him; he’ll be told who he is, and what happened to him. Maybe his home, and his family, are there, and they’ll be happy to see him… 

She’s there as well. She is, he could bet his life on it, even though he has no concrete reason to believe it; maybe that is why he was so close to the island when he got sick or was attacked or whatever happened to him, he was going to visit her, and she’s waiting for him, like she had promised. You see, (name)?, he wishes he could tell her, and he will soon, if it’s the last thing he does, I promised I would be back, and I am. I lost my memory, I don’t even know my own name, but I returned to you, and I can’t wait to hold you in my arms once more…

But even if she’s not here, whether because she has moved or because she lives elsewhere -after all, he reasons, for all he knows this island might not have been his original destination, only the closest place to where the tide led his ship while he was unconscious, or perhaps he had decided to go there for some other reason than a visit to his ladylove- he’ll find her. It won’t be easy, since he only knows her name, but difficulties do not scare him; (name) is the only person who can tell him who he is, and maybe even how he ended up in the middle of the Sea with no memory of himself and his history, and then there is another motive, another reason why he can’t wait to see the woman whose memory is enough to make his heart tremble, a reason he’d be too embarrassed to admit out loud but that would make him able to swim to the other side of the Great Line if needed, if it afforded him the chance to hold her in his arms just once more… 

The fact that he ignores his own name is what troubles him the most. As he regained consciousness he knew, without the need to observe his body and touch his face, that he’s a male, relatively young -not a kid by any means, but a still young adult- taller than average and fitter than most. He doesn’t have a mirror, and his hair is too short to move a lock in front of his eyes to check, but after a brief inspection on his arms he’s pretty sure it’s dark, and curly and soft to the touch; his skin is fair, and he has a short beard, moustaches, and sideburns. A pleasant face, it would seem, or at least well-groomed, just like his clothes are practical but elegant: he likes the flower-decorated jacket, and his boots are sturdy and of good quality. Is he a wealthy man? Or perhaps simply a fashion lover? Maybe he’s a tailor, used to wearing his own creations… 

Still, his clothes are not the items he has observed with the most interest; it's the sword, the only object present on the ship and large enough to occupy most of the space. 

It's huge, and beautiful, with its black blade and ornate hilt; it looks heavy, but when he attempted to lift it the sword felt perfect for his hands, durable and powerful, and while swinging it around on such a tiny ship, with the only mast within reach, would have had disastrous consequences, one fact is sure: he’s a swordsman, a probably powerful one, and this is his weapon. 

He has a beautiful sword, here in his hands, and a beautiful woman, potentially far but who’s surely waiting for his return. All things considered, it could have been worse.

Finally, the island’s harbour appears in front of him; his cruise has reached his end, in a few minutes he’ll be able to eat his full  -he doesn’ have any money with him, so how he’ll be able to pay for his meal remains a mystery, but still- and even search for a doctor to help him. In truth, medical attention seems to be the most urgent need, no matter how his stomach is growling: steering the ship feels more and more tiring with every passing minute, and at times it’s like he can’t properly focus on the scene in front of his eyes, as if he were looking at the world through a dense fog…

It’s going to be alright. I’ll find people who’ll help me. Who know me. I’ll find her. I’ll be fine. I just need to endure for a little longer…

The harbour is unexpectedly busy for such a small island, but finally he’s leaving the ship’s deck to step onto the gangplank, and immediately regrets it when a sudden bout of vertigo makes him stumble. The sword, that he has fastened to his back and that at first felt almost light, as if his body were already used to carrying it around even though he couldn’t remember ever doing it, is suddenly as heavy as a boulder. 

He tries grabbing the handrail to support himself, but his hand slips from the metal bar, and a moment later he’s on his knees; chatter rises around him, the alarmed voices of people who have noticed his distress and are approaching to help, and that is kind of them but it’s bad for him, because he’s not the sort of man who asks for, or even just accepts, help, not even if his very life were on the line…

“Are you alright?” 

He’s sweating, which is not surprising given the hot weather, but it’s not the sort of perspiration one can get rid of with a cold bath; still kneeling, he tries desperately to focus, to return the gaze of the many people who are now surrounding him, offering help -you want me to call for someone? Are you sick?- including an older man who has kneeled right in front of him, and who is saying words he can’t understand, and who wears an uniform he recognises, even though he can’t remember whether he has seen one before: he’s the harbourmaster. 

His mouth feels parched; he tries wetting his lips, but uselessly. “(name).” he murmurs, turning blindly all around him. Why is it so dark? “I’m looking for (name). Is there a woman… with her name… here?”

An excited murmuring follows; they know her, he thinks, relief filling him like a wave, but he can’t understand, can’t hear or see properly either, and who knows how long has it been since his last drop of water, not to mention his last meal…

“Please… please, I need to find her… It’s important…” 

“It’s alright, son.” the harbourmaster tells him, clearly alarmed by the state of the half-dead swordsman who has just stumbled on his pier; he nods in the direction of someone else, who quickly abandons the small crowd “We’ll call her.”

They do know her. They know how to find her! “Really?”

“Of course. I promise, we’ll tell her you’re here. What’s your name?”

If only I knew it, he thinks morosely, and alarm fills him; what if (name) refuses to meet him because she doesn’t know he is the one looking for her? 

“I don’t know.” he admits; he has no reason to feel ashamed, but he does “But I know… I know that I love her.”

A moment later he’s laying on the gangplank, the distant cry of a seagull brushing against his ear before his conscience succumbs into the abyss once more. 

*

You find yourself whistling softly as you cross the fortress’ main gate, having refused the harbourmaster’s offer to call for your carriage. A nice walk is just what you need after two full days of navigation back from the Marines HQ, especially on such a fine day, the sun almost blinding in the cloudless sky above you. You can’t remember the last time you felt in such a good mood; you’ll tell your mother about your latest success, have a bath, take a nap, and then take care of the no doubt numerous tasks and issues that have piled up in your absence. Sounds like a plan, you think, still unaware of what the rest of the day - no, what the next ten minutes have in store for you.

“Welcome home, my lady.”

“Thank you. Please have our bookkeeper take care of this.” you instruct one of the servants who have greeted you, entrusting him with the parcel Vice-Admiral Garp put in your hands two days ago, and that you have just retrieved from the hidden pocket inside your skirt “Half of it to the fortress’ treasure, half to whoever here on the island needs it the most.”

“It will be done, my lady.” the man in livery answers with a slight bow “And there is a matter that requires your attention.”

“What is it? Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing of the sort; it’s just…” the three people in front of you, all of whom have served in your home for years, exchange a look, as if they didn’t know how to describe the issue they are bringing to your attention “Three days ago a… guest has reached the island, looking for you. He was very sick, so your lady mother decided to entrust him to the fortress’ doctor.”

“Of course, that was the right thing to do. Who is it?”

“Forgive me, my lady, but it’s better if you saw him with your own eyes.”

Curious, you move in the direction of the guest room on the first floor, where your mysterious visitor has been residing since the doctor decided there was no need to keep him in the infirmary. Who could it be? It can’t be simply one of your friends from out of the island, there would be no need to be so secretive about it; and since you’ve always been careful not to reveal the name of your island to the people you meet on the job -informants, victims… the lovers you occasionally take during your travels to make sure your reputation remains immaculate when you’re home…- it can’t be any of them. Then who…?

Oh, Gods. It’s Theon, is it not?, you wonder with a sigh as you cross the corridor; your cousin would have no reason to visit, since he knows well you don’t like him anymore than he likes you, which is very little, but for a few years you’ve had the impression he has designs on your role as the island’s future ruler, and that he’s trying to convince your mother to exclude you from the line of succession in his favour. Which would never happen, of course, but still; you’d rather receive the visit of a Navy Admiral at the head of a Buster Call fleet than his. 

Your mother and the doctor are standing in front of one of the guest rooms, engaged in a whispered conversation that quickly ceases when they see you come; the man bows slightly before leaving, and your mother offers you her hands to take, smiling warmly as you exchange a kiss.

“How are you, my love?”

“Ninety-two million berry.” you announce proudly, and with reason: it’s the highest bounty you’ve ever earned, and even Garp complimented you when you presented him the severed head of your quarry. The captain you have captured was a known pirate and a fearsome combatant, not as much as him, of course, no, this guy -who didn’t expect the woman he had casually met in an inn and had offered to buy him a drink was a bounty hunter with a derringer and a round already in the chamber as she let him led her to the back of the building for some alone time- could never hold a candle to the man you have hunted for almost a decade and never been able to capture. He’s still stronger, smarter, more resourceful than you; you had to admit it, at least in the privacy of your heart, after your latest encounter, four months ago, when you failed to capture him for the hundredth time. But he won’t be forever, you have promised yourself as you licked your wounds; one day he’ll make a mistake, or at least lower his attention for more than three seconds. That’s all you need. “I’m unharmed, he didn’t even realise I was going to shoot him until it was too late. Not bad, right?”

“You’ve been great; I’m sure your grandfather would be proud. You visited that restaurant you told me about?” she asks, already well aware of your habits; every time you collect a bounty, you treat yourself to a nice meal, or occasionally a new dress, and then devolve the rest of the bounty to the well-being of your people, or your land. You don’t exactly need the money; that’s not why you do it, but it would be pointless not to use it, wouldn’t it?

“I did, and the black cod with miso was even more delicious than I expected; next time we’ll go together. Mother… who is this visitor we received?”

“Ah, yes…” 

Now serious, your mother explains that three days ago a man arrived on the island, gravely sick and almost starving, asking for you; it’s literally everything he has been saying, during the brief moments of consciousness since his arrival. Where is (name)? I need to talk to (name). 

“Who is he?”

“That is the most peculiar thing; this man claims he has lost his memory, and the doctor concurs the result is compatible with the sort of wound he has received. Everything he seems to remember, it’s you. Your name, and your face, that I asked him to describe to make sure he wasn’t looking for another woman with your name. It’s… so unexpected…” 

“Do you know who he is?”

“I do. I had never met him before, but… well, it was easy to recognise him. He’s awake now, and the sooner you talk to him, the better.”

So it’s not your cousin. More and more intrigued, you wordlessly step closer to the door, brush your fingers against the derringer hanging from your waist -you doubt you have much to fear from this man, since apparently he was at death’s door just three days ago, but you never know- raise your hand to the door to knock, and then enter. 

The room is bathed in the early afternoon’s light, the light breeze coming from the open window gently stirring the bed’s canopy; on the wall facing the door there’s a painting depicting a pastoral scene, not exactly a masterpiece which is why you and your mother have confined it to a room you have never been in for at least a year. 

The man who has apparently lost his memory except for what concerns you is sitting on the bed, completely still as he lifts his gaze towards you. The shirt he is wearing is probably a loan from some courtier, but the sword is his: his favourite weapon, the huge black-bladed Yoru, is propped against the wall next to the bed, within reach should his owner decide to wield it. 

“(name).” he says, without a moment of doubt, just like you don’t hesitate in recognising him; how could you, when you have spent much of your life as an adult hunting him?

“You.” you murmur, completely stunned, and for a whole minute you’re completely incapable of uttering a single word more.

You are dreaming. He’s an illusion. You were wrong and it’s not him, just a man who resembles him more than a twin brother could. You quickly consider whatever options your brain supplies before dismissing each of them; you’re awake, he’s real, and by now you know this man well enough you could recognise him even with your eyes closed, and then there are his eyes, those eyes you’re ready to bet no other man in the world has and that sometimes seem to have an unexpected effect on you, as if they could see through your clothes, and even into your heart…

Before you realise, your feet have guided you to the bed. “What are you doing here?” you ask softly, before remembering that he has no way of telling you, since apparently he lost his memory. 

Still, you can’t help wondering. What brought him to your island? Was he looking for you? You really can’t think of a reason why he would do something like that -but the simple thought makes you feel… no, you better not reflect on that, because that’s a line of thinking that might end up revealing truths you’re not ready to face- but it can’t be a coincidence, can it? Your home is days of sailing away from the Marines HQ and even farther from Kuraigana Island, where he’s been residing for years; that he was in a completely different part of the sea and reached your island simply because the tides carried him there is too much of a coincidence to be believed. But then, why does he still remember your name, if he has forgotten everything else? Why was it so important that he spoke to you…?

“(name).” Mihawk murmurs after a minute, tearing you from your thoughts. He’s looking at you with an intensity that at first feels overwhelming, his bird-eyes overflowing with an emotion you can’t readily give a name to. It’s relief, and joy, and… and… desire? “It’s… it’s you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s me. Mihawk, what are you…?”

“Oh… oh, Gods, I am so glad to see you!”

Those words are highly surprising to hear coming from his mouth, for several reasons - namely, taciturn and impassive as he is, Mihawk is the last man in the world you’d expect to hear express his feelings so openly, especially towards you, given the fact that while you’ve known each other for many years, you can’t exactly say you are friends. Maybe he’s still confused, you tell yourself as you do your best to ignore the slight blush that has blossomed on your face, which is probably natural given his state; your name is all he remembers, which means you’re the only person he knew he could ask for help, and anyone would find comfort, even happiness, after finding…

But if Mihawk’s declaration had surprised you, that is nothing compared to what he does, a moment later, too quickly for you to have the time to react.

Mihawk smiles -another first time, and it’s incredible how that simple expression can change his face, making him appear not only younger, but a completely different person- and despite his evident weakness he reaches out towards you, still standing next to his bed, and takes your face in his hands.

“You’re even more beautiful than I remembered.” he murmurs, affection filling his voice; a moment later he has pressed his mouth to yours in a searing, passionate kiss.

Your mind blanks out. You’re under shock; an unmistakably pleasant sensation, but traumatic nonetheless in its intensity. 

You have time to perceive how soft his mouth is, firm and warm and naturally sensual; your eyelids flutter, and your own lips part to deepen the kiss… 

And then, almost reflexively, you raise your hand and use it to slap Mihawk with all your strength across the face.

*

He has never felt so stupid.

That’s a probably meaningless claim to make, considering that his never only dates back to three days ago, but he’s nevertheless confident this moment would come out on top even if he had full access to his memories and he was an especially awkward person, prone to blunders and gaffes - which he’s not, he instinctively decides. 

He doesn’t even dare to think about the impression his gesture may have given; to kiss someone suddenly, without asking for permission, the way he did to (name) deserved more than a slap, especially after her people have taken care of him when he was already at death’s door. Shame weighs so heavy on his heart he can barely breathe; he’s not that sort of man - he doesn’t want to be, at least, and hopes he’s never been, and the last thing he wanted was to impose his attentions on (name).

But he had been so sure. Those thoughts… those images in his mind… they were together, he and (name), the love and desire and intimacy between them so intense he could have almost tasted them. He could have bet his life, without a moment of hesitation, that he and (name) were a couple, lovers or maybe even married; it would have explained why she -her name, and her lovely face- was the only thing he remembered, and why he had woken up closer to her island than to any other piece of land: he had been on his way to visit her. 

He was wrong. Sorely, acutely wrong, judging from her reaction. They clearly aren’t lovers, either official or otherwise, given her reaction to his kiss; what are they, then? They might have broken up, their relationship now belonging to the past, but… what if it was all in his head, not the memory of a real event but just a dream, maybe an illusion his mind had concocted? Maybe he has been in love with (name) without her knowing -or reciprocating- and that scene of the two of them frolicking on the grass was nothing more than wishful thinking, a desire to have his beloved by his side. Or maybe that romantic scene had been his brain’s unconscious way to tell him it was imperative that he found her and spoke to her, whatever the reason. 

At least he is pretty sure they are not related; now that would have been embarrassing, given what he did, and dreamt of doing.

“Damn me.” he swears softly; he needs (name)’s help even more desperately than he needs food, and he couldn’t blame her if the woman decided to give him the boot. He’s been so stupid, so reckless, convinced as he was that everything would be fine now that he had found his lover, and yet…

Lost as he is in his self loathing, it takes him a while to realise someone is shooting, right under his window judging from the proximity of the noise. Tension fills him: has someone come for him? Worse, is (name) in danger? What on earth is happening now?

Standing from the bed takes him an embarrassing amount of time, and he needs even more to make sure his legs can actually support him once he stops clinging to the headboard, but in the end, he’s able to walk the brief distance that separates him from the window. The shooting continues, a single bullet being fired every few seconds, and when he looks outside it becomes immediately clear that no one is in danger, and no armed assault is being moved to the fortress.

(name) is training.

The targets are lined on a fence in front of her in order of size, the biggest a tin can as large as his hand and the smallest too far for him to discern. (name) is standing perfectly still, the gun he has seen hanging from her waist during their brief encounter in her hand; she looks determined, focused, methodical, and utterly breath-taking as she shoots, hitting bullseye every time, her targets falling to the ground one after the other. In the end, the fence is bare, but (name) doesn’t seem satisfied yet; he sees her search in her skirt’s pockets, and then retrieve a single coin. She turns so that the sun is in her eyes and closes them, as if enjoying the light’s kiss on her face; a moment later she has tossed the coin in the air, her gun at the ready…

Another bullseye. 

“That was amazing.” he says without thinking, loud enough for (name) to hear; she turns, startled, her gun raised, before lowering it as she arches her eyebrow. She has changed her clothes since their first, brief encounter, but her dress is of a similar model, with a long skirt and a holster for her weapon.

“Should you be on your feet? The doctor said you’re still very weak.”

“I wanted to see who was shooting; and I feel much better, thanks to your people’s help. (name), I… I owe you an apology.”

“I agree.”

“I am sorry, truly; I…” I don’t know what came over me, he’s about to say, but the truth is that he does, even though it’s too embarrassing to share “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, or to… hurt you. I will leave, if you want me to, and never bother you again.”

She stares at him for a full minute, openly judging his sincerity; what she sees seems to please her, because a tiny smile blossoms on her lips, and “Very well.” she decides as she holsters her gun “There’s no need for you to leave, at least until you’re back to health. Give me a minute and I’ll be with you.”

He looks at her until she has disappeared through a backdoor into the fortress, and then smiles, relieved, before lowering his gaze to contemplate his body, naked under the shirt. He could go back to bed and cover himself with the sheet, but fortunately his clothes have been returned to him this morning, washed and folded; he quickly retrieves his trousers from the back of a chair, and has the time to put them on and wash his face in the water basin before a soft but firm knocking announces (name)’s arrival.

“Come in.”

She enters slowly, almost hesitating despite being in her own home; but then she smiles, and a chair is brought closer to the bed, so that they can sit face to face.

“The doctor says you’ll be fine in a few days.”

“I know; I feel better already. (name), I really am so sorry…”

She shakes her head to silence him. “I believe you; no need to talk about it again.” she points out, and he could swear he has seen a trace of blush on her face “Now… you really don’t remember anything? Not even who you are?”

“I don’t; only you. Your face… and your name. I woke up on a ship, sailed towards the closest island, and fainted on the harbour. When I woke up I was here.”

“Oh, Gods…”

A minute passes; they look at each other. “How do you feel?” (name) asks in the end, watching him closely, and suddenly he feels unable to swallow “Are you… worried? Scared?”

He reflects on the matter for a moment before answering. “I feel frustrated, because I can’t remember who I am and where I come from; and worried I will never remember, a little, because your doctor said it’s impossible to know whether it will happen, and when. But scared, no.”

“I’m not surprised; you’re not the sort of man who scares easily. I’d even say you don’t know the meaning of the word.”

There is a trace of admiration in her voice; he smiles. “Can you tell me my name? You said it before but I didn’t catch it.”

“Of course. Your name is Dracule Mihawk; many know you as “Hawk-eye” Mihawk.”

Dracule Mihawk. It’s a good, strong name, that he -that Mihawk- repeats under his breath, and while he can’t say he feels it as his own, he decides that he likes it.

“And who am I? I mean, what do I do? Do I… have a trade, or…?”

The question seems to amuse (name). “Who do you think you are?” she asks back, and once again, Mihawk takes a moment to reflect before answering, his gaze moving to the huge black sword propped against the wall a few feet from them.

“I think I’m a swordsman. It’s not just because I had that with me, I… I feel I can use it. That it’s part of me.”

“It is.”

“Am I good?”

“You are more than good; you are exceptional.” (name) explains; she speaks matter-of-factly, like a student repeating a not particularly interesting lesson to their teacher, but Mihawk could swear there is a trace of admiration in her voice “You’re known, not without reason, as the world’s strongest swordsman. You’ve conquered the title when you were still a boy, and since then no opponent has ever been able to trouble you. You’re a very powerful pirate, known in all Four Seas and across the Grand Line; you’ve vanquished countless other crews, and even the Marines have given up years ago on trying to apprehend you.”

Silence falls; Mihawk almost doesn’t realise he’s staring at her, open-mouthed, overwhelmed, disbelieving. “You are joking.”

“I promise you I’m not. You’re an extraordinary person, Mihawk; you have much to be proud of.”

Rather than proud, he feels humbled, because the last thing he feels at the moment is exceptional, powerful. The strongest swordsman in the world… if only the opponents he destroyed could see him now, barely able to stand and wield his weapon. How can he represent a threat to the military forces of the World Government, if he doesn’t even know where his home is?

(name) is still looking at him, sitting composedly on her chair, hands in her lap, empathy and compassion evident on her face. Her mother is the island’s lady, the doctor has mentioned to him that morning, and she’s the future ruler of that small but wealthy fief. Mihawk can clearly see the refinement and elegance she exudes, not simply in her clothes and discreet but precious jewels, it’s something more…

She is one of a kind; steel under velvet, much more clever and dangerous than many would expect from a pretty noble lady. Even in the midst of his vast ignorance Mihawk is sure of it, but there’s something else he needs to know…

“And you?” he murmurs, leaning forward until he and (name) are almost breathing the same air; he can feel his heart pounding, as if his very life depended on the answer he’s going to receive. For all he knows it could; he certainly feels that it does “Who are you, (name)?”

Who are you for me? What are we? Why do I still remember you even though I forgot everything else? Why do I feel that I love you, and that I did it even before all of this?

“Me?” she asks, and now she’s not simply smiling; she is grinning, openly amused, unlike him well aware of the absurdity of their situation “I am the bounty hunter who has sworn to kill you.”

* 

Mihawk refused to use a cane, but (name) has convinced him to lean on her arm, at least for the brief walk towards the fortress’ gardens. His fair complexion does not agree with a man who spends much time outside, but Mihawk feels better, after three days spent locked in a room. A maid has brought tea and a little food, and he enjoys the drink while (name), sitting by his side on a wooden bench, tells him about him and, consequently, about herself.

They have met for the first time as teenagers, the woman explains, when she was just starting out as a bounty hunter -literally starting out; it was my first assignment- and he an up-and-coming swordsman who had been challenged to a duel by the man (name) had decided to neutralise. Years later, their paths crossed once again, when the woman, by now an experienced killer, decided to make him the next item on her list of victims.

“And I escaped?”

“You did. That time and, it pains me to say, all the ones that followed.”

(name) is one of the most capable bounty hunters allied with the World Government, she explains without false modesty; ever since she started, and especially as she gained experience and refined her technique, very few targets have escaped her, and no one has done it twice. 

No one apart from him.

“How many times have I… escaped you?” Mihawk asks; the situation, he sitting peacefully side by side with a woman who has attempted to kill him and who is now hosting him in her house, is more than a little surreal, but Mihawk can’t help finding it amusing, and given the barely concealed smile on (name)’s lovely lips, he’s not the only one.

“I have lost count. Believe me, it’s… it’s more than a little frustrating; I know I can’t beat you on the physical level, but I have already neutralised many powerful pirates. I’m a bounty hunter, not a warrior; I usually sneak up on them, waiting for them to be too relaxed or unharmed to react, put a bullet in their head, end of the story. With you… I don’t know what else to do. I’ve reached the end of my rope.”

“Well, I guess it’s harder to be caught off guard when you already know the face of the person who wants to kill you.”

“True; but it’s not just that. I’ve tried everything, but you keep escaping me; who knows.” (name) admits with a sigh “Maybe it’s simply impossible - you are simply impossible. So many great swordsmen haven’t been able to beat you, no matter how hard they trained; perhaps it’s the same for me, and you’ll always be the one man I can’t capture, the one failure on an otherwise impeccable curriculum.”

Mihawk grins; he can’t help it. “I’m sorry I’m such a source of embarrassment for you.”

“Don’t be; I can’t very well blame you for doing your best to stay alive, can I?”

They both reflect on the matter as they enjoy their tea. Whatever he might have expected from his encounter with (name), it wasn’t this, Mihawk reflects; the woman he thought was his partner, maybe even his wife, is actually a killer who clearly would like nothing better than to neutralise him and earn his bounty. He has seen with his eyes how capable she is as a markswoman, and wouldn’t be surprised to know (name) has hunted him across the Grand Line, risking her own life for a chance to put a bullet through his skull. He wonders if the old him, before he lost his memory, simply did his best to survive, or if he ever fought back; if he was -if he is- such a formidable swordsman and pirate, why didn’t he simply kill her, to save himself the trouble of having to watch his back all the time?

Because you are in love with her, that’s why; she would give half of her blood to kill you, but you couldn’t even harm a hair of her head. Maybe you were even happy about those attempts on your life, because they meant yet another occasion to meet her…

It’s vaguely pathetic, but Mihawk can’t bring himself to be sorry for it.

“You know.” he begins after a while, his cup now only half full “I would have no way to defend myself if you attacked me now. I left my sword in my room, and I’m not even sure I would be able to lift it weak as I am; you could call your guards, have me restrained, and shoot me in the head.”

(name) looks at him, clearly unimpressed. “You really think I would do something like that? What sort of person do you take me for?”

“I meant no disrespect; but please remember that from my point of view we have known each other for half an hour. You and your people have taken care of me, but you did say you have tried to kill me several times.”

“True.” she admits; she bites her lip, as if embarrassed for having judged him unfairly, and Mihawk discovers he can’t look away “But believe me, I could never take advantage of a man in your state. First of all, if a man, any man, arrives at my door asking for help, I’m going to give it to him; I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror otherwise. Also, I don’t simply want to pocket your bounty; if I hunt you, it’s because I want to prove how capable I am - more capable than you. That is why I never attempted to poison your drink, or to sink your ship in the middle of the Sea; I would find no satisfaction in winning without a fair fight.”

Mihawk smiles. “So it’s a matter of honour.”

“I knew you would understand. With most people I wouldn’t bother, but you… you, Mihawk, are a special case.”

She is smiling as well now, her gaze that after a moment drops to the cup on her lap; she hasn’t blushed, Mihawk doubts she’s that sort of person, but the chaste intimacy of that moment is too intense for either of them to ignore.

Have you really attempted to kill me, (name)? Every single time? Or have you prayed in your heart I could escape you once again, torn between your duty and your feelings?

It’s only wishful thinking, clearly; the fact that she hasn’t pointed her gun to his forehead as soon as she recognised him and didn’t take advantage of his weakened state means she’s an honourable woman, not that she’s the sort of hunter who falls in love with her prey. He’ll have to depart as soon as he’s strong enough to, even if his memory won’t have returned by then, it wouldn’t be fair to take advantage of (name)’s hospitality… and he doubts she’ll want him there in any case.

“Good to know…”

“So you’re going to nurse me back to health and then release me to the wild, as if I were a prized buck?”

“Well, I don’t plan on mounting your head on my wall, but yes, that’s the gist of it.”

They share a grin; a moment later (name)’s hand is resting on his, her touch delicate but firm. “You’ll have nothing to fear as long as you remain in this house.” she murmurs; she’s not looking at him, but Mihawk can’t help perceiving the determination in her voice “You have my word.”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak; the impulse of turning his hand to intertwine their fingers is so intense he has to force himself to remain still.

“Does the name Shanks mean anything to you?” (name) asks after a while. Mihawk shrugs; considering that his own name didn’t evoke any particular emotion, he doubts he’d recognise another’s. 

“Who is it?”

Red-Haired Shanks is a -perhaps the only- friend of his, (name) tells him, a well-known pirate he has fought many times already; he is probably the person who can tell Mihawk the most about himself, since they’ve known each other for years. 

“I can try and find where he is.” the woman proposes; she seems sincerely eager to do something for him, which makes Mihawk feel something he’s not sure he has the courage to analyse “Since he’s a pirate he obviously doesn’t have a permanent address, but I’m pretty sure there are a number of islands under the protection of his crew; I could find a way to send him a letter there, or to have someone give him my Den Den Mushi number.”

In his heart, Mihawk is not sure it’d help; after all even his best friend wouldn’t be able to do much more than telling him things about himself, which is only useful to a certain extent, and since his memories don’t seem about to return when (name) herself is doing it, why would it be different if Shanks were in her place? Still, he has no better option, and since it was (name) who proposed it…

“That’d be very kind of you. Thank you, (name); I am really grateful.”

*

Having finished their tea, they take a short stroll in the gardens, surrounded by the lush vegetation that, (name) explains, is her mother’s pride and joy. Mihawk asks her to tell him all she knows about his past, which, it turns out, it’s plenty: even though they’re not exactly friends, she’s the sort of person who prepares meticulously for every assignment she accepts, and she has gathered plenty of information on her favourite target.

“I’m not exactly sure where you were born, but when the papers first started to write about you you were on the Grand Line, which suggests you came from there. You’ve been living for a few years on an island called Kuraigana.”

“Alone?”

“Very alone, considering that as far as I know the place was abandoned before you arrived there; there are probably animals in the woods, but nothing more. That I know of, at least; not that… I’ve ever been there…”

Mihawk could swear she’s embarrassed, even though he can’t begin to know why. 

“No, I mean…” he begins, and then he hesitates “... do I have a family…? Am I…”

Gods, he can’t even say it, let alone sound nonchalant as he does it.

“... married…?”

“Oh! I don’t believe so; I mean, you’re a quite solitary person, and I never heard about you having a partner. Then again, as I said I have never been on your island, so for all I know you could have a spouse and five children waiting for you on Kuraigana. And with regard to your family…”

She’s biting her lip again. “There’s something I found out years ago, as I researched you. I don’t want you to think I was snooping around, sticking my nose in your personal business, I just wanted to know more about you to find out if you had a weak point.”

“And I do?”

“Not that I have found. Anyway, I met this woman, who told me she had worked for your family when you were young. Your mother… your mother died in childbirth, and your father remarried when you were seven. I don’t know why exactly, but by that time you had already left the house… together with your sister.”

His sister was much older than him, she tells him, and more or less raised Mihawk in the place of their mother: they were very close, until… until the woman was killed, the night before her own wedding, but not by a robber she had caught in her home or a former suitor who didn’t accept she had moved on.

“He was mainly known as The Blue Crane, and he was… well, he was the world’s strongest swordsman before you. According to your old maid, he came into the house while you weren’t there, and killed your sister; I have no idea why, perhaps he wanted to provoke you. And then you returned, and killed him; that is how you conquered your title.”

He stops; he’s tired already, despite the brief distance he has covered at a sedate pace, but that is not the only reason why he can’t wait to return to his room - alone, preferably, no matter how much he enjoys (name)’s company.

“I’m so sorry, Mihawk. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you…”

He forces himself to smile. “No; it’s fine, I’m glad you did. A sister… I can’t even begin to understand what it feels like.”

(name), who is also an only child, nods silently. “I’m sorry.” she murmurs once again, and now she seems frustrated, as if well aware of the uselessness of her words “I shouldn’t have…”

“Forgive me, my lady.” 

Neither had noticed that one of the fortress’ servants had joined them; the man bows low, and Mihawk has to force himself not to glare.

“Yes?”

“There’s a call on your Den Den Mushi, my lady. Vice-Admiral Garp.”

(name) tenses.

“Who is this man?”

“My contact with the Marines; he’s usually the one who pays me when I bring in a bounty. He might have a new job for me, it wouldn’t be the first time, but…”

She turns to him, steel in her gaze. “I’ll talk to him. You want me to accompany you to your room?”

“There’s no need. I… I’ll see you later.”

She winks. “Of course; you can’t escape me, can you?”

Mihawk looks at her go, followed by the servant. Once alone, he lets his feet bring him back to the bench, where a by now cold half-pot of tea is waiting - an image that could fittingly describe his life, Mihawk ruefully thinks; he sits, to the relief of his already tired legs, and looks at the suddenly darkening sky, wishing he could read his future in the clouds, like some people claim to be able to do. Perhaps it’d be happier than his past, or his present; it could hardly be glummer.

The only surviving member of his family. A single friend in the world, who he doesn’t even know how to contact. The woman he was -is- in love with is only waiting for him to once again represent a valid challenge before hunting him down and killing him. And on top of all the rest, he has no idea when his memories will return.

Mihawk is not fully sure he wants them to.

[opal-owl-flight]

New.

I just think that maybe, maybe. It took awhile for 3 to get used to Neo3 being called their old number.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Thinking about a Yandere Demon Lord. This is Part 1.

Yandere Head Canons:

Defying Destiny

Yandere Demon Lord x Isekai Saintess Reader x Yandere Hero

TW: Voyeurism, stalking, Somniaphilia, dacryphillia, dark content, etc

Part 2

You were surprised to be alive after your cold fiancé pushed you into oncoming traffic when you got into an argument with him… all you had wanted was for him to show you that he loved you, but instead he killed you. Yet your life didn’t end… no. Far from it.

Rather than waking up in the supposed after life, you woke up in the Rerenth Kingdom. A fantasy kingdom in a magical world plagued with problems written in fiction novels. And the emperor explained to you, no, demanded that you to take on your role as Saintess to save them from the Demon King.

The demon king was now your enemy. Defeating him was the only way for you to go home… but did you even want to do that? In your last life and in this one, you were merely another unhappy pawn. The silk robes and dazzling abilities did nothing to shield you from the harsh reality of what your life has become once more… would you ever truly be free? Would you ever truly be happy?

The servants often spoke of the monstrous Demon King who controlled the forces of darkness that sought to destroy the light. A demonic entity none of the people in this kingdom had ever truly seen with their own eyes, but they believed him to be out there… how else were they to explain the supernatural happenings that plagued their kingdom? This entire ordeal made little sense to you since you hadn’t seen many disputes between humans and demons unless they were over territory. Vast majority of the time, it was humans that ventured into the demonic lands anyways. Was this perhaps some propaganda tactic? You didn’t know and you didn’t question it, you simply wanted to retire to a peaceful life.

It took a few weeks for you to be able to control your new holy power, but you were able to now harness it for barriers and for healing. Abilities that would be useless without a hero… a fact that the citizens soon realized so they began to devise another plan. To summon a hero!

Another few weeks passed by and they successfully summoned a valiant hero by the name of Reinhardt. His chiseled face was constantly covered by the taxidermied lion mask that adorned his face. The man was massive and intimidating, yet you couldn’t help but feel there was something familiar about him. You couldn’t place a finger on who he could possibly be since you didn’t know anyone else with an imposing stature like his but that gut feeling never left you.

Reinhardt would often glance you up and down when he thought you weren’t looking. His green eyes would bore into yours until you felt as if you’d be set ablaze. He was terrifying to you. Especially now that you were on a journey with him to defeat the demon king… along with a fox beastwoman fighter and an elven mage who had joined your party due to the emperor’s order. The Emperor didn’t see you to be enough aid to the hero on this important quest.

Both adventurers were quite rude to you at first since you had no offensive abilities. They often fawned over the hero who blatantly ignored their affections to instead watch over you like a hawk. A fact the two women didn’t really enjoy, but they accepted it as the weeks melted into months. And you still didn’t know their names since they never told you (and Reinhardt never spoke).

The three of them often fought and killed monsters and demons while you protected the supplies and healed their injuries. It upset you that your party ambushed them since the enemies usually were unarmed. Majority of the time, it was a one-sided slaughter. An endless bloodbath that you had no power to stop.

You often lied to your peers about monsters hiding, unaware that your small act of kindness would lead to a snowball effect in the future. You had now caught the eye of an entity much stronger than you and the hero’s party… all because you were merciful. You were kind and sweet. A true saintess.

Your softness had made your peers joke about you being a cry baby. The elven mage and beastwoman often jabbed their elbows into your side to joke about the tears you’d cry because they thought you were scared. The dense women never realized your tears were for the innocent monsters they slaughtered on a day to day basis too. You were never scared of the demons or monsters, you were scared of them.

Yet Reinhardt nipped the subtle bullying in the bud by shoving the other two adventures away from you with his strong arms. He always made sure you were safe before he offered his body for healing… which he’d just make gesture at you with his hands rather than speak. It seemed he was fond of you, a fondness you didn’t understand since he never spoke to you.

Reinhardt would often pick you up without asking you and tuck you into the crook of his large arm. It bothered you that he never took off his mask, but he had quite an attractive jawline with the slightest bit of stubble. There was not a doubt in your mind that Reinhardt was likely an attractive man, but that didn’t matter. Since he was creepy.

Reinhardt never uttered a word to you but would always dutifully stand by your side (or carry you like some sort of damsel). He often reminded you of your ex fiancé with his stoic demeanor and his bewitching green eyes. And the staring. You swore you felt bare under his gaze even if you had multiple layers on.

And it wasn’t just his eyes you felt on you, you swore there was someone else watching you in the shadows and the possibility of you having another stalker made your skin crawl. Had you finally gone insane from having Reinhardt be around you 24/7? Or was there something sinister amiss?

Maybe that’s why Reinhardt so dutifully clung to you? Whether his protection was out of obligation or simply because he lusted for you, his presence did little to ease the extra set of eyes. In fact, he made it worse.

Wherever you were, Reinhardt was never far. He was with you when you bathed to stand guard. He was carrying you if you couldn’t keep up with him and the rest of the hero’s party. Reinhardt even began to stay in your tent with you…

He didn’t utter a word when he watched over you whenever you had nightmares. Reinhardt never woke you up from the horrific dreams of the man with pitch black hair and sharp talons pulling you into his lap and having his way with you. No, Reinhardt instead dragged his tongue down your tear stricken face in delight.

Reinhardt knew his actions were wrong, but he couldn’t help but fawn over your helpless form. You were so weak without his protection… you were a lamb sent to a slaughter that luckily had a herding dog with you. You should be grateful Reinhardt had such an intense interest in you, otherwise you could have perished earlier on at the goblin camps. Or those other two party members would have likely broken a few of your bones from rough housing. You were a frail bird that needed to be locked up at all times and Reinhardt was willing to be the one to do that! He would keep you safe, even if it took you years to understand even an ounce of his magnitude of feelings for you. He was a patient man!

It wasn’t uncommon for you to wake up in your tent with Reindhart’s imposing form standing over you ominously. You’d cry every single time, but he’d make no move to comfort you. Only stare.

Over the last four weeks, you begin to receive little trinkets in your tent on the daily. Delicacies that Reinhardt would immediately pitch once he saw them, but it filled you with anxiety that he was not the one slipping you those gifts… who on earth could be gifting you such pretty rocks and wild flowers?

You were flattered, just the tiniest bit, by the small, temporary gifts. They were much more welcomed than the iron grip of Reinhardt’s arms. Even though the sender made you anxious, it was nice to know that someone took you into consideration. It was a small action that filled you with hope. Perhaps you would be saved from this fate?

Shame you didn’t understand just how much those tiny gifts upset the hero. Your eyes should only be on him. Your entire purpose should revolve around him. Reinhardt wanted to find the individual who sent you these gifts so he could rip them limb from limb. You belonged to him and he would show you that you had no way of escaping him. You were going to be his bride! Whether you liked it or not, the hero had chosen you as his destined one!

Recently, you’d wake up to him laying beside you in your tent with his large arms wrapped around you. His Roman nose buried into the crook of your neck. This was far worse than him lingering in your tent since he had become so physical.

And your peers did nothing about his harassment of you. To them, it was cute that the hero was so ‘enamored’ with the Saintess! You’ve even heard whispers of how the emperor will no doubt arrange a marriage between the two of you once the four of you eliminated the demon king. It terrified you even more because you knew you’d have little say in the matter… your life was spiraling out of your own control once more. This time, into the arms of some brute with attachment issues. You didn’t want to marry another emotionally constipated man! You wanted to have freedom!

You often cried yourself to sleep which only made Reinhardt even more overbearing. He now would press kisses to your cheeks and cuddle his body into yours. Even in your dreams, you couldn’t escape this massive man. If only you could be saved…

And when you drifted off into an unnaturally heavy sleep, your barriers deactivated. An action that allowed the Demon King to finally slip into your party’s camp and take what he wanted. You.

[avatarchic]

TWENTY-SIX MONTHS

Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side.

— starring. baby daddy!todoroki shoto x fem!reader

— tags. miscommunication trope, angst, pregnancy and giving birth, friends with benefits, vague relationships, running away, slight single parent!au

— warnings. ages are unmentioned, but shoto is in his late 20s/early 30s, smut, soft sex, cunnilingus, praise, p in v, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl), reader gets called a good girl once, shoto is highkey a munch

— word count. 8.2k

— requested? no

— notes. this one ruined me tbh LOL i have a nasty habit of slipping btw present and past tense so the tenses in this one might be all over the place :')))

Whatever you and Todoroki Shoto had together, you knew it wasn’t romantic.

You were his outlet. His source of relaxation when being a hero became too much to bear on his shoulders alone. You were fantastical. You were illusionary. With you, he was no longer Pro Hero Shoto, Number Three Hero. With you, he was just Shoto. And for your moments away from the world hidden beneath wrinkled sheets and closed curtains, that was enough for him. When morning came, and those curtains had to be drawn, he would become Pro Hero Shoto again, and you would wake up to an empty bed.

For you, he was everything.

For you, he was your hero before he became a Pro. He saved you from succumbing to the stress of standing out to survive as a support class student. He saved you from your insecurities and false ambitions, and he saved you from living a life you didn’t truly want. Todoroki Shoto was your best friend before he became the man shrouded in shadow — the man you hid away in secrecy to bed whenever he wanted.

He told you he would be gone for a while. A mission in upper Kyoto that took him away from your arms while you stayed safe in Tokyo. He assured you that he would be fine and return to you as soon as possible. If you were a fool, you might’ve taken those to heart and swooned under the pretense of love. But you knew better.

Before Todoroki Shoto came Pro Hero Shoto. You would be a fool to think he would pick the first before the other. You would be a fool to think that you, a citizen with no name, could ever stand by his side. In your eyes, Shoto put his work before himself. Admirable, strong, ever-the-reliable Pro Hero Shoto. The nights he spent with you as just Shoto made you wonder who else got to see his true self.

The second month of his absence came, and you were sick. An illness had overtaken you, leaving you bedridden for days on end. At first, it had just been nausea. You put it off as motion sickness — you often had to take the train to and from anywhere. Perhaps your stomach had simply met its limit and was taking it out on you with lashes of sickness and vomiting.

After a week of being washed away in your bile, you realized that you had yet to bleed that month. Rather, you realized you hadn’t had your monthly bleeding for a while. You weren’t stupid. You knew what it all meant, and you knew the consequences of your actions had finally caught up to you. You hid away from the world, only leaving to purchase tests from the store.

The answers mocked you. PREGNANT. TWO MONTHS+.

You considered getting rid of it. To keep it your dirty little secret. Shoto would never have to know — no one would ever have to know. But as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, your hand resting atop your stomach, you felt at peace for once. As if you finally had a reason to keep going.

Five months had passed since he was gone, and you felt it now more than ever. You never explained to any of your friends or neighbours who was responsible for the swelling of your tummy, nor about the packages of furniture fit for a nursery that showed up on your doorstep. They never asked. No one knew your trysts with Shoto, and you planned to keep it that way.

For his sake.

You wished. You desperately wished that he could stay by your side, that he could support you through this time of anxiety and worry. You daydreamed of welcoming him home, your little bundle of joy wrapped in your arms as you kissed Shoto on the cheek — a reward for working hard as he always did. You thought about spending more than just nights of pleasure with the two-toned man, about wearing his ring and raising your beloved child together.

As a family.

Thirteen months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Thirteen long, gruelling, and lonely months were spent mourning his absence, even though he was still alive somewhere. It felt like the clouds that followed you for weeks parted only when your son was born. He looked like you. He had your nose and your eyes. He had the same rounded cheeks you still adorn, even well into adulthood. His voice was like bells on a clear sunny day, and when he lay in your arms, you declared that you would love him for all you were worth.

Even if the tuft of red and white on his head brought you immense heartache.

A selfish part of you wished that nothing of your son, whom you’ve named Yami, would resemble his father. That way, you could truly hide his origins — your past that you refused to uncover. But the bigger part of you was overjoyed. The moment you laid eyes on his hair, matted down with blood and amniotic fluid, you sobbed uncontrollably. The nurses and midwife recognized the two-toned hair immediately and watched you with pitiful eyes as you clutched Yami to your chest.

You moved away the second you were discharged from the hospital, baby carrier in tow. You wished your neighbours well and thanked them for being so kind to you in the years you lived among them. You were gone within that same week.

You lived peacefully in your new home, tucked away in the countryside of southern Japan. You opted to stay away from TVs and the internet, worried that seeing his face might make you regret the rash decision to pick up and leave. Yami was growing quickly, already large for a four-month-old. His hair grew out, more red than white. 

You didn’t know if Shoto had made it back from his mission. If he did, you weren’t sure how long he had been back or whether he had sustained any injuries. You didn’t know if he went to your apartment to search for his fantasy. You didn’t know if he thought of you at all.

You didn’t know if he was alive.

The longer you spent away from the man, the more your heart yearned for him. Whenever Yami would quiet down for his nap, you stared out the window at the acres of empty farmland. In the vastness of space, you could only think of him. The man who had taken your heart from the tender age of fifteen. The man who possessed your life in his hands, though your essence seemed invisible to those blue and grey eyes. 

The fool in you wondered if he ever had feelings for you — if he ever burned for you the way you did for him. 

You felt like a dessert. Scorched inside and empty. Golden sands represented him—burning to the touch and yet all-encompassing. Even without him by your side, he was always there. He surrounded you, dragging you in, and you let him.

Yami’s babbling would always break you out of your reverie, the pangs of guilt and sorrow gnawing away at your still-beating heart. The routine remained the same, day after day. After he woke up from his nap with an incoherent cry for his mother, you would settle him onto your lap and cry. You sobbed into his soft tufts of hair, apologizing for taking him away from his father, for hiding him away from the world just because you were a coward.

Yami was your darkness. He was your uncovered secret. 

Two years and two months had passed since you last saw Todoroki Shoto.

Yami was seventeen months old and starting to look more and more like his father. He took his first steps earlier than any parenting book had told you he would, and it wasn’t long after when he said his first word. It seemed the world was against you, and the universe was punishing you for keeping Yami away. You broke down for the first time in a while when that first word hit your ears.

“Da… Dada…”

You weren’t alone in your silent, unspoken wishes to be at Shoto’s side. Poor Yami, who had never met his father, spoke Shoto into existence with that one word.

“My baby,” you sobbed, hugging Yami tightly to you as he babbled, repeating those two syllables over and over. “My poor baby. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Mommy’s so sorry, my baby…” You rocked back and forth, crying endlessly. Yami’s hands grasped at your clothes, hair, and face. His little round features twisted into a grimacing cry as he watched tears pour from your tired eyes for a reason he didn’t yet understand.

The day he spoke his first word was when you showed him a picture of his father for the first time. Recognition flashed behind rounded eyes, recognition for a man he’d never met.

While you were grocery shopping — Yami balanced on your hip, a paper bag full of produce in the other arm — you heard Shoto’s name.

“Didn’t you hear? Pro Hero Shoto is here! In town!”

“Isn’t that weird? Why would such a hotshot be here, of all places? We aren’t even on most maps…”

“Who cares?! Do ya think I can get an autograph?”

You break out into a run without paying attention to the rest of the conversation. You hold Yami to your chest, supporting his head as you run with all your might. The paper bag of fruit and vegetables lay forgotten behind you, surely to be crushed by any passing vehicles. You run until you can’t run anymore, chest heaving in exhaustion. Using your object manipulation quirk, you open the front door to your house without taking your hands off Yami.

You whisper sweetings into his ear, telling him everything would be okay. Maybe you were telling yourself.

Not long after you returned home, the door rattled with a gentle knock. The very door you locked moments ago. You hold your breath, not wanting to see anyone. You didn’t want to see him.

Your name was spoken in that soft voice you missed so much. Before you could stop him, Yami started sobbing, his high-pitched cries alerting the person outside that you were there. You shush Yami desperately, rocking him back and forth in an attempt to calm him down. You kiss his forehead, silently begging him to stop crying.

Your name was called out again, this time panicked and louder. Yami’s cries increase in volume, and you feel your eyes water all the same.

The door hinges begin to frost over, and it’s knocked down in seconds. The loud noise scares your son, causing him to sob uncontrollably as he grasps painfully at your hair. You hide him behind you as you face the intruder head-on. Without blinking an eye, you use your quirk to lift the door off the ground, pushing it against the intruder, hoping to push him out completely.

The door is pushed away easily. After all, you are no match for Pro Hero Shoto.

He has gotten larger in the twenty-six months since you last saw him. His shoulders grew broader, his hero uniform barely hiding the dense but lean muscle that hid beneath it. His hair was longer, falling into his eyes as if he didn’t have time to take care of it. The man in front of you looks different from the man you knew, but it is undoubtedly him.

He breathes out your name, steam rolling off his left side and icicles glistening atop his skin on his right. He steps over the forgotten door, into your house, and into your safe haven, large and commanding of your attention. You try to make yourself bigger, to hide Yami from his eyes, and perhaps to hide your shame as you stare at the father of your child.

“I looked for you everywhere,” he gravels, his voice deep and crackling with emotion. “I came home, and you were gone. Do you have any idea how fucking scary that was?! No one knew where you were, and your apartment was empty. I didn’t know if you were safe, I didn’t know if you were alone…” Shoto steps closer to you, anger seeping into his expression. “For fuck’s sake, I didn’t know if you were alive!”

Your heart hammers in your chest as he grows closer, his fists clenching angrily by his side. His eyes search you desperately, searching for any sign of injury or abuse. They trace over your wrists and ankles, perhaps looking for signs that you were held here not on your own will, that you didn’t leave him just because you wanted to.

You pick your brain for the right words to say. You have thought about this day for years, and now that he’s in front of you, you don’t know what to think. Your mind is a mess of shame and joy, your heart struggling in a fight against itself. Analyzing him, your eyes rake over his body. There were a few more scars you don’t remember, some fine lines on his face that weren’t there before, but it was him.

As your brain wraps around the fact that Shoto was really there after over two years, Shoto collapses to his knees in front of you. He all but crawls over to you as he shoves his face into your thighs. Hot, stinging tears hit your skin as he cries into your lap, his hands reaching to hold you. Large, calloused fingers grasped at your thighs, pulling you closer to him.

“I was so scared,” he admits, his body shaking as he cries silently. “I thought… I thought a villain had taken you.”

Your hands hover behind you, keeping Yami hidden. His cries have thankfully subsided the second Shoto entered the room, but you weren’t sure for how long that would last. You can feel him grabbing at your shirt, trying to peek around you. Resisting the urge to wipe away Shoto’s tears, you grip onto your son tightly.

“How did you know I was here?” You lick your dry lips, wincing at how raspy your voice is. The first words spoken to this man in over two years are painted over with wariness and caution, very unlike the words of encouragement and longing you had given him your last night together. “No one knew I was here. Not even my family, so how did you…” You trail off, unsure if you want to know the answer to this question.

Shoto pulls away from your lap, looking up at you with bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “I searched for you every day. I never stopped once I realized you were gone. I was in communication with every hero in this fucking country, hoping that one day one of them would spot you.” He hastily wipes his cheeks, his trembling hands remaining at your side.

“Why did you go?” he asks in a whisper. His voice, low and cracking, is broken as he speaks. “Why did you leave me? Did I do something? Was I…” Shoto swallows thickly as his insecurities taint his mind. “Was I not good to you? Did I make you leave?”

His endless questions send you for a loop. In front of you was not Pro Hero Shoto, but just Shoto. Your Shoto, the one you long for in your dreams. The one who paints your every happy memory and the one whose name you whisper into the dead of night.

And yet, as you feel Yami’s tiny hands grab your arm, you can’t answer any of his questions.

“Dada…!”

The both of you freeze, and the world stands still for a moment. Shoto’s trembling gaze slowly left yours, meeting the eyes of the toddler behind you. The first thing Shoto notices is his hair — bright red with streaks of white bleeding through. He feels his heart stop and start again, his hold on you finally slipping as his body goes somewhat limp. He falls back onto his heels, fully kneeling before you now.

Snapping out of it, you turn around and take Yami into your arms, facing away from Shoto as you shush the poor baby, calming him down quietly. Shoto can only watch as you handle him with a gentle care he isn’t privy to.

Without sparing another glance at Shoto, you start to walk away. He calls out your name hastily, and you can hear him clamber to his feet. Swallowing harshly, you look at him over your shoulder. Shoto looks out of place in your cozy living room, too large for the space. And yet, he appears small. His shoulders are hunched in as he reaches out to you with a face that begs you not to leave.

“He… needs to be put down for his nap,” you whisper, kissing Yami’s temple. “We… can talk after.”

Before you can regret your words, you head into his nursery, painted a soft yellow. You coo at your son, gently resting him in the large crib that took up most of the room’s space. You hum a lullaby to him as you stroke his hair, looking down at him with nothing but love.

Even long after he fell asleep, you don’t move. You stay there for a while, watching Yami so closely you don’t notice the presence at the door.

Shoto’s voice comes in a whisper. “He… He is mine, isn’t he?”

You can only nod, shame filling your soul as tears slip from your watery eyes. “His name is Yami,” you speak, your voice cracking.

Shoto flinches but waits patiently as he watches you come to a stand. He doesn’t rush you as you place Yami’s favourite stuffed animals by his side, leaning down and kissing his forehead before approaching Shoto.

“Let’s talk in my room,” you whisper, glancing at Yami before shutting the door behind you. 

The two of you enter your room, the stifling air suffocating you as you shuffle over to your bed. Shaky hands reach for your pillows as you keep your back to the Todoroki, fluffing them to keep yourself busy. Your throat feels grating as you swallow down harshly. The room feels both hot and freezing, which you assume is his doing.

He doesn’t say anything either as he stares at the back of your head. Your hair looks different from the last time he saw you, and the clothes over your body aren’t articles he can remember you own. He thinks back to that night when quiet goodbyes were whispered between sweaty sheets. He wonders what went wrong.

His eyes wander, his frightful gaze tearing away from you only to look around your room. There are remnants of you everywhere. Family pictures hang from the walls, and old posters he vaguely remembers from your apartment are pasted against grey paint. It was you, but different. It wasn’t as colourful as your old room, and your trinkets are either out of sight or gone altogether.

When his eyes rest on you once more, a million questions run through his mind. Why did you leave him without a word? Images of your child, the very one who bore a striking resemblance to himself, flash in the forefront of his mind.

“How have you been?” you croak out after too many beats of silence. Hugging a pillow to your chest, you turn ever so slightly, only glancing at him from the corner of your eye as if it were painful to even look at him. Perhaps it is. 

Shoto can only stare at you in disbelief, his brows curling upward as his heartache shines through. “How have I been?” he repeats breathily, his low voice raising half an octave. His mouth opens, but the words die on his tongue. Only after an excruciatingly long moment does he find the words again. “I’ve been miserable. You were gone.”

You wince at the strain in his voice, gripping the pillow even tighter. Your knuckles whiten under your tight hold. “I’m sorry,” you whisper pathetically, swallowing the lump in your throat painfully.

“Why?” he asks again, his voice cracking as he takes a tentative step toward you. “Why did you disappear?” Shoto reaches for you, stopping just short of grabbing you by the shoulders. He can’t tell if he wants to shake you until you see sense or hug you and never let go.

“I had to,” you urge, finally meeting his eyes. Your breath hitches, and you regret turning to him, but now you can’t look away. Those mismatched eyes that used to bore into yours with unreadable emotion as he draped his body over yours were tired, dull, and pained.

Shoto is the first to break eye contact, staring at your floorboards as he attempts to string together his thoughts. “Was it me?”

With furrowed brows, you shake your head no. “Shoto—”

“If I knew,” he rushes out, interrupting you. His gaze drops to your stomach, and he imagines what you might’ve looked like, swollen with his child.  “If I knew, I would’ve come back sooner. Fuck the mission, you needed me and I…” He cuts himself off, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. His grip is tight enough to force you to look at him straight on, yet gentle. You think you can feel them trembling over your clothes, but you aren’t sure if you’re imagining it or not. “I’m so sorry,” he almost cries. The pillow in your hands falls to the carpeted floor, but neither of you cares to pay attention to it.

“Shoto, no,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks as you press your lips together. You thumb away his unshed tears. “That’s not why I left.”

“Then why?” he breathes.

You purse your lips, biting at the inside of your cheek as you reflect on those lonely nights spent under cold blankets. “You’re a hero,” you speak slowly. “I never had a place in your life, Shoto, not really. I’m a nobody. If… If I stayed, I would have been holding you back. You deserved more than that.”

Shoto narrows his eyes at you. “I deserve you,” he blurts, his tongue stained with vexation at the mere implication of your words. You watch as his lower lip wobbles momentarily before he steels his expression. “It isn’t your place to decide whether or not you should be in my life. That’s something for me to decide, but you took that away from me.”

“Took what away, Shoto?” you exclaim, raising your voice for the first time that day. “The sex? The comradery? You could have easily found that in someone else.” It hurts to admit, but you know it’s true. During those days together, you were a mere placeholder for someone better than you. Someone who could relate to him more than a nobody civilian could ever hope to.

After all, Pro Hero Shoto could have anyone he wanted.

Any anger left in his body dissipates as his body tenses. His face scrunches into something painful, mouth ajar and eyes wide as his grip on your shoulders tightens slightly. “What?” he whispers, the word dripping from his tongue like ice water. “What are you talking about?” The room feels like it’s dropped a few degrees, and if the frost that clings to his skin is any indication, it might have.

Averting your gaze, you try to wedge yourself out of his tight hold, but he doesn’t let you, taking another step forward. You’re practically chest-to-chest as he shakes your shoulders gently. “What are you talking about?” he repeats with an urgent tongue. “Someone else? What are you talking about?”

You heave a sigh. “Don’t play dumb, Shoto. You’re… you. You could easily find someone to replace me.”

“Is that what you think?” he breathes harshly, steam rolling off his skin, melting the frost. “That you’re just some replaceable body in my bed? Do you really think that lowly of me?” His expression twists as he reaches up to cup your jaw. His touch is burning, and yet you find yourself leaning into his palm.

“Isn’t it the truth?” you murmur, your voice catching. “I’m not anyone special, Shoto.”

“You’re my girlfriend,” he spits out, angry at the notion that you were a nobody. “You’re special to me. Isn’t that all that matters? I couldn’t care less about the fact that you’re not a hero. That never mattered to me, so don’t give me that bullshit.”

Your eyes snap open as you stare at Shoto in shock. You feel your body freeze over, and suddenly, your lungs are empty. “... What did you call me?” you croak.

Shoto stares deeply into your eyes, his own darting back and forth as he tries to read you. “My girlfriend.” His voice wavers as he tries to understand why you look so confused.

“We weren’t dating,” you cry incredulously. “What are you talking about?” You watch Shoto as realization washes over his distraught expression and something within you cracks. “Shoto, what are you talking about?” you ask again with a frantic pull to your voice. Shoto’s hands slip from your shoulders.

“Weren’t we?” he whispers quietly, any strength sapping from his body as he limply stands before you.

With your heart beating faster than ever, your breath leaves chapped lips in uneven puffs of strangled air. “We never talked about being anything more than just…” You trail off, the past couple of years draping over your shoulders, weighing you down heavily.

“You thought I was with you for the sex?” Shoto doesn’t know how to feel or how to act. His face twists as several emotions run through him before his mind settles on heartache. His multicoloured eyes try to meet yours, but you’ve already looked away. He moves his body, craning his neck to take a good look at you. He wants to see you. He wants you to see him. He utters your name in a broken whisper. “It was never just sex for me, baby,” he declares, his voice cracking in sorrow. “You had to have known that.”

He moves closer, cradling your face as he gently forces you to look at him. When he sees the indecisive glaze that’s taken over your eyes, he feels his heart break just a little more. “Please tell me you knew. That you know it was more than that.”

You blink away tears, your chest rising and falling quickly as you meet his intensive gaze. “You’d only come to me at night,” you mutter, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and wanting to pull his hands off of you. “You never stayed. You were always gone in the morning, Shoto. What was I supposed to believe?”

Shoto fights back a wince as he mulls over your words. He sighs, absentmindedly rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I was so busy with hero work,” he murmurs in horror-filled realization, frowning at himself. He shakes his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “That’s not an excuse. I should have tried harder to be around. But it was never just sex for me.”

His throat bobs as he swallows thickly, his forehead coming down to rest against yours. His eyes flutter closed, wet eyelashes sticking together as he lets out a trembling breath. “Please believe me, baby,” he pleads quietly. “I’ll be better. I’ll show you I love you. I’ll make sure you know this time, so please…”

Those three words pull the air from your lungs, but when he opens his eyes, you’re left truly breathless. Love, sorrow, and regret swirl in his blue and grey hues. You don’t remember the last time you’ve looked at Shoto like this. “Please come back to me.”

“Shoto—”

“I’ll stop being a hero,” he interrupts you, a deep frown tugging at his lips. “If that’s what it takes.”

You make a face, your brows knitting together tightly. “Don’t be stupid, Shoto,” you hush. “Being a hero is your life. I’d never ask you to throw that away for me.”

“You’re my life,” he presses. One of Shoto’s hands moves to cup the back of your head, carding through your hair. “Our child will be my life. You matter more to me than anything else.”

Sighing, you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. “I’d be even more upset if you gave up,” you murmur. “I understand that being a hero leaves you with little free time. So—”

“No,” Shoto cries out. “Don’t make excuses for me. I should’ve tried harder. I should have realized things between us weren’t clear.” He pauses for a moment, his brow bone tensing as he bites at his lip. “Do you love me?”

With a softened gaze, you knock on his forehead with a weak fist. “You’ve always been it for me, Sho.”

Shoto smiles at the nickname, a slight tick of the corner of his mouth. If you hadn’t been so close and hadn’t known his expressions as well as you did, you might’ve missed it. He leans closer, his nose brushing against your cheek as he kisses your tear-stained skin sweetly. “I love you,” he hushes, tugging you closer. His fingertips trail up your spine until they’re entwined in your hair. “I love you.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the sensation as you curl into him. Your hands trail up his broad chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. Inhaling deeply, you stare at him in hesitation. “Is this real?” you murmur, your mind swirling with the vivid dreams you’ve procured over the years. “You’re really here, right? And you really…”

“I love you,” he says again. He says it one, two, three more times, whispering into the side of your neck and he nudges himself into the empty space. His lips, which are cold against your blistering heat, brush against your earlobe as he all but whimpers your name. “This is real. I’m here, baby.”

You can’t help but believe him, your eyes closing as he presses kiss after kiss on your skin, moving down your neck until he’s reached your collarbones. He nips at the spot, his tongue jutting out to soothe the darkening mark he’s left behind. “Sho,” you scold weakly, your nails scraping against his scalp gently as you brush his hair out of his face.

Shoto grins boyishly at you, his hands resting on your hips as he guides you backwards, stepping over the forgotten pillow you dropped. “Let me show you,” he breathes out, looking down at you with wide eyes until he has you sat on the edge of your unmade bed. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Then, he pauses, a brief flash of bashfulness flickering behind his embering gaze. “Please?”

You’re reaching out for him before you can answer, tugging him down to your height. You don’t reply with words, pressing desperate lips against his as you pull him over you until he’s pinned over your trembling body. Strong forearms rest beside your head, his skillful tongue swiping along the seam of your mouth. You almost moan at his taste—a taste you never forgot.

Shoto slants himself against you, your bodies resembling a mess of limbs. He flips you over with ease, strong hands gripping your hips to seat you atop his shaking lap. The shivers that run down the expanse of his body don’t go unnoticed, and you peck his lips once, then twice, before pulling away. He’s staring up at you breathlessly, lust-blown eyes dark but widened as he takes in the sight of you.

“Are you okay?” you whisper, stroking along the edge of his scar. Shoto leans into your palm, his eyes briefly fluttering closed, relishing in your warmth that he was deprived of for so long.

“I’m okay,” he murmurs back, brushing his lips against your palm. “I’ve just missed you so much.”

Your heart aches at his soft-spoken admission, and you kiss him again to tell him I missed you, too. This kiss is sweeter than the last, softer in its closed-mouth motions. His hand reaches up to palm your jawline, his other remaining on your hip. He sighs into you, breaking the kiss to leave fleeting pecks over your cheeks. “My pretty girl,” he whispers into your skin.

His hand trails up and down your side, as he gently pushes you against his growing erection. You let out a whimper at just how hard he already is, the tent pushing against your clothed cunt teasingly. Grinding your hips down, you relish in the gasp Shoto lets out. Busying his hands with the hem of your loose tee, he pushes himself off of the bed to chase your lips.

Shoto kisses you with a fervour you damned yourself for running away from. He kisses you like he needs your taste on his tongue to live, like you’re a lifeline, and he’s teetering on the edge. Gentle teeth scrape against your bottom lip, just barely grazing your swollen skin. Pulling away to rid you of your top, Shoto bites his lips at the sight of your bare chest. He lays back, propping his head up on your pillows. Tracing a hand down his strong pecs, you tilt your head back at the sight of his complete enamour.

Red cheeks hollow as he takes in a shuddering breath, looking up at you with nothing but love and adoration. “You’re perfect,” he breathes out, his hands tracing your sides so slowly. His thumbs, calloused from years of hero work, barely graze the underside of your breasts before his hands trail back down to your thighs.

“Take these off f’me,” Shoto urges, tugging gently on the fabric of your shorts. Those dark eyes never leave your face, as though he’s committing it to memory. 

You don’t hesitate to obey his request, shifting off of his lap just enough to tug off the last of your clothing, fingers dipping beneath the band of your panties to take them off as well. Shivering, you sit back down on his lap, biting down on your bottom lip as you lean back. Shoto makes it clear how much he appreciates the view you’ve given him, his lustful gaze caressing your entire self. His eyes land on the apex of your thighs, and his bitten lips part in admiration.

A wide hand rests on your tummy, just below your belly button, as he gently pushes your hips back and forth. His other hand finds its way to your ass, gripping and rubbing the skin there in tandem with your movements. 

You let out shallow breaths at the feeling of his rough jeans against your bare clit. You’re sure you’re sopping wet already, soaking the front of his pants with your slick, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when he’s looking at you like he’d cry if you stopped grinding down on him.

His eyes stay glued to where your hips meet, and he whispers your name lovingly. “C’mere,” he rasps out as he sits up with haste, wrapping those big arms around your midsection and pulling you even closer to him. Shoto kisses the tops of your breasts, moving up and up until his lips meet yours again in a searing kiss. 

“Missed you s’much,” he gravels out against your lips, reaching up to cup your left tit. You whimper out when his thumb brushes against the hardened bud, his tongue following shortly after. His lips curl around your nipple as he kneads into you. Breaths leave your throat in shortened huffs as he bites down gently. 

Pushing you gently, you find yourself on your back again with Shoto hovering over you. He lets go of your nipple with a pop, lips shiny with saliva as he kisses down your stomach. Arching into his affections, all you can do is lay there and bask in his gentle touches and sweet kisses.

“Sho,” you whimper out when he mouths your skin lower and lower. Strong hands push your hips up until your dripping cunt is in front of his face, and your legs are dangling over his shoulders. Your back arches deeply, his fingers digging into your sides to keep your bottom half suspended in the air. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten—you can’t recall the last time you’ve felt this aroused. “Please…”

Shoto smiles at you softly, looking at you through his lashes as he brushes his lips against your clit, making you jolt. “Patience, baby,” he chuckled. “I haven’t tasted your sweet pussy in too long. Let me take my time with you, yeah?”

When he asks so nicely, how can you refuse?

He leaves open-mouthed kisses where your inner thigh meets your pelvis, kissing and licking just around where you need him most. Pathetic moans slip through your wobbling lips as you press them together, trying not to be too loud. Your body is goo in his hands, and he knows this well. He easily keeps your back arched up off the bed, his beefy arms not straining at all.

When his lips finally close on your weeping cunny, you cry out louder than intended. “Shh,” he whispers, sitting back just far enough to leave you whimpering for more. “Don’t wanna wake the baby, do you?” Those teasing eyes meet yours again, and his teasing expression softens ever so slightly at your already fucked out look. “Be good and quiet f’me, love.”

“Okay,” you stammer out, screwing your eyes shut when he kitten licks at your slit.

Shoto kisses your inner thigh with a grin. “Good girl.”

Without missing a beat, he attaches his lips to your pussy once more, his skilled tongue licking and prodding exactly where he knows it makes your legs shake in pleasure. He eats you out with such expertise as if it hasn’t been over two years. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had a map of your body memorized.

Long, thick fingers push at your entrance, just barely pushing in before pulling out. “More, please,” you beg under your breath, arching into his mouth. “Please, Sho. I can take it.”

Shoto hums as he sucks on your clit gently, drawing circles over the bundle of nerves immediately after. “I know you can, baby. This pussy was made just for me,” he sighs into you, the loud slurping noises coming from the point of contact making you curl in on yourself. “You were made just for me, baby.”

He finally pushes two fingers in, curling up just how you like it. He groans as his tongue moves with ardour, his eyes rolling back behind closed lids as he savours your taste. “Fuck,” he mumbles. “Missed this s’much.” 

Shoto’s fingers push in and out, in and out, your slick gushing around them as the filthy sound of your clenching cunt fills the room. His lips are glued to your clit, drunk on your wetness as he fingers you deeply. 

“I’m close,” you warn him, gripping the sheets tightly. Your body jerks, your thighs shaking and closing around his head as you feel the string in your tummy grow taught. “Sho—”

“I know,” he growls, kissing your clit again as he looks back up at you. He watches your face twist and scrunch in pure pleasure, moaning at the sight. Pushing a third finger in, his eyes slip closed at the feeling of you clenching tightly around him. “Come for me, baby. Need to feel you come.”

His voice drips with honey, coating your body in its warmth as your back bends. “Fuck,” you cry, slapping a hand over your mouth as your thighs tremble hard. “I—”

Before you can say anything else, you’re cumming around his fingers harder than you ever have in the time away from him. Fat tears line your lashline as he fingers you through your orgasm, lazily licking figure eights around your clit as he continues to push his fingers into you gently. He doesn’t stop, making you come again and again until you’re weakly pushing his head away.

His tongue laps your pussy clean, the lower half of his face covered in your slick when he finally sits back. You watch with lidded eyes as he wraps his lips around his fingers, his tongue jutting out to lick them until they’re no longer soaked with your essence. Moaning, you reach up for him, grasping weakly at his clothed chest. “Need you,” you plea, pushing at his clothes in a sad attempt to take them off.

Shoto only chuckles, leaning over to kiss you. He tastes of mint and musk, the taste of your come on his tongue making your eyes cross. He holds you tight, pressing you against his chest, and his hands run up and down the length of your spine. His head tilts, his mouth ajar as he licks into your wet cavern. 

Leaning back, you kiss and lick at his face, cleaning him of your juices. He only sighs blissfully at your ministrations, stroking your hair out of your face as he presses his lips against your temple. “I love you,” he murmurs. “God, do I love you.”

You leave one more kiss along his jaw, settling back onto the mattress as you look up at him. His hair is messy, tousled from the many breathless kisses you’ve exchanged in the last hour. His rouge-tinted cheeks make him look younger than he is, yet you can see fine lines at the corners of his eyes and between his brows. 

“I love you, Sho,” you declare softly, tucking his long bangs behind his ears. He gazes at you with more affection than you think you’ve ever seen him express, and it takes everything in you not to combust on the spot. You trail one hand down his chest, dropping down to his tented pants. Palming his clothed hardness, you glance at him pleadingly, smiling at the moan he emits the second your hand grazes his hard-on. “I need you now, please.”

Shoto nods, kissing the crown of your head before leaning back. You watch with careful eyes as he undresses, his hands moving with less grace than he’s known for. As he fumbles off his shirt, you unbuckle his belt, throwing it haphazardly across the room. You barely register the thud it makes as you tug down his pants. His hard cock slaps against his abdomen, coated with precum. 

Fully nude, you sit back to admire Shoto in his entirety. There are many scars you don’t remember littered over his muscled body, and your fingers trace them gently. “I almost forgot how pretty you are,” you say, sitting up to kiss his collarbone.

“Pretty?” he repeats, laughing softly as he grips at your waist.

You hum. “Very pretty, Sho.” 

Unable to wait any longer, he manoeuvres you back onto the pillows, adjusting you as he places one beneath your hips. “Gotta have you now, baby,” he groans into you, reaching down to fuck into his fist. You watch with wide eyes as he rubs himself for a moment more, pushing your thighs up against your chest. 

Pushing his angry cockhead against your slit, he thrusts shallowly against your soaked pussy. A low moan rumbles out of his throat when his head catches on the hood of your clit. He uses a thumb to guide his length to your entrance, a whimper of your name tumbling from those bite-swollen lips once he finally pushes into you.

Your jaw drops as a wanton noise claws out of your throat. Shoto is sure to move slowly, only moving in an inch of his dick at a time before pulling out. You had forgotten how thick Shoto’s cock is, the stretch of your swollen pussy around his length burning through your body. “S-Sho…”

He groans at your voice, dropping his head to your shoulder as he fucks into you slowly. “I know, baby,” he lets out breathlessly. “I know. You’re doing so well f’me.” 

His hips finally press against you after some time, his dick pushing against your pulsing gummy walls. He stills, letting you get used to the intrusion as he kisses you again and again. Propping himself on his elbows, he shakily brushes your hair out of your face, kissing your forehead. “You okay, baby?”

Nodding fervently, you wrap your arms around his neck, pushing his chest flush against yours. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out weakly, barely above a whisper. “You can move—” correcting yourself, you look up at him with pleading eyes. “—please move.”

Without another word, he pulls out slowly, only to thrust back into your hole nice and deep. A loud groan leaves his lips as he settles into a quick tempo, his hips slapping against the back of your thighs as he starts to really fuck into you. 

Barely keeping your eyes open, you watch his expression twist with gratification, his brows tilting upwards as his lips part. With lidded eyes, he watches you, too. “You’re—fuck—so pretty,” he whimpers, pressing his forehead against yours as his thrusts become faster. “Missed you. Missed you s’much.”

Sitting up, he grabs at your waist as he fucks you zealously. His thumb flicks at your clit, rubbing tight circles that leave your legs shaking. His cockhead rubs at that spongey spot in your cunt with every thrust, making your eyes roll back. “Sho,” you cry out, the thought of keeping your voice down long gone in your pleasure. “Sho, Sho—!”

His mouth opens as he lets out a stunted shout riddled with lust and overstimulation. “You’re so fucking tight,” he grins down at you, his stomach flexing with each movement of his hips. “Fuck, baby. Can feel you clenching around me s’tight. Are you close?” His words come out harshly, exertion tugging them from his throat sluggishly.

His thumb never stops over your clit, moving in tandem with his hips as he slams into you. Unable to form coherent words, you can only cry out in vague confirmation, grabbing at his forearms. You can feel your slick dripping down the slope of your ass, soaking into your pillow and the sheets beneath you. 

Shoto’s smile falters as he feels his own orgasm near, his rhythm becoming desperate as his eyes screwed shut. His head drops, his mouth opening slightly as he chases his high. When your cunt grips tightly around him, he’s sure he’s going to lose it. Harsh breaths heave out of him, his flushed skin causing his hair to stick to his forehead. 

“Come for me again, baby,” he begs, barely able to pry his lids open to look down at you. “Please, come, please, please… Gotta feel you…!”

Whether it’s from his words, the whimpering tone that tugs at his voice, or the way his cock throbs inside you as he nears his own high, you feel your orgasm crash over you in waves. “Shoto,” you sob, your body jerking violently as you come hard. He lets out a high-pitched groan as he releases inside you, his thick seed filling you up in seconds. His hips tremble and twitch as he keeps shallowly thrusting, pushing both you and himself into overstimulation.

“I love you,” he mewls, pressing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss as he wraps his arms tightly around your middle. Without pulling out, he slumps over you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Laughing quietly, you weakly push at his shoulder. “You’re heavy,” you complain, still breathless from the countless orgasms he’s pulled you through. “Get off, Sho.”

“No,” he murmurs into the nape of your neck, cuddling into you tightly. “Don’t wanna let go.”

You roll your eyes. “You can hug me without crushing my ribs.”

Huffing, he rolls off of you, taking you with him as he lands on his back. You both groan lowly at the movement, his dick twitching inside you once you settle onto his lap again. “You’re insatiable,” you comment, feeling him thrust weakly up into your wetness.

Shoto only grins up at you, showing off that rare smile you missed so dearly. “You can’t blame me,” he tells you, wrapping his arms around you. “I have so many years of love to show you.” He kisses your shoulder. “I meant it. Before, I mean. You are everything to me, and I know our baby will be too.”

Your eyes wet again, fresh tears bubbling at the corners before dribbling down your cheeks. “Shoto…”

Looking up at you, he stares with an indescribable look in his mismatched eyes. “I wanna be in your life. I want to be in his life, too, if you’ll let me.” Leaning up, he kisses you sweetly. “So, please, come back to me.”

You only manage to nod tearfully before the shrill cry of your baby echoes throughout the house. Shoto eases you off his messy cock, watching as his release dribbles out of you. He lets out a breath, kissing you sweetly before moving you off of him gently. No words are exchanged as Shoto throws his clothes back on, wrinkled and unkempt. He pauses to wipe you clean, using your shirt, after throwing you an apologetic glance.

A smile reaches your eyes as you watch Shoto bound out of the room to get your child.

©AVATARCHIC please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[perpetuallyburntout]

S4!Five Hargreeves x Reader

Strawberry Blonde - Mitski

‼️SPOILER WARNING FOR SEASON FOUR OF UMBRELLA ACADEMY BELOW THE CUT‼️

Okay so I know I wasn’t the only person absolutely crushed by season four of Umbrella Academy, but in the middle of grieving over it, I had the best/worst idea. Technically a fanfic idea, but I don’t know if I have the commitment to write the whole thing, so if someone else would like to, by all means :)

The events of season four start six years after the end of season three. Six years of (mostly) peace. Let’s just say Five met someone in that time (for the sake of making sense, I’ll refer to them as Lover). Met someone he found himself falling for. And they fell for him, too. And it was perfect. And for the first time in a painfully long time, Five was happy. Content. He had his suspicions about how long this peace would last, but… for now, things were good. More than good, they were wonderful. He’d met the love of his life.

And then the events of season four begin to happen. And Lover is there with the group the whole time. At this point, they’re family, too. They want to help, and Five wants them to stay close to him.

Until he and Lila decide to go on their own on the subway, leaving Lover with the others. And in the seven years Five and Lila are stuck together, the same thing happens. And when they finally return, Lover knows something is off. And when the truth comes out, their whole world comes crashing down.

Diego grows angry. Lover just grows somber. It’s even worse, because when they look at Five again, his expression is different. The aching love that used to shine in his eyes whenever he looked at them… it’s dulled to something faint. Still there, deep down, but… unsure. As if he’s questioning himself. Questioning what he should do now. Who he’d pick if given the choice.

Of course, he’s not given the choice. Not even the choice to take Lover far away and talk to them and really explain and try to do something. No, no… the world’s ending. For the final time. And he knows how to make sure it never comes to an end ever again.

Lover’s there for the entire conversation. Every bit of grief and anger they’d felt towards Five suddenly melts away, replaced by desperation. They’d let the world end for the rest of eternity if… if it meant maybe things could be different. If it meant maybe he’d love them, and maybe he’d never love anyone else besides them.

They’re eventually forced to leave with Lila’s family and get on the subway. And while everyone else is confused and emotional, they’re curled on the ground, gasping and sobbing, knowing what this means.

And the Hargreeves stop the world from ending. And all the timelines reset. And everyone else in the world gets their happy ending.

And Lover thinks they’re happy. They do. But they never fall in love again. For some reason, every time they think they find someone, an aching pain in their chest makes them hesitate. An unfamiliar voice calling their name makes them pause. A flash of something, perhaps a memory, too fast to register but not fast enough to ignore the heart wrenching pain of, makes them withdraw. It’s almost as if…

They’re waiting for someone that never existed.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

So! When I had this idea, I was listening to Strawberry Blonde by Mitski, and here’s how the lyrics played out in my head:

I love everybody because I love you

When you stood up, walked away, barefoot

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape

I looked over it and I ached

(12:00 PM. August 8th, 2024. Lover’s enjoying their day in the park, sitting in the grass, eyes shut against the light breeze and warm sun. They turn to their side, almost as if to tell someone about how lovely the weather is. But no one’s there. A weird pain begins to ache in their heart.)

I love everybody because I love you

I don't need the city, and I don't need proof

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape

I picture it, soft and I ache

(Others—perhaps friends or family—come over and greet Lover, noticing their confused and distant expression, and ask what’s wrong. Nothing, they say, though they can’t escape the deep longing in their chest for… something that was never there.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

(Flashback timeeee- or… alternate timeline time? Flashback to a time in an alternate timeline, there we go.)

Reach out the car window tryna hold the wind

You tell me you love her, I give you a grin

Oh, all I ever wanted was a life in your shape

So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines

Keep my eyes on the road as I ache

(Shows Five and Lover together, in love, making memories together. Happy.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

(Events of season four began to play out, but ofc with Lover being part of the story.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

(The climax of the story. Flashes of the last two episodes. Five and Lila returning, the explanation, the heartbreak, Five finding out how to save the world for good, Lover meeting his gaze one last time as the subway pulls away forever.)

Isaiah, Isaiah, Isaiah

(Lover repeating his name to themself, trying to remember for as long as possible, not able to let go.)

Isaiah, Isaiah, Isaiah

(Flashback ends, returns to Lover in the grass on that sunny day, murmuring the name to themself. They’re not quite sure why.)

°。°。°。°。°。°。

I hope you all enjoyed this little idea! I got a little rambly and wrote WAY MORE than I planned on, but it’s an idea I’ve fallen in love with this past hour and I wanted to be able to share it with all of you <3

[i4oba]

nct dream as… / fanfiction aus 𓈒✳︎🏡

[take the quiz here to see which one you get!]

✰ MARK — childhood friends to lovers!au

ever since you've basically known your name, mark has been the boy next door. there was the cheeky, red letters of "lee" painted on the mailbox, the windows were adorned with the same coloured curtains, and the same doormat has been sitting in front of their door for ages. you have loved mark ever since you two have met. there wasn't a day where you wouldn't think of him, and there hasn't been a day when you haven't loved him. it was like a vicious circle which you couldn't get out of, because those stupid feelings would destroy the oh so precious friendship of yours, and you cannot let that happen, right? i mean, that's what you've thought for far too long, since this friendship meant more to you, than the fragile feeling of love - you didn't want it to get to the point where you would rather spit on each other, than talk it out. maybe that's why you pushed him away from yourself? maybe you just did that because you weren't too sure of your own peace of mind? no matter what, you knew the decision itself was wrong, only to realize it way too late. damaging the friendship and crying yourself to sleep was all your fault, after all, being way too proud and scared, stupid even; when you came back to the town where you two grew up, the least thing you wanted was to meet mark lee, mainly because you wouldn't have been able to look him in the eyes after all these happened. but you had to, so soon you even got a little surprised. it's been a while since the last time you have been home, your bedroom seemed way too unfamiliar at that point, just like the vhs tape placed directly in the middle of your bed. one which you haven't seen yet. it didn't have a title, the white label completely empty as you picked it up. you were a little bit cautious when placing it in the system, waiting for it to play whatever is on it, not having such large imagination to expect anything. it was a home video montage, full of videos of you and mark: playing together, getting ready for the first day of school, going to the movies, the way you two got engaged in middle school as a joke, and the omnious day of prom... you got teary eyed, with one thing on your mind - you have to go and save whatever's left now. maybe you're not too late.

✰ RENJUN — soulmate!au

life had been pretty much grey and dreary until you found The One. the other half everyone had been so obsessed to find. you were never big on all this stuff, because you were convinced you'd be able to live as a single half for you whole life, and don't need anyone else to feel complete. deep inside you knew that all of this is bullshit, truly, and all that was coming out of you was true bitterness and constantly ongoing unsuccessful confessions, making you believe in your delusions. with every passing second, you had to see people find their other half, while you were left to deal with the grey world you were left in, not as a choice but as fate instead. you felt like a loser, a big zero, who doesn't even deserve a soulmate. you thought you were destined to die alone, maybe compensate with something of brilliance: be a composer or a singer, write or paint something extraordinary, lord knows what, just something of importance! you were looking for yourself in every corner of the world, not for a lover or a fling, not for an other half, fully ignoring the law of attraction. it might have been some reverse psychological trick, effecting it all. and this may have been the reason behind why you had to leave that horribly boring theatre play, sneaking out and bumping into The One, who handed back your accidentally dropped bag, slowly looking into your eyes. he might have worked at the theater as he was wearing a name tag on his elegant shirt - huang renjun, it said. but it doesn't even matter, because his eyes were brown! brown! not grey, brown! everything cleared up. you did find the half - with brown eyes and a smile so bright.

✰ JENO — coffee shop!au

it was pretty much bittersweet to step foot in your favourite café: it was getting dark out there, and although the rain has stopped pouring, you got absolutley soaked to the core along the way there, rain replacing the tears on your face by then. your hair was sticking to your forehead uncomfortably, your body trembling without stopping, as you entered. the bell placed above the entrance was ringing lightly, gathering everyone's attention to you, although there wasn't too much people there except for the baristas, maybe two wandering souls, working on their laptops or reading in a cozy corner. well, maybe if it wasn't for getting dumped literal minutes ago, you wouldn't be here either, but it was still the most reasonable choice compared to going to a club or a ruin bar, gettig incredibly drunk, Plus! a good espresso might be able to clear the fog in your head, which you were in need of during this stupidly stressing period of life. you expected hyuck to greet you by the coffee machine, grinning ear to ear, as he always does when you visit between two lectures, but there was a completely new face behind the counter. it's been a long time since you've last seen a new employee here. his smile was sweet and rather warm, eyes conveying a sense of concern as you took one step closer, rubbing your eyes while getting your purse out of your pocket - you discreetly looked at his name tag, right on his black apron: lee jeno. whatta name... by then, you were way to hopeless to try and guess how the day would go, but life had to surprise you, fate deciding funnily against all odds: next to your cup of coffee, there was a napkin, hiding a telephone number on it, messily written down with a short message as well: "would you go out on a date with me, darling? :)"

✰ HAECHAN — rivals to lovers!au

lee donghyuck's name rushed through the hallways of your music academy just as quietly as a whisper, and you never knew why was it all like that ever since you've stepped foot into the school. you couldn't even hide the way too obvious rolls of your eyes every time you heard it. lee donghyuck was one of the biggest prodigies at the academy, no one could even be considered as a rival for him, this is mainly why he was such a big living legend amongst the students - you couldn't even hide how annoyed this made you, especially because he made sure you knew this ever since you two were little. music played a huge part in both of your lives, and somehow, you two always seemed to be at each other's throat, the first place at being the best always changing between the two of you. you could never get rid of each other either; your dad, always being so positive, once said, on your way to the academy sometime between sophomore and junior year, that the only reason behind this is that you two are equally good at what you're doing. you were pretty much skeptic for the longest of time, and felt as if you were destined to be the forever second next to him. you've had enough of always bumping into walls, since hyuck was the one who could stand at the first place ever so proudly. in kindergarten, in middle school, and even in high school, every. god damn. time. and that infuriating smile was plastered all upon his face even when you two were asked to not perform alone on the annual charity gala of your academy - you two had to perform something phenomenal, putting the childish jarring aside, growing out of the silly phase of hating each other, which was all made up by you, and you only, pushing the poor boy away from you. the boy who had always been so obsessed with you, utterly and completely. he won this time again, isn't it right?

✰ JAEMIN — photographer!au

when jaemin brought up the idea of making the last parts of his portfolio with you (which basically means about you), you were a little bit skeptic at first. you loved jaemin dearly, since he was a really understanding friend, but... you were simply terrified of cameras. you didn't really like the idea of being captured at all, you hated looking back at yourself on pictures taken of you, and you couldn't even think about how high quality his pictures would be with that hyper super machine, focused on all the little flawed details of your face that you absolutely despised. no, you couldn't even bear the idea of this whole project, and you stood by this decision of yours, jaemin waiting patiently the whole time, not pushing it too hard. since he wanted to work with you no matter what, giving up on his plan wouldn't be too typical of him - the fight didn't last long but it was pretty heated, him highlighting so many known things that needed to be said finally: it's childish how you reflect on yourself, and your delusions stop you from way too many things. the way he said straight into your face how beautiful he thinks you are, inside and outside, and that he wants the whole world to know how ethereal you are, made you tear up a little - especially when he said his heart breaks every time you speak so lowly of yourself. he truly thinks you're the modern manifestation of aphrodite, that you are his own venus, the muse of him, someone he can adore... that he's way too in love with you to let go of this, and-; the kiss you gave him was short, yet gave him exact answers. answers to hundreds and thousand of unsaid questions he kept hidden in himself for years and years on end.

✰ CHENLE — blind date!au

you clearly didn’t brace yourself for this whole fiasco proposed by donghyuck himself, foolishly believing his reasonings behind how perfect of a matchmaker he is. of course you knew that what he way saying was partly stupid, plus you were like a seventy percent sure he wasn't even sober when he set up a blind date during that omnious frat party he wasn't invited to. you didn't have to worry or anything, that's just how you were - overly anxious of such things, even if you weren't meeting a psychopath. you were only a bit vary of the awkwardness this whole new experience would bring, both of you rushing home way too soon from the date, trying to forget about it as soon as possible. these misconceptions about how the night would go stayed straight until you stopped in front of the restaurant to wait for your - then late already - date. you were a little nervous he stood you up, and you got yourself into the most beautiful piece of clothing from you wardrobe for nothing, but it was worth it, looking back at it, as zhong chenle arrived and you two simply just... clicked? automatically? not to mention you two decided to leave the place after the hors d'oeuvre, since you both found the place a little too fancy at that moment, going to a simple ice cream parlor instead, taking a walk in the park after, talking about anything and everything that came to mind: family, politics, movies and the most embarrassing memories from your childhood came up too, as you couldn't help but laugh at how chenle dropped his ice cream cone on the ground, while he simultaneously promised you that he wouldn't drop the cone on the next date - and you smiled, so happily.

✰ JISUNG — secret admirer!au

you were head over heels for jisung and his undying love for dancing. but, thinking a bit deeper about it, while writing that foolish, teenager like love letter for him, forced into the role of his secret admirer, there were much more of those things that made you feel head over heels for the boy: he showed you what persistence was, he spent the whole of his youth with you, and he wasn't afraid to spend the rest of his life with you, helping you out anytime you're in need of it, since he couldn't not do that as you "best friend". he couldn't be evil with you, he was never able to leave you and he couldn't even envision a future in which you weren't by his side. but the border he made up between the two of you, was never crossed - you two were friends, not more, not less. you were so torn deep inside, as you were helpless, being in the never ending limbo you would rather push forward, but he kept on tugging it backwards; the idea of writing letters was originally from your mother, who had enough of your obvious agony. she was positive you would write every feeling of yours out, making it easier as time goes by. their number kept growing, however, one letter becoming a dozen soon enough, maybe even more in the meantime, while not writing a name on any of them, referring to yourself only as a mere secret admirer. they suddenly disappeared from the bottom of your drawer one day, though, realizing way too late that the ringing phone in your pocket was in fact park jisung, the picture of him taking up the screen of your mobile - did he know?

[silaslich]

The countless stars we’re sleeping under

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Chapter One - read here

Warnings: smut, 18+ only, pussy eating, handjob, p in v sex, established relationship, friends to lovers, childhood friends, jealous Arthur, injury detail, self harm references

Length: 6k

A continuation from The Setting Sun Through Open Windows - You and Arthur have crossed the line in which there’s no return. His absence leaves you feeling empty, but he’s soon back to rectify.

There’s an action and a consequence. Always. Thats a rule. If you stick your fingers into the open flame of a fire you’ll get burned. The action of moving your fingers into the angry orange glow and the consequence of retracting a blistered-bubbly mess of flesh.

Something doesn’t come from nothing. There’s a give and a take. Happiness isn’t something that is made for everyone. There are people who never find it; yet there are others who find happiness in the mundane- in the way the sun rises over the mountain tops and the way the stream sounds in the quiet of night. There are those who walk through life without seeing the world for what it really is, which is beautiful. Beautiful in the way the tall grass sways with the breeze and in the way the wild flowers bloom through the first crisp-cold days where winter turns to spring. Beautiful in the way the wolves howl to each other through the trees and the way the air feels as it splits across your face when you race the wind on horseback.

For so many years you had watched those around you find that happiness while deep down you thought it wasn’t something made for you. So long spent dreaming and wondering ‘what if?’. You’d spent so much time sitting at the edge of camp and looking out into the horizon, wondering where his freedom had taken him to now. He’d leave for days or weeks on end without so much as a goodbye. Then he’d waltz back into camp as if nothing had happened, expecting you to act as though he hadn’t even been gone. His peace offerings of venison steaks and clips of money were never enough to excuse his long absences in your eyes. Yet the others were always satisfied.

He calls your name but you ignore it. He doesn’t realise that it’s purposeful at first, thinking you simply can’t hear him over the roaring campfire and the loud drunken chatter of the others. Everyone had jumped up to welcome him home, this time it had been two weeks. Next time it might be more. You hadn’t shared the sentiment that everyone else had. Instead shielding yourself from his eyes behind the medicine cart where your bedroll is, his eyes find you almost immediately. You dart off as soon as you realise he’s seen you, now he knows you’re avoiding him. He shrugs off Miss Grimshaw and shoulders Micah out of the way to follow you. He calls your name again and this time he knows you’ve heard him. He sees it in the way your shoulders stiffen. “Hey wait right there” he says, trying to sound stern. Arthur stops dead as you whirl around to face him, your expression tight and eyes narrowed. “I’m headed to the river” your voice is clipped and you’re quick to gather what you’ll need to wash up. He’s quick to open his mouth to speak but you manage words before he does. “I don’t want company”.

~

You’re alone with your thoughts once again. Letting your mind reel and your heart ache.

Iris’ footsteps vibrate through your entire body, you feel so hollow.

The sun is lowering on the horizon and the earth is bathed in a honey-amber glow. You have to squint as you ride on, knowing you aren’t that far from the river now. There had been some rain this morning and you can smell the damp soil as it’s kicked up beneath Iris’ hooves. She tosses her head to rid the flies and you lean forward to pat her neck. “I know girl” you soothe, mutual in her feeling of hatred towards the bugs as they buzz in her ears.

Iris trots away as soon as her bridle and saddle are off. You smile as you watch her go. She always stays close when you graze her loose and you’re glad that you can do such a thing without worrying you’ll never see her again. The mare blows air through her nostrils as she finds a richer patch of grass nearby, you watch her for a short while as you admire her coat and how much condition she’s kept through the winter- you try your best to keep her as fit and healthy as possible.

After a long minute of watching the little blue roan mare forage through the shrubs you return to the more important task. Getting clean. It’s one of the nicer things about where the gang is currently camped. It’s barely a stones throw away from a fresh river that runs directly from up North. Abundant with fish and a nice way to cool off after a long hot day. It’s ideal. It’s one of those little mundane things that makes the side of your mouth pull up just slightly. Only slightly, though. It beats riding into town to pay for a bath, it’s a hassle and it’s overpriced. You’ve always preferred it out in the wilds.

In the short time since the storm where Arthur and yourself finally crossed that line he’s tried to give you what you were asking for. He’d booked hotel rooms for the two of you and bought you hot meals at the saloon. He’d bring you into town to conduct “business” and he’d make you feel like there was some normality in your life. If you could call it that. At the end of the day you’d still ride back to camp. To some wet-earthed bedroll out in the sticks. Back to the reality that you sleep under a wagon when it rains and that there is no safety of four walls and a roof. There’s only safety in numbers out here.

Perhaps it’s selfish. To have exactly what you’d been dreaming of and still not be satisfied. Arthur had finally admitted that he felt the same, you should be ecstatic- but it comes with a price. You will never be able to change who or what he is. Part of you would never want to, but the other part of you wishes that he would leave all of this behind and realise what he has right in front of him. Hosea has been saying it for years. After Eliza and Isaac and after Mary, you thought that Arthur’s eyes might have been opened. At one point he ran to Mary. You lost him for real. He finally plucked up the courage to fight for what he wanted, only this time it was her father that made him return to the gang. He wasn’t good enough for his Mary.

Your clothes are folded neatly on top of one another and you’re quick to retreat to the cold encompass of the water. It envelopes you quickly and it steals your breath. Despite how hot and muggy the air is the water still manages to send goosebumps rippling across your skin. You’re deep enough that you can stand but only as deep so that the water comes to your shoulders. A heavy sigh escapes your lips. It’s relaxing. You want to let everything worrying you wash away with the currents of the river. There’s no point worrying about Arthur or worrying about what this means for your relationship with him. You love him dearly, but you fear that this crossed line might ruin what came before. It was always angering to you that he could leave and come back whenever he felt like it. At the drop of a hat he could be gone for days and then return like nothing happened. It always upset you. Now? Now it feels personal. It feels like despite his loyalty to Dutch, Arthur sees nothing else worth sticking around here for. He goes away and stays away, but it’s okay because he brings food and money back with him. You’ve never understood it. Maybe you never will.

By the pebbled shore you’d left your soap bar within reach. You paddle over to retrieve it having had long enough to soak your woes and stew in your pity, you don’t want to stay out too late and risk riding home in the dark. With your soap in hand you wade back out into the deeper water and roll the bar against your skin. It lathers quickly and you deftly rub the bubbles into your shoulders and the nots of muscle at the base of your neck. You sigh loudly, it feels like heaven. It’s a nice contrast to your day spent idle inside of camp. Wondering and worrying. You submerge your head under the water completely and breach the water again, it runs down your face and the coldness takes your breath away again. From where you’re standing you take a risk and throw the soap to get it to land on shore, unsurprisingly, you miss.

“For Christ’s sake” it’s hissed through your teeth. So much for melting away your worries and your annoyances. You’d never be able to wash Arthur away, not matter how hard you tried. You move to step closer toward shore when something firm but fleshy touches your foot. You jump instinctively and look down to try and see through the waters surface. It’s useless. You try to speed up in your retreat back to shore but this time something grabs you entirely. A shriek leaves your throat as you’re pulled under, bubbles breach the surface and the current of the river continues in its steady pace.

Barely a second later your body erupts from beneath the water. You cough and panic as you try to rip yourself away from whatever has still got ahold of you. The noises escaping your throat don’t register to you. You call for Iris and your pure terror makes you wail like a child. Everything quickly falls away however when the sound of laughter meets your ears. Your body stiffens and once your brain puts the pieces together you’re quick to remember what Arthur’s hands feel like gripping your naked waist. You gasp and spin to face him. He’s breathless and his chest heaves. You feel the warmth of his breath from how close his face is to yours. His grip doesn’t let up, instead he pulls you closer and holds you firmer. One large palm flattens over the curve of your ass and the other stays rooted to your waist. He looks down at you with lidded eyes, his head quickly tilts in confusion as he reads the expression on your face.

You push him away. Hard. The water splashes and you create space between the two of you. Despite the softness in his eyes you can’t help the bitter taste in your mouth. There’s wet on your lashes but you know it’s not from the water around you. It’s everything that you’ve wanted to say for the past two weeks. It’s everything that you’ve been waiting to tell him. You’re afraid the lump in your throat will make this impossible. “You’re a horrid man Arthur” you turn yourself away from him, hiding your shame, you press your face into your hands. The warmth that spreads itself across your back makes your chest ache. Arthur’s arms cross over your hips and his chin settles against your shoulder, he pulls you close again. You feel him sigh against your spine. “M’sorry for scarin’ ya” his voice is soft. You want so badly to give in. To forgive him like you always do. You try to tell yourself he’s unaware. He wouldn’t keep doing this if he knew how it made you feel- you’re scared to tell him the truth. Maybe you’ve read too much into this. Maybe he doesn’t see this thing between the two of you as serious at all. Let alone entertain the idea that you’re mad that he’s been gone. Your head is spinning. You can’t keep this up.

It’s quick in a manor that takes Arthur off guard. His hands move as your body does, guiding you as you turn in his arms. His lips are fresh against yours. Wet from the river. You taste the tobacco on his tongue as it glides roughly against your bottom lip, he’s desperate. His grip is bruising. His fingers dip into the flesh of your waist and you gasp against his lips, leaving more room for his tongue to explore. You moan and guide your hand up his shoulder blade and to the back of his head, tugging at the soaking wet strands that try desperately to stick to his head. Your other hand is beneath the waters surface, raking your nails down his stomach and through the wiry hair of his snail trail as it leads to his pubic hair. He hisses into the kiss but you don’t let him retreat.

His cock starts to stiffen in your hand. Pressed tightly between your bodies. He kisses you with anew fervour. It zips up your spine like electricity. You’re panting against his mouth and he the same with yours. The kiss melts into too much teeth and tongue, a mess of desperation and need. Arthur cups the side of your face with one hand and tilts your head until your eyes meet his, he speaks against your lips “I missed you” the words are enunciated clearly- he means them. The lump returns to your throat. Your eyes search his, they’re greener than you remember, suddenly- you can’t look at him.

You press your lips to his once again, hooking your elbow around the back of his neck and pulling him closer. All the while jerking his cock quicker in your hand, you need this as much as he does, you want to remind him why he comes back. Arthur makes a noise at the back of his throat and breaks off the kiss, most likely to speak, but you don’t want to listen. His hands grip you tight and your lips move from his mouth to his jaw and then to his neck. You press kisses all the while as you move, soon sinking your teeth into the flesh of his throat where his beard begins to thin out. He moans- “shit”. His hand cups your throat and pulls you away from him, once again forcing you to meet his eyes. You try not to, you don’t want to, but you can’t deny him. His eyes are soft again, in that understanding way that still knocks you off kilter. He leans forward to kiss your forehead. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere, alright? Let’s slow down” his voice rasps as he speaks, you can smell the cigar on his breath. You nod silently, he sees straight through you. He sees straight through the difference in desperation and fear- the fear he won’t come back next time.

Arthur takes the advantage that your arms are still looped tightly around his neck. He bends slightly and grips the backs of your thighs in each of his hands, hoisting you up in his arms. You squeeze him tighter, hoping he doesn’t drop you. He starts to walk toward the shore, taking long-strong steps and carrying you with little effort. You press your face into the side of his neck, despite the rivers interference, he stills smells like himself. Like ginseng and gunpowder. Like the damp earth after heavy rain in the best way possible. Like he’s just been plucked from the soil. As much a force of nature as any thunderstorm or blizzard.

The grass isn’t that soft against your spine. Yet, beneath Arthur, you can’t find the room to care. Your head is pillowed on your folded clothes and Arthur is kissing your throat and descending down to the supple skin between your breasts. He pays each of them equal attention on his way, he kisses each nipple and sucks them softly into his mouth. Your spine arches and he stills you with a flat palm to your stomach, urging you to be patient. Your hands find his hair, fisting the strands between your fingers. His hair looks almost black against your skin, darkened by the river. “Arthur” you whine, pressing your hips up into him, the angle means you just barely catch your hips to his- there’s a dark sound from his chest. Then there’s a hand pressed to your throat. Just enough to let you know who’s leading this. “So damn impatient” he’s trying to berate you but you fear he’s only fuelling the fire.

You close your eyes. Needing to focus on Arthur’s lips. On his fingertips. On everything that’s he’s doing. Every feather-light touch. You sigh “I need you inside me Arthur” it’s a plea at best. An awful whiney noise that surprises you as much as it does Arthur. He laughs. It tickles your stomach where his beard scratches the skin. He presses a kiss to the skin there. There’s the quick-flashing sting of teeth and you jump. “Patience” he mutters. Even slower than before, Arthur continues his downward path. All you can do is press your head back against your makeshift pillow, looking up at the sky as it blurs into a canvas of pale violet and burnt orange. There’s a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and then to the other. Your fingers tighten in his hair. He laughs again. Ever so faintly - Arthur presses his lips to the lips of your cunt. It’s barely a relief. You want to cant your hips into his face, you’re desperate to reverse the roles and put him on his back- then you could sit your cunt onto his mouth just the way you like.

Just as your mind wanders, Arthur presses his tongue inside of you. It’s everything you’ve been needing. The way his hands grip you, your legs over his shoulders with his lips buried in your pussy. Patience isn’t something you want to focus on right now.

Right now you want to cum on Arthur’s tongue and then make him do the same. You want to release everything in the best way you’ve learnt to. With Arthur. He’s broken you for any other man. He’d been your first and you know that deep down he’ll be your last. He knows you inside and out. You try to separate the way that your brain understands why Arthur is so good at this. You don’t want to think about it too much. In the moment, none of it matters.

“Oh god Arthur”. You’re panting. Watching your own breasts swell with every heavy intake of breath as you look down at Arthur. Seeing where his face is buried so close to you, lapping you up like you’re the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. His fingers grip the flesh of your thighs, not allowing you to move away from him- not that you’d ever want to. You tug at his hair, intentionally pulling him closer while simultaneously pushing your hips into the wait of his mouth. You feel him smile against your cunt. He pulls back barely an inch to sink his teeth into the skin of your thigh. “You are somethin’ else” his teeth sting and his smile practically burns your skin from how sharp it is. Your head sags backwards into your folded clothes, needing his mouth back on you again, you feel cold without it. “Please Arthur” your voice draws out, trying your best to gain his pity. Arthur has never been a pitying man.

Arthur hums and meets your eyes. There’s the same softness in them still. He’s always been kind to you, even through the hard times like when he lost Eliza and Isaac and when Mary rejected him. Those times had hollowed him out. They’d made a mean man of him. It led on for months. He became even more reclusive and he blamed himself for all of it. You gave him space. He didn’t seek you out. On a few occasions when he stayed at camp for more than five minutes you’d catch him by the fire, watching as he held his fingers over the crackling flames without flinching. He’d pull them out as soon as you were about to jump in and intervene. Smelling his burning flesh. You’d lie and say that you don’t understand, but you do. He’d wanted to feel something. To dull the ache in his chest. To feel something other the despair and loneliness. You and Arthur had both felt so alone for so long despite the fact you were both surrounded by so many people.

There’s a strangled sound in your throat when Arthur runs his tongue between your folds, pressing a single finger to your entrance at the same time. You’re so wet. Completely soaked for him. There’s no resistance to him whatsoever. You’re so pliable in his hands. Moulded however he sees fit. “It feels so good” you huff, rolling your eyes. Arthur adds another finger. His tongue matches the languid movement of his wrist. “Such a good girl for me” his words are smothered in your pussy as he pumps his fingers inside of you with a practiced cruelty. He’s going so slowly, knowing it’ll break you in the long run. You bite your tongue and Arthur notices. His sharp green eyes flit upwards, watching as your face crumples in pleasure, he smiles against you. The way he curls his fingers inside of you pulls your eyes to his, you watch him watch you, maintaining eye contact as Arthur makes you cum on his tongue. His tongue laps you up. The noises are filthy, a combination of your wetness and Arthur’s moans mixing with the struggle of your own breathing as you gasp for air.

He rides it out with you. His lips and tongue not ceasing until your orgasm fully subsides. He holds your hips in place when it becomes too much for you. It’s amusable in the way you try to crawl away from him. To try and relieve the pressure of his mouth as his endeavour enters the region of becoming too much. Tears well in your eyes from the overstimulation. There comes a limit to Arthur’s cruelty. When it comes to you that is. No sooner than you’re crying his name for real does he remove the pressure. He’s quick to press a kiss to your thigh once more. Crawling his way back up until he’s kissing the tears from your cheeks. Letting his tongue curl against yours so you can taste yourself. It’s something vulgar. Something you’re sure you’re supposed to find repulsive. But you don’t. Not when you’re with Arthur. It’s the most seen you’ve ever felt. To discover these things with him. Things you know even the other girls in camp would blush at. That would be saying something.

You hold his face in your hands. Feeling the way his beard prickles your palms. He kisses you again and again until you’re breathless still. Until you’re panting against his lips and digging your nails into his shoulders. You can feel the head of his cock as it glides over your stomach, slicking you with pre-come. He’s so hard against you and you’re sure it must ache. One of your hands slides down his back and forward across his hip, following the line of muscle until you meet the wiry thatch of hair again. His teeth graze your bottom lip as you weigh him in your palm, teasing your thumb over the weeping head of his cock with just the littlest amount of pressure you’re able to manage. “Why the teasin’ all of a sudden?” Arthur asks with a slanted smirk on his lips. You’re quick to taste it. You shrug from where you’re laid beneath him, watching his eyes search your face. You smile “It’s what you deserve” your lips are on his again, both smiling, Arthur takes your lip between his teeth again. He only breaks the kiss to glance down at where your hand meets his cock, watching with a slack jaw as you jerk upwards ever so slowly. His hips follow the retreat of your grip, practically fucking the shape your hand formed around him. You click your tongue “who’s impatient now?” You ask with a sly grin. Arthur sinks his teeth into the flesh-top of your breast for that. “I never said I was a patient man” he says against your skin, looking up at you.

Arthur’s kiss tastes like home. It proves it isn’t a place. It’ll always be him, to you. The sharpness of the tobacco he smokes and the deep flavour of the ginseng leaves he chews on while out riding for hours upon hours. The sloppiness of his kiss when he’s had a drink. His teeth catch yours and he sucks welts into your neck for you to have to cover up so the gang don’t see. He tastes of whiskey on those nights. The rich woodiness of it. Something not well aged. Something cheap. It still tastes more than fine to you.

He slots his hips between yours like it’s the most natural thing. Wrapping your thighs around his waist while he presses the head of his cock between your pussy lips. Forever teasing. Gathering the wetness of your juices and his saliva on his cock so as to fit easier. To make it better for you. You have nothing to compare it to, but Arthur’s cock had seemed so daunting at first, but now it’s as easy as breathing. When he presses his forehead to yours and cants his hips forward it’s as easy as welcoming him home. Your hips widen and your back arches and everything else falls away. You feel so full. So complete. His cock throbs inside of you and it’s thrilling. Arthur kisses you for the thousandth time and it’s still not enough. Even when he begins to move. One hand pressed to the side of your head and one guiding your hips, he still doesn’t feel like he’s close enough. You moan loudly and Arthur’s cock twitches inside of you. He grits his teeth and you hear it “fuck” he presses his cheek to yours and whispers in your ear. Praises. Curses. Pleads to god. All of it. You never let go of him. Your nails pull train track like marks down his shoulder blades, gripping him for dear life as he begins to fuck you like he hasn’t in weeks. Because that’s the truth. He hasn’t. It’s a build up of everything. You’re his escape. His outlet. Past that you’re someone he cares deeply for, more than he would care to admit to himself, he values you more than just sex.

“You’re takin’ me so good darlin’” his voice is thick and hoarse. His lungs burn from the strain. From the way he’s holding himself back. His grip is bruising, you can feel it, but you’ll wear them under all of your layers with pride. With the filthy reminder of what the two of you do when out of earshot of camp- sometimes still within earshot if Arthur is feeling brave and you’re willing to go along with it. His words strike you deep in your core. You grow wetter around the pull of his cock if it’s even possible. The way you moan is almost embarrassing. Your head lulls and your eyes water, he’s making up for lost time for sure. You lean closer and press your temple to his cheek, rocking with the motion of his hips as he fucks into you harder, he’s getting close. “You make it all feel so good Arthur” you’re heaving, struggling against his thrusts and it’s only worsened when you feel him press the pads of his fingers against your clit. It’s like a match striking and your body reacts immediately. Your arms are looped around his neck, keeping him close to you. Your lips pull into a smile “no one else could make me feel as good as you Arthur - none of em’” it drags a noise from his lips and you’re most certainly adding that to the filthy part of your brain for a later date.

He’s prideful. You know this. You also know that he knows you’ve never been with anyone else. He’d like to keep it that way. He wants you to never feel like you need to seek someone else out. He acts as if he doesn’t know he’s ruined sex for you with anyone else but him. Nothing would compare.

You cum for a second time. Arthur plucks it from you easily. His deft fingers working you up to that point. He builds the pressure until it’s nothing more than stars behind your eyelids when you close your eyes. Everything within you tightens like a coiled spring, he pushes you past the point at just the right time. He makes it good for himself too. He makes you cum first not only because he’s a gentleman, but because it makes it all the more better for him. His orgasm crests and rolls until it feels like his gut is twisting. He fights it. He tries to make it last until you’ve cum. Because that’s what finally pulls him over the edge. The way your cunt squeezes him. Milking his cock for all it’s worth until he’s twitching inside the warmth of your walls. Painted in his cum and still spasming from the fall down of your own orgasm.

His chest is pressed to yours. Sweat slicked and clammy. Arthur balances above you on his elbows and attempts to catch his breath. Both of your chests brush against one another, heaving air into your lungs like you’re starved of it. Your hands fall from Arthur’s shoulders to the dip of his waist, simply resting there while you catch your bearings. You look up at the sky. Noticing how much darker it suddenly feels. A bead of sweat drips from Arthur’s nose and falls to your cheek, it guides you to look at him. You meet his eyes. The smile he wears mirrors to you. Despite how you’d felt for the past two weeks, none of it feels like it matters right now. It’s dust on the wind.

He opens his mouth to speak but a quick and loud crack of thunder completely cuts him off- it makes the both of you jump out of your skin. Within seconds a fierce downpour suddenly breaks from the heavens. It bounces of the ground and you’re quick to seek refuge from the way it stings your eyes by hiding beneath Arthur. “God dammit” tumbles from his chest. “Arthur?” You cock your head to meet his eyes while still managing to hide from the rain. He adjusts himself as he rests on his elbows, he’s growing soft inside of you. “Darlin’?” His accent sounds thicker.

“You owe me a bar of soap”.

~

It’s a day later and you’re sitting with Hosea in his tent. He’s reading and you’re sewing up a hole you’d manage to tear in one of your skirts. There’s something that’s unnerving you. It’s unclear exactly what it is. More than likely nothing, just your mind simply playing tricks. There’s something in your head telling you that what you and Arthur are doing is wrong. Despite the fact it really isn’t. You’re both adults who know what they want, you guess it’s strange because you’ve co-existed for so long and have come across as having no interest in each other whatsoever. This thing between you isn’t exactly a secret, but you and Arthur had spoken about it and decided it wasn’t something that needed to be made into a big fuss. Despite all of that, you still feel like you’re going to get caught out sooner or later.

The two of you had been so careless as to fall asleep out by the river last night. After returning to the water to wash off for a second time and waiting out the rain you and Arthur had wanted to stay away from camp a little longer to catch up properly. He’d left his horse further up the river bank so that he could scare you, so after gathering up Iris and getting dressed you walked with Arthur back to his horse and helped him set up his tent. You were only meant to stay for an hour or two at best. To eat something and talk without interruptions, you must have both fallen asleep quickly only to startle awake in the dead pitch-blackness of night. The fire had gone out a while ago and Arthur was still wrapped around you as he slept.

Somehow you’d both managed to sneak back into camp without waking anyone. Even the horses were quiet enough as not to spook the other horses. You parted from him with a kiss and told him you’d talk tomorrow.

He had left with Dutch an hour ago. Neither of them said a word to anyone else. Not even Hosea. That was becoming more frequent. The secrecy and lack of transparency, you’d noticed it for some time now and you knew that Hosea had caught onto it quickly too. He was an honest man and you had known him for long enough, he trusted you with his complaints. “They’re up to somethin’. I just know it” he’d barely looked up from his book as they’d left on horseback. You follow Hosea’s words. “You think so?” You’re almost finished patching the hole in your skirt. He hums an affirmative “been real shifty lately the pair of ‘em” his tone is speculative. You wonder if he’s right.

It’s much later now, the midday sun is blearing above your head and the sweat drips down the back of your neck. You’re just pouring yourself a cup of coffee when Lenny and Javier return to camp dragging an almost limp Sean off the back of Javier’s horse.

It’s not uncommon, you aren’t worried, not even enough to ask if he’s okay - it’s only when Lenny calls your name in that desperate tone that you know something is seriously wrong. Your coffee is abandoned and you rush to them, fully expecting the worst. They’re all out of breath. “We was minding our business! Honest!” Lenny is quick to point out, helping Javier support Sean’s weight with an arm under each of his. Sean is conscious to a point, he’s almost standing on his own and although his eyes are shaky he can still focus on the sound of your voice and which direction it’s coming from. “What the hell happened?” Your tone is sharp, both Javier and Lenny look at each other. Javier clears his throat to speak “we were just having a drink” he looks at his boots before continuing “they attacked him out of nowhere, we got the hell out of there as fast as we could”. You don’t think he’s lying, but it’s Sean, so you know there’s more to this. You press your lips into a thin line “bring him to a chair over here”.

When Sean is seated he unfortunately regains the ability to speak. He slurs your name. There’s a huge gash that leads from his cheek to the top of his temple, it doesn’t look too deep but it’ll need packing and stitching. You ask Lenny to bring you what you’ll need and he does so quickly. He sets it down on the table behind Sean and makes himself scarce. “Sean?” You say his name, watching as his eyes slowly focus on you, his face splits into an uneven grin. “Yes gorgeous”. You’d be surprised if he didn’t have a concussion, at least the large cut seems to be the worst of it for him. You hold his face in your hands and angle his head to get a better look at the injury. “Can you hear me okay? Your sight okay?” You speak clearly and he stays focused on your lips as you speak. “It’s all fine love” he smiles as he speaks “how’s your sight? Could make ya see stars if ya would just gimme a chance” Sean leans forwards but you lean back, keeping the distance. “I’m being serious” you tell him, he clicks his tongue “what makes ye think I’m not?”.

You try your best to ignore him and work at threading a needle, planning on stitching up his face. There’s a bottle of whiskey on the table that you’d asked Lenny for and you grab it and press it into Sean’s hand. “Drink some” he does so without question, you know this will hurt so getting him drunk is your best bet- and that’s saying something. After you’ve threaded your needle and prepared a bandage you look down and see that the alcohol is nearly gone. You sigh “for Christs sake Sean” you supposed you hadn’t been specific with him, you snatch the bottle back. “Lean back for me” you hold the bottle up to his face “anything for you pretty girl” he flashes his teeth at you but you can’t focus on it. You press your free hand over his eyes and pour the alcohol into his wound, he barely flinches, you supposed after what those bounty hunters did to him this must not compare in the slightest.

There’s exactly three stitches in Sean’s face before he starts yapping again. He sighs heavily “I’d treat ya well y’know” you laugh “sure you would” you like Sean, in that enduring little brother who’s hit puberty and doesn’t know when enough is enough kind of way- you’d never go there. You stiffen when you feel his hands on your waist, his slender fingers pinch the fabric of your skirts that lay over your hips. “Sean-“ your tone is a warning, but you’re cut off.

“If you wanna keep those hands I suggest you get’em off my woman Irishman”

Chapter Three - Here

[reidmania]

let the grass grow | spencer reid

summary; you love spencer too let him stay while your world falls apart at your own hands.

warnings; hurt x comfort w no comfort, exes, angst w no happy ending, self depricating thoughts, insecurities, self sabotaging, avoidant attachment reader, fem reader, early seasons spencer, mentions of not eating, scars but never says whats from, arguments, but u guys love each other. its just sad tbh. 1.7k words

an; this is purely for my own sake and i wanted to make it a comfort but i genuinely couldn't bc this is a very real and relevant issue that no comfort seems to comfort so.. enjoy the pain?? song is let the grass grow by ruel, my man my man.

‘so I'll leave before you go, ‘cause there's no tears when it's my fault this self-sabotage, all of our other scars don't compare. take the river to the sea, drown myself, so I don't sink, find my peace there, underneath the hurricane, break a promise, so I can leave, burn a forest so i can sleep. lay my head stone and let the grass grow over me’

You could feel eyes on you everywhere, constantly throughout the entirety of the day. Even though deep down you knew no one was really staring at you the amount you built it up to in your mind. Constant judgement and quiet questioning from the gaze of your co-workers made your stomach fill with an overwhelming sense of sickness, it made you want to crawl into a hole and remain there in a foetal position for the rest of the time life offered you.

Quiet whispers of worry bounced around the building from your co-workers to one another, each one who had asked if you were okay throughout the day – multiple times, every to which you’d reply with a nod of your head and a forced smile on your lips that left indents on your cheeks, when your eyes remained the same distant and sullen that caused their worry in the first place.

It wasn’t until you were leaving the building you heard the same question after a whisper of your  name, but from Spencer.

Your head turned towards him faster than you meant it to, you swore any faster and you would’ve ended the day with not only a worse mood than you woke up in but also whiplash. Your eyes met his and you wished they didn’t. The care is held and balanced evenly in his eyes, causing a slither in the walls you had built up around yourself and everything that fell below surface level.

“Are you okay?” His eyes studied your face as if he would find any hint of truth in your expression since he knew better than to believe the lie that fell from your lips. Spencer Reid wasn’t an idiot, anyone and everyone was painfully aware of that, you were painfully aware of that. He hadn’t asked the question the same amount everyone else did, he hadn’t even talked to you today until now.

You nodded in response, casting your eyes away from his and back to the elevator you wished would hurry up. Two weeks, it had been two weeks since you broke up with Spencer, it had been two weeks of Spencer everyday asking you why, and it had been two weeks of you being unable to provide an answer that seemed good enough for him. Nothing you said seemed to help him understand why you would break off something that was going so well, that made you both evidently happy, everyone could see it, everyone watched you both pine after one another for years.

“Talk to me” He begged for what felt like – and probably was, the hundredth time.

Your head shook, because what were you supposed to say? What did he want you to say? You didn’t know and for you that meant you were better off not saying anything, maybe because the truth you fought to keep away from the open air seemed so pathetic and embarrassing it was better left unsaid. He was asking you to show him the deepest and worst parts of you and you were refusing and he just wouldn’t let it go.

“I don’t have anything to say” You replied, the same response as every other time he asked. It wasn’t enough, not for Spencer because he knew it wasn’t true.

He frowned, and it broke your heart. 

“I just want to understand,” He pleaded with you, reaching out for your hand. You pulled it away, what you were doing was mean, you knew that, it was unfair and mean to both him and yourself. Depriving you both of what you both wanted and yearned for so deeply all because you constantly felt like the world was closing in on you and things fell apart under your touch, it was just mean – but you weren’t cruel enough to allow Spencer the touch of your hand to pull it back all over again.

“I wish you would” You mumbled out, muffled enough you could convince yourself he didn’t hear even though you knew he did. You didn’t intend to be mean with your words, you wished he understood that you were physically incapable of what he was asking from you, it wasn’t something you could bring yourself to do.

The elevator dinged and the door opened and you were thanking the world, until Spencer got on next to you and now you were left in a confined space with the one person who seemed to break through the box of self deprecation you would bury yourself into, time and time again. You didn’t want him there, you didn’t want him in your space, in your mind and in the middle of your emotions that took you down day in and day out. 

You wanted him, that wasn’t something you tried to hide, just something you deprived yourself of because you didn’t want him to want you, you didn’t even want you. The fact someone else could, someone like Spencer, was overwhelming in a number of ways and it only furthered the insecurity that consumed you.

“I’m here, I know there’s more than what you’re letting on.” He said, you wanted to appreciate his effort of reassurance but it didn’t help. You loved Spencer, and you were now certain he was the sweetest person to ever exist. How could you allow yourself to indulge in something so sweet and so pure when you deemed yourself the opposite. You fell apart and buried yourself in your own issues, you spent days lying in the darkness of your bedroom body starved and scarred, you’d mull over every mistake you ever made and everything in your life that should have belonged to someone more deserving.

You didn’t answer him, so he spoke again. “I have been and I'm going to be here until you’re ready to talk about it” his voice was gentle and dripping with reassurance you wish you could accept because his words were suppose to be reassuring but they left a bad taste in your mouth and just made your heart clench tighter in your chest to the point you thought it might’ve stopped beating.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.” You said, not turning your head to face him but you were sure enough that they best portrayed what you were feeling, too much.

He let out a breath, a sigh of a sort and shook his head as he spoke, “I never said you did, I don’t mind waiting for you–”

There it was.

“I don’t want you to do that.” You snapped slightly, guilt instantly infested your gut but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t need him to wait around for this feeling to go away because it never did, your entire life, it never had and you didn’t imagine that changing. “I don’t want you to wait for me, Spencer. I don’t want you to just wait around for something that’s never going to happen, this won’t change. I made my decision” you huffed out the most you had said to him since that night you ended things which consisted of a teary eyed argument.

He dragged his hands through his hair as he tried to figure out what to say, then the elevator came to a stop and you were moving off it quicker than his brain could process and then he was following you and he was reaching out for your hand, even though he knew better by now. “You said you loved me, you said that while you were breaking up with me. You said you loved me and that you were sorry, you couldn’t do it anymore and then gave me nothing else” He stated, his eyes pleading for some sort of answer, something he could blame himself for.

That's not what you wanted, you didn’t want him to blame himself – that was almost a part of the whole point. If he blamed you for this, if you ended it now then there was no chance it would happen any other way. You could live with him blaming you with this, much better than you could live with getting hurt or inevitably hurting him. “I do love you Spencer” You said, you weren’t going to lie about that. 

Your arm pulled away from his touch but he only reached out again, “I’m trying to respect your decision, but I don’t understand. You love me but you don’t want me to wait, you love me but you broke up with me – I just- You’re doing this thing where–  you like to shut down and shut everyone out and I don’t want you to do that. If you don’t want to be with me then I’ll respect that but If you think I can stand around and watch you fall apart you don’t know me, and I would really prefer to think you did because for the longest time I thought I knew you and now finding out that maybe I don’t is– Well it sucks.”

You huffed out, you knew it was unfair and contradicting and you almost wished you had never gotten involved in the first place because you hated the fact you were hurting Spencer right now because your emotions were confusing. It was unfair. “I’m sorry” You started. He was right, you knew him and he knew you, on the slightest of a deeper level.

“Don’t do that. Don’t apologise and then brush it off. I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to be honest. You keep everyone at arm's reach, on surface level– I want more than that, I want to know you, and understand you, I want to understand this. Tell me what you need and I'll do it, but I need to understand why first.” 

How were you supposed to tell the single handedly most sweet, kind and perfect person that you were unable to provide him with the one thing he wanted – to know you. How were you supposed to admit that something as simple as that was too much to ask for. 

“There's this expectation that I can't reach, that I never have, never will and I love you, Spencer, that's true – but I'm not going to let you sit around and watch me fail time after time again to reach the expectation of basic human existence.” You shook your head as you pulled your hands away from his grasp, your body turned as you walked away.

He stood calling out your name but his feet stayed glued to the ground, and there was no response from you.

[bisexualiteaa]

A Night Beneath the Stars

Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem Reader (SMUT MDNI)

CW: established friendship, younger Logan, cursing, reader has telepathic powers, mutual pining, mentions of alcohol, mentions of insomnia, reader and Logan bond over not being able to sleep, fingering, oral (f receiving) unprotected P in V, creampie, p0rn w/o plot, pet names, praise kink, dumbification, Logan is down bad but so is reader, possible spelling/grammar errors, fluffy ending

You were newer to the mansion, having only just been brought to Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters about a year or so ago. You remembered when you had first arrived, how nervous you were to meet the professor, how intimidating of an experience it was in meeting other mutants in general. You had spent so long keeping your mutation a secret from others, the shame of being different than normal people was still something that was going on even as times were changing. People still seemed to believe that anyone with a mutation was some kind of monster. You knew you shouldn’t have to worry about that here at the mansion, not when everyone around was a mutant, yet you couldn’t help but be nervous. Everyone did their best to make you feel welcome, knowing it was a bit difficult at first considering that you were an adult rather than a new student joining. However that didn’t mean you weren’t welcomed with open arms, and assurance that you were safe and accepted here. That you were amongst friends now who understood you.

You were often invited to tag along with Ororo, Jean, Scott and Logan whenever they would go out in town. In the hopes, or rather Ororo’s hope, to help you open up and feel a little more at home at the mansion rather than isolated away in unfamiliar territory. At first you didn’t take them up on it, preferring to stay behind and get accustomed to life at the mansion, but they never failed to extend the invite each time, waiting for the day you would finally peak from your shell and tag along. When you first started going with, you would just hang out with the girls. Enjoying the time drinking, gossiping, talking about each other’s love lives, and what led you all to being at the mansion. However, over time you and Logan had slowly begun to kindle something of a friendship with one another. The connection you had with him was almost magnetic with the way you were drawn to him. You didn’t know how else to explain it really. Like two kindred spirits once lost and now reunited, everything came effortlessly between you. You would happen across him late at night in the kitchen, finding him nursing a beer or smoking a cigar as you would sit next to him and enjoy a glass of whatever you could get your hands on. Sometimes you both would just sit there in comfortable silence, providing moral support to each other by just being there. You didn’t need to speak to know when one of you was upset, or to know what he needed, you just understood somehow. Other times, he would find you out in the gardens, seeming to be in your own little world as you stared up at the night sky. When you were outside you were often meditating, trying to take in the peaceful surroundings to help calm you enough to go to sleep. Slowly, your late nights spent trying to unwind would cross paths more and more, leading you both to meet up just about every night. Logan would begin to join you as you would sit outside and gaze upon the stars with you, just as you would join him in the kitchen with a drink when he was there.

Your friendship was always something of an enigma to the others, where you were soft and kind, Logan was rough and jaded. They would have never guessed that of all people, you would have found comfort in someone as gruff as him. Being known for the way his temper was, and how he normally kept to himself, it was shocking to the others anytime they would see him laughing with you, or see a soft smile stretched to his lips. Ororo would often tease you for it, saying you managed to soften him up and claiming that she’s never seen him so happy than when he’s with you. It would often leave a blush rising to your cheeks when Scott or Jean would tease you about him, asking if you two had finally gotten together yet. Despite all of the teasing, they were happy for you both. It was obvious he was who you needed to feel comfortable here at the mansion finally, and you were who he needed to help him soften up a little. They truly would have never guessed that he would open up to anyone, much less the near polar opposite of himself. Yet you understood each other in ways the others didn’t. Your late night talks, spent trying to unwind for bed had turned into a ritual of sorts, leaving you both unable to sleep without talking to the other, and over that time your bond had only grown stronger.

Many people figured that the friendship kindled between you and Logan would turn into something more. What with the fleeting glances shared between you, and the way his hand would often rest against the small of your back when he was next to you. There was a palpable tension that resided between you, one you prayed would finally lead you two to being more than just friends. Others bet that what you had was nothing more than a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. That if you were to date the Wolverine, you would end up heartbroken by his whirlwind personality. You tried not to pay attention to those comments, no matter how unkind they were. You knew that he could be a lot sometimes, and that to most he wasn’t exactly the kindest man on earth, but you knew better than to think he would treat your heart with such malice. You trusted that if you were to explore that option, and he didn’t want you in that way, he would tell you. You loved the way he always stood by you when you were in a room together, giving an aura that he was almost your protector of sorts. It left butterflies in your stomach when his hand would come to the small of your back as a silent sign that he was there when you were upset, or when his hand would clasp yours gently to lead you somewhere more isolated and private to help you calm down. Anywhere you were, Logan wasn’t very far behind, and vice versa, and while some might have thought it was weird, you counted it as your biggest blessing. The others would often find you two sitting and watching movies together, or out on missions together. The professor delighted in the way you seemed to benefit each other and balance each other so well. You were an effective team, and not only that, you were each other’s comfort. He would cook for you, you would bake for him, you would enjoy drinks and conversation together and every night, you both would find yourselves at each other’s side until sleep would finally call your names. Your friendship took a matter of months, nearly an entire year to fully kindle to a point of trust and comfortability, but one night was all it took to finally change the dynamic between you from platonic to something a bit more romantic.

The evening started the same as all of your evenings together went. You were sat in the gardens, enraptured by the stars that freckled the night sky, observing the different constellations and the phase the moon was in for the night. It was a beautiful summer night, just warm enough to be able to be outside in your night dress, but with a calm, cool breeze that kept it from being too hot to withstand. It was perfect. “Can’t sleep, bub?” A familiar, slightly gruff, voice asked you pulling you from your thoughts. The nickname gave away exactly who it was, only one person ever called you that, meaning Logan was finally here to join you. You turned his way as he spoke, and offered him a soft yet excited smile as he leaned against the doorway, seeming to watch you from afar. His eyes drank in the sight of you, your hair slightly tousled from the wind, the moon’s rays casting an almost ethereal glow upon you in your night gown. You looked as if you were right where you belonged, the night time your golden hour. Your smile brought a warmth to his heart that he thought had long since frozen over, its brightness enough to lighten his every sour mood and calm him even after the toughest of days. He looked upon you like an art student seeing their favorite work of art in person for the first time. He was completely enraptured by you. In awe of your beauty, wondering what it is that he could have ever done to be so lucky to call you a friend. Although he was secretly wishing that you would consider more than that someday with him, but those thoughts were for another time. He was here with you now, and he wanted to cherish that. “I never can without our nightly meet ups” you admitted, your tone gentle yet spoken with conviction as your gaze fixed upon him. He adored that he was your solace, happy that he could be there for you in the same ways you were for him. His lopsided grin always sent a giddy flutter to your stomach and made your heart skip. For someone who was known for being hard to put up with and cold to almost anyone he came across, you loved that you were his one exception. The sunshine to his storm clouds as the others would often describe. There was an undeniable chemistry between you that made your bond so strong. “Heard you would be able to see Jupiter and Saturn tonight while looking at the moon. Didn’t want to miss the chance, only happens once every twenty years” you added, patting the ground next to you in invitation for him to sit with you. “Come join me?” You asked, and who was he to ever deny you? He made his way over to you, lit cigar in hand as he sat down with you, following your eyes as you looked up into the night sky. “How can you even see it?” He asked between puffs of his cigar, making you chuckle as you pointed up at the sky. “See those two dots behind the moon? They’re pretty small, but that’s what you’re looking for” you answered, making him hum with intrigue in reply before turning to look at you. He swore he could see the reflection of the stars as he cast his gaze upon you, watching them twinkle in your eyes as you spoke. The way you looked at him with the same wonder and regard as the night sky every night left him so utterly weak in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He could sit there and listen to you talk about astronomy for hours and be perfectly content, happy to hear the sounds of your sweet voice.

“See that over there? There’s the Little Dipper, and right over there is Orion’s Belt” you said, pointing to each constellation, teaching him the names, locations and small little facts about it all that you knew. What you hadn’t noticed was the more you spoke, the closer you two seemed to move together. It was as if you were being magnetically pulled to one another without realizing it. “The Greeks use to believe that when their greatest heroes died, their spirit would pass on and the gods would place their likeness in the stars so that their sacrifices would never be forgotten” you stated, making him smile softly as he listened to you. Stuff like this from anyone else would normally bore him, but from you? He could listen to you ramble on and never get tired of it. It made his night talking to you away from others so you could open up and just be yourselves. “You believe it?” He asked, genuinely curious of your input, making you chuckle. “I’m not sure. I’d like to. I like to think that my mom is up there somewhere” you answered, making him hum as you both looked to one another, his sympathetic gaze turning into an arm wrapped around you, pulling you to him. “I’m sure she is, bub. ’m sure she’s damn proud of you too” he said comfortingly, making you smile up at him appreciatively for his kind words. He wasn’t always good at consoling others, but for you, he would always do anything he could to see that gorgeous smile stretch to your lips. “I hope so. I hope when the time comes some day, that maybe I’ll join her up there” you replied before a comfortable silence fell upon you, listening to the crickets chirp and the wind whistle softly through the trees. “Save a spot for me?” He asked, making you smile warmly. “Of course, but not before I’d haunt you for a while. Gotta make sure you know I’m still around” you replied, making him chuckle. “Wouldn’t want it any other way, bub” he answered, leaning his head against yours as you both gazed upon the stars.

“Almost forgot. I got something for you” he spoke up after a few beats of silence, placing the cigar between his lips as he rustled something from his pocket. “I remember you saying somethin’ about wanting whatever those rocks are you always talk about” he said, making you giggle in response. “You mean crystals?” You asked, looking up at him from where you were resting your head against his shoulder. “Saw one in a store today, thought you might like it” he said before dangling a dainty necklace in his hand. “Aww Logan, you didn’t have to do that! Now I feel bad that I didn’t get you anything” you replied, making him chuckle. “How were you supposed to know? It’s a surprise for a reason” he responded as you looked at it. It was a small piece of rose quartz shaped into an obelisk, resting on a thin chain. You smiled excitedly as you inspected it, not only was it a crystal but it was rose quartz, the crystal that symbolized healing, compassion and eternal love. You weren’t sure if perhaps he picked it deliberately for its capabilities, or if it was chosen for you at random, but you almost didn’t want to believe that it was a coincidence. “Would you help me put it on?” You asked him, looking up at him with a smile so bright that he swore the sun couldn’t even compare. “Course, turn around and I’ll help ya” he replied, happy to see you liked it as much as he hoped you would. You turned your back towards him, sweeping your hair to the side to keep it off of your neck before feeling his fingers ghost along your soft skin. You shivered, feeling goose-flesh rise along your arms as he put the chain around you. You giggled as he struggled with the comically tiny clasp in his large fingers, hearing him mutter a curse every now and then under his breath as it would slip from him, but eventually he managed to get it clasped for you. “Now I’ve got to get you something” you insisted, making him chuckle as he watched you readjust your hair and look at the necklace with wonder. You were just so damn precious in his eyes. “Don’t worry about it bub, really. I wanted to” was all he replied with, assuring you that you were in no debt from his kind gesture as you turned back to face him. “How’s it look?” You asked making him smile as he took you in, admiring you for all of your beauty, not just the necklace. “Beautiful” he responded meaningfully, but something in his eyes and in his tone told you that he wasn’t just talking about the necklace. You gave a giggle in response, blushing at the compliment.

“You like it?” He asked and you were quick to pull him into a tight hug, making him smile as he took that as a yes. He hugged you back warmly, his head resting slightly on the top of yours since you were shorter than he is. Your hair smelled so nice, the signature scent of your shampoo something he’d grown to love. He especially loved when your perfume would transfer to his clothes when you would hug him, catching even the slightest whiffs of it on occasion when you weren’t around kept him sane on even the worst of days. “I love it. Thank you Lo” you said appreciatively, your face buried into the crook between his neck and shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his body against your own and the feel of his arms around you. You both pulled apart slightly after a few moments, a palpable tension now hanging thick within the summer’s night air. You pulled away just far enough to still be close enough in his hold, but not completely separated. Your faces now sat so close together that you could feel the ghost of his breath against your lips, sending a pulse of excitement through you. He smelled of tobacco, smoke, pine and that distinct scent of him that made you feel at ease. Safe. When you were with him, it was as if all time had stopped, as if all others ceased to exist. In this moment, it was just you and Logan.

His fingers brushed a small section of your hair that fell into your face back behind your ear, allowing his rough palm to rest against your cheek as you gazed into his eyes. You smiled at him as the distance between you dwindled, feeling that almost magnetic pull to one another once more. Your eyes fluttered to his lips before looking back into his beautiful brown eyes, wondering if this would finally be the moment. “Don’t look at me like that, bub” he said playfully, a smile stretching to his lips and making you giggle. “Like what?” You asked teasingly, making him give you that lopsided grin you loved so much. “Like you wanna kiss me” he answered, making you smile even wider with excitement and it made him melt. No one had ever looked at him with such pure love in their eyes until he met you. Attraction; sure. Love? This was a first, and he could see just how strongly you felt for him in that gaze, wishing he would have taken his shot sooner. “Maybe I do want to kiss you” you answered, making him chuckle. “Oh do you?” He responded playfully, making you shake your head. “Yeah, maybe I do” you replied, butterflies fluttering in your stomach with each brave word you could utter. “What’s the matter? Scared you’ll like it too much?” You asked confidently, making him laugh at your cocky tone that reminded him a lot of himself. He was rubbing off on you and fuck if it wasn’t cute. “Me? Scared? Don’t kid yourself bub” he replied, making you laugh. “Then kiss me already” you challenged telepathically, and he certainly did not need to be told twice.

You felt him pull you closer, allowing there to be a moment of anticipation that would keep you on your toes before his lips finally met your own. It was a moment so electric, you swore he must have been able to hear the way your heart was pounding in excitement. You smiled into it, your hand coming to rest on his chest to keep him close to you, feeling as his heart started racing against his sternum beneath your palm. You hummed contentedly into it, feeling him release a shaky breath as his free hand rested against your hip, squeezing it gently to remind him that this was really happening. You wanted him just like he wanted you. It was almost unreal. “Are you really sure I’m who you want?” He asked, making you rest your hand on his cheek, thumb rubbing soft circles into his skin. “I’ve never been more sure of anything” you replied confidently before kissing him once more, allowing your tongue to drag against his bottom lip, asking his permission to allow you to let it deepen. He gave in with a groan, allowing you your chance to slip your tongue in and explore at his pace. You didn’t want to move too fast and scare him off, but you also didn’t want to move too slow and bore him. You moaned softly into his mouth as his hands caressed your curves, feeling your warm skin beneath your soft night dress. The friction of his hands against you, mixed with his intoxicating kisses sent fire coursing through your veins.

You smiled playfully into your kiss as an idea came to you. Your arms looped around Logan’s neck, pulling him down with you as you allowed yourself to fall backwards into the soft grass. You giggled as he fell on top of you, holding himself up above you before looking down upon you with a grin and a wild look in his eyes. The scent of your arousal filled his senses, clinging to you like the sweetest perfume. “Don’t look at me like that” you joked, using his own words against him, making him chuckle. “Like what?” He teased, grinning down at you with a hungry look in his gaze. He looked as if he might eat you alive. It was thrilling. “Like you’re going to ravage me” you answered, your hands cascading along his broad chest, making him groan at your gentle touch. “Why? Afraid you’ll like it too much?” He asked in that ever familiar cocky tone, making you giggle as he leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your neck, placing sweet kisses along your throat as he inhaled your scent. You moaned softly before biting your lip with excitement, your hands moving to card through his hair in appreciation. “Logan…” you breathed, moaning quietly each time his lips would brush against one of your more sensitive spots. “Not afraid, wanna see what I’ve been missing out on” you spoke telepathically once more, making him rise his head from your neck to look at you. He looked almost surprised to hear what you’d said, like he needed to see you to make certain he heard you correctly. “What did you-“ “you heard me” you replied boldly, a soft grin on your lips as you waited for his response, allowing him a way out should he not want this to go where it was leading. Yet you spoke the words he’d been dying to hear for months now. “Fuck…c’mere” he replied, pulling you into a kiss, making you giggle excitedly at his response. “You know all the ways to get me so fuckin’ worked up” he spoke into it, trailing one of his hands up your thighs as yours carded through his hair again. You moaned softly once more as his fingers found your clit beneath the wet spot forming in your panties, rubbing small circles against you. He took the opportunity to let his tongue explore your mouth, tangling with your own as he slipped his hand beneath the waistband and into your underwear. You were intoxicating. The scent of your arousal, mixed with how wet you were for him and the sounds of your sweet sighs and moans pulled a growl from his throat. The guttural sound sent a shudder through you, making him chuckle as he felt your clit throb beneath the pad of one of his rough fingers. “Pretty girl, you like getting me all worked up, huh?” He asked, rubbing slow, methodical circles into your clit, making you squirm beneath him from pleasure. “Yes…” was all you could get out, making him groan as you rolled your hips against his hand. “Good girl” he said, peppering your neck with kisses again as he worked you up, listening to you whine and mewl for him to give you more.

“Gotta get you nice and ready sweetheart, be good for me and take it, yeah?” He asked, pulling away only momentarily to unbutton the top of your gown, exposing your bare chest to the night air. “Such a pretty little thing” he complimented, his fingers finding their way back to your core as his kisses began to trail down to your chest. You moaned in delight as he wrapped his lips around one of your pert, sensitive nipples, sucking it as his finger teased your waiting hole. He moaned at the taste of your skin, the way you were so ready for his finger to slip inside of you. “So tight for me” he said, working the tip of his finger in and out slowly before pressing further inside of your heat, leaving you to lull your head back at all the stimulation. “Just like that princess, take my fingers, open up for me” he cooed, talking you through it sweetly as he worked you open. You moaned as his finger curled against that gummy spot inside of you, feeling as his mouth latched to your other breast to pay it equal attention. Your hands in his hair yanked the raven strands on occasion, making him groan against you as he stretched you with his fingers. “Logan…” you moaned, making him grin up at you. “Feel good, bub?” He asked, making you whine as you shook your head yes. “Let me get a taste, hmm? Bet she tastes as sweet as the rest of you” he said, sliding down your body before scrunching your dress up your hips a little, exposing your panty-clad cunt to him. He pressed a soft kiss to your core through the damp fabric, making you moan and buck your hips at the feeling. He gave a chuckle at your eager response and sensitivity. “Let’s get these off of you” he said before sliding your underwear from you, slipping them into his pocket for safe keeping. “So pretty for me” he complimented once more before dipping down between your legs, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your clit before his fingers found their way back inside of you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he worked you with his tongue and fingers, your nails scratching his scalp in appreciation for the bliss he was granting you. “Oh my god…Logan!” You moaned, making him groan into you. The sound of his name on your tongue was music to his ears. You’d never felt so good. The way his hot muscle worked circles into your bud, paired with the way his fingers worked in and out of you, you were floating on cloud nine. “Shh, gotta stay quiet baby. Don’t want to get caught now, do you?” He asked, making you whine and bite your lip as you tried your best to keep your voice down, but it was hard. It just felt so good, you couldn’t help it. You felt his fingers curl against that spot within you again, his tongue fluttering in just the perfect rhythm that had the knot in your belly growing taut. “Logan, I…” you tried your best to warn of your impending orgasm through your moans and pants. “Gonna cum for me? C’mon, want you to cum on my fingers doll” he said, feeling you squeeze around his fingers, keeping his pace exactly where it was to get you there. Before you knew it, you were toppling over the edge, gasping as your back arched and your cunt tightened around his fingers. Your eyes rolled back, your mouth opened wide in an O shape as your release washed over you like a tidal wave. “There we go, good girl” he said, helping you ride out your orgasm before you grew too sensitive.

He sat on his knees before you, watching your chest rise and fall with each heaving breath you took to try and come back to earth. You smiled sweetly at him, an almost drunken look on your face as he drank in the sight of you in your afterglow. “So fuckin’ beautiful” he complimented, making you give an appreciative hum in response, seeing the effects you had on him as your eyes raked his body with hunger. He needed you, needed to mark you as his, have his scent linger off of you so the others knew exactly who you belonged to. “For the love of everything, please take your clothes off” you said with a grin, making him laugh. “Leave you waitin’ too long, sweetheart?” He asked with a cocky smirk, making you grin wider as he came back up over top of you. “Yes!” You said through giggles as you watched him strip himself of his white tank top, leaving you absolutely enamored at his build. You’d seen him without a shirt on before, after all you both would spar together fairly often, and you’d helped patch him up after missions when his healing hadn’t quite caught up yet. But in this sense, this was entirely different. Here, he was bared for your eyes only. You squealed in surprise as he rolled you both to where you were on top of him now, your shared joyful laughter melding together into the most perfect moment. As you held yourself up over him, your hips resting against his, you couldn’t help but gaze into his eyes. You fit against him perfectly. Like two pieces of a puzzle, he was who you needed to finish the big picture. His hand came up to gently sweep your hair from your face and tuck it behind your ear once more so he could see your face. His hand then rested on your cheek, rubbing comforting circles along your skin. “I love you, Logan” you admitted, the words escaping you before you could even have the chance to hold them back. Your heart raced anxiously in your chest as you waited for his response. Waiting to see if he would turn you away, or tell you this was nothing more than a fleeting moment. But that moment never came. Instead, you felt his lips press to yours, pulling you back down and against him as his other hand looped around you. He wanted this. He wanted you. He chose you. “Fuck I’ve been dying to hear that. I love you too” he replied as he pulled away for air, pressing his forehead against yours, watching you smile happily at his response. “then what are you waiting for?” you asked telepathically, making him chuckle as you looked at him. “For you to take my pants off and show me how much you want me” he replied, making you grin as you kissed him once more, just as intimately as before, only this time your hands began to fumble with the buckle of his belt.

Blindly you managed to get it undone, then unbutton and unzip his jeans as your tongue tangled with his. You caught his bottom lip between your teeth, pulling it gently before releasing it, earning a guttural growl from him in response. You giggled mischievously before grinding your hips against him through his boxers. “Think it’s funny to tease me, huh?” He asked, making you grin. “It’s a taste of your own medicine” you replied coyly as you continued to grind against him, littering his neck with kisses as your hands roamed his body. Your hands found their way beneath the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down and allowing his cock to spring free. You watched as it bobbed and his tip slapped just above his navel, standing completely at attention all for you. “All for me? Hardly even done anything to you yet and you’re already so worked up” you teased, making him scoff in response. “Right. Because fucking my tongue and fingers is hardly doing anything to me” he quipped, making you giggle. “It is hardly anything in comparison to the real deal” you said telepathically, gliding your pussy along his cock, allowing him to slip between your folds and his head to bump your clit but not allowing him inside. He groaned at the feeling of your wetness gliding up and down his length, his fingers digging into your hips with how tightly he was gripping you. The stimulation of this alone was already enough to work him up but he needed more. He needed to be inside of you. “Don’t you want to find out?” You asked. “Fuckin’ tease” he grumbled, making you chuckle before you lined him up to your entrance.

You eased your way down onto him, your knees digging into the ground on either side of his hips as you worked to take him all the way inside of you. You hissed at the painful stretch, thankful that he worked you up as much as he did beforehand but still struggling. It took a few tries, but eventually you managed to fully sheath him inside of you. You moaned as you took a moment to allow yourself to acclimate to his size, feeling him throb within you as you kissed him sweetly. His one hand rested on your cheek as the other rested on your hip trying to help provide a soothing distraction to the pain. You tested a roll of your hips, moaning delightfully as the pain morphed into pleasure. “Logan..” you moaned as you began to set a steady pace, his hands at your hips helping you keep that rhythm. “Fuck, sweetheart” he groaned, watching your breasts move as you bounced on his cock. Your hands rest against his chest for leverage, listening to your shared moans and the sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the air around you. Your nails dug into his skin when his tip grazed your g-spot, leaving puffy red marks along his chest as you threw your head back. You heard an animalistic growl leave him in response, looking down to see a feral look in his eyes. “Do that again” he said, making you grin as you began to drag your nails all the way down his chest to his chiseled abs, hearing him groan in pleasure from the pain. “Fuck” he panted out as he thrust up into you. “Right there!” You whined, your eyes rolling back in bliss as he hit that spot repeatedly. “I’ve got you bub, gonna take good care of you” he replied, fucking into you at a faster pace that left you delirious. “Oh, Logan!!” You moaned, not caring if you were too loud now, not caring if you were to be caught, all that mattered to you right now was how good he felt inside of you.

You were lost in all the pleasure he was giving you, his name the only thing on your mind that was blanker than paper at this point. “Not a single thought behind those eyes right now is there, sweet thing?” He asked with a cocky grin, making you whimper at the way he made you so stupid on his cock. He loved it. “Feels s’ good” you babbled out the best you could, clear sentences now beyond you with the way his fingers began to circle your clit. He knew all the ways to get you to feel so unbelievably good, it was almost unreal, unfair even. “C’mon baby, cum on this cock. You can do that for me, can’t you? Wanna feel her squeeze me good and tight” he said, making you shake your head yes in response. “Yes! Yes, wanna cum s’ bad. Fuck!” You babbled almost incoherently, making him chuckle at how eager you were, listening to your moans rise in pitch and the way your walls squeezed him tight told him that you were close. All you needed was a little push and you would be sent over the edge. “Gonna fill you up good, what d’ya say? You want that? Want me to stuff you full so everyone knows who you belong to?” He asked, making you moan at the thought of him cumming inside of you, filling you up to the point it leaked out of you. “Yes!! Want it, want it so bad please!!” You replied, making him groan in response. Such a good, obedient little thing. “So close…Logan please” you moaned, grinding against him and meeting his thrusts for that extra little bit of friction to get you closer. “Cum for me, baby” he said, working your clit just how you needed to topple over the edge finally. Your back arched as a gasp left you, your eyes rolling back as you moaned with your release. He groaned as your cunt spasmed around him, coating him with your slick and pulling him closer to his own peak. He sat up to meet your lips with a feverish kiss. “Fuck, I love you. So fucking much” he said into it, tongue and teeth clashing with your own as he rutted up into you before releasing himself inside of you with a deep groan. You couldn’t help but moan into the kiss along with him, the feel of him throbbing inside of you as his seed painted your walls was quite a pleasurable sensation. You felt him ride out your orgasms as much as you could before you both became too sensitive.

You both pulled away for a moment to allow air to fill your burning, oxygen depraved lungs, looking into each other’s eyes as you shared in the afterglow. You smiled at him as you cupped his cheek, placing a tender loving kiss to his lips before resting your slightly sweaty forehead against his. You enjoyed the peacefully quiet moment together, the only sound being that of your collective breathing slowing to a normal tempo once more. “Want to come back to my room for the night?” He asked, making you chuckle. “I’d like that” you replied before kissing him softly again, feeling him stir within you making you gasp at the feeling. He laughed at your cute reaction. “How are you already-“ “Healing factor. Can go all night if you want” he replied with a smirk, making you blush as you hummed with interest into your kiss. “Don��t threaten me with a good time” You said before he pulled you off of him to situate himself back into his jeans and your nightgown for the trek back through the mansion. He scooped you up into his arms bridal style, making you giggle and squeal in surprise. “Hope you’re ready for a long night then” he said, making you grin. “Then take me there before I change my mind” you said with a grin, making him chuckle as he carried you to his room, closing the door behind him with his foot.

While it may have been a long night, it was certainly one you would never forget.

[rnakamura22]

When they heard that you found your way home

Random　Characters

Prefect is female! Yandere vibes! Her name is Yu!

Malleus　Dragonia

Oh, Don't mind the sky getting pitch-black and thunder striking down rapidly! What? Flying classes got canceled? You saw Jack and Epel were totally soaked? Where are you even looking? Another man? That’s unacceptable!

You’re his first friend and crush! To him, you are like the first sunshine of spring! A beautiful blue butterfly in the meadow flying above the flowers! A gem more precious than any treasure he has! And now you’re just dumping him? Nuh-uh. Ain’t gonna happen! He’s one of the most powerful magicians in the world, so it takes no more than a flip of his hand to crush any form of way back home. He could lock you up in his room, mess with your body, destroy any form of mirror, etc. Hey, this was gonna happen one way or another since he already decided for the future Queen of the valley long ago(AKA when he met you).While he locks you up in his Diasomnia room, he could happily come and discuss the wedding plans. He already decided on the crown by the way, but he made a promise to discuss the dress colors with you since taking your opinion into account is necessary. Lila would be teary eyed of Malleus’s growth. You have no choice to accept your fate since even if you escape, he will come searching for you. After all, can a mere human win against a loving dragon?

Lilia Vanrouge

This 700 year old vampire fairy has more knowledge and experience than any of the villains. He thought his love ended with Malleus’s mom. But then, you came along. A cute little innocent human who only lived about a little percentage of his life! You are like a baby! You’re too young to survive out there! What if your way back home never worked! What if some thing got messed up? No, you need to be in the world safe and sound! He will protect you! He still has feelings about the age gap though. I mean, what happens in family day at school with your future children? Well, not to worry! As for making you stay, just break a few mirrors or take out any bad memories! He needs to look out for his juniors after all! He won’t break you, but he will punish you if you disobey. Fairies are possessive. Blame your own luck for shooting the heart of the vampire fairy.

Rook Hunt

At first, he seems happy for you! A lost deer should run back to her herd as quick as possible. But you forgot he’s a hunter. And a skilled hunter like him NEVER fails.

He casts his unique magic on you as you are about to leave. A part of him wishes for your happiness, but he couldn’t help it. A large part of him couldn’t forgive you. The most valuable prey were about to outrun him. He could never accept that. His magic will find you. Wherever you go, however you try to escape, the chase continues. Until you give up your world and return with him, they would be absolutely no peace.

Epel Felmier

(Anyone else love peel’s smug VILLAN faces from the ghost bride?)

Epel acts happy but inside, he’s devastated. He wanted to visit his home village again just the two of you. He knows he’s got competition when it came to you, and it was all for nothing. Well, he ain’t admitting that, that’s for sure.

From that day on, with the help of Vill and Rook, he creates a special gift for you. An apple red as the roses. A glittering poison apple just like the Beautiful Queen of his dorm created. To trap you, his one and only Snow White. He still wants to have fun with you and the first years. He wants to graduate with you. You gave him courage, and made him happy. He wants to return you with his own thankful emotions. #Yeah, Right.

On the day you were going to leave, he comes up to you and thanks you, than he says the magic words.

“Prefect…I want to give you something. Please have a bite. It’s a special apple I picked. It’s the most delicious apple I harvested and the most beautiful one! I cared for it so much!”

Epel now understands what Vil said for so long. His cuteness can become a weapon. Look at your eyes! You melt for his cuteness, and bites the apple without thinking twice, I mean, who can resist his cuteness. Instantly, you fall unconscious.

“Whoah!? That was close… but now you can be with us forever Yu! Snow White won’t hold a candle to you…. Let’s graduate together Ok? And we can be together forever…”

He’s a poisoned apple, what would you except? As the saying goes, looks can be deceiving.

Sebek Zigvolt

Ah, he says like 90% of the time about how fairies are better than humans, but for you, it’s an exception. He might not show it, but he cares a lot about you. He’s a tsundere after all.(No, you cannnot tell me otherwise) But he blames you for dumping him and making him feel bad.(AKA you two are not dating)

“This is your own fault human, you made me fall to your schemes and now you’re throwing it all away? Unacceptable!”

He may not show it, but he enjoyed school life with you and the other humans of his grade. He wants to live with you at the valley of Thorns. But your comment of going back to your world snaps something.

Better run away because lightning bolts are coming down in 10 seconds to smash that mirror. He will not let you go. And is you disobey…say goodbye to your eardrums and your freedom.

Silver

(Anyone else love this Silver’s face? I believe Silver can be a villain too, you won’t change my mind)

He is SHOCKED with a capital S. He’s a human, but raised by Lilia and fairies so he has fairy values and they may be SLIGHTLY different from humans especially about love.

He wants to be with you after graduation. He already planned a few preparations so you won’t be getting away.

Before you go, he casts his unique magic on you to appear in your dreams as a dashing prince. Saving you, chasing you, maybe choking you a little bit. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. Convincing that your world is horrible and terrible, and you should come back to Twisted Wonderland and live with him. Silver is a prince, and you are his princess. To him, the bad witch is your world. After all, he needs to defeat the bad witch to save his one and only princess. Than he can live happily ever after.

[blackseafoam]

Marked Part 1

PART 2

A Bad Batch x Red Dead Redemption crossover AU (with illustrations :)

This is my first time writing fanfiction!

“Omega” felt like too sci-fi of a name for this universe so I changed it to “Meggy”. Everyone else is the same.

If you haven’t played RDR2 don’t worry, I’m not counting on every reader having done so. All you need to know is it’s about a gang of outlaws in 1899 running from trouble, chaos everywhere. The world is set in a kind of “fantasy” United States, where the places and cultures are heavily based on real life, but have different names for the most part. There are also some sci-fi elements to the world that I may or may not implement :) This takes place around the first chapter of RDR2 when the Van Der Linde gang is camped out at Horseshoe Overlook.

Word count: 2045

Rating T

The foothills above Valentine were peaceful, densely forested, and rarely traversed. Above the treetops the snowy peak of Mount Hagen shone like a beacon. Below the hillside the earth plunged into the deep and narrow Dakota River canyon. It was a perfect place to lie low for a while. Plan the next move.

Meggy sat on the back of her brothers’ wagon, the horses had been unhitched and were grazing on the small clearing where they had set up camp. The contentedness of the beasts calmed her. The two massive horses simply snacking away and existing, nothing else on their mind. She wished she could escape worry so easily as the breeze blew her short blonde hair and ruffled her skirt.

Swimming in her own thoughts, she didn’t hear her brother's voice calling to her until he was beside her. “There you are!” Hunter sighed with relief as he approached. “Are you… alright?” His tone dropped quieter. 

“Yeah, just thinking I guess.” Meggy swung her boots ponderously. She held something in her hands, resting on her lap. 

“What’s this?” Hunter came closer, looking at her hands.

Meggy froze. Frozen like she had rehearsed time and time again at the school. Bracing herself physically and mentally to be in trouble, again. She looked down with shame. 

Hunter parted her hands, revealing a tiny rabbit kit, its unweaned eyes still closed. “Where’d you find this?”

Meggy looked up and was confused to see her brother smiling. This was wrong. She should be in trouble for touching dirty animals. 

“Under the wagon.” She muttered, still not convinced she wasn’t about to be reprimanded, especially now that she had just confessed to a second crime: crawling around under a vehicle. 

“We should find its nest, it needs its mother.” Hunter took a step back. Meggy stared at him, her mind was still not catching up to the fact of what was going on. “Pick him up, let’s go look.” Hunter helped her off the wagon so she could safely cup the tiny creature in both of her equally tiny hands. 

“Look for a hole capped with fur, there might be tracks of bare earth in front of it, and cropped grass.” Hunters eyes scanned the forest floor for rabbitsign, Meggy watched him and then mimicked his movements. 

Hunter noticed that Meggy was uncharacteristically quiet as they searched. Did I do something wrong? Having a kid around had been an ongoing adjustment. In the short time she had been with them Meggy had shown a wide range of emotions, profoundly sensitive and resilient at the same time.. But this was the first time he had seen her freeze up like this. 

The kit began to squeak incessantly. Hunter saw a flit of movement near a Boulder. Meggy followed his gaze. A rabbit doe near her burrow. 

As they neared she scurried back underground, Meggy deposited the kit near the hole and they watched it crawl inside.

“Nice work, kid!” He held his hand out for a high five, Meggy flinched, almost imperceptibly, but Hunter noticed. 

In a moment the worry melted off her face and she grinned, slapping his hand with her new energy. “That was fun! Do you think I can learn to track like you someday?” 

“I think you just had your first lesson.” 

-

The next few days were a much needed break from action, for the most part. The gang lived on small game, wild edibles, and what was left of their canned goods. Wrecker showed Meggy how to pick the best firewood. Echo lent her a couple of his books, glad to have a third person around who knew how to read. Crosshair kept his distance, but patiently entertained some of her questions as he cleaned his rifle. Then sent her away after warning her to stay away from their munitions crate. 

Tech finally caved to Meggy’s insistence on riding one of their draft horses. He picked Marauder, the slightly less excitable of the two. The chestnut gelding was certainly not a kid’s horse, but as a retired warhorse, he was desensitized at least. Meggy was surprised at how much thinking went into riding, or maybe that was just because Tech was her teacher. He had a lot to say about riding technique. As he lunged Maurauder with Meggy astride, barely able to straddle the barrel chested beast, he rattled on about gaits, position, neck-reining, posting, side-passing, halting, and so on.

-

Meggy woke on the fourth morning. A wave of bliss washed over her as she sat up in her bedroll. The last few days had truly been the best ever, living off the land with her brothers who she didn’t even know she had until a couple weeks ago. They chose to risk everything to save her. 

She was still coming to terms with what they had sacrificed for her. Couldn’t help but feel a twitch of guilt every time she could sense them censoring their usual crass demeanor in front of her (even though Wrecker had already willingly taught her a few of his favorite curse words). She didn’t want them to change for her, but also didn’t want to be anywhere else in the whole world. Crosshair seemed especially snide about her presence, always keeping his distance and almost never speaking to her. 

She scanned the camp, the fire was still smoldering, the bedrolls still lined around it like a flower. Two of which were empty, one was neatly made, the other looking like a wild animal had escaped from it. 

She got dressed and walked around the wagon, surprised to see Hunter and Echo tacking up the horses. 

“You’re leaving?” 

Hunter looked up first “You’re up early!” He adjusted Havoc’s bridle. “Just getting some supplies in town, we’ll be right back.”

“Can I come? Please?!”

Echo glanced up at her,, and then looked to Hunter “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He said before going back to picking Marauder’s hoof, holding it on his thigh between his torso and what was left of his right arm.

There was a long silence. Echo could practically smell Hunter’s guilty look, even with the ass end of a horse between them.

“Of course you can come.”Hunter gave in. Echo rolled his eyes. 

Meggy tried to contain her excited squeal.

“Hunter, there are people looking for her, we can't bring her to town.” Echo spat as he stood up.

“Don’t worry, I have an idea.” Hunter smirked.

-

The world was so much bigger than she ever could have imagined. The trees flew by as the trio cantered down the wagon trail toward Valentine. Meggy rode with Hunter on Havoc, his black mane nearly whipping her in the face. The speed was terrifying at first, but Meggy’s fear was quickly replaced by excitement as they got closer to town. 

Her skirt had been replaced by a pair of extra trousers lying around, they didn’t have a belt small enough so a length of rope held them up. Finding a hat that didn’t look ridiculous on her was more challenging but a wool cap ended up being the best fit. 

Now hopefully anyone looking for a “girl kidnapped from the Saint Denis Orphanage” wouldn’t think twice if they saw a boy. 

Echo still didn’t think it would work.

-

The streets were still a sloppy, muddy mess from rain several days ago. Echo frowned as he dismounted and his boots sunk into the filth. They hitched the horses and went about their business, Echo to the gunsmith and Hunter and Meggy to the general store. 

The streets were fairly quiet, an early start to the day meant less eyes around.

Meggy marveled at the abundance of items in the general store as Hunter bartered with the shop owner. She had so many questions, so many items she couldn’t identify, but tried to keep quiet so her boyish illusion would remain uncompromised. Once Hunter had packed the new supplies into his saddlebag they exited the store. 

”G’morning, mister. Got a light?” A tall burly man leaned against the wall just outside the store. Meggy startled a bit, Hunter did not, he heard the lumbering figure approach while they were still inside. 

“Sure.” Hunter fumbled in his pocket for his lighter and handed it to the man. The flame illuminated his face, his eyes rimmed with the cracked tan skin of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. His battered brown hat and dirty blue jacket bore similar weathering. He took a long drag and handed the lighter back. “Thank you mister.” He blew out the smoke “and little miss.” 

Hunter nodded and began to walk away, then realized what the man had just said… “little miss”. It could be nothing… just a slip of the tongue… there’s no way someone this far out could know who she was. He quickened his pace as they rounded away toward the gunsmith. 

The man took one more drag from his cigarette before putting it out on the ashtray on the windowsill, as he did so he scanned across the street toward another figure sitting in front of the saloon. A shorter, thinner man with black greasy hair and a black hat, two long scars clawed from under his eye to the corners of his jaw. The blue-jacketed man gave a nod just big enough to be seen from the distance between them. 

Inside the gunsmith, Hunter spoke in a low voice from behind Echo “we should go.”  

“I’m not finished yet.” Echo was inspecting the quality of the bullets he was about to purchase. 

“Just get them and let's go.” Hunter murmured.

Echo gave an annoyed look, but reluctantly agreed and they paid the gunsmith. 

As they exited the store Hunter’s paranoia climbed several levels when he saw the stranger was gone, his presence replaced by his still smoldering cigarette. 

The trio hurried to the horses, mounted up, and headed back up the hill into the forest. 

“What the hell was that about?” Echo scolded once they were farther away from town.

“I just got a bad feeling.” Hunter checked over his shoulder for the fifth time in a minute, instinctually resting his hand on his thigh holster. 

-

“But we just got here!” Wrecker complained loudly, the only way he knew how to complain. The gang deliberated around their late morning campfire. 

“I agree, moving camp would be unwise.” Tech fiddled with some type of hardware from the wagon on his lap. “Moving around would only draw more attention from more people.”

Crosshair remained silent, dragging on his first cig of the day. “If you really think they were after Meggy, don’t you think that guy would’ve just taken us then and there while we were in town? Instead of now when we’re back with our full party?”Echo wondered.

“If he’s such a good bounty hunter that he found us all the way across three states, surely he could take on one guy, a gimp, and a child.” Crosshair smirked. 

Echo ignored his antagonistic younger brother.

Hunter sighed. 

“I’m sorry. This is all my fault, isn’t it?” Omega sulked in the grass, hugging her knees at her chin. Flowers she had picked drooping in her hands.

“Her situational comprehension is quite high for someone her age.” Tech observed.

“We’ll be fine. We’re far off the trail, hidden by the trees. I did my best to cover our tracks. Let’s just keep the fire small tonight, we’ll be fine.” Hunter reassured them. 

-

“Four men, two of them are the ones we saw in town earlier.” Arthur focused his binoculars across the canyon. “No wait, five.” 

“What’s the plan?” John shifted. 

“Bounty is for all of them, but the kid is the biggest reward.” 

“And we gotta bring them all back to Saint Denis?”

“Nah, I talked to the sheriff in town, said he can hold them until we can wire someone to collect. For a price.” 

“No way we can take all five of those guys.”

“For once, we agree, Marston.” Arthur noticed one of the taller fellows cleaning his rifle. “Poster said they’re ex-military.”

“What are they doing kidnapping an orphan?”

“I don’t know, but it can't be good." Arthur lowered the binoculars.

Taglist: @dragonrider9905 @omegafett99 @griffedeloup

[alreadyblondenow]

▸ Assassin Jaehyun x Assassin Female reader ▸ Smut, Smut, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Gore, MATURE ▸ JAEHYUN SMUT SERIES: FUCK, MARRY, KILL ▸ VOLUME I: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

Summary: The start of a new life. Training to be an assassin and a chance to experience true love. The son of the leader of the Jeong clan fell in love with you while you two live your lives as assassins. He promised a quiet life, but when things went south. You decided to leave Jaehyun… and hide your daughter from him.

VOLUME I: PART 1 WORD COUNT: 7,889k

Warnings: THIS FIC IS FICTION ONLY, Smut, smut, smut, MATURE THEMES, Heavy description of killings because most of the characters are assassins, mentions of blood, character death, A LOT OF NCT MEMBERS WILL D WORD IN THIS FIC, unprotected sex, mentions of condoms, mentions of pill, pregnancy, swearing, mentions of alcohol. Mentions of being an orphan, Not everything is proofread, apologies again. I hope I did not forget anything.

A/N: I will cut VOLUME I into three parts, just because 20k word count is not acceptable in one post hahaha. I'm sorry :( I will try to put warnings on every part of the story that has gory details. This will still focus on the love story but still I wanted to write again so this may be long. I hope everyone will enjoy every word of VOLUME I.

Too good to be true

When you singlehandedly ruined your life it’s a given fact that you became desperate to saving yourself especially when you know that no one else got your back. No family, no friends, it’s just you and your shadow. You’re an orphan who’s friendless, no one would take you and on top of that …. You’re fully capable of hurting people. That’s why everyone is scared of you. 

“The orphanage… cannot handle you anymore. You’re a good person y/n, you cause trouble because bullies won’t leave you alone… but you’re becoming… too dangerous. I’m sorry- it’s the Jeongs or the slums.” The head of the orphanage explains to you with sorry eyes. 

The Jeongs… Who are they? Am I finally getting adopted? You thought alone as you fix your things, preparing to leave first thing in the morning. Why does it have to be so rushed? Are they really excited to meet me? 

The next day, you were picked up by a tall man. A big, buff and tall man named Chanyeol. He looked sharp in his suit, he immediately explained that he will drive you to the Jeong’s residence and also explained your purpose there from now on. And that’s where your fantasies about having a family disappears. “You are adopted by the Jeongs to be one of their assasins. To kill for them” The words from that guy Chanyeol’s mouth sounded unreal, you wanted to ask if he’s just scaring you and if he’s joking. Apparently not. 

The Jeong’s residence was big. It’s like a paradise. It looks peaceful because it has a very green garden, big trees, flowers here and there, and nice staffs that wore black their entire life working for the Jeongs. There were three other guys arrived after you. They all look alone too and lost, and you figured they all came in different countries. 

“Taeyong, Yuta and Mark. This is Y/n,” a woman in black introduced them to you, they all said hi but you can see right through them… they all have this wall around them as if any time the people here are going to kill them any second. “From now on the five of you will be a team and will work with the Jeongs” she added. “Five? There’s only four of us here” Mark said, he’s the youngest. 

“You will meet the fifth member tomorrow before you training starts…” 

By the time she took you guys for a quick tour around the residence, your world became quiet as if you’re not interested anymore. You just want to rest and start what you need to do in this place. 

It feels good huh? You said to yourself as you stare in the mirror of your own bathroom. It feels good to finally know your purpose in life. The Jeongs gave you shelter, comfortable clothes that are all black but all new and nice, your own room with all the things you need… they even gave you a makeup kit. And you wonder whats that for. 

There were only 5 things they want you to remember. In exchange for the Jeong’s goodness, you need to:

Train to be an assassin everyday. 

Only one Holiday outside. 

Don’t make friends outside. We are your friends and family now. 

Look out for each other.

Earn your freedom. That means after your years of service, you will of course have your freedom. 

The terms were simple and you can only hope that killing someone is as simple as these rules too. 

Everything is too good to be true. 

Until now, you can’t believe that you’re lucky to have this kind of family now.

“So when are we going to meet the fifth member?” Taeyong asked, the oldest. He has a cold impression, scary but very handsome. 

“I’m here. Sorry- my sister and mother is very dramatic. They were having a hard time letting me go. By the way, I’m Jaehyun!” he said with a big smile in his face. He is the first person in this place who actually lit up the entire room with just a smile. 

He’s very handsome. Almost as if you were looking at a saint, you thought. 

“You look lost,” Yuta said, the Japanese guy who looked tough. “The four of us looked so lost when we arrived, but we all felt that we belonged here… but you, I believe you’re out of place. You don’t belong here you’re too happy”

“I’m not happy. I’m just as miserable as you are, I just don’t show it” Jaehyun said with a cocky smile. 

“Oh come on! It’s our first day together, what is up with this tension?” Mark tried to stop Jaehyun and Yuta from fighting, but Yuta knows the truth already. 

“This guy right here is the only son of Mr. and Mrs. Jeong. The next in line to be the next great Jeong” Yuta said with a smirk, mocking Jaehyun’s last name. And this time, he is getting on Jaehyun’s nerves already… but Jaehyun knew better than cause trouble. He calmed himself down and did not let his anger get him. 

Everyone in the room completely understood what’s happening here. He is the son or Mr. Jeong, Jeong Yoonoh, but they call him Jaehyun. He is next in line after Mr. Jeong, the one and only son and is expected to take the family business when the time comes. 

A typical plot, everyone thought. But training your one and only son to be a monster is a different kind of brutality. You can only imagine what kind of struggles he’s carrying. 

“On behalf of my parents, and family, I would like to apologies for them” he bowed in front of everyone sincerely, “I will start training with you guys but that doesn’t mean I am not grateful to sacrificing your lives for our clan. Thank you” after that, he walked towards Yuta whispered beside his shoulder, 

“Don’t you think it’s fucked up? That my father sent me here- his only son. You don’t know me” Jaehyun said sternly that made Yuta shut up. 

The room became quiet and as the first instructor enters, giving Jaehyun and Yuta a good punch before everything starts.  

And that is the start of your life here as an assassin. 

You’re adopted to be an assassin. You’re going to grow old here. 

The past few weeks was easy. You had the opportunity to know your colleagues, all four of them. Finally, people you can call family you thought. It’s part of your training to treat each and everyone as family because by the time you guys are sent for a mission, no one can be left behind. In other words, each and everyone of you should be capable of saving each other. 

Eventually, Jaehyun and Yuta became friends. Good friends. 

Months have passed and this was the beginning of every struggle. It has been heavy and hard. The training was harder. Everyone is bleeding but everyone grew stronger without you guys noticing. 

After a years of training, you became good with guns and became a good fighter as well. Theres nothing much of your story… yet. But you are loving this new life that the Jeongs have given to you. 

Jaehyun is good at everything. He was expected to do so. If not, his father will give him a hard time. During the training everyone could see the pressure that he carries everyday. The constant reminder of “I have to be great at this part,” you can basically see it in his face. 

Yuta became a swordsman, and is actually good with everything sharp. Eventually, you guys knew his story. That his family, The Nakamoto clan is in huge debt of the Jeongs, and he came in here voluntarily for the honor of his family. Obviously, besides Jaehyun, he’s the only person who has a family.  

Taeyong became the leader and can turn everything into a weapon. Everyone was quite expecting this already, aside from weapons Taeyong is good at strategizing… planning and organizing everything for everyone not to get killed. 

Mark, became really good at technology. He can hack every system. Unfortunately, because he’s the youngest, he’s not allowed to do the dirty job, only the techie stuff. Which he loves doing. 

Everyone matured in their own way, Chanyeol even got married. But even though time flies so fast they haven’t sent anyone of you to kill somebody yet. 

It was a scary thought. Everyday you wake up thinking, “Is this the day?”. Is this going to be the day that you will kill for the first time in your life? Its not that you kill innocent people, the people that you’re about to kill in the future probably deserves it. At least thats what you’re told. 

You thought that accepting the reality of what you’re doing is the hardest thing but no. “Wait until your first kill. It’s like your first love, you will never forget it” Chanyeol said during one of his lectures.

But by the time everyone had their first kill already, everyone became unstoppable. 

They started training you at the age of 19 and watched you grow to be a young assassin at the age of 24. You grew up ruthless, crazy, and merciless. You have your own way of killing the people you need to kill, you do it fast, but whenever you want to play, you watch their souls leave their eyes. You even became Jaehyun’s father his favorite assassin because you could be anything and you could kill anyone. 

“You could be a perfect Jeong,” Jaehyun joked while you two are sharpening knives that you both used from training earlier. You watch him in front of you and you cant help but notice, he really is handsome but Jaehyun is not only handsome because of his look. Maybe… he’s handsome in you’re eyes because he’s actually nice, he’s nice at the staffs here, he’s nice to you, heck… he takes care of you. He grew up well despite the dangerous environment he’s already in. 

“I don’t want to be a Jeong- I’m not perfect,” you said while you work with a knife. 

“You’re perfect in my eyes and in my father’s eyes,” he replied. 

By this time you just wanted to shut him up and make him stop. Quite annoying actually. “So what, you want to be siblings with me? You have sisters aren’t they enough? or you want someone who kills people for a living as your sister?” 

“Nope. What I meant was marry me someday,” He bravely said. 

There was silence between you two, awkwardness. Jaehyun really saw the ugly truth that it’s not yet time to confess his feeling to you. Not this way, but well, at least he tried. 

“I’m just kidding” he added to take away the awkwardness, “Dinner is almost ready, don’t be late okay?” 

There’s nothing in the world you hate the most than going on a mission alone. You’ve always done missions alone though, but whenever it gets too long to finish, you miss home a little too much as days go by. 

New York is always busy. It never gave you the calm feeling that you’ve been yearning for.

Again, Its lonely when you do missions away from home. It’s the kind of mission where you have to be patient and plan your kill silently, and without trace. The one that you have to plan oh so carefully because you have to make it look like an accident. And because it’s frustrating you, you’re now looking at a beautiful sunset, breathing in and out, on this busy park. Feeling the cold breeze of today, feeling it kiss your face, it’s almost Christmas you tell yourself and shook your head immediately because you just missed home even more.

Another thing you hate about being lonely, is that you kept thinking about the blurry future. The one that was promised after years of service, your freedom. You can’t help but think about hows it like to have a normal life, quiet mornings, experiencing love, experiencing heartbreak, new beginnings and discover opportunities. 

It was calm but at the same time, noisy for a moment, until you received a call from an unknown number. Little did you know, this phone call will change your life. 

“Hello?” You wait for the person on the other line to talk. 

“Well, you look lonely. What’s bothering you?” 

Of course you knew that voice. The voice that gave you a smile tonight, and has been making you smile ever since you two met. 

“You could ruin both of our missions-“ you giggle through the phone but Jaehyun was beside you already and pulled you in for a warm hug. 

“Why are you dressed so thin?” He said, looking fine as ever while he talks to you. He was all red, his nose, his ears, he looked like he’s really freezing but he did not hesitate to give you his coat. 

“I didn’t know that we were on the exact same location” you said as you swing your arms around his and stay close to him. Motioning him to walk with you. 

“I didn’t know it either but, Mark told me that we were. He also said that you’ve been home sick lately” 

“Yeah. I’ve been- it’s frustrating me Jae. I can’t shake him up and point him towards my trap” 

“Patience. Just be patient,” he smiles. 

The night went on beautifully. Jaehyun took you to dinner, had couple of drinks, walked around town, took pictures together like you’re on vacation, you two were playing around, making alibis, wondering if anyone from your missions pass by and recognize any of you. It will ruin both your covers, and what you two are doing right now is dangerous. 

While you two are walking towards your apartment, you asked Jaehyun, “Have you ever had a girlfriend before?” 

“Nope. Nothing real. It’s all for the mission, I guess. Been with a couple of girls, all part of the mission” Jaehyun answers. 

“Me too. Sometimes when I’m with someone, I can’t help but think what’s it like to have the real thing” 

And that gave Jaehyun a stupid idea. A stupid idea to make use of your time together here in Nee York. 

It’s a beautiful time. 

A beautiful time to be together. 

If he couldn’t admit his feelings to you, he will drive you towards love instead and make you love him.

“Thank you for tonight Jae, I really needed it” you reached out for his hand and gave it a good squeeze before pulling him in for a hug before you go inside. 

“Hey can I visit you again tomorrow?” Jaehyun asks, with a smile. 

“Of course. Good night Jae,” you said sweetly.

As promised, Jaehyun visited you the next day, and the day after that, and the following days. 

Your friendship bloomed beautifully but it was pretty obvious that it wasn’t just friendship this time. You’re not stupid, you didn't miss how he puts his arm around your waist and keep you close whenever the place gets too crowded. Like that time while you two rode the subway together, he kept you close and made you feel safe.. as if you’re not capable of saving yourself. 

He made you feel like you can depend on him. He made you feel like he’s your man. 

But most importantly, you can see that Jaehyun has been putting the work for the both of you. 

He has been doing the things he likes with you, while you do the things you like with him. It was beautiful you thought. 

You’ve always wanted to hug someone in the morning and tell them good morning. 

You’ve always wanted to make coffee for someone, not because you have to, but because you actually want to. 

You’ve always wanted to have quiet moments while you read a book, and just enjoy a good day quietly… with your someone. With Jaehyun, it was always calm and warm. 

Like this afternoon. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Jaehyun asks while playing with your hair. You on the other hand is feeling very comfortable laying your head in his lap. 

“I love the time we spent together… I can’t help but think of  the day we finally get to go home… are we going to be close like this?” 

“You’re thinking too much—“ 

“Yeah you’re right I’m thinking too much,” you got up quickly from your comfort because it pissed you off. How can he disregard what you just said to him… it was basically a confession. 

But just before you walk away from him, he was quick to grab your hand, and made him face you. 

The tension between you two was intensifying. He’s never touched you like this or be close like this. 

Then he finally kissed you. 

After years of yearning, patience and stopping himself from confessing. He finally did it. 

It was a beautiful afternoon. A beautiful afternoon to kiss and confess each other’s feelings through the way you kiss each other, the way your hands roam around, and the way sweet words just comes out from your mouths naturally. 

He motioned you towards your shared room, hands carefully undress each other in between giggling and whispering. 

It all felt right at the moment. 

His hands are warm when it roams around your skin, it feels like you’re burning in want when his fingers first glide on your wet slit while his mouth is busy kissing your neck and whispering the things you should do. Like, ‘open your legs more,— thats more I like it’, ‘do you want cum already or should I do more?’ ‘Calm down, you look like you’re about to cum’ ‘I want to hear my name’ 

And in between those lustful moment, he kisses you sweetly, as if he’s telling you ‘please’ 

When he saw that you’re already soaking, his kisses went down along your body, kissing and licking your boobs, taking his time to turn you on again and again, until he reaches your pussy and did not waited a second to kiss it and spread your pussy lips. Working with his fingers, up and down and taking turns with his mouth. Time seems to be slowing down at the moment while you arch your back and unintentionally grip Jaehyun’s hair while you enjoy every second of his what his mouth, lips, tongue and fingers could do to you. 

Until you reach your first high and asked for more. 

He reached for your hand and made you pump his cock, “ready?” He asks, you just nod sweetly and reached for his face to kiss him hungrily. 

It didn’t hurt that much but there was a good stretch. He was big after all, and his rawness felt so good around your walls you can’t get enough of it. 

He thrusted slowly, kissing you while he focuses on making you feel good, careful not to hurt you. 

“Fuck- you fuck so good,” with heavy breaths that compliment came out of nowhere he just kissed your neck to respond to that. “Are you really this good at everything Jaehyun?” You added, swinging your arms around his body, touching every part of him which he loves. You touch his body while he looks at you eye to eye, you put one finger in his mouth and it was just another paradise. 

When you feel him asking for more. You comply to what he wanted to do. He flipped you on your stomach and licked your entrance before you feel him kiss your back which made you weak and land face first on the mattress. Little did you know, it was just his way to get you on his favorite sex position. 

Now your on all fours, face on the mattress while Jaehyun thrusts on your pussy slowly. You can feel his hands rest on your ass, giving a slight smack whenever you try to put it down, but he was also quick to replace it with a kiss before going back to business. 

“You don’t know how many times I imagined doing this to you,” he whispers and planted kisses on your face. 

When he felt you clenching around his cock, he fucked you faster making the bed rock and mattress creak. He came inside you of course, while kissing your back and soothing your right ass cheek. When he pulled out, he inserted one finger which felt nice and made you excited again. 

“We’ll go another round,” he winked and watched his cum come out of your pussy. 

That night, you two stayed in bed and fuck more than you could have imagine. 

Of course there’s a time where you just talked about your feelings. How much you two don’t want to go back just yet and how much you wanted this relationship to work. 

After that night, you don’t need to imagine what real love feels like. 

Love and home suddenly became a person for you and that’s Jaehyun. 

You can feel his presence already whenever you feel like he’ll arrive anytime soon at your doorstep and shower him with kisses. Love is knowing that someone will come home to you. Love is watching a movie together, and not noticing that one of you is sleeping already. Love is trying to impress Jaehyun with your cooking skills, and even though he’s a better cook he says you cook better. 

Love is having someone to comfort you whenever you have nightmares and you see the faces of the people you kill in your dreams. 

“Y/n, wake up, baby you’re having a nightmare” 

Jaehyun open the lampshade and got you a glass of water after successfully waking you up. He’s been waking up for five minutes already. He was so worried. 

When you’re all calm again, your now watching the rain outside and enjoying the quiet evening. Arms around each other, keeping each other warm.

“We’ve experienced tough shit — I really believe that we deserve each other’s love” he whispers so he wont ruin the quietness of a beautiful night. 

Days continue to be beautiful with Jaehyun. It felt like a dream but he was a hundred percent real because he proves it every day. The moment you wake up, you get to see his handsome face. Arms around you, like he’s never planning to let you go. 

You reached your vibrating phone and answer the call, Jeno. He was your mission. Your fake boyfriend. The one you need to kill. 

“Hello?” You answered, trying to get out of Jaehyun’s embrace but too late, you woke him up and decided not let you go. As he’s reminding you who your real boyfriend is. He thought of teasing you while you’re on the call but he knew better. Work should be respected.

“Hey, I just miss you… where have you been?” Jeno says, giving you a hint that he knew you were cheating and seeing a man beside him. Of course, you knew that already, Jaehyun mentioned that Jeno sent a gut to tail on him. Your boyfriend just laughed it out, he sees Jeno as a joke.

“I was actually just gonna call you— sorry I’ve been busy with work, with the coming holidays”

But even though Jeno knew you’re cheating, he still wanted to make things work. So he tries. “Can we go on a vacation tomorrow? Please? Days have been stressful and I just miss you” 

“Tomorrow? Uhh.. sure why not? Text me the details? Do you want to grab dinner tonight?” Words continue to come out of your mouth that hurt Jaehyun. But what can you do? You still have to play the part. 

When the call ended Jaehyun was silent. His eyes were closed and hasn’t said a word the moment you ended the call. 

But the man… truly and deeply loves you. So he stopped being childish and greet you good morning and showered you with kisses. 

“So I guess we have morning until afternoon then,” he said and kissed your shoulders. You just smiled and kissed him good morning which turned you on, “Why do you have to be so damn irresistable?” 

Jaehyun just chuckled and kissed your lips for the last time before he got up from bed, “I know we can’t get enough of each other but we have to get up now, it’s a busy day for the both of us but… can I just kill Jeno and have you for myself?” he joked. 

Even though Jaehyun knew that this is all part of the job, he can’t help but think that … he can’t just let you allow them to touch you. He wanted you to at least… think of him… 

The whole morning was unexpectedly quiet. You know the reason so you confronted him. “I wont let him lay a finger on me from now on, I promise” you said and hugged him behind while he’s cooking. “I know you’re worried. But please don’t forget that I am more than capable to protect myself”

“Thank you for promising,” he smiled and kissed you. When Jeno kept you away from Jaehyun it was torture for you. You used to like it whenever you and Jeno have sex, hell- that’s the reason why you got him around your finger. But now that you’ve experienced love finally and you know how making love feels like… you just can’t let Jeno touch you ever again. 

The whole trip was a mess. You stopped yourself from just slitting his throat while he’s sleeping. He didn’t like it when you stop him from having sex whenever he asks you to. He hated every reason you give him, but he never forced you. Of course Jeno knew this was because you’re cheating on him. He was planning to get you killed. Little did he know, you’re already ten steps ahead of him. 

By the time you and Jeno got back from that wasted vacation, he kept you on his side most of the time. Making sure you don’t have time for Jaehyun. He visits your apartment every night, pick you up in the morning, and spend time with you whenever he can. He even admitted that he really loves you. You just faked it and told him, you love him too. It’s disgusting. 

Jeno is a head of a drug cartel. He made a very famous drug that made a lot of people crazy about it. Too much of it can definitely kill you. That’s what happened to the daughter of Mr. Seo. Well she didn’t die, almost die. Mr. Seo is a powerful man that has great connections with great doctors whom took care of her daughter. Long story short, the daughter was Jeno’s ex-girlfriend, they made that drug together but Mr. Seo denied that his daughter had anything to do with it. 

By the way, Mr. Seo is Mr. Jeong’s longtime business partner. And that’s why you’re here. To serve revenge to someone’s daughter. 

Jaehyun on the other hand, is here to protect Mr. Seo’s daughter, just in case Jeno tries to send someone and kill her. But he just protects the girl from a far. Jaehyun is very careful with his job, he hates messy things. He’s the silent killer not you. 

“Can we just switch missions? I’ll protect the girl and you kill Jeno?” you joke and booped his nose. You just finished having sex and it really felt good to be fucked by the man you love after for so long you thought. This has been the first night you’ve been together, ever since Jeno kept you away. This wouldn’t even happen if Jaehyun didn’t kill the man tailing him. Poor guy you thought. 

“Don’t give me ideas,” he laughed and made you sit on top of him, creating a great view of your body, you then reached for his cock and surprised him. He didn’t expect that you’d put it in and grind on top of him. 

“You were saying?” you wanted him to continue what he was saying while you fuck him. Yes, fuck him. 

“I said…” he croaked, almost a moan. He couldn’t even finish a sentence, “don’t give me ideas that I could easily do” he pulled you down so you’re closer to him, kissing your neck while you continue what you do. In a matter of minutes, Jaehyun came and you stayed on to him, feeling him catch his breath. 

“If Jeno dies, we both come home— but I’m not pressuring you,” he laughed and kissed you, “I’m just a little excited to what’s next for our life after this mission, you know?”

But you were already sleeping when he checked up on you. Of course he didn’t just let you sleep naked on top of him, gently he made lay you down beside him and looked for clean clothes to cover you up. He kissed you goodbye because he needed to work tonight. 

The next day, there was something off with Jeno that he kept on getting mad and he’s getting into your nerves. That pushed you to go for the kill and just use a knife to kill him. To your surprise, he was specially skilled with sharp objects too. You didn’t back down of course, you gave his pretty face a nice scar, just incase he survives and you fail to kill him, at least he will remember you. 

“Your boyfriend is an assassin too, I know that much. He’s dead now,” 

And those words got the best of you. It caught you off guard making him had the chance to pierce the knife deep. 

Now you’re on weak on the floor bleeding and trying to survive. But your mind is really not on what’s happening to you, you don’t care if you die. But you care if Jaehyun is really dead. It can’t be. He’s the greatest assassin you’ve ever seen. 

You feel your body getting weaker and weaker as you crawl away from Jeno… then suddenly you hear a thud. And heard someone call your name… 

“Y/n— fuck, stay with me baby,” 

It was Jaehyun. You’re sure that he’s well and alive. 

“It’s just a cut Jae, I’ll live for sure,” 

Jaehyun on the other hand was quick to get materials he knew could save you. He also called for Mark’s to send help and clean up Jeno’s body. “Mark, Y/n needs help send a doctor to Jeno’s place now and clean up”

“Got it! Yuta is also on his way to fill in for you— we had a lead on,”

“Mark, I’m sorry to break it to you, but I don’t care if that girl dies. Y/n needs me, how long do we have to wait?”

“S-sorry, but help will be there 20 minutes tops”

Jaehyun didn’t even said thank you or good bye to Mark. He just ended the call and took care of you because you passed out already. Jaehyun was panicking already and more than furious that he shot Jeno’s dead body a few more times to release his anger towards him. 

When you finally wake up, you see Jaehyun beside you sleeping. You figured maybe he didn’t even got the chance to rest from last night. 

This mission was more than fucked up. You failed. Jaehyun failed. All because you finally have a weakness now, and it’s Jaehyun. This is bad you thought.   

By the time you’re all well and ready to go home, you thought that Jaehyun will go home with you and tell every truth to Chanyeol together. But no. He needed to stay behind because he needed to fix his own mess for you and for him. You could have helped him but you’re too weak at the moment. 

When you came back, Chanyeol was beyond furious, he told you ugly truths… that made you force yourself to the things you don’t like. Like, leaving Jaehyun. 

“He didn’t tell you that the girl he was protecting secretly was his future fiance?” Chanyeol smirked, he didn’t want to hurt you either but he needed to tell you the truth for your own good. After all, you’re like a daughter to him. 

“Are you really sure you love Jaehun?” you nod ‘yes’, of course. “What can you offer to him? Cant you see it? You two are not perfect for each other, he’s a son of a powerful man. Who are you y/n?”

And that hurt you.

“Have you ever imagined stepping into Jaehyun’s real world? You have to understand that you two are not meant for each other,” 

He was right. “Good thing Jaehyun’s father never heard of your relationship. He wanted you to work directly with him. Take this as a chance to redeem your last mission. And try to forget about Jaehyun while you’re away”

And just after Chanyeol talked to you, Jaehyun just arrived in 127 house, wearing the biggest smile on his face. Hoping for a welcome back kiss perhaps. But you avoided his touch. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, you don’t know where to begin but he already knew that Chanyeol a;ready brainwashed you, “Chanyeol is good at brainwashing Y/n, you know that”

“But that doesn’t mean that the things he told me aren’t true. I’m sorry Jae— it was childish. What we did was childish,”

“I can’t believe I’m fucking hearing this. AFTER EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED IN NEW YORK Y/N?!” He shouted. 

“I’m sorry,” is all you could say before turning your back on him. 

Maybe life is punishing your for all the lives you’ve taken without mercy.

You’ve been far from home way too long now… you’re long forgiven for what happened to New York now. 

At this point you don’t even know if what happened between you and Jaehyun was true or was it all just a dream or a fantasy made up. You don’t even have one single proof that you and Jaehyun shared something special there. You only have this heartbreak that you’ve been carrying for years, ever since you left. 

Given that you’re Mr. Jeong’s favorite assassin, you work tirelessly whenever he puts you on schedule. You’ve been assigned to be close to him and became his personal bodyguard, and go whenever he goes, and kill whenever he says so. Mr. Jeong is very busy man, he flies in and out of different countries and you alone is responsible with his safety for the whole time… well, you and other unnamed bodyguards that are foreign. But most of your days are spent on the Jeong’s skyscraper building. You just stand all day, everyday outside Mr. Jeong’s office and guard it. 

But by the time Chanyeol made you come back and put you on a field mission, you’ve never been so happy and excited to kill someone after so long. 

“I love seeing your smile Y/n,” Jaehyun welcomes you back with a hug, together with the others, “But you wont like this mission,” Jaehyun warns you. 

He talks to you like nothing happened. Like he wasn’t the reason why you were away from this home for far too long. You’re not mad at him. You’re just surprised on with how well he’s been and that’s the only thing you want him to be. Happy. 

While Mark is explaining what is what and who is who, you can’t help but think that Jaehyun was right with his warning earlier.For years and years of killing, this has been the hardest mission for you. It was as if you are looking for a ghost who kills people and you’re almost hopeless with this mission. 

Hendery. 

There are six Phantoms, Yangyang, Winwin and Xiaojun are all dead. And Hendery was the one assigned to you, while Ten and Kun are both hard to find because no one knew their faces. No one knew what Hendery looks like either, but Mark just so happens to know that he will have business in Hongkong on new year’s eve. That’s all the information he could give to you, because that’s all the information he has about Hendery.

The Phantoms are very rich chinese men who has many successful business around asia. They’re powerful because they kill every competition they have, and they kill strictly for  business and because of business. Business is everything with the Phantoms. And that’s the difference between the Jeongs and the Phantoms, the Jeongs kill for protection. 

Rumor has it that the Phantoms wanted to buy every business that the Jeongs own. And that is where the war started between them. 

“This time I really want you to be careful,” Jaehyun came out of nowhere while you were packing your things. 

“Privacy Mr.,” you joked, “I know your family owns me, but you don’t own me, yet.” you teased him, you were talking about him being the big boss someday. He just laughed and crossed his arms. He always looks nice in black with his golden ring, the only token he had from his mom, its like an I.D for him… so that people around this house will not forget that he’s still a Jeong. 

“When I killed Yangyang, the kid almost fooled me” he started and sat down your bed, “It was a loud kill, I almost fucked up” 

“That sounds like a joke, you never do loud kills ” you stopped packing and sat down with him. 

“He knew who I was… barely came out of his house alive” Suddenly the air in your room became cold… this has never happened to Jaehyun before. “They’re all jokers Y/n, they know us” 

That night, Jaehyun didn’t want leave your bed. You couldn’t sleep either, you just miss how his warmth can calm you and make you feel safe. He didn’t want to bombard you with words like “I miss you so much…” and tell you the things he has been doing while you were away. You have so little time together, and all he can do it show you how much he still feels for you. 

So he bravely kissed you. 

And you kissed him back. 

For a few minutes it felt right. Like you two were back in New York in that small little apartment. His kisses were sweet and inocent, his hands were all over you but on the right places, like while he intertwines his hands with yours and how he cups your face only to hold you closer. But when you two stopped and realized that this will get you two into trouble again. He let you turn your back against him. 

And theres nothing he could do and did not protest. 

He pulled your duvet and made sure youre warm tonight, kissed you one last time on your head and left your room. 

He still loves you. And that fact alone made you cry to sleep, because you still love him too. 

When you left for the mission, it was already loud and red all over Hongkong. Mark still has no further information about Hendery which makes you even more nervous. “Calm down, just read the room and trust your hunch” Mark said through your earpiece. 

“What if I kill the wrong guy Mark? Are you going to take responsibility-” but Chanyeol had the line even before you could finish. 

“Can you please calm down? Hendery is within the area already because his bodyguards are spotted… but still no visual on the target,” you sigh at what Chanyeol said, “Maybe Mark is right, read the room. It’s not hard to find someone who looks rich and has an army of bodyguards around” 

“Okay. Fine. I’ll move on my own since you two are so useless” 

You removed your earpiece and put it in your purse. 

You were ordered to just watch him during the event and go for the kill when the clock strikes 12 and the whole country will be so loud. You were having a hard time looking for him at the moment, who would have thought that it would be this hard. You drank your frustrations away, shot by shot. Until you’re becoming light headed and a little tipsy already. You can’t go home with a failed mission. Agin.

During the celebration, you noticed someone who’s really handsome and really attractive… actually, his family is so loud, you figured he was celebrating with his beautiful sisters and their kids. The room was not hard to read, they are just a normal family that will be in shock by the chaos you’re about to do later. Poor kids you thought. 

The kids were all cute, wearing colorful dresses, very energetic… it makes you dream about having your own someday. Will you have a daughter? A son? whatever it is, you will your kid with all your heart. 

Then suddenly… One of the kids approached you with a glass of water. 

What if… the water was poisoned. What if Hendery sent her? 

What on earth are you thinking Y/n? She’s a sweet kid. 

“My uncle thinks you need a glass of water,” she whispered and gave you the class… before the so called uncle finally approached you. 

Of course he knew you already. He knew beforehand that someone will try to kill him tonight because he has been attending funerals of his friends lately. But he did expect you. And by the time you and Hendery finally faced each other during new year’s eve in Hongkong, he fell in love with you. 

“It’s amazing how little human beings can have a power to us all” you smiled watching him. 

“Well those human beings can be little monsters too and can really dry up my wallet fast” he joked and sat beside you. 

One last look around to check if you still have any luck for Hendery… but looks like… today, is really not your day. 

For the whole night, you and that stranger talked and talked. Luring you into saying what your heart truly desires. He became your first friend outside your job as a killer, which is basically a sin and you could be punished for this. He made you feel like a normal person. 

At 12am, Hendery was still a no show. So instead, you enjoyed your time for yourself. 

Hendery let you play with his nieces, you two danced and talked and drink until you’re drunk enough to even remember your purpose. And by the end of the night, he bought a suite so you two could talk somewhere quiet. 

But it’s not what happened. It was intimacy in bed… that’s what happened. Good thing you weren’t actually clueless in this game so you get to satisfy him. But what really counted as a memory that night was the way he talked to you about freedom. Like he knows you already, like he’s trap somewhere too… like you. 

“While I was looking at your nieces earlier, I can’t help but think about my own future. Someday I want someone to drain my energy with how they drained ours earlier,” Hendery laughed at that fact, her nieces are all full of energy and you were both really tired playing with them. 

“I want to have a life,” you added. 

“Me too,” he said. 

“Hmm. What troubles you,” you asked while you play with his hair.

“I may look like a prince but I’m swimming in debt, I need to pay up. That’s how I could have a life,” 

It was too much private information in one night, you thought so you stopped asking questions and just lured him to have more sex with you. By the time you pass out sleeping on his chest, he thought…

He could easily kill you with one swift move right now. But no. 

The moment you wake up, he’s gone and left you a note.

You can kill me anytime. Come find me again. - Hendery.

And it was more than a frustration to you. You stare at the note that smelled like garden rose. You were more than angry and mad but you couldn’t let it out because your mind was busy searching for clues from last night… but then again, you remembered what Jaehyun said.

Yes, it was a failed mission. But theres a part of you that was actually happy that it failed. You can’t kill him in front of his family and his loving nieces. It will just plant trauma to them. And you can’t be the one who caused that. 

You came home from a failed mission. Chanyeol was beyond disappointed to you. Again. Not only you failed the mission, but you broke one of the rules. “You befriended an enemy Y/n. How could you kill him in the future now? What will you feel if you heard the news that Taeyong successfully killed your friend? — you also had sex with him. I am out of words…”  "Well, at least it wasn't Jaehyun right?"

It was silent in his office for a slow minute. You knew everything you did was wrong and you have nothing to blame. 

“You’re on schedule for three months, no rest days and no holidays,” 

By the time you and Chanyeol are done talking, Jaehyun was waiting outside. You figured he heard everything. 

“I think this Hendery guy fell in love with you. god y/n you’re so stupid when it comes to shit like this” Jaehyun said, he sounded jealous, of course he was. But even so, he brought you apples because you missed dinner.

“Like what?” you said as you munch the apples he gives you.

“Like when someone is showing you bold signs that they like you” Jaehyun continue to munch the apple. You were quiet because maybe he’s right. 

“I like you. Cant you see it?” 

I’m well aware Jae. But you didn’t say that. You didn’t want to talk about your relationship tonight. You can’t get Hendery out of your head. “Hendery is different-“ is all you said.

Jaehyun scoffed, “Of course you’d say that. What you like him too?” the change of his tone bothers you already. 

“Hendery is different because he opened the Pandora’s box for me. He had nieces, cute nieces Jae. And I spent time with his family that is super sweet,” you tried to explain nicely, but he keeps on pushing you. 

“So you do like him?” theres a part of him that is envy and jealous that Hendery was the one who got to opened that “pandora's box” for you. 

“No Jae. I don’t like him. I only love the things he made me experience that night. To have family, to be able to play with kids, to dream for my own… to dream of my own freedom,” 

And then there it is. 

Jaehyun stopped himself from talking because he knew this conversation could turn into a fight. He also realized, that Hendery showed you different things, a different angle in life that he can’t give you. For now. His father adopted you to be an assassin, and caged you in the world of killings. 

Jaehyun was quiet and all he could do was hug you and calm you down. But you pushed him. Hard. And made him leave.

Thank you so much for reading this work of mine! If you love what you read, please leave something in my inbox and tell me how you feel! CLICK THIS LINK. I hope we can practice, give and take.

Stay tuned for the next part! -B.

[slvttyharlow]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 craving his touch : jack harlow.

script. after you and jack decide to keep your relationship a secret to the public, you try your hardest not to get caught but once you start to crave his touch, things start getting messy.

ratings. minors and ageless blogs do not interact! | sfw/nsfw, fem! black! actress! reader, fluff, public sex, unprotected sex, p in v + a lil dirty talk. wc. 1.6k.

director's note. i'm so excited to be posting this, first smut on this acc, a bit nervous but i hope you guys love it. will be going back to writing so i can put out more pics for y'all.

masterlist 𐙚 previous fic 𐙚 taglist

"Girl, are you even listening?"

"Yes," you lied through your teeth. 

The award show you were at was the last thing on your mind; sure you were glad to be nominated for the best actress award and other categories but as much as you loved your friends company, you weren't sitting next to the one person that made you smile.

Jack and you decided it was best for the both of you to sit at separate tables so people didn't suspect that you two were a couple and now you were regretting that idea. 

You were missing his touch, if you were sitting together now, he probably would have had his hand caressing your thigh under the table while whispering sweet things to you. 

But instead he’s four tables away from you as he sat with his friends and they look deep in conversation so he probably wasn't feeling the same way. 

"Clearly, your mind is somewhere else. What's on your mind?" Solana, your best friend asked, snapping you out of your thoughts, slight worry placed on her face. 

"Nothing, just can't wait to reach home and lay in my bed," you spoke, biting your bottom lip nervously not sure if she was going to believe your lie. 

You hated lying to your best friend, one can only think how upset she will be once she finds out what you have been hiding from her. 

A secret relationship meant no one knowing about your relationship with Jack. It was your idea to start one as you didn't want the world in your business; with the shaderoom documenting every part of your life, you wanted to keep the peace of your love life. 

What if you and Jack don’t work out, the world would be in the front row seats, watching your relationship fail and you didn't want that.

Then sometimes the paparazzi and the fans won’t give celebrities a chance to enjoy their life so them not knowing gives the two of you a chance to enjoy your relationship in peace and quiet without anyone input which is another problem with being a celebrity.

Solana eyebrows furrowed together as she didn’t believe it but before she gets to open her mouth to rebuttal, an announcer starts speaking and you let out a relief sigh. 

“And the best actress award goes to…” they begun as they open the envelope. 

Your friends that surrounded you grab your hands, squeezing it tight and you smile heavy as you awaited for the response. 

“[First name, Last name]!” the announcer exclaimed as the audience cheered; your friends screaming in your ear while the shock displayed on your face.

You get up from your chair and make your way to the stage, eyes locking onto Jack's who had the widest smile on his face, making your face heat up. 

You walk up the stairs and hug the two announcers before accepting the award from them. "Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening!" you spoke in the mic, trying to calm your racing heart, taking slow breaths. 

"I'm so grateful to my fans, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you guys," you start as you look into the crowd. "Sometimes I be feeling they gas me up too much," you chuckle as the audience laugh. 

"I wanna thank my family for always believing in me, my wonderful friends that support me and show me so much love..." you continued and your eyes land on Jack's once again, you could see how proud he was in his eyes and smile. 

"I want to thank this special person that entered my life unexpectedly, they match my energy and just wanna say thanks for sticking with me," you exclaimed as you lock eye contact with him as he discreetly blows a kiss to you before you walk behind stage as the award show goes to commercials. 

You decided to head to the bathroom as you needed to collect yourself after that moment, you couldn't believe you actually won. 

You were so nervous being up on stage as you looked out into the audience, everyone staring at you while you made your speech but once you made eye contact with Jack, all the nervousness seem to wash away. 

You kept walking, almost thinking you were lost until all of a sudden, you feel a hand pull you into a room, your senses on high thinking your in danger but as your nose takes a whiff of a familiar cologne, you open your eyes, noticing you were in the bathroom and taking in the sight of your boyfriend standing in front of you, smiling heavy.

“Jack! What the hell?!” You fire out as you punch him in the chest before crossing your arms over your chest. “You frightened the shit outta me!”

“Ouch, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says as he rubbed his chest. “I just wanted to be close to you.” 

“And congratulate you on your win, you deserve it,” Jack praised as a grin spread across your face as you hug him, taking in his cologne. “Thanks baby.” 

You hold onto him for a bit longer until you were finally able to break the hug. “I missed you too by the way, the whole show you were on my mind,” you admit as your eyes lock onto his lips before returning back to his eyes, Jack notices as he leans in and claimed your lips. 

A small moan escapes your mouth as your tongues dangled together, gripping each other tight — the two of you been anticipating a moment like this to get your hands on each other and you didn’t want it end so soon. 

“How about you lock the door and physically congratulate me?,” you smirked, pulling away from the kiss, pulling on his tie seductively. Jack flashes his famous smiles at you before locking the door and you pull up your dress revealing your bare pussy to him. 

“No panties? I think you planned for this exact moment,” Jack comment as he hoisted you up on the counter briefly before unbuckling his belt, pulling his pants and boxers down; immediately lining up his cock with your entrance with how wet you were, he would slide right in with no problem.

"Ahhh... Jack, please hurry..." you whined, a little impatient having to wait hours without his touch, plus you didn't know how long y'all had before someone wanted to use the bathroom. 

Jack nodded his head in response briefly before sliding into your throbbing hole. "Fuck..." he groaned, once he was all the way inside you, starting at a slow pace, gently moving his hips in and out.

Soft moans exit your mouth as you held onto him, he watches how his cock disappears and reappears even more wet than before. His grip on you becomes tighter as he changes the pace he’s going at, plunging in and out of you and you try so hard to hold back the moans that want to escape so it wouldn’t attract attention. 

You run your fingers through his hair before gripping on it softly as continues his torture on your cunt. “Shit…” you cursed under your breath, trying to catch your breath but every thrust knocks it back out of you. 

“You feel s’good babe,” he groaned as he felt your gummy walls tighten around his length, knowing you were close and he wasn’t far behind you. 

The thrill of getting caught excited Jack, he’s been wanting to show you out as his, scream to the rooftop of how he had an amazing girlfriend.

He focuses on making you feel every inch of him, loving the way you gripped on his hair, loving how your core sucked him in, his favorite sound coming out your mouth. 

“Jack… I’m coming…” you cried out as your cunt flutter around his cock as the coil in your stomach snaps. Jack gives you four more strokes before releasing his hot seed deep inside you, groaning as he intertwined his lips with yours as you rode your highs together. 

“Wow,” he spoke as the both of you try to catch your breathes. “Baby, I don’t think I can handle going back to sitting apart from you, how about we go home?” You offered with a smile, hoping he say yes. 

“Hm, can’t keep your hands off me, huh?” he taunt and you shove him playfully. “Oh shut up.”

“Yes we can go home but we got to be careful in not getting caught,” he chuckled as he set you down on your feet and you both fix yourselves as best as you could. 

“Ladies first,” Jack comments while you made sure your appearance was good and you smile, giving him a quick kiss on his lips before walking out the bathroom, giggling a bit of what the two of you had done. 

You walk outside the building onto the red carpet and quickly looked around seeing no one in sight, smiling from ear to ear as you made your way to your car, the driver opening your door for you. “Thank you,” you smiled at him as you get in the backseat.

Jack waited until after your car drove off to step outside, he was so eager to get home that he forgot to fix his hair and tie. He got into his car quickly, manspreading in the seat as he recalled what happened in the bathroom and he couldn’t wait to get home to start a round two. 

The two of you thought you were lucky enough not to get caught leaving the award show early but unknown to you two, there was a photographer outside that did caught a pic of the two of you leaving, thinking that the shaderoom and the rest of the world will want to know this information he came upon.

shaderoom posted two seconds ago: while celebrities were enjoying the award show, Jack Harlow and [Name] [Last name] were seen fleeing the scene, why did they leave so early, why didn’t they go to the after party and what happened to Jack’s appearance?

comment section. @itsyagirljaz, @j0hkiya @harlowarchives, @bernelflo, @iheartharlow + @jackmans-poison.

꒰ show has ended. — all rights reserved © harlowsthetic 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[killuagirly]

Wanderer [& past incarnations] x Reader

Summary: Fate had drawn you time after time back to a certain puppet without fail, perhaps you're simply meant be stand by his side.

Notes: This might be the first time in a long time I've written something decent.

CW: Hmm.. I can't seem to find anything....

────────── ʚ♡ɞ ──────────

Act I — Kabukimono

It was a busy spring day, a time where everything seems to return to life. Even for you, as one who travels aimlessly, the sun's rays held a warmth that was enticing like no other as it shone down through the patches of leaves onto the ground where you sat. There was a peaceful breeze, just light enough that it wouldn't interrupt you as your eyes trailed down the words inked onto the paper.

Although, the wind didn't seem to have a need to interrupt you when someone else had already taken on that duty. "[Name]!" You could hear the indigo-haired puppet shouting to you in excitement, this interruption was not unwelcome. A smile formed on your lips as he approached you, setting your book down to focus on the boy now in front of you.

"Yes, Kabukimono?" you questioned, looking up at him standing over you. He presented a rather large lavender melon, showcasing it to you like a trophy. "Can you believe it's size for so early in the year? I'm going to gather some more ingredients so you can join me for a meal today!" He smiled at you, and you were simply fascinated with his innocence.

During the winter you had spent in Inazuma, which was now transitioning into spring, you had become well acquainted with the boy. Given that he, like yourself, was immortal, it felt comforting to assist him from time-to-time with his tasks. He had most obviously still not been exposed to much of the world, and somewhere inside of you hoped it would stay that way.

For the time being, you wished to act as his shield from the harsh reality of the world. It wouldn't last much longer though, as you both knew that once spring truly settled in, you would be back to you travels across Teyvat. You had informed him of this early on, and he seemed to be growing wearier of the day you were meant to leave. It was evident in the way he was spending every free moment by your side, even now as he was out and about.

"I'd like that," you chuckled at his enthusiasm, "will you be preparing our meal?" His face flushed red, an obvious tint on his translucent skin, at the thought of messing up your supper. He took a deep breath before replying, "I will try if that's what you like." You gave a short tug at his lengthy sleeve, motioning for him to come down from his standing position. He looked a bit confused but complied nonetheless, kneeling by your side. "Is something the matter?" He asked, cocking his head to the side.

You leaned towards him in response, placing your lips softly against his forehead without a word. You lingered there for a moment, before swiftly pulling back and returning to your prior position. You examined his stunned expression and laughed to yourself, "Take your time okay? I'll be here waiting." After coming to his senses he hastily nodded and hurried off to continue his search for the best quality goods available.

Act II — Scaramouche

For some time now, a piece of you had felt as though it was missing, torn from the place it was meant to be. You had lived many years, experienced many losses, yet still struggled to pinpoint exactly what you were missing. While you were pondering about this subject, mindlessly wandering the snowy grounds of Snezhnaya, you stumbled across the path of a few members of the Fatui.

They seemed to be lower ranked, something you could determine from previous encounters. The instant they had caught sight of you, it was as if you had provoked them in some way. Attacks were hurdled at you with little to no restraint. Thankfully they were only low-ranks, otherwise you would've been in big trouble.

Through the surrounding commotions you managed to swiftly dodge each attempt at your instant death, trying to quickly figure out a way to get out of this situation. Outrunning them seemed like the simplest of ideas, and probably the most doable. You may not have been the fastest, but you weren't stupid enough to try and fight off multiple fatui members at once.

So you took off, making as many turns and zigzag patterns as you could to throw them off. Eventually you came to a stop, checking to make sure you had lost them. The cold air stung your throat with each heavy breath you took. "Could you be any louder?" an annoyed voice questioned from behind you, you spun around and stood almost in shock at the sight before you.

There stood the boy you once knew, not sparing you a glance from the papers gripped tightly in his hands. "Kabukimono?" You asked in a tone that came out more shocked than you intended. Hearing such a name, he whipped his head up to meet your eyes and his expression morphed into one that mirrored your stunned face. He didn't respond, simply stared at you in pure disbelief, as if he was seeing things.

Now getting a good look at him, you could tell there was an obvious change since the last time you had spoken before leaving Inazuma. "Do not call me by that name," he spat at you harshly after redeeming himself from the sudden shock, "I am Scaramouche, the Balladeer, sixth of the Fatui Harbingers." You were at a loss for words, staring at him in silence.

He took your lack of response as an end to the conversation and turned on his heel to walk away. Without thinking properly, you quickly sprinted towards him and grabbed onto his clothing that would be undeniably too cold in that region for anyone but a puppet. If you were anyone else, he would've silenced you for good in that moment.

Lucky you, you were someone he couldn't seem to get out of his mind most days. How unbefitting of a Harbinger, to let such thoughts creep up on him without warning. Maybe that's why he simply swatted your hand away and continued on his way with an empty feeling gathering in his stomach. Puppets shouldn't feel, so why were salty tears brimming his eyes as he paced further from your shivering figure?

Act III — Wanderer

In the shadows of Sumeru city sat a young man of many names, burying himself so deep in thoughts of his past. Wanderer had gone through much with passing time and had eventually come to a peace with himself. Despite all the life lessons he'd learned, something still nagged at the back of his mind. He knew what it was but declared it a thought that held no importance to him. Not anymore.

It had been long since he last saw you, but he still wondered from time-to-time how you were doing. Maybe you had forgotten all about him, but he just knew that wasn't true. He stood from his spot where the Aranara never ceased to bother him and decided on a stroll further off the beaten path than his usual. He walked through an area shrouded in trees, brushing off the occasional fallen leaf or blossoming petal.

As if fate was answering his unspoken prayers, he came across an open patch of grass with only a tree in the center. Sitting there at it's trunk with a novel in hand, was you. The scene took him back to the day he'd seen you just like this before, although his memory clouded the details. He took a step closer, feet padding on the ground beneath him.

The sound made you aware of his presence and you looked up at him, setting your book aside just as you had before. Your eyes met his, a smile forming on your face. It was a feature of yours he used to know quite well, though now it seemed foreign to him. Or maybe that's just what he had been telling himself, because how could something foreign to him bring such comfort?

"Scaramouche?" You stared up at him expectantly. "It's Wanderer now," he stated in a calm tone, however, he wasn't calm in the slightest. His stomach did flips that one wouldn't think a puppet was capable of upon hearing your voice again, something he yearned for so to hear again. "Wanderer then," you spoke cautiously as if he would turn and flee at any moment, "sit beside me, won't you?"

He did as you asked without hesitation, eyes never once leaving your relaxed figure. "I missed you," you said to him. He wasn't completely sure it was true, because he was no longer the person you once knew in his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond but couldn't find the words to do so. You reached out and placed your palm on his shoulder.

"How have you been?" The question was so blunt and simple that it almost hurt. You knew well that he had most definitely matured, but to what extent was what you were concerned yourself with. "I'm doing better than I was before." You chuckled that sweet sound he had missed. "Care to elaborate?" you asked, and he did. Wanderer couldn't remember another time he'd been so open with anyone.

He ranted to you all that had happened, why he had acted so coldly the last time he spoke to you, cringing at his own words. You remained silent, except the occasional hum of approval to his explanation. Your full attention was fixated on him, gazing at his ethereal features as you listened to him go on and on. After quite a while, he concluded his story and looked back at you waiting for some kind of acknowledgement.

"I'm so proud of you for coming so far." He looked taken aback, not expecting that sort of comment. His face flushed a familiar shade of red, earning a short laugh from you. He may have learned a lot about himself in the time passed, but you could tell he was still the same indigo-haired boy you'd met years ago. You leaned closer to him and pressed a kiss to his forehead, smiling wider than ever as you pulled back. "I'm so glad we met again."

────────── ʚ♡ɞ ──────────

Masterlist

[oosa3x]

secret moments (rd3)

prologue

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

pairing: ruben dias x f!celebrity!reader

warning(s): language, mentions of stalkers, anxiety + emotional stress, feelings of isolation word count: 3,038

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As the sleek, black SUV glided to a smooth stop, Y/N ran her fingers on the edge of her dress, the fabric soft to the touch. She glances quickly at her phone, right on time.

It’s always like this—the split second of calm that comes before the storm. The instant her head of security, Mark, opens the door, the world erupts into chaos. Cameras flash in rapid succession, each one capturing every single frame of her movements, from a hundred different angles. She steps out, a practiced smile tugging on her lips, not quite reaching her eyes.

She takes in a breath, letting the cool, Manchester night air fill her lungs as she straightens up, the clicking of her heels against the pavement blending in with the click, click, click of the cameras. The noise around her is deafening, a garbled mix of questions, calls of her name, and orders from her security asking everyone to take a step back. It’s overwhelming, yet achingly familiar—this is the life she once dreamed of, no, begged for. From the moment she pleaded with her parents to enroll her in that theater camp all those years ago, she knew she was destined for fame, craving the adoration of fans and the recognition that comes with being a household name. How could she not be famous? Every music teacher had told her she sang like an angel. 'With a voice like that,' they’d say, 'how could you not have a slew of adoring fans?’

And here it was, that fame, blinding her with camera flashes—the often harsh reality of never finding a moment of solitude or peace.

Yet even with its occasional dark underbelly, she loved the life fame had given her far more than she resented it. She loved the art, the work, the human connection. She cherished the way she made people feel—seen, understood, and less alone. How could she not love this job when she’d just been cast in her dream role? 

The stalkers, the threats on your life,  a voice whispered in her mind, the one she tried to silence every single day in her quest for some semblance of normalcy amidst her stratospheric amount of fame. 

She had everything she ever wanted—fame, fortune, admiration—but at what cost? The weight of the spotlight was suffocating, the constant scrutiny exhausting. The thrill of performing on stage, of becoming someone else on screen, was often overshadowed by the gnawing fear that her carefully constructed world could crumble with a single misstep. One slip, one unguarded moment, and the sense of security she clung to, could crack, leaving her vulnerable to the dangers that always seemed to lurk at the edge of her fame.

But she couldn't think about that now. Not tonight. Not when she’d just arrived to this new city, her new home for the next year. Not when she’d worked so hard to get to this point. She’d blistered her feet in character shoes, lost count of the times she’d cut her fingers changing guitar strings, and had done so many vocal warm-ups that they had become a language of their own in her vocabulary. She was thrust into the spotlight at 15, an age when most are just beginning to understand who they are and their place in the world. But while her childhood friends were navigating school and first loves, she was sacrificing sleep and missing important family milestones, trading school dances for long hours on set, in studios, and in board rooms with adults making decisions about her career. The normalcy and innocence of adolescence slipped away as she fiercely devoted herself to the relentless pursuit of perfection. She’d given up friendships that couldn’t withstand the demands of her career, missed countless holidays with loved ones, and shouldered the emotional burden of a life lived under constant scrutiny. 

So, she took the negatives of fame on the chin. She fell into her routine: “head held high, shoulders back, walk with purpose.” The dress she’s wearing—a custom piece, naturally—hugs her figure perfectly. The dress is the furthest thing from her mind, though, as she focused on putting one stilettoed foot in front of the other without losing her bearings due to the blinding glare of the camera flashes.

A few more steps and she’d be inside the up-scale restaurant having dinner with a powerful studio executive, his company footing a large part of the film’s budget. 

As the door closed behind them, sealing off the flashing lights and the relentless noise, she took in the setting of the restaurant. The quiet chatter, the dim lighting, the rich scent of polished wood and expensive food—it was almost enough to make her forget the chaos outside. Almost.

Mark stepped back, giving her space but staying within reach. He was a constant presence in her life, one of the few people she trusted wholeheartedly. "Do you need a minute alone? I could clear out that hallway over there, if you need me to." he asked, his voice low, just for her.

She shook her head. "No. I’m fine, but thank you. I kind of just want to get started." Her voice was steady, but she knew he could see through the mask. He always could. He’s been working for her pretty much from the moment she was thrust into the spotlight. Her rise to fame was as swift as it was overwhelming, making the need for security an immediate necessity. He nodded, respecting her need to push forward, but his eyes lingered on her a moment longer, silently conveying his concern.  She straightened up again, squaring her shoulders as if she could physically push the weight of the world off them.

Together, they walked further into the restaurant. As they moved through the main floor, the soft murmur of conversation began to die down, replaced by the subtle rustling of patrons shifting in their seats. Eyes followed her every step, awe flickering in their gazes. Some tried to be subtle, but she caught the movements from the corner of her eye—an instinct she’d honed over the last twelve years of being in the spotlight. Phones slowly lifted, camera apps discreetly launched, as they seized the opportunity to capture the moment.

Mark walked ahead, his broad frame cutting a path through the dimly lit space, while Eric, a second bodyguard, stayed a step behind her, his watchful eyes scanning the room, making sure no one got too close. The atmosphere buzzed with whispers, fragments of her name slipping through the hushed conversations.

The hostess—who looked about one breath away from hyperventilating, tears brimming her eyes—led them to a private dining room at the back. As the door closed behind them, sealing off the public’s eager eyes, the tension in her shoulders eased just slightly, but the weight of their expectations lingered in the air. Her publicist and manager were already seated at the table, deep in conversation with the studio executive. The moment she entered, all eyes turned to her.

Her publicist, Raquel, a woman with an impeccable sense of style, stood first. "There she is," she said with a warm smile, moving to greet her. "You look absolutely amazing, as always, my dear.”

Her manager, Claudia, a calm, steady presence who had guided her through everything, also stood up to give her a quick hug. "Right on time," she said, her tone as measured as ever. "Everything go smoothly outside?”

She returned the smiles, though hers was softer, more controlled. "As smoothly as it ever does." She accepted the brief hug from both her publicist and her manager before turning to the studio executive.

The executive stood as she approached, extending a hand with a smile that was all business. "Miss L/N, it’s a pleasure to see you again," he said smoothly. "Thank you for making the time."

"Of course," she replied, taking his hand and then sliding into the chair opposite him. "I’m looking forward to hearing more about the project."

The executive waved a hand, and the hostess quickly poured wine into the glasses before retreating, leaving them alone. He raised his glass in a small toast. "To what I’m sure will be an amazing collaboration."

She mirrored his action, the cool glass against her fingers grounding her slightly. "To new beginnings."

Her publicist and manager joined in the toast, their faces reflecting the mix of optimism and caution that came with every new project. The executive took a sip, then set his glass down, his demeanor shifting slightly as he leaned forward.

"We’re thrilled to have you on board. This role... it’s going to be a game-changer for you. The script is incredible, the director’s a genius, and we’re pulling out all the stops to promote this film."

She nodded, her face calm, but inside, her mind was already running through the list of demands this project would make of her. The hours on set, the press tours, the interviews—each one a small battle in the war to stay on top, to remain the ‘it girl’. "I’m excited to dive in. I’ve been waiting for a role like this."

Her manager, ever the practical one, leaned forward slightly. "We’ve reviewed the schedule, and it’s tight, but it’s manageable. We’ll need to coordinate closely, especially with the promotional commitments. Don’t worry, you’ll also get moments of peace in between."

Her publicist added, "There’s a lot of buzz already. We need to be strategic about your appearances, make sure we’re maximizing the exposure without burning you out."

The executive smiled, clearly pleased with their input. "We’re all on the same page here. This film is going to be huge."

She took another sip of wine, savoring the brief moment of silence. The praise was flattering, but it was also a reminder of the constant pressure to deliver, to be perfect.

The executive continued, his tone more serious now. "I won’t lie, though you’ll still have a few breaks in filming, this is going to be demanding. The director is known for pushing his actors to their limits, and we’ll need you fully committed. But if anyone can handle it, it’s you."

She met his gaze, the smile never leaving her face. "I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge. I’m ready to give it everything I’ve got."

Her publicist glanced at her, then at the executive. "We’ll make sure she’s prepared. And of course, we’ll coordinate with your team to ensure everything goes smoothly."

Her manager nodded. "You all made the right choice choosing Y/N. She is more than ready for this."

The executive nodded, seemingly satisfied. "That’s exactly what I wanted to hear." He leaned back in his chair, a more relaxed smile crossing his face. "Let’s talk specifics, then. I want to make sure you have everything you need to succeed."

As they delved into the details of the project—locations, timelines, marketing strategies—she listened carefully, her mind a careful balance of focus and detachment. She knew this was important, that this film could be a turning point in her career, but she couldn’t help the small voice in the back of her mind that whispered of exhaustion, of the toll this life took on her.

But she silenced it, as she always did. She had worked too hard to let doubt creep in now. This was her dream, and she had worked incredibly hard to make it her reality.

Her publicist leaned in, breaking the flow of technical discussions with a smile. "You know, there’s something special about this project. I can feel it."

Her manager nodded, a rare sparkle of enthusiasm in his usually measured demeanor. "It’s the perfect blend—challenging but rewarding. I think you’re going to surprise even yourself with what you achieve here."

She let their words wash over her, allowing herself to believe them for a moment. Maybe they were right. Maybe this was the role that would not only challenge her but would elevate her to new heights. The thought sent a flicker of excitement through her, a reminder of why she had fought so hard to get here in the first place.

As the meeting wrapped up and they all stood to leave, she looked around at the faces of the people she trusted most. "We’re going to make this something unforgettable," she said, and this time, her smile wasn’t just for show.

But as they prepared to exit the private dining room, her eyes drifted across the restaurant. At a nearby table, she noticed a young couple sitting close, their hands intertwined, looking at each other like the other had hung the stars. The woman laughed softly, her partner brushing a lock of hair behind her ear with a tenderness that made her chest tighten.

She turned away quickly, focusing on the path ahead instead. The couple’s easy affection stirred something in her, a longing she rarely allowed herself to acknowledge. Despite all the success, all the admiration, there was a gnawing emptiness that no amount of fame or money could fill. The men she met were captivated by the image, the glamor, the persona she projected. But none of them really took the chance to know her—the real her, beyond the red carpets and the rehearsed smiles. 

For so long, she had been nothing more than arm candy, a trophy on the arm of powerful men who loved the idea of her but not the reality. They were enamored by her beauty, but quickly intimidated by her fame. Most of them were quick to back away when the cameras weren’t rolling, when they realized that the woman behind the flashing lights was more than just a pretty face. They were drawn to the allure of dating a superstar but recoiled when the reality of her life became too overwhelming.

And those who didn’t run? They were the ones who tried to diminish her, to make her feel small so they could feel bigger. The musicians who thought themselves superior because they didn’t make “pop music.” They treated her like a guilty pleasure, something to enjoy in private but never proudly claim. Their words, cloaked in playful jabs and condescension, had a way of cutting deep, making her feel inferior for the very thing that had brought her so much success in the first place.

She could still hear the echoes of their backhanded compliments, the subtle digs at her craft, and the way they’d say “pop star” sneeringly. They’d smile and tell her she was talented, but there was always that lingering undertone—that she wasn’t quite serious enough, not quite respectable enough to be considered their equal, despite her countless prestigious awards and record-breaking achievements. It left her questioning herself, wondering if the world saw her the same way they did.

The fame, the fortune—it was a double-edged sword. It brought her everything she thought she wanted but took away the one thing she needed most: genuine connection. She had grown tired of the men who saw her as a status symbol, who were either emasculated by her success or secretly resented it. None of them had ever seen her for who she really was, the woman beneath the glitz and the glamor, the one who craved love as deeply and earnestly as anyone else.

The woman who adored dad jokes and bad puns. The one who could watch Clue and The First Wives Club more times than she’d ever admit. They didn’t know about her love for the smell of rain on asphalt or the way she insisted on playing “Neon Moon” as her first song every time she took the stage at karaoke nights. They didn’t see how much joy she found in making children laugh or how deeply she cherished the “-ber” months. The woman whose parents nurtured her boundless curiosity, encouraging her to become a walking encyclopedia.

They couldn’t grasp how deeply her heart yearned for genuine connection, how she longed for someone to hold her—not for the image she projected to the world, but for the woman she was in those quiet moments alone at night. Beneath the polished exterior, she was kind, funny, and deeply compassionate, with a fierce love for her family and an unwavering determination to keep moving forward, despite the weight of the world on her shoulders. She was more than just a star—she was a person, craving something real.

And as she watched that couple, so lost in each other, a pang of longing struck her. She yearned for that kind of love—the kind that wasn’t tainted by envy or insecurity, the kind that didn’t wilt under the glare of her fame. A love that was simple and true, where she could just be herself, not the persona the world expected her to be.

She straightened her posture, pushing the thought away as they reached the door. She couldn’t afford to dwell on it, not tonight. But as she stepped back into the night, the brief glimpse of that couple lingered in her mind, a reminder that there were still parts of her life that even her relentless drive and success couldn’t fully satisfy.

Meanwhile, just a few blocks away from the city center, a Portuguese defender was winding down for the evening. After a light meal and some stretching exercises, he stood by the window of his apartment, looking out over the quiet city below. Tomorrow was match day, and his routine was precise—early to bed, clear-minded, focused. The game was his world, and it required everything from him.

As he set his alarm and turned off the lights, his thoughts were already on the pitch, on the plays he would execute, the goals he would defend. In the solitude of his room, there was no need for the public persona he wore so effortlessly. Here, he was just a man preparing to do what he did best.

Unbeknownst to both of them, their worlds, so different yet on a slow and steady path to intersection, would soon collide in ways neither could have predicted.

As the cameras flashed once more, she couldn’t help but wonder—would there ever be someone who could see past the spotlight to the person she really was?

📍manchester, england

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ynstan and you do deserve all the good things coming your way bb

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author's note: i am so excited for y'all to read "secret moments"

i am using lori harvey as a faceclaim bc she is so gorgeous and i looooove her style but that does not mean that this is who you have to picture when reading.

i've been wanting to write something like this since 2022.

also, she is american given that i am american. i only say this bc i might subconsciously use american/californian sayings without realizing i am because that’s what i grew up saying lol. i also want to point out that because i am from california, i'm on a different timezone than most people that post on ruben's tag so i might answer things in my asks kinda late but i will always try my best to answer in a timely manner!

anyway, enough rambling! i really hope y'all like this ◡̈

-mars

[spacedace]

Had an idea, thought I'd make it a prompt, 3k+ words later realized this wasn't a prompt anymore but a ficlet 🙃

Anyway, here's the first almost 2k of Talia being a good parent and deciding to not go with either Bruce or Ra's and go off and do her own thing and raise Damian and oops she got attached to Jason while checking in on Bruce and saved him from dying in Ethiopia. & now has 2 sons lol

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When her Beloved and her father demanded Talia make a choice, of who she would choose, she didn't hesitate.

She chose neither of them. She chose her child. She chose herself.

Outwitting both Ra's al Ghul and Batman was no simple feat. They were both brilliant, relentless and with endless resources at their command. It was why their clashes were as devastating as they were. Immovable objects and unstoppable forces the both of them. If there was something they wanted, it was something they would have.

But not her.

They would not have her.

She had her own networks, her own people, her own keen intelligence and sharp cunning. It took time - time she really didn't have - and a great deal of pain and loss, but she slipped them eventually. Shrugged off the shroud of who she had been - who she was made to be - and stepped confidently into her new life.

Her son was born nine days after her freedom had finally, fully been assured.

He was small and perfect in every way. Soft and warm cradled close to her chest, unblemished by the cruelty of the world as he slept soundly in her arms. Even as exhausted as she was after such a long labor, she couldn't bring herself to sleep. Her attention narrowed down entirely on his every quiet breath, his downy soft hair, his round peaceful face.

In the weeks that followed his eyes would shift and change from a newborn's blue to her own green. It would take years before she could know if he inherited any of his father's features, but that was fine. He was hers and hers alone.

She named him Damian.

In another life she would name him with her father in mind. That her son would rise as Heir to the Demon and conquer the world. That he'd stand as ruler of all.

In this one, she named him with hope in her heart that what he would master was his own life. That he would never be forced to bow to the will of anyone else. To be made to act as servant or puppet. Let him tame his fate into something good and kind and happy.

She did her best to give him the life he deserved.

Lavished him with all her love and affection. Gave him everything he could ever want or need. The friends she began making for herself - not just trusted allies, but friends - laughed that she would spoil him rotten. It was probably true, but she didn't have it in her to care.

Her son would have the childhood he would have been denied if raised raised in the home of either of their fathers. Her father would have demand harsh lessons and frightened obedience and impossible standards. Damian's would have tried - she knew her Beloved would have tried - but his heart would always be for his city first and all else, even his children, second.

Talia kept tabs on both of them, covertly. Ensured she always kept a healthy distance from anything that involved her father or his people. Gathered stories of her Beloved's exploits to share with her son when he was old enough to hear them.

It gave her insight on just what choosing her Beloved would have meant. Reassured her that while not choosing her father had been the right choice, choosing her Beloved would have been the wrong one.

Bruce Wayne was a good man. Brilliant and driven with his kind heart and admirable goals. Breathtaking in his skill and ability.

Disappointing in his parenting skills.

Talia knew she was lacking as a parent herself. That her own upbringing had left its scars and that try as she might she'd undoubtedly end up doing the same to her own child over the years. But she always pushed herself hard towards improving, in making herself better for the tiny boy that she loved more than anything else. And she felt satisfied that in the very least that when presented with options on how her and her son's life would be, she'd made the one that was best for Damian.

Not the life of an assassin or a vigilante, but the life of a child.

A child who was taught some of the skills of both the worlds she'd turned her back on, admittedly, but only ever for his own protection. Damian was safer knowing how to hide, how to escape, how to fight. She had done her best, but there was always the looming threat that they might be found one day. She needed to be sure he was ready, if that time ever come.

She didn't teach him the way she was taught.

When her son fumbled or failed she gently corrected him. Walked him through what he'd done wrong, how he could improve. Made a game out of the experience so that he came running up to her on toddling feet with bright eyes begging that they have a lesson. His excitement and delight in it all made him a better student then her fear and desperate need for her father's approval and affection.

There was a day she caught sight of him, all of four years old, tiny face scrunched in a look of concentration as he practiced the form she'd taught him the day before with his small, wooden practice sword. Some of his father's features lingered at the edges of his face, but he'd deepened his resemblance to her by picking up her mannerisms and expressions. Her son, going through the same steps and motions she had when she'd been his age, little body wobbling as he turned to fast before plopping on the ground with a tiny oof.

Talia had small silver scars on the back of her hands, so thin and so old as to nearly be invisible anymore. They burned all the same as she recalled herself stumbling in nearly the same way. Stomach churning as she remembered the terror she'd felt as her instructor had snatched her up by her hair and drug her over to a low table, holding her hands in place with a massive hand. The way she'd bit her lip hard enough that her mouth filled with blood as he struck her with the thin lash, knowing that if she cried the punishment would be all the worse.

Damian only blinked his big green eyes and scowled the same way she did whenever something of minor importance didn't go the way she wanted it to. Then he saw her standing there in the doorway watching him and his face lit up, bright as the son and just as beautiful as he jumped to his feet and darted over to her. Tiny hand clinging to the loose fabric of her pant leg as he begged her show me again Mama!

It was moments like that where she knew beyond any shadow of a doubt she'd made the right choice.

Her father would have broken her brilliant, kind hearted son. Would have done to him what was done to her to forge Damian into a weapon.

Her beloved...

He would never hurt her son like that. Not the way her father and his loyal followers would. But she couldn't ignore the fact that Damian would still be hurt all the same under his father's tutelage.

Talia knew the man she loved well. Adored his strengths, but was not blind to his flaws. He kept his heart well guarded, hidden behind imposing walls of silence and razor wire of words he didn't truly mean. Still kind, but horribly distant when it came to those he cared for most. It shielded him some, perhaps, but it left those who loved him feeling lost and alone.

She saw how Dick Grayson had grown over the years. Tall and clever and lonely and bitter. Fighting for independence, for acknowledgement, for his father to speak words of love and respect. Things Bruce felt but almost never said unless he thought things were dire.

She saw too how the heavy weight of her Beloved's priorities weighed up on his second son.

Young Jason Todd who saw magic in the harsh world he'd been drawn into and desired to be the protection for others that he never had growing up. She saw much of herself in him, though he faced the world with far more hope than she had at his age. He was a bright boy with a good heart that had weathered a harsh upbringing that Talia could sympathize with. There was a familiar anger in him too, broiling just beneath the surface, flaring up and burning him as much as everyone else when triggered.

Most of all though Talia could see the desperate loneliness that had marred her own life in the boy. The soul deep fear of abandonment. The painful desire for love from a father that always seemed to stay at arm's length who spoke rarely of affection and often of missions to be completed.

She kept a close eye on her Beloved's second Robin.

When he left for Ethiopia, searching for family in a stranger that had already given him up, she'd followed.

Jason only ever wanted family and love. A good boy, bright and fierce and brave. A boy Talia saw a lot of herself in, who faced the world with such determined brightness in spite of the pain and hardship he'd known.

Shelia Haywood took that boy that Talia had grown so fond of, took his trust and his love and crushed it beneath her heel. Callously handed him over to the Joker without a second thought. As if he was disposable, as if he was nothing more than a puppet to use and toss away when it suited her.

Talia had risked everything when she'd decided she would not choose either her father or her Beloved. She'd turned her back on her entire life, everything that had ever been and ever could be on either side. She spent months running, hiding, fighting and killing, in orchestrating a plan that could outwit and outmaneuver the two most brilliant men she knew. And she'd done it all so that her son could live free, as master of his own life.

Jason Todd had come to Ethiopia looking for a mother.

Talia, with blood on her hands and a burning warehouse behind her as she carried his broken body to safety, made sure he found one.