#grabbing him by the skull to physically attempt to get her words through it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyunbunlix · 1 year ago

Text

Rising [sun prince!Hyunjin]

Characters: Hyunjin, fem!OC Rating: A/O for Adults Only Content Warnings/Tags: negative father/son relationship, blood/violence, cunnilingus, getting interrupted/almost caught, sixty-nine, doggy style, multiple orgasms (f), missionary/mating press, infertile fmc, raw male orgasm Word Count: 6,722 Summary: Hyunjin has been aware for some time that his father wants to kill him. He’s not sure why, but he knows he needs outside help before his father succeeds. As a result, Hyunjin invites a sellsword into his court under the guise of his newest lover when, really, he wants her to keep him safe. However, the ruse might not end up being one for very long... Note: This story is part of the Nightshade Crown AU.

Hyun Jin wasn’t sure when he became fully aware that the Sainted King, his father, wanted him dead. Sometime in his late teens, he supposed. It would take too long to examine all his memories in an attempt to figure out how far back it stretched, especially since it felt more productive to focus his energy on remaining vigilant here and now. When would the king try to do it? What method would he use? Why did he want to kill his only child, anyway?

Hyun Jin had no idea, and that constant gnawing anxiety was what prompted him to take matters into his own hands, no matter how foolish an errand it was.

That was how he found himself outside the palace walls in the middle of the night. Inside the palace, Hyun Jin had no idea who he could trust, how many members of the court were bought and paid for by his father, be it with money or favor or fear. If Hyun Jin wanted to find any real assistance, he would have to do it outside the palace walls.

Perhaps, if he had one trustworthy person at his side, he might start sleeping through the night again.

He’d been sneaking out of the palace at night for about a year now. First, it was just to see if he could. Then, it was to afford him a sense of freedom and safety he no longer felt within the court. And finally, it was to start correspondence with an individual he thought might help him.

The term “assassin” didn’t feel right, but neither did “mercenary,” and “bodyguard” felt too brutish still for the type of watcher he was seeking. Neither did “spy” seem right, given that he was searching for a certain level of skill in a fight. Whatever this person was, he had been assured they were the best, and he, the Sun Prince, had assured them equally that he would have no trouble affording their fee.

It was just his luck, then, that he would be ambushed on his way to finally meet with this person face-to-face for the first time.

Hyun Jin had no idea if it was just bad luck or if someone had finally realized he was the Sun Prince out in the open. Whenever he left the palace in the dead of night like this, he always pulled his dark hair back in a ponytail and wore his hood up, a mask concealing his face from the nose down. Perhaps his contact was up to no good after all. Perhaps they were already working in service of his father and had set him up from the start.

Hyun Jin was no slouch physically, but even he wasn’t confident in his ability to hold his own against a group of ten armed only with a knife and his wits.

“Where do you think you’re going, pretty boy?” one of them asked, and Hyun Jin fought the instinct to flinch. They had to know who he was. With only his eyes showing, and even then in shadow, there was no way to tell whether he was pretty or not, or, really, whether he was even male.

Someone struck at him from the side and he spun away, sinking his knife into their arm. The first assailant grunted and fell back, but a second grabbed at him from behind, yanking his hood down as a third landed a good punch to his gut. Hyun Jin doubled over, and they pried his mask off. Hyun Jin reared up, bashing the back of his skull into the face of the one behind him, before lunging forward to strike out with his knife at the one in front of him. His target danced back, and then two more advanced on him.

Hyun Jin got another couple of good hits in, but it was clear the battle was a losing one.

“Wonder who will pay more for you: your father or Kirythea?” one of them said as they finally restrained his arms, kicking his knee out to force him to the ground.

“I’m not sure either one cares terribly much,” Hyun Jin spat on the way down. His father, who wanted him dead, or Kirythea, a country he had no allegiance to and who threatened war with the crown.

Also, conveniently, the country that, as rumor had it, Hyun Jin was funneling information to in order to spite his father. You know, to justify the whole “wanting him dead” thing. It had been years since Hyun Jin had had contact with anyone of import from Kirythea.

Before the assailant in front of him could retort, a crossbow bolt punched through their neck. They collapsed, frothing blood and spittle, shock on their face. The person holding Hyun Jin down sprang back from him, and Hyun Jin spun on one knee, driving his knife into their gut. Whether he struck to kill or maim, he didn’t care. To get out of this alive, he would do what needed to be done.

He heard others fall behind him, and when he had the time to look again, he confirmed it was due to more crossbow bolts.

Crossbow bolts that miraculously didn’t fly anywhere near him.

Seven of the ten were downed, and the remaining three moved to flee. Hyun Jin scanned the rooftops, but the moon was only a sliver tonight and it was difficult to see. A shadow moved along the shingles, hopped over gables, and his final three antagonists didn’t make it to the end of the block.

Hyun Jin swallowed hard. He was smart enough to know there was always a bigger fish, and that sharks weren’t terribly friendly.

The archer followed the roofs back the way they had come, toward him, and he watched them descend, catlike, to street level with him. He realized he hadn’t yet had the sense to pull his hood back up, but then the archer pulled down their—her—hood and cowl, and Hyun Jin felt a little more equal.

“You were late, so I came looking,” she said, bending to retrieve one of her bolts from the street. Hyun Jin stared.

“You’re Darden?” he asked. She chuckled.

“Yes. And you’re the Sun Prince. Can’t let a job like yours slip through my fingers, can I?” she said.

Hyun Jin put his hood back up.

“Walk with me,” she said, stowing her crossbow and bolts away. She put her hood up, too, but left her cowl turned down. “I take it you don’t want any evidence of this getting out, so it’s probably best we form the agreement verbally, yes? I’ve burned everything you’ve sent until now, as requested.”

“You’re correct,” he said, the two of them keeping easy pace together. “My father wants me dead. I don’t know why, or how and when he wants to do it. I just know I need someone in my corner to cover my blind spots, to see and hear the things I might miss. I don’t want to die, but I don’t want him suspicious of me, either.”

“What did you have in mind? Certainly you’re not asking me to commit regicide on your behalf,” she said. Hyun Jin laughed ruefully.

“Of course not. I need you to act as my companion, to keep suspicion off me while watching my back. Clearly, I don’t have to worry about you. You’re capable of handling yourself. I want your help in keeping me safe, and in figuring out what in the Myriad Hells my father wants me dead for in the first place,” he said.

“So this means I’ll be, what, posing as a courtier? A lover?” she asked. He turned his gaze on her for a moment.

“I’m not going to tell you how to best do your job, but the closer you can be to me, the better,” he said. She chuckled again, her lips curving into a knife-edged smirk.

“It would be fairly difficult for someone to kill you in your sleep if I happened to be next to you in your bed,” she said.

“I’m fine with that if you are,” Hyun Jin said. Fine with it was a bit of an understatement, if he was being honest. Ever since his father had started turning the court against him, it had been a struggle to find genuine companionship, and he missed being held, comforted by the warmth of another human being.

“Very well,” she said. “I’ll protect you from backstabbing. I’ll do whatever digging I can, try to find out what your father is up to. And I’ll appear every bit your faithful companion in the meantime. How shall we sell it?” she said.

“The most convincing lies are in some way the truth,” he said. “We’ll say we’ve been corresponding for some time, that we were finally able to meet in person. It’ll excuse my absences from the palace up until now. I was coming out here to meet with you, so smitten was I that I ignored the risks. But then I was ambushed and lost my nerve, begged you to abandon your life in the city and flee to the palace with me. And you, in your mad infatuation with me, couldn’t help but accept.”

She stopped, and he turned to look at her. She was giving him an amused look.

“How come you get to be ‘smitten’ but I’m ‘madly infatuated’?” she asked, one hand planted on her hip. He snorted.

“Fine. We can reverse it if you want. You enjoyed playing with the Sun Prince’s affection, and I was so starved for attention that I fell fast, hard, for you. I couldn’t stand it. I would do anything to be with you,” he said, stepping closer to her, into her space, as he said it, his voice dropping little by little, until he was mere inches from her, staring unflinchingly into her face. “Does that sound better to you?”

She didn’t flinch, either, looking at him with amusement and . . . Well, Hyun Jin wouldn’t kid himself into thinking there was anything substantial there, but he was beautiful, and she was at least a little attracted to him. It was in the darkening of her eyes, in the way she couldn’t decide what feature of his face to focus on.

“Much better,” she breathed. “Do we have a deal?”

“I believe we do,” he said, and offered his hand for her to clasp. She scoffed at him, gripping the sides of his hood and drawing him in those last few inches, her lips meeting his.

Hyun Jin hadn’t been lying. He was starved for affection, so when she sucked lightly on his full lower lip, his mouth parted automatically for her, allowing their lips to mesh more fully as his hands anchored to her hips, pulling her body flush with his. Her hand pressed against the back of his neck, like she could bring him even closer, and only succeeded in deepening the kiss, Hyun Jin’s tongue pushing against hers, tasting her mouth.

Hyun Jin severed the kiss before he could lose his senses completely.

“Deal,” he panted. She grinned at him, her eyes darker still than before. She wanted him, and he was not upset about it in the slightest. It might even make things easier.

Darden settled into court life like she’d done it before. During the day, she attended Hyun Jin’s social engagements with him, everything from teas to luncheons to croquette matches in the gardens, appearing every bit the devoted court lady who was utterly head-over-heels for him. She spent many nights in his room, watching over him and nothing more, but still kept her own quarters lest it appear she was spending too much time with him. They had to at least pretend propriety, to craft the perception of a whirlwind romance they were trying desperately to hide.

But as the weeks passed, two things happened. Hyun Jin couldn’t be sure whether or not one begat the other, but they were certainly closely related.

First: His father, the Sainted King, hated Darden, and neither she nor Hyun Jin could figure out why. Either the Sainted King was suspicious of her, or he simply hated seeing his son happy. Frankly, they were both equally likely. Because of this, Hyun Jin started to fear she might suddenly disappear, either because she’d been killed or because his father had been able to work out what was going on and pay her more to leave than Hyun Jin was paying her to stay.

Second: Hyun Jin started to fear losing her. At first, he thought it was because that would put him back at square one before they’d gotten to the bottom of things. The second explanation was that he would feel guilty if something bad happened to her because it was his fault she was in the line of fire in the first place.

But those were both excuses. The real reason was because he had well and truly fallen for her, settled into the rhythm of their companionship. He looked forward to seeing her every day, smiled and laughed more with her than he had in a long time. With her around, he sometimes even forgot his life was in danger. It had been so long since he’d stopped fearing death and instead enjoyed being alive.

He didn’t know how to go back to life without her.

Then her birthday came, and the Sainted King offered to throw a party in her honor. There was absolutely no good reason for him to do this, given he didn’t even like her. But he was the king, and she couldn’t refuse, and Hyun Jin was already on thin ice with his father and unable to do so much as appeal.

On the day of the festivity, Hyun Jin felt sick.

They decided to dress in matching black and purple attire, reminiscent of some of the most popular poisons that circled the court like designer drugs. Neither of them partook, personally, but it made for a dangerous motif, a message Hyun Jin was eager to send. When Hyun Jin arrived at her quarters so they could get ready together, he watched her dress and do her makeup. Rather than have one of his attendants do his makeup like he usually did, he asked her if she would, and she agreed with a soft smile.

She stood in front of him, palette in hand, her dark dress sitting just right on her body, drawing his attention to her collarbones, her upper chest, her waist, her hips. He did his best to hold still while she made him look dark and enchanting. After she had finished putting a slight highlight of color on his lips, though, he couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“I’m afraid,” he said. Her hand hesitated against his cheekbone, where she had been about to put a subtle brush of color. She caught his eyes and smiled, but it looked like it took more effort than usual.

“Don’t be,” she said. “I can take care of myself, remember?”

“Love,” he said to get her attention. He’d called her by the endearment so many times in public that it had started to stick on his tongue in private, too. “He’s the king. He could do anything tonight. I know him, he’s . . . He doesn’t do things out of the goodness of his heart. He’s going to try something. I know he is. I don’t know what, but he will.”

“Hyunie,” she said, her own endearment coming to her just as easily. It knocked the air out of him, just a little, every time. “Please don’t worry. He’s only a man. If he tries anything I’ll just take his hand off.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t go to prison for me,” he said. She smiled a little, but it was thin and mirthless.

“It wouldn’t be for you,” she said.

“Please, just . . . don’t leave my side tonight,” he said. Her hand rested tenderly against his jaw for a moment, and just when he thought she might kiss him and ruin both their lip colors, she retreated to put the makeup away.

Of course she wouldn’t. She had never kissed him in private since coming to court. Why should she start tonight?

“I won’t if I can help it,” she said.

And that was the most she could promise, because after the banquet supper, the Sainted King asked her to join him on the dais as the guest of honor. Hyun Jin’s blood ran icy as she stood up, climbed the stairs, lifted the hem of her dress to step delicately over the iron bars that made up the motif of the Auverrani throne. The Sainted King, likewise, rose from the throne to receive her, opening his arms like he was happy to see her.

Hyun Jin felt like the entire world had slowed to a crawl. The Sainted King drew her into his arms. She laid her head on his shoulder, facing away from the Sainted King, her eyes locked on Hyun Jin. As her body lined up with the king’s, he saw her eyes go wide, flickering grey and glassy. It was so quick Hyun Jin thought he’d imagined it. As the king let go of her, she tried to smile at him but looked shell-shocked. Hyun Jin’s eyes scanned her frantically as his father started into a speech about the occasion, of which he didn’t process a single word. There was nothing outwardly wrong with her; she hadn’t been struck or stabbed, not a hair or eyelash was out of place. But when the Sainted King took her hand to raise it over their heads in congratulations, as the rest of the room toasted her in time to the king’s blessing, she shuddered, and Hyun Jin could swear he saw her breath on the air, like she was exhaling into winter.

When the Sainted King finally released her, she curtsied politely, but as she turned to descend the dais, she wobbled, her foot catching on the groove of the inlaid iron bars. She fell, sprawling in a tangle of metal and silk, and Hyun Jin was on his feet in an instant, hurrying up the dais to get her. The Sainted King glowered at him, and she seemed unable to rise from the floor, from the bars, trapped by his father’s throne. Hyun Jin pulled her into his arms, holding her to his chest.

“My sincerest apologies,” he blurted, his practiced mouth moving before his brain. “She meant no disrespect, I assure you. I fear she was allergic to something in the main course. It’s my own fault for not speaking with the kitchen in advance.”

In a public setting like this, the crowd’s opinion was the one thing he had to wield, and years of practice made him an expert. He heard sympathetic murmurs behind him, and several attendants made their way up the dais as Hyun Jin got to his feet with Darden’s body in his grasp. She was cold in a way she shouldn’t have been, and curled into Hyun Jin’s chest like he was the sun itself.

“We must get her to the infirmary, my prince,” said one of the attendants. Hyun Jin held the Sainted King’s eyes, as though waiting for him to object. The Sainted King smiled, but it was a thin thing that didn’t touch his eyes.

“But of course,” he said, loud enough the whole room could hear him, and think him benevolent. “It would be tragic indeed if she were to succumb on her birthday of all days.”

Hyun Jin saw red, but there wasn’t time for it, and he instead rushed out with her in his arms. He made to turn left, toward the infirmary, but she shook her head against his shoulder.

“No,” she said. “No.”

“Love, what?”

“I need to talk to you,” she said. “Just you.”

Hyun Jin looked to the attendants. He felt as helpless as they seemed.

“Please,” she begged.

“Send a physician to my rooms,” Hyun Jin ordered one of the attendants, then hurried in the opposite direction.

“He’s dying, Hyun Jin,” she whimpered as they went through the halls. “He’s dying and he’s poisoning himself in hopes that the touch of death magic will prolong the inevitable.”

“How do you know?” he asked. She reached up to touch his face, and her hand was so fucking cold, cold like death and the people that channeled it. He swallowed hard. She was a deathwitch, a heretic, someone allowed to command a fraction of death’s power. All this time, and he’d had no idea. Had she been afraid he’d exile her if he found out, as the law decreed?

“I know why now,” she whispered as he got them to his chambers. He carried her to the bedroom and barred them inside.

“None of that fucking matters unless you’re all right,” he insisted, laying her down on his bed. “Tell me what to do, love, tell me how to help you.”

“It’s you, Hyun Jin. You are the Sun Prince, and you will be the Sainted King, and there’s nothing your father can do to stop it so he’s going to try to steal it and—”

Hyun Jin couldn’t take it anymore. He kissed her, hard, needing her to shut up about his father and tell him how to save her. She reached for his collar, tugging at it, and Hyun Jin shed the whole layer, leaving him half-naked.

“Help me out of this stupid dress,” she said. He did as commanded, and then she wrapped her arms around him, pressing bare skin to bare skin, and moaned blissfully. He lined his torso all the way with hers and she wrapped her legs around his hips, a motion that shot a shock of need straight to his cock.

“You’re so warm,” she said. “You’re so fucking warm.”

He clung to her, pressing her tightly against him, trailing kisses along her neck and shoulder, and sure enough, the cold leeched away from her skin, returning her to the way she was supposed to be.

“You hold the power of the sun, of life, Hyun Jin,” she said. “And he’ll do whatever it takes to rob you of it before death claims him.”

He pulled back from her. He meant to ask what the Hells she meant—life magic hadn’t existed since the gods disappeared. He meant to ask that, but it fell directly out of his brain when he registered that, with her dress off, she wore panties and stockings and nothing else.

It wasn’t his intention to stare at her bare chest, but it happened anyway.

“See something you like?” she teased softly. He dragged his eyes back up to meet hers.

“It’s the same thing—the same person—I’ve liked for months,” he said honestly.

No time like a near-death experience to lay your cards on the table.

She laughed quietly, still sounding a little weak, but rapidly improving.

“Has my prince finally come for me?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he answered, hoping she would catch his meaning. The darkening of her eyes said she did.

All the same, she sounded almost hesitant when she asked, “Would you . . . ? I think it would help if . . . Well . . .” She chuffed softly, looking a little embarrassed. “I want you to warm me from the inside.”

“I can do that,” he said, and without hesitation lowered himself to kiss her again. He’d been thinking about kissing her like this ever since the night they’d met face-to-face. They’d kissed since then—gentle pecks in public to sell their companionship—but nothing nearly so charged as this.

She wanted him. She still wanted him. That much was obvious. Her hands trailed up and down his bare back, holding him as close to her as she could. The only way he was going to get any closer would be when he entered her. For the time being, he made do by slipping his tongue into her mouth, and she sighed blissfully.

She could see his halo.

It wasn’t something she had detected before, not until he’d come on that dais to retrieve her, vibrating with anger and protective instinct so fierce he must have broken through the restrictors he hadn’t even known were holding him back. She’d seen it then, a subtle limning of gold around his hands and head, as though there was a soft glow beneath his skin. She’d know then that in the same way she had been marked with death’s power, Hyun Jin had been marked with life’s.

He was the first true Sun Prince, and it wouldn’t be too much longer before he became the first true Sainted King.

The death in her body had reacted to the death in the king’s, and Hyun Jin had banished it from her. She didn’t think she would have died from it, but then, she’d never been that close to such a heady combination of death and poison in another person, like a putrid bomb about to go off.

Hyun Jin had purified her.

As he shed his shirt, as he kissed and caressed her body, his warmth seemed to burn hotter, brighter, chasing that cocktail of death from her bones and suffusing her marrow with light. She couldn’t get close enough to him, not even with his tongue in her mouth and her hips bucking against his.

Despite the need of his light, she needed him, too. It had been so difficult to remain aloof over the course of these months, so afraid was she to fall for him completely only to be crushed when her contract was fulfilled and he dismissed her. She didn’t think she could endure pain like that again. She’d already died once while experiencing pain like that, and the resulting trauma made it difficult to form attachments.

But Hyun Jin was just so easy to love.

She reached for his belt, fumbling a little in her eagerness to get his pants off. He pulled back from their kiss to assist her, the flush in his cheeks and need in his eyes equal to hers.

She’d seen the beginnings of him hard before, during times when their public flirtations had gone a little too far, but she’d never seen him bare, and she certainly hadn’t seen him completely erect. His length and girth both sent a pulse of need through her core.

He was already watching her face for a reaction when she pried her eyes away from his cock. Apparently, she had been looking at it a moment too long, because there was the ghost of a cocky grin on his face. She gave him her best fake-annoyed face.

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you’ve made many people very happy, Your Highness,” she needled. The cockiness fell away, leaving seriousness in its wake.

“I don’t care what anyone thinks—thought—of it, of me. I care what you think,” he said. She blinked, her teasing demeanor leaving her as quickly as it had come.

“I think you look perfect for me,” she said, sitting up and reaching with her right hand to grasp him gently, gliding her grip along the smooth skin. He sighed, a heady sound, as his cock twitched against her palm.

“Good,” he said, and she leaned forward to kiss his chest. He sounded as though he’d been genuinely afraid she wouldn’t like him.

“I hope I’ll be perfect for you, too,” she said. With that, he gently tipped her back onto the bed again, sliding her underwear off. She didn’t squirm even slightly under his gaze, not even when he leaned down to put his face level with her heat, glancing up at her for permission. She nodded, and when he lolled his tongue out for a long lick of her, she sighed in pleasure.

While he was in the middle of experimenting between quick flicks to her clit and spearing her center entirely with his tongue, a heavy knock came at the door that made them both jump.

“Your Grace, I’m here to look over Lady Darden, as you ordered,” came the voice of the head physician. Hyun Jin looked at her, panicked, his practiced courtly tongue failing him for once.

Too occupied by other things right then, apparently.

“I’m all right,” Darden called. “I’m feeling much better. I think I just had to drink a lot of water to flush it from my system.” Good on Hyun Jin for coming up with the allergy excuse. She’d alleviated mild allergic reactions that way in the past.

“That’s good news, indeed, but I should probably still look you over, just in case,” the physician called through the door. Bless the poor man; he was just trying to do his job.

“Really, I’m—”

Her sentence was cut off by her own cry of surprise as Hyun Jin pressed the tip of his cock between her folds.

“Come back in an hour,” he said, voice authoritative, his eyes glued to where his cockhead met her core. “I’m fucking her right now.”

Darden’s jaw fell open. He could have given her a hundred years to guess how he was going to respond and she never would have landed upon something so brazen as that. The physician seemed just as shocked, stammering some kind of excuse to leave and come back later, clearly choosing to pretend he hadn’t heard what the Sun Prince said.

“You’ve scarred him for life,” she hissed at Hyun Jin, though she was thoroughly amused.

“Scarred him?” he scoffed. “I’ve just given him the mental image of the most beautiful people in Auverraine having sex. I’d call that a blessing.”

“Gods dead and dying,” she swore, though she couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. It slowly fell away, though, as she watched Hyun Jin pull his cock back from her entrance, her wetness mingling with the pre-cum already on his tip.

“You have no idea how much restraint I just exercised,” he said. “I wanted to fuck all the way inside you so badly, but dry as I am I wouldn’t be able to do it as hard as I want.”

“Then let’s do something about it,” she said, sitting up. He lifted an eyebrow. “Lay down, Hyun Jin.”

He did as instructed, and she positioned herself over him so that her heat was over his face and her mouth dangerously close to his cock. “Get the idea?” she asked as she wrapped her fingers around his base and licked his messy tip. He didn’t even bother to respond verbally, instead gripping her hips and putting his tongue back to what it had been doing before they’d been interrupted, more fervent now. She moaned quietly as she licked him all over. He’d need to be plenty slick if she was going to have any chance of getting him down her throat, especially at this angle.

Hyun Jin’s tongue made it incredibly hard to focus on her task, and by the time she attempted taking him into her mouth, she was already whining around his cock, gagging a little bit as she attempted to take him too deep on the first try. He didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss because he moaned against her all the same, a pattern that continued as she started to bob up and down his shaft. He got easier to throat the more she drooled on him, making an absolute mess of both him and her mouth.

Likewise, Hyun Jin’s moans got louder and more frequent until he could no longer keep his mouth on her cunt and switched to his fingers. He skipped straight over one and went right to two, which made her groan with her mouth full, the vibration of which caused his cock to pulse from base to tip, making her gag again, this time intensely enough that she needed to pull off him.

“Sorry,” he moaned. “I can’t always control those.”

“You wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so damn big,” she said, entirely meaning it as a compliment, as she reached to pump his wet shaft. He groaned again, curling his fingers and working them against her front wall in a rhythm perfectly timed with hers.

“Hyun Jin, Hyun Jin, you’re gonna—”

She didn’t have the chance to finish her sentence. With his cock still in her hand, she leaned her forehead against his thigh, moaning as an orgasm shuddered through her. Hyun Jin eased up only the barest bit, taking the pressure off her front wall in favor of fucking his fingers in and out of her as she came around them.

“That should do it,” he said thoughtfully.

“Do what?” she asked, unable to parse a single complete thought right then.

“Make you wet enough to take me the way I want,” he said.

“How’s that?” she asked.

“Hard. Fast. Without restraint.”

She found herself nodding brainlessly against his thigh. Before she had truly processed it, Hyun Jin had slipped out from under her and was arranging her body the way he wanted it, which was pretty much the way she already was—face down and ass up—except with her hips raised up just that little bit more to play nicely with his stature.

Without any verbal warning, Hyun Jin thrust himself into her in one hard, quick stroke, making her shriek into the bed. He then just held himself there, perhaps taking stock of the way they fit together, perhaps enjoying the view. She had no idea. The only thing she could grasp right then was how good he felt. She wasn’t sure she’d ever been this full in her entire life.

“Fuck,” she whined.

“Good?” he asked. She nodded against the bed.

“Yes,” she said. “I can take you.”

“Perfect,” he murmured, and then he moved.

He hadn’t been exaggerating earlier when he said he didn’t want to restrain himself. He proved it now with every fervent slap of his pelvis against her wet cunt. She couldn’t keep quiet, moans and little cries accompanying each of his thrusts. Even then, at the height of sensation, she made sure to push back on him with each thrust, desperate to take him as deeply as he could go each time.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?” Hyun Jin ground out, his voice changed by pleasure. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve touched myself, thinking about this?”

“Probably as many times as I have,” she moaned. “You think I’m immune to you? You think you’re the only one that’s been tormented?”

He groaned at the compliments, redoubling his vigor, making her yelp and shove her face into the blankets. She didn’t want to scream, but if he kept going without break like that it might be inevitable. Still, she didn’t stop moving back against him, her sensitivity leading her shortly to another orgasm.

“Hyun Jin,” she gasped. “Hyun Jin, fuck—”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare.”

He flipped her over then, hooking one of her knees over his shoulder so he could split her in half while seeing her face. That’s what it felt like to orgasm over something so big—like she was being split in half. She was certain her face was flushed, her expression dazed, and it only drove him to fuck her harder.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, an oddly pure sentiment given the situation. “I wanted you to see me.”

She met his eyes, panting past moans in time to his thrusts. “You’re beautiful, Hyun Jin. You’re beautiful and you feel so good and I love you so much.”

His hips stuttered at that, and he stared down at her, momentarily stunned. “You do?”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. A bewildered smile played over his features as he gazed down at her.

“And here I was, so afraid I was going to lose you once this was all over,” he said.

“The only thing that could keep me from you would be you telling me that’s what you want,” she told him. He laced his fingers with hers, pinning her hands to the bed while he leaned forward to kiss her. Her knee was still hooked over his shoulder, pushing her thigh against her body. It all had the added effect of digging his cock even deeper inside her. She whimpered.

“I love you, too,” he murmured against her lips. She tightened the leg over his shoulder, making him kiss her again. When she finally let his mouth go, he groaned, “Fuck, that’s sexy.”

“Not as sexy as coming inside me would be, I’d wager,” she said. His eyes sprang open, staring at her.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he said.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “You couldn’t get me pregnant if you wanted to. Don’t be too disgusted with me, but the reason I’m able to channel death magic is because I’ve been dead. Twice. My body doesn’t have the capacity to make life anymore.”

He stared at her like she was a wonder, a marvel, a fallen goddess herself rather than just a vessel for the power of one. “Where have you been, Darden?” he asked, sounding like his heart was breaking for her. “What have you suffered?”

“I’ll tell you later,” she said, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Right now, I want you to finish making love to me. I want to feel you, warm and alive inside me. I want you to show me your love in this way, too.”

He kissed her again, deep and hard, and started to move in her again. The kiss rapidly degenerated into panting, whining, and the stroking of desperate tongues against one another.

“Please, Hyun Jin,” she moaned, barely able to keep her eyes open through the ecstasy, the sensation. “I need you to fill me. I need to feel you as deep in me as you can possibly go.”

When he finally shattered, it was with a series of broken moans calling her name, calling her his love. She could feel him spreading hotly inside her, his body trembling as he filled her, his hips shuddering through their last few motions before he pressed all the way into her one last time and stayed there. She watched his face in rapture and her heart ached with a need so great she felt unable to hold it all. So she held him, instead, and knew he would share the weight of it.

For the next minute, the only movement between them was to put her leg back at a normal angle. They shivered together, dewy where their bodies met, Hyun Jin refusing to pull out of her even as he softened. Her hands were on his back, in his hair, pressing soothing patterns into his skin as he came back down.

“Thank you,” she murmured, and he pulled back from where his face had been buried in her shoulder to look at her.

“Thank you,” he said, like he’d done nothing and she’d done everything.

“You were perfect,” she said, watching his eyes as they turned bashful. She pushed his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, committing his shy, gentle smile to memory, the way it suffused his entire face with joy.

“So were you,” he said, and then leaned to gently kiss her reddened lips. The kiss was slow but sloppy, conveying all the emotions they had left over even once their bodies were spent. “I’m never letting you go,” he murmured, his lips bumping hers with every syllable, unwilling as he was to pull all the way back from her.

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said.

“Please do,” he answered, then finally moved off of her, letting her crawl on top of him instead. There were still the matters of the mess to clean up and of the physician who was certain to return, but right then, the only thing she could bring herself to care about was the beating of his heart, steady and sure beneath her cheek.

#kpop smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x oc #hyunjin oneshot

114 notes · View notes

frozenprocedural · 2 years ago

Text

TDOE Day 4- Nightmare before Christmas

Here’s day four! Set in @couragedontdesertme‘s Big Hero 6 AU once more, takes place after the TRUE ending.

Alarik and Jenny belong to @patricia-von-arundel.

Nightmare Before Christmas

Rating: T (for some swearing, imagery- nothing graphic).

The explosion almost caused him to bite Elsa's lip in surprise, and when they pulled apart, Alarik was horrified to see a gout of flame burst through the shattered windows. Even from where they stood, he could feel the heat.

His horror grew when he remembered Anna had gone back in to begin cleaning their presentation area.

Alarik was running, only realizing he was doing so when Elsa screamed his name. He turned to find her at the base of the steps, coming up after him.

"Stay here!"

I can't lose you.

“I can come in, I can help, please don’t go there alone, I need to get-”

Unconsciously, his eyes drifted to her still-flat belly, and he shook his head furiously.

I can't lose our baby.

“No Elsa, no, it’s too dangerous in there-”

"ANNA is in there!"

"I'll get her. I'll get back. I lo-"

Another explosion, one he felt in his chest, and he turned and ran in, wishing he could say the rest.

I love you. But you can lose me.

Outside, the heat had been intense. Inside, he was almost knocked backwards when it struck him like a physical blow. Someone rushed past him, screaming, just as he cleared the doorway. A beat, and he realized it was Anna. He turned, ready to follow her out, only to be met with the sight and sound of the doorway crumbling behind her, nearly striking him as he dove clear.

Trapped.

Alarik pushed himself off the floor, tugging the collar of his shirt over his nose in a vain attempt to keep from breathing in the acrid smoke. There was movement in his periphery, and when he looked, he saw a figure bolting into a somewhat clear hallway. With no other option, Alarik followed.

It wasn't until he burst inside that Alarik realized he was back in the convention hall. Not only that, but right to the space where, a mere hour earlier, Elsa had presented her nanobots. The flames hadn't reached the hall yet, and while hazy, it was clear enough for Alarik to make out the figure, not running as he would have assumed, but instead rifling through the papers and posters on the table.

"Hey! What-" the words died on Alarik's lips when he got a good look at the man.

Red hair, thick sideburns. Hans Westergard, Alarik's former roommate. It was he who'd offered an immense sum for Elsa's nanobots. But she'd trusted her instincts, turning him down. And now he held a slim flash drive in his hand, the same flash drive that held the nanobot blueprints.

And somehow, Alarik knew Hans was the one responsible for the fire. Responsible for putting Anna's, and who knew how many others', lives in danger.

Rage colored Alarik's world red, and his feet were moving even before his brain realized it. He slammed his entire body into Hans', somehow managing to catch the flash drive as it flew from the other man's hand. Without missing a beat, Alarik raced back to the hall. With a silent apology to Elsa, he hurled the flash drive into the raging flames with all his strength, feeling a rush of satisfaction when the device disappeared into the heart of the inferno.

"Fucking son of a bitch!"

Something hard slammed into the back of Alarik's head, and he dropped to his knees, sparks exploding across his vision. Something cold and hard pressed against his skull.

"You just cost me everything, you fucking bastard! You're- Wait."

The gun- he assumed that was what had been pressed against him- left, and Hans knelt in front of him, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking his head up. Through his clearing vision, Alarik saw Hans' face split into a terrifying smile.

"Alarik Geatland. How wonderful to see you again. Maybe you've just saved yourself."

Alarik tried to shove the gun away, only to choke when the barrel was shoved against his trachea.

"Stop that. Now, I'm going to give you two choices. One, I shoot you and let the fire burn your corpse and the evidence. Two, you come with me, and to everyone else, you die. Your choice." Hans eased the gun from his throat, although he didn't entirely remove it.

He knew then Hans' assumption- that Alarik, not Elsa, had been the one to create the nanobots. Despite the fact there was a gun to his throat, Alarik felt fury rise over the misogyny of the presumption. He gritted his teeth, biting back the instinct to correct Hans.

There was no way he would let this monster anywhere near Elsa and their unborn child. Even if he may never see them again.

"I'll go with you." he gritted out.

Hans smirked and rose, keeping the gun trained on Alarik. "You were always a smart man. Get up, and head to that door." He motioned to an exit on the other side of the convention hall with his empty hand. "Try to run or do anything stupid, and I shoot you."

Alarik rose, feeling tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He turned before Hans could see them, then let them fall. Each step took him further and further from Elsa, away from his love. And while he was still alive, he didn't know how much longer that would continue- eventually it would come out that he knew nothing about the nanobots, save for the conversations he'd had with Elsa.

And there was nothing to say that he'd be allowed to live if by some miracle he managed to recreate the bots. And as far as Elsa would be concerned, he was already dead.

He bit his lip- hard- and forced back the sob that threatened to escape. No. He refused to simply lie down and accept that fate. He would do everything in his power, until he had no breath left, to reunite with his family. To be there to raise their child.

Just as he stepped outside, a heavy force pinned him to the wall by his throat. Alarik kicked and struggled, but he may well have fought steel.

"He's coming with us, Mikkel. Let him breathe."

The pressure eased off of Alarik's throat, although the giant of a man- taller and bulkier than Kristoff- remained close. Mikkel had the same red hair as Hans, although his was done in a buzz cut.

"Thought you were grabbing blueprints."

Hans made a dismissive gesture, although Alarik noticed his face had a slight flush. "There's been a change of plans. He's making the nanobots. Bring him to the car."

Mikkel glanced sidelong at Hans' retreating figure, but said nothing. He grabbed Alarik's shoulders and started marching him to the waiting black vehicle, ignoring Alarik's protests that he could walk by himself, and wouldn't be able to get anywhere.

Just as Mikkel reached for the car door, Hans stopped him again.

"Wait, bring him over there." He motioned to the trees by the parking lot, then ducked inside the car, raising his voice slightly to be heard. "We need to make sure people think he's dead."

As Mikkel steered Alarik to the copse, Hans emerged with a massive pair of bolt cutters in hand. Alarik's blood ran cold and he yelled in terror. Despite knowing both men were likely armed, he lunged forward, desperately trying to escape.

Mikkel caught him easily, wrapping an arm around his neck. Alarik scratched and kicked, but Mikkel only increased the pressure until he could barely breathe. Hans grabbed Alarik's left arm and stretched it, examining his hand.

"The wedding band should add a nice touch, don't you think?"

If Alarik could have screamed, he would have. As it was, he could only attempt to pull his arm away, an attempt easily foiled by Mikkel's free hand grasping his wrist.

Hans eased the blades of the bolt cutters around Alarik's ring finger-

"ALARIK!"

He bolts upright, halfway to his feet before even realizing what he's doing. The room is dim, his eyes slow to adjust, and all he can see, can feel, are the blades closing on his finger.

"Alarik." A softer tone, but firm. "It's alright. You're safe."

A light flicks on, and Alarik blinks against the sudden brightness. He's not at the convention center, nor pinned against a tree moments from amputation. He's in a bedroom, the bedroom he shares with-

"Elsa?"

She's there, sitting up in their bed, hand outstretched. He eases back, settling into her embrace, and as her arms encircle him, the tears come.

"Oh, Alarik."

He wants to apologize for his weakness- it's been five months since he came back- but he can't stop the sobs that shake his entire body.

Elsa cards her hand through his hair, murmuring soft words of reassurance, then simply humming- a soft tune he recognizes as one she often sings to Jenny. He clings to her, breathing in her scent, pressing his head against her chest to hear her heartbeat. How long it takes for his sobs to subside, he doesn't know, but eventually they reduce to soft whimpers.

"Thank you, Olaf."

He hadn't even heard the robot approach.

"Of course. Can I get anything else?"

"A cool washcloth, please."

"Of course."

Repetitive squeaking fades away as Olaf makes his way to the bathroom. Elsa offers Alarik a tissue, and he takes it, wiping at his eyes. Moments later, the squeaking returns, and a cool cloth is pressed to his forehead, wiping away the sweat.

"You shouldn't have to deal with this. I should be over this!" Alarik bunches the tissue in his hand, unable to look at Elsa. He can't stop staring at the space where his ring finger used to be.

Elsa's hand comes into his vision, covering his own. "Alarik." When he doesn't look up, she twines her fingers with his and squeezes. "You experienced severe trauma. It's only been five months. It's going to take time to recover. And I am your wife. I'm here through good times and bad."

When he doesn't respond, she takes his right hand, the one that now holds his ring, pressing it to her own. He sighs, curling his fingers around hers and bringing her ring to his lips.

"Thank you."

Any reply she may have is interrupted by a sharp cry, and they both look to the bassinet in the corner.

"Let me," Alarik says, placing a hand on Elsa's shoulder when she starts to rise. "Please?"

Elsa nods, sinking back into the pillows. She certainly doesn't mind watching him with their daughter- the wide grin on his face, the soft shushing noises he makes, and his gentle movements as he cradles Jenny close.

But it's the look on his face, the pure love he has for Jenny, that strikes Elsa the most. She once thought he would never hold their daughter, and even now she still tears up watching him.

"I think she's hungry."

Elsa is glad he's watching Jenny- it gives her time to brush away her tears before removing her night shirt. She must have missed some, however, for once Jenny is latched on, Alarik wipes a thumb under her eye.

"Are you alright?"

She smiles, sliding closer to him. He wraps an arm around her.

"I'm fine. It's good to be here with you."

He's silent for a moment, just tracing gentle patterns on her arm. Then he kisses the top of her head, and she can feel his body relax.

"It's good to be here with my family."

#tdoe #tdoe 2022 #elsarik #big hero 6 au

6 notes · View notes

lancedoncrimsonwings · 3 months ago

Text

Augusnippets Day 12

Path of Whumperless Whump Prompt; "Trapped"

Day 12 of @augusnippets August 2024 Whump writing challenge! (Augusnippets Masterlist)

Characters;

- POV/Whumpee: Gawain - The Green Knight

- Kaze (Cursed, Netflix)

(Character Masterlist)

(Ao3 Link)

Wordcount; 500

TWs; crippled, physical disability, chronic injury, aggrivating wounds, battle, paralysis, abandoned, caught/captured, pain/chronic pain.

A cry tore from his lips as pain exploded in Gawain's lower back, legs buckling beneath him. Icy numbness trickled down from his hip to his feet like water washing over him.

The impromptu fall aided him in avoiding a blow from the enemy he battled, steel clashing with stone mere milimeters above his skull. Gawain reacted on pure instinct, driving his sword up and through the side of his assailant, gritting his teeth in a feral snarl towards the body that thumped against the ground before him. Thankfully it was the last of the group now that Gawain's sister-in-arms, Kaze, had dispatched her own foes.

Oh fuck that was a mistake.

The agony from daring to move hit like trampled by horses, victorious sneer brutally ripped from his face. Gawain groaned, swearing, hand flying to clutch at his injured back where he knelt.

"Come on, we have to go!" Kaze hissed at him, grabbing at his arm and hesitating when her movement was enough to make Gawain scream again.

He tried to stand despite it but his legs just wouldn't respond. His spine pulsed with agony, wracking through him as it siezed him completely.

"Aaagh! No, I can't..." Gawain cried, eyes squeezing shut. The realisation of the truth in his own words sunk in as he began to make sense of what had just happened.

Clearly his broken spine was re-injured, his legs utterly useless, and now? Now he was trapped here in the den of his enemy.

"You must!" Kaze told him, trying again to drag him upright. It took everything Gawain had to shove her away, curling up on himself, stars dancing about his vision, ears ringing, threatening him with the promise that if he moved again then he would in fact pass out or vomit, and it would quite decidedly be his spine that decided which of the two it would be.

"Leave me," Gawain told her softly, "Go."

"Are you mad?! I won't leave you behind!" Kaze snarled, now attempting to hook her arm under his.

"Get out of here!" Gawain shouted, agony lending his voice strength as he struggled against her. Before Kaze could reply they were both distracted, their attention simultaneously snapping up to the ominous sound of distant footsteps from the far end of the corridoor.

Shit...

"Go, Kaze. That's an order." He begged, praying that she'd listen, that she'd at least save herself if there was no escape for him.

Kaze gave him one last sorrowful look before she drew back, bowed her head and bolted.

Gawain whimpered as he tried once more to stand to no avail. Desperately he dragged himself forwards, scrabbling away from the inbound enemies with all his might. Hands clawed the ground bloody, heart pounding, spine screaming, the footsteps behind him growing louder and louder, rounding the corner behind him...

...Halting as they came upon him.

Gawain slumped against the wall in defeat, turned to stare up at his enemy.

"My my... What do we have here?"

#augusnippets day 12 #augusnippets 2024 #augusnippets #tw: whump disability #tw: paralysis #whump writer #whump paralysis #captured #captured whump

1 note · View note

darling-i-read-it · 3 years ago

Text

Lipstick

Karl Heisenberg x reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: borderline nsfw like I thought real hard about it, weapons, talks of murder, slight spoilers for resident evil 8

Author’s Note: just impulsively wrote this and am posting it promptly after writing so it has not been edited. Besties im down bad about this sarcastic basterd (also if anyone wants a nsfw part 2...i am willing to provide) (or any other requests for him and Alcina, my favorite bi panic people rn)

Summary: You run into Ethan in Castle Dimitrescu on your way back to the factory.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

(not my gif)

Ethan Winters genuinely just wanted his daughter back. He was so sick and tired of going through this village in an attempt to save her, running into every possible inconvenience he could find and knowing that he would probably lose fingers fighting them.

Castle Dimitrescu was vast and regal. He might have liked it if he wasn’t running for his and his daughters' lives from the four vampires that lived there.

He was crouched down, holding a gun up as he walked very quietly and carefully throughout the house so as to not alert any of the Dimitrescu daughters. He opened one of the unlocked doors carefully and immediately stopped moving at the sight of someone.

You wore no cloak, to signify that you were a daughter and you were much shorter than the lady of the house. You grabbed one of the lipsticks that Alicna had plenty of and leaned over the vanity to see how it looked on you.

Ethan stood up and held the gun up to your head. You raised an eyebrow, looking at him from the mirror reflection.

“Who are you?” he asked, voice rough. Rougher than his face looked. You put on the lipstick and then rubbed your lips together.

“Do you think this is my color?” He shoved the gun further into your head and you scoffed. “Fine fine. Not one for makeup eh?” You put your hands up and turned around. He let you sit down on the vanity but not without his gun still pointing at your skull. You seemed unphased which would have been weird if Ethan wasn’t incredibly desensitized to everything ever.

“Who are you? Are you one of the vampires? One of the other family members? Who are you?!” You put your hands slowly down on your lap. He let you, but you were testing his patience.

“Not quite.” You gestured to him. “I’m human. Like you. Well not like you, I’m completely human, no mutations or anything done.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he hissed. You waved him off.

“If you hurt me, you will have Karl on your head and I imagine it won’t be pretty. It’s the only way I can get from Castle to Castle unharmed,” you told him.

“Karl?”

“You know, fun hat, frizzy hair, has that big hammer thing. Karl.”

“Heisenberg?” You nodded.

“Yes Ethan, I thought you were smarter than this.” Ethan shook his head quickly and then regained focus, his hand holding the gun shaking a bit.

“Where’s Rose?” You shrugged.

“Fuck if I know Ethan Winters. I’m just the person who lives in a factory and becomes a nuisance for each and every Lord.” He jabbed the gun at your head and you didn’t even flinch.

“You’re lying.”

“Truthfully, I am not. If I knew where Rose was I would at least give you a hint, just to make it interesting.”

“What is Heisenberg to you?” he asked. You smiled a bit, crossing your legs.

“I’m Heisenberg's...girlfriend for lack of a better word. Whatever Mia was to you.” His mind flashed back to Mia. He had barely been able to mourn her. He shook the thought out of his head.

“You know how to get out of here and get Rose yes?”

“I know how to get out of here. How to get Rose, I have no idea. We’ve been over this.”

“But Heisenberg knows and if I can bring you to him, he can tell me.” You shook your head gently.

“Ethan sweetie...I could call for Alcina or the girls at any time and they would be in here in seconds to tear you to pieces.”

“Not before I could pull this trigger.”

“Again, if you so much as scratch me, you’ll never breath non metal infused air again.” Ethan shook his head gently and took a deep breath. He grabbed the gun at you again. He was silent and then he lowered it.

“I’ll just be going then,” he muttered, defeated. You nodded pleasantly and stood up from sitting on the vanity. You put the lipstick back on it. You walked forward and put your hand on Ethan’s shoulder. He looked you in the eyes.

“Good luck Ethan Winters.” You started to leave but turned to him. “I do suggest that in order to save your daughter you don’t kill Alicna’s in the process.”

“Any bits of advice then?” You put your hand on the doorknob and turned it, opening it just a tad.

“Grab the masks for the main room. Do you have a map?” He handed it to you, a tattered old piece of paper. You grabbed the lipstick again and marked some places. “Avoid hurting them as much as you can.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“I don’t like Mother Miranda. I don’t trust Mother Miranda. She is the one who has your daughter I’m sure or she must know where she is. But the Dimitrescus and Karl...even Donna for that matter, are people I like and trust.”

You stepped back outside the room.

“If I hear you’ve killed any of the daughters, I’ll tell them what I know of you. If you think the Dimitrescus are scary, just wait until you meet Donna.”

You shut the door in his face. Ethan shivered.

====

You walked up the stairs to the second floor. You knocked on the door of Alcinas room and she swang it open. She took a sigh of relief.

“Thank God. I thought you were Ethan Winters.”

“You think Ethan would knock before coming in?” She scoffed. You held her the lipstick you were wearing.

“Where did you find that?”

“Downstairs where I ran into Ethan,” you said honestly. Her eyes went wide and her lips pursed in annoyance.

“Did you see the girls?”

“No but I’m sure one of them ran into him as he left the room. He was only there a couple of minutes ago, it shouldn't be that hard to find him.” She walked past you without saying goodbye. You huffed. “You’re welcome!”

=====

You made it back to the factory in just a couple of minutes. You had gotten so used to the walk that you were on autopilot the whole time before you were back to your room. Karl was already there, clearly taking a quick break before returning to his never ending work day.

“Where did you go?!” he asked, walking up to you from the bathroom. He put his hand on your arm and you grabbed his glasses which were hanging from his shirt. He had shed the jacket and hat, clearly about to shower.

“Relax, I was just at Alcinas castle,” you told him gently. He let out an annoyed exaggerated sigh that you knew all too well.

“How is my sister?” he asked. You took the lipstick out of your pocket. Alcina hadn’t actually taken it in her fit of rage to go and get Ethan. Now you had something extra for your own personal vanity back at the factory.

“Shy of one more lipstick.” You walked past him into the bathroom. He followed you as you placed it carefully on your vanity. You admired it for a second with a smile on your face. You wrapped an arm around yourself and turned back to him. You hoisted yourself onto the bathroom counter. “I ran into Ethan Winters.”

His face, which had been admiring your new addition to the vanity which was full of stolen things and things he had acquired for you, turned sour. Karl put his hand on your arm and raised it, checking your side and arm for injuries.

“I told you not to leave the room until he was caught,” he grumbled. He was trying to act like he hadn’t been worried about you from the second he realized you were gone. He was trying to ignore the fact that he himself almost stomped to each of the Lord’s castles to make sure you were alright. He didn’t want you to run into Ethan Winters, that was his worst nightmare. Ethan didn’t have any regard for you. Ethan just wanted Rose. “Are you hurt?” You shook your head.

“No. He asked me if I knew where Rose was and held a gun to my head but in the end we parted ways peacefully.”

“You could have brought him back here,” he muttered.

“I told Alcina where he was. I figured she could take care of him. You already had your shot.” He rolled his eyes and his grip on your arm tightened.

“You could have been seriously hurt. The Lord’s won’t hurt you but Mother Miranda might, Ethan might have.” You brought your free hand up to his cheek and leaned forward so your lips were just barely brushing over his.

“I can take care of myself.” He pressed a harsh kiss against your lips and made a low groaning noise. He let go of your arm to grab your leg and part them so that he could stand between your thighs. He dipped his head to kiss you and you pressed your body against him, feeling every inch of his breathing.

There was a harsh rasp at the door and he pulled away. You grabbed his neck and shook his head, kissing his jaw and peppering kisses down his neck.

“Come on, Mother Miranda doesn’t need you that bad,” you whispered. You pressed a long kiss to his jaw again and he had to physically tear himself away, however much it pained him.

“She might,” he grumbled. You held him until he moved too far away for you to. You groaned and put your head against the wall beside the mirror.

“Maybe I should go and find Ethan Winters again to finish the job. I mean he may only have eight fingers but he’s stayed alive this long and-” He grabbed your arm that was waving around as you spoke and looked you dead in the eyes.

“I will finish the job. You just sit tight kitten.” You kissed his knuckles and then let him go.

“Better be quick Karl. I get very restless very easily.”

He put on his hat and coat (the opposite of either of you wanted in the moment) and slammed the door in frustration against Mother Miranda behind him.

You took a deep breath and hoped he wouldn’t be gone too long.

NSFW Part 2

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagines #heisenberg imagines #resident evil 8 imagines

774 notes · View notes

whatisthiswritingthing · 4 years ago

Text

Mood Octopus - Christen Press X Reader

Prompt: Okay I have an idea and I really think you’ll do it justice. R is dating Christen and after a while R buys christen one of those mood octopus. So christen carries it everywhere and the second she turns it to mad R is doing everything she can to make Christen feel better. One instance at camp everyone kinda takes notes cuz why didn’t they think of getting SO one

“Hey Chris, check out this video I saw of a dog,” Y/N handed her phone over to Christen, briefly pausing her conversation with Ali who was standing in front of her, “sorry Ali, what were you saying?”

Ali just watched the interaction confused; Christen’s blank face slowly changed to have a small smile on her face, though not quite reaching her eyes yet. Christen handed the phone back to Y/N wordlessly, the smile dropping. Y/N shoulders slumped while she watched Christen sit in her locker next to her.

Continuing a casual conversation with Ali, Y/N rummaged through her bag at the same time. She pulled out a small bag of gummy candies, wordlessly placing them on Christens lap. Y/N looked back towards Ali and continued talking as if she hadn’t stopped talking. Ali furrowed her eyebrows, hesitated but kept talking as well, glancing back and forth between the couple.

Christen just slowly picked at the candy, squishing the gummies between her fingers, playing with them before tossing them into her mouth one at a time. Her eyes stayed focused on the ground, her leg anxiously bouncing up and down.

Y/N kept glancing toward her girlfriend, she bit her lip, trying to think of why Christen would be so quiet today. Everyone was slowly getting changed after practice, Christen has practiced well, nothing stood out that would upset the older woman during it. But she didn’t even smile in the direction of the group of younger players attempting to learn another new Tik Tok dance.

Y/N leaned over, tugging Christen’s sweater off the hanger, replacing it with her own. Christen quickly pulled her practice jersey off and slipped Y/N’s sweater on. She left the hood up, nestling her nose below the collar over her nose, she fisted the cuffs of the sleeves her hands and leaned back in her locker.

Satisfied her girlfriend was content for now, Y/N began to change as well, Ali watching confused and slowing getting ready herself. Once both were ready to go, Y/N immediately grabbed Christens bag from her as they made their way towards the bus. Christen kept the hood up and face partially tucked into the collar, burrowing herself into the larger frame of her girlfriend.

As they walked into the hotel, a staff member called Christens name, “this was delivered about a couple minutes ago,” they handed off a small, decorated bakery box and coffee cup.

Christen pulled her face from the sweater, thanking the staff and taking the box and coffee, tilting her head towards her girlfriend, “thank you Y/N.” she mumbled, leaning back into her side while they entered the elevator.

“Hey Y/N, I like coffee and baking too,” Alex nudged the couple as she walked in behind them.

“Hmm you do?” Y/N smiled at the forward, tightening her arm around Christens shoulder.

“I do,” Alex nodded.

“Meh too bad you aren’t my girlfriend then,” the doors opened, and they all walked out, Christen giggling into Y/N’s neck.

Y/N glanced down, smile wide, satisfied she had cheered her girlfriend up for the time being.

Y/N’s eyebrows creased when she walked into Chritens room later that night where a group of them would be watching a movie. Christen had her mood octopus flipped to the upset side sitting on the end table next her bed. She stopped talking to Tobin and focused on her girlfriend instead.

“Good talk,” Tobin mumbled and moved to the other bed. Ali and Ashlyn laughing at the girls pout.

“Don’t take it personal Tobs, she did that to me too in the change room today,” Ali chuckled.

They all watched as Y/N gently lifted Christen, sliding her body in behind, then tugging her into her chest, leaning down to whisper something softly into her ear. Christens lips shifted into a small smile the more Y/N spoke, the couple the only people aware of what was being said. Y/N’s hands rested on Christen’s thigh, slowly and gently massaging them. The tension in Christen’s body slowly released and she leaned more of her weight into Y/N’s chest, not saying a word the entire time.

After a few minute of gentle massaging, Y/N shifted her hands to Christens forearms, working the muscles there. Pulling one wrist into to her lips, kissing the palm, before guiding her hand back down and working both hands up and down Christens arms.

Christen pulled herself out of Y/N’s arms slightly, leaning to the end table and flipping the octopus to the happy side before settling back into Y/N and pulling arms around her.

“Alright you two weirdos, what is your deal today? You guys are always sickly sweet, but it’s excessive today,” Alex teased them from across the room.

“Christen was having a bad day,” Y/N shrugged, hold tightening slightly.

“But what’s the octopus for?”

“It’s a mood octopus, I got it for Chris so she could tell me how she’s feeling without having to say anything. She can flip it to the upset side based off how she’s feeling that day,” Y/N placed a gentle kiss to Christen neck, more to settle herself than anything. It was a cute idea that was supposed to stay between the couple. A way for them to communicate without everyone knowing what was going on. Y/N wasn’t always the best at displaying her emotions or feelings, but she wanted to be able to be there when Christen needed her, so she got her the mood octopus.

“Then Y/N just does little things for me to make me feel better, until I feel ready to flip it back to the happy side,” Christen gave Y/N’s hands both a discrete squeeze, knowing how her girlfriend felt about displays of feelings.

“Ash, why don’t you do stuff like that for me?’ Ali playfully smacked the keepers chest, smiling when the keeper pulled her phone put.

“Already ahead of you babe,” Ashlyn turned the phone so the defender could see the screen with Amazon app pulled up, mood octopus already in the cart.

“But how do you know what to do for Christen?”

“I don’t,” Y/N shrugged again, shyly burrowing her nose into Christens neck, “I just start small and see what works and doesn’t. Her love languages are words of affirmation and physical touch. But they’re hard to do with the whole team around, so I usually have small things she likes with me,” she blushed, pressing her face closed to Christen.

“You are talking to Servando next time you see him and teaching him this,” Alex told her seriously. Y/N nodded, blushing even deeper.

Christen twisted her head and kissed Y/N on the forehead, Y/N dipping her head down even more, blush spreading further up the back of her neck.

“I didn’t know that,” Christen scratched her nails into the baby hair at the base of Y/N’s skull, “what all do you carry to give me?”

The other girls all leaning forward to get their own ideas.

“A variety of stuff, I never know what you’re going to need, so I want to be prepared,” Y/N sighed and leaned back, pulling her face out of Christen neck. “I have a bunch of videos and memes for when you need a laugh or a smile, little snacks you like if you’re hungry, or I’ll switch out my clothes with yours because I know you like how they smell.”

Christen pulled back a little bit, surprised at how much thought her girlfriend put into the small plush toy.

“Can you write me instructions for when mine arrives?” Ashlyn teased, partially serious. Ali smacked her on the chest again, chuckling.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #christen press x reader #christen press imagine

522 notes · View notes

gubler-me-up · 4 years ago

Text

Easy Work

Request: Hi. Could do a fic where reader is the last person the team suspect to be badass? She's the baby of the team. They're on a case, and she takes down an un-sub 3 times her weight and size, and arrests him all by herself. Spencer, who fancies her, is the most shocked, after Morgan and they all agree never to mess with the baby of the team again.

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! I hope this is badass enough for you! I tried my best to make the reader as fierce as possible. Hope you enjoy it and it sparks your inner fighter 🤼‍♀️

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!reader

Category: Angst? Fluff? Angsty fluff?

Content warning: Mentions of violence, bones popping out, aggression

Word count: 2k

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

“Remember Thomas Wilson is most likely armed, so be careful where you go. Do your checks before entering any space he can possibly be hiding out in,” Hotch told the team.

All seven of you made your way to the SUV’s to go to the location Garcia had sent to your phones. It had been a week of nonstop tracking this guy and his actions only kept escalating. He was known for his firearm skills as he was military trained. From the picture and information Garcia found on him, he was a 6’5, 280 pounds and in good shape.

You hopped in the car with Morgan and Reid as Hotch, JJ, Emily and Rossi took the other SUV. You sat in the back while Morgan drove and Spencer was in the passenger seat. You usually rode with Hotch, but Morgan insisted you ride with him. He saw you as his little sister, so he didn’t want you to get hurt on his watch. You told him he should keep an eye on Reid over you in the field.

To be fair, the whole team saw you as a child to be protected. Being the youngest of the group was annoying when it came to being out on the field. Everyone felt as if they had to put their lives at risk to protect you even though you had reassured them on several occasions you could protect yourself. Even Garcia said she would go out of her way to beat an unsub up for you if need be and she wouldn’t even hurt a fly.

“Do you think he’s at this location?” You asked out of the blue.

“Well, Garcia picked up his phone signal there. If he’s not there and it’s a trap, we already have bomb squad on the way to detect if anything’s off,” Morgan answered.

You looked out the window into the night sky as you thought about Thomas Wilson’s profile. He was dishonourably discharged from the military after he physically assaulted his commander. This led him to want to take revenge on any ex-military higher-ups and their families. He had broken into three homes where he physically beat his commanders before ending their lives by one bullet hole through their skull. If their wife was there, he would shoot them execution-style.

Everything he did was organized and deliberate. It was out of character for him to have his phone on him or even a detectable signal. It was even stranger he would be out in no man’s land of Tennessee rather in Memphis where his murders took place.

“I think he’s setting us up for something bad,” Reid said.

“You think so too, right? Do you think this is his end game? Taking us down with him?” You asked.

“Well, we’re about to find out,” Morgan said.

As everyone drove down the dimly lit back roads to the location Garcia gave you, you still felt as if something wasn’t right. You looked out into the farmland into an abyss of never-ending darkness. You sighed out of frustration as you knew Wilson was up to something foul. Morgan heard your sigh and glimpsed at you from the rearview mirror.

“Calm down, Y/N. No need to feel scared,” he said.

“Scared? You think I’m scared of this guy?” You scoffed.

“A little, yeah. Don’t worry, Reid and I have your back,” he assured you.

You rolled your eyes. “I have my own back, but thanks for the offer.”

“Y/N I can pick you up with my pinky finger and not crack a sweat,” he joked.

“Keep joking like that and I’ll take a needle and pop both of your inflated biceps,” you snapped back.

“I think Y/N might be right about something being off,” Reid interrupted.

Morgan pulled into a long driveway leading up to an abandoned farmhouse. The other half of the team were already there along with the police officers who had trailed behind them. The bomb squad was there as well checking for any possible bombs he had planted. The team was scouring the area for any sign of Wilson, but it didn’t appear as if they were having any luck.

Morgan, Reid and you hopped out of the SUV, guns in one hand and flashlights in another as you walked up to the rest of the team. You made sure to be on high alert. There weren’t any lights passed the driveway, so it was the perfect set up for something out of the blue to happen.

You looked out into the fields as you tried to see if there was any movement. You felt someone touch your shoulder. You quickly turned around with your gun pointed to whoever was touching you. It was Reid behind you with a concerned look. You sighed as you lowered your gun.

“Spence, you can’t be sneaking up on me in the dark like this,” you said.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Just checking to make sure you’re okay,” he said.

“I’ll be okay when we catch this-”

“Everyone stand back!”

You and Reid turned to look over to the farmhouse. The bomb squad had opened the door and from what you could see was a man strapped to a chair. You squinted your eyes a bit to see what was strapped around him. As from what you could tell it was a bomb.

“I knew it,” you mumbled to yourself.

“What?” Reid asked.

“I knew this was a trap. He has to be somewhere close,” you said.

You looked off to your right side as you looked into the field again. You didn’t know why, but you started walking in that direction. You felt in your gut there was something or someone out there looking back at you.

“Y/N, where are you going?” Reid asked as he grabbed your arm.

You looked back at him. “He’s out there.”

He looked around to see where, but couldn’t see anything. He looked at you confused. You pulled your arm away from him as you continued your walk towards the darkness of the field.

“Don’t go out there by yourself,” he said.

You whipped your head around to look at him. “Well, are you gonna just stand there or follow me?”

“Let’s at least notify the team before w-”

“There’s a man with a bomb around him right now. We don’t have time to plan out a big manhunt. We just have to hunt.”

You turned back around and held your gun up with your flashlight below it. You picked up your pace as you went through the field. You could hear Reid’s footsteps behind you as he followed you closely.

“Hey, what are you guys doing?” You heard Hotch yell out.

You ignored him as you continued your journey through the fields. You knew you weren’t supposed to be doing this, but you felt useless just standing there waiting and hoping the bomb squad would deactivate the bomb. You soon heard someone running from behind you. You sighed out of frustration as you knew who it was.

You turned around to see Morgan sprinting towards you and Reid. He looked as if he was going to yell at you for straying from the group, but his concern over you overshadowed it. You rolled your eyes as you were getting tired of Morgan and everyone else on the team thinking you were incapable of anything.

“Y/N, you’re walking aimlessly into a field with no idea where this guy is? Is this what you learned during training?” He asked.

“I learned not to stand there and do nothing. He’s out there somewhere just watching us,” you said.

“Well, at least bring a couple of us along with you for extra precaution,” he said.

“I have Reid. Isn’t that enough?” You said.

“I just feel as if it’s best to have someone more physically capable with you two,” he said.

You scoffed. “Are you saying Reid and I aren’t physically capable to hold our own? That’s a bold statement to make.”

“Reid’s proved he can be physical when need be, but you? You’ve been in the field for a year and you’re a bit small, so it’s easy for you to be overpowered.”

“It’s easy for me to be overpowered? Derek, I can kick some serious a-”

Before your sentence could be completed there were shots fired from the direction you were going in. Reid immediately pushed you down as he and Morgan crouched down to the ground. You looked over to where the shots were coming from and you could see a dark figure running away. Your adrenaline raced through your body as you jumped up and started sprinting towards him.

“Y/N,” Morgan yelled.

His cry out for your name didn’t slow you down as you picked up the pace. He had stopped firing shots as soon as he knew you were chasing after him. It seemed as if he sucked at multitasking, so you had an advantage. His running and not looking back to shoot meant he was most likely not going to keep looking back.

You heard running coming from behind you and knew it was Morgan and Reid finally catching up to you. Men could be so slow sometimes. By the time you were close enough to Wilson, Morgan and Reid had finally caught up to your pace. They were just in time for your combative demonstration.

You jumped and kicked Wilson in the back of his right knee. He collapsed immediately, dropping his gun. You got on top of him, prepared for a struggle. He jerked his body to the right in an attempt to knock you off. You combated that by stringing your arm under his arm and your other arm stringing around his neck. You gripped your hands together to tighten your hold. You then planted your knee on his left elbow and jerked his body back.

He let out a screech in pain as you felt his elbow pop out from underneath your knee. You kept him in a tight chokehold. He made the mistake of trying to squirm out of it. You aggressively jerked your upper arm up and he let out a screen as you dislocated his shoulder. You then dug your knee in his lower back to make sure he stayed in place as you cuffed him. You reached into his pocket and took out his cellphone.

You shook your head. “This was your end game huh?”

“Y/N?”

You looked back to see Morgan standing there in shock. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so speechless before. You looked over at Reid, who was never speechless, but he looked just as lost for words. They both walked over and helped you pick up Wilson, who yelled in anguish as they touched his arms.

“I think I got it from here. Y/N, I think you deserve a break from being a badass,” Morgan said.

“I told you I was capable,” you said.

“Sorry, for ever doubting you. I don’t think I’ll be messing with you for a long time after this,” he said.

You smiled as the three of you escorted Wilson back towards the farmhouse. As you reached, you found out the bomb had been deactivated. You handed over the cellphone to the bomb squad. You were going to go towards Hotch and the others as they talked to the man who was strapped in the chair. You couldn’t help feel as staring at you from behind. You turned around to see Reid looking at you with a different look than usual. He looked as if he was meeting you for the first time.

“You did great out there, Y/N,” he said.

“Hey, I may be little, but I do have the skills to get rough when need be,” you said.

“Remind me never to make you angry,” he said.

You smiled. “I could never hurt you. I’d only use my strength to protect you.”

“Even from Morgan?” He joked.

You walked up to him and gave him a pat on his forearm. “It would be my pleasure to protect you from Morgan.”

-----

Tagged: @shadyladyperfection

MASTERLIST

#spencer reid #dr. spencer reid #dr.spencer reid #Criminal Minds #criminalminds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid request #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #mgg #Matthew Gray Gubler #criminal minds request

1K notes · View notes

strangeradventuresofp · 4 years ago

Text

symphony (arthur morgan x reader)

this story involves smut!! please do not read this if you are not over 18 years old

a/n: not entirely back to writing yet, but i did this and i sorta like it so lemme know what you think. also this is my first time ever writing smut that wasn’t for a roleplay so im super nervous about it. but anyway have a story with my favourite boy

masterlist

It felt like your gut had been ripped open, like there were pins where your heart was before it cracked and shattered into thousands of fragments that would never be found. It was like someone had put a bullet in your skull and it was rattling around, hitting against every nerve and causing as much damage as it went along.

Your blood turned to ice in your veins at the sight of him. Never had you seen him look so weak. So helpless. How in his voice he seemed okay despite the state of his body – at least two open wounds, his shirt stained multiple shades of red that weaved in with brown from what had already dried. Hot tears stung in your eyes when they studied him. Despite the warped vision, it was obvious to anyone that he was in pain. How his face contorted and twisted whilst Miss Grimshaw washed over his wounds to get a better look. The grunts and curses that left his dried lips were unbearable to listen to.

Once you tore your eyes away from him, you assessed the others in the scene. Dutch stood at the foot of the table, his arms crossed over his chest and his hands balled into fists so tight that his knuckles whitened and cracked. Every now and again he mumbled words of encouragement or instructions to tell Miss Grimshaw what to do, despite her knowing much more about how to patch someone up.

Miss Grimshaw had taken charge immediately, as soon as he had been brought into camp by the others on the job. She removed his shirt swiftly, washing his wounds with a cloth and water. Her expert hands cauterised his wounds and though she winced at every sound of discomfort, she knew that she was helping, and so she continued.

Tilly was around helping Miss Grimshaw, running to get things that she needed presently or that she would need, or that she might need just in case. She fed him alcohol for the pain and listened close when she was asked to do something to help.

You? You simply stood there, frozen. Miss Grimshaw had asked you for something, but you neither moved nor even heard her request for your brain was travelling at a speed that caused you physical pain. The noises he made left an awful taste in your mouth, knowing that you couldn’t help despite wanting to more than anything in the world.

It was about then that Hosea took your hands in his and gently pulled you away with a “Come on, sweet girl.” And though you protested, you let him take you, because you couldn’t do anything else. You couldn’t just stand and watch him as he was an inch away from death. It hurt. Hosea took you far enough away that you couldn’t hear the sounds of pain that each felt like a bullet to the chest.

He held you to him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Hosea.” Was the first thing that came out of your mouth once you had remembered how to use your voice. The man smiled a fatherly smile.

“Nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.” He assured, though you couldn’t seem to meet his eye. Gently, he squeezed your hand as a sign of reassurance. Though, reassurance for what, you couldn’t be entirely sure. “I know you wanted to help. It’s difficult when the people we love get hurt.”

You scoffed. “I… I don’t even know what bein’ in love feels like. But, I guess, maybe…” Trailing off, your mind began to wander just as the thoughts pulled a sigh from your lips.

“Hosea, I don’t—”

“Do you think I don’t see the way you look at him?” Hosea asked with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused that you had tried to deny his claims.

“Sweetheart, you look at him like you’re starving and he’s a hot meal.”

“I do?” Your voice sounded so small against the deafening silence. As much as you wanted to deny it, Hosea was right, and he knew it. It was terrifying. “I—I’ve never been in love before.” Startling thoughts began cascading down you. You and Arthur were close, real close. You told each other everything. You could be vulnerable around each other. You were there for each other. Was all of that about to be ruined because you were stupid enough to catch feelings?

“What do I do?”

Hosea chuckled at that. “Get some rest, sweetheart. Try not worry about him, he’ll be fine. He always is.” While you appreciated his attempt of reassurance, you honestly didn’t feel much better at all. Instead, your brain was flooding with the thought of being in love with Arthur on top of the question of whether he was actually going to survive his injuries.

You stayed just out of camp for a while longer, until you could hear the noise inside start to die down until it was obvious that everyone was asleep. You crept back in, being sure to not make too much noise, you didn’t want to wake anyone. No, not that, you didn’t want anyone to know that you were visiting him. Grabbing a chair, you pulled it up beside where Arthur’s was body was lay and took a seat. You looked over him, humming lightly, Miss Grimshaw really did a good job of patching him up. Your hands wrapped themselves around one of his, and you simply sat at his side until morning, being sure to move away at least two hours before everyone else woke up.

~~~

A few weeks later

~~~

Chores. Although you helped out on jobs sometimes, since Arthur and Hosea taught you how to shoot properly, you enjoyed helping out around camp, too. It was the least you could do to help out Miss Grimshaw, considering she saved the man that you loved. Besides, most members of the camp were out either on jobs or shopping, or at saloon, so, you were spending your time washing clothes to help out.

Arthur, luckily, survived his injuries and although he was still recovering, he was back up and out on jobs again. Dutch did make sure not to put him on any dangerous (by his standard) jobs, despite Arthur protesting because he’s fine, it was just a couple of scratches and—Goddamn it, Dutch I don’t need supervision, I’m alright and—

“Careful you don’t rub a hole in that shirt.” A deep chuckle came from beside you. Your head snapped up immediately at the sound.

“Arthur!” You only then noticed how hard you had been squeezing the shirt in your hands and how hard you were scrubbing it against the washboard. Loosening your grip, you smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, I—Wait a minute, what the hell are you doing up and around? Dutch told you that you rest today.” A laugh left Arthur’s lips as he held his hands up in surrender. “You should be resting.” With that, you stood, ushering him back to his tent where he could lay down. He took a seat on his bed, looking up at her with a strange expression. Was he… Nervous?

He reached out for your hand, gently tugging you over to take a seat beside him. Instead of letting go of your hand, he held it, his gaze fixed on it. He delicately traced over the veins that peeked through your skin, too delicate, like if he held you any firmer that you would shatter before him. His eyebrows drew together, and you hummed slightly, searching his eyes.

“Arthur? Y’alright?” You asked softly, your eyes furrowing in concern.

“I’m alright, darlin’, I just…” He took a deep breath. “Going through all that and, not knowing whether I was gonna die, it, uh, it made me realise a couple things. Shit, uh…”

“It’s okay. Take your time.” You assured, a smile crossing your face. Arthur looked up at you, a troubled look in his eyes that gave you an awful feeling in your stomach. You breathed out through parted lips, ready to take in the bad news that he was about to tell you. His eyes flickered slightly, quickly looking down your lips before he swallowed thickly, looking back up at your eyes.

“It made me realise that, I’m terrified of losing you. And—And I think that I… Shit. I’m in love with you.” Arthur’s face burnt up entirely as he confessed, flushing red from head to toe. When you didn’t respond, only blinking blankly at him, he pulled his hands away from yours, looking away as he rubbed the nape of his neck anxiously. Your hand reached out to cup his cheek, tilting his face back to you where you planted a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. You could feel how his breath was pulled from his lungs as you did so and his eyes lit up, though his face still looked worried.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan. More than anything in the world.” And with that, his lips captured yours in such a way that had your own breath hitching at the sensation. Your lips danced against each other’s rhythmically, and your chests moved up and down in sync.

You had always loved Arthur. From the moment that he had saved your life in the woods when you first met. This big, scary outlaw meant everything to you. This gang was the closest thing you had to family. No, it was your family. Things had always been different with Arthur, though. Things you had never given a second thought about until now. Longing glances from across camp, touches that were a little too long to simply be considered friendly. Putting his arm around you at the campfire so that you wouldn’t be cold, bringing each other stew so that the other wouldn’t starve. The way he spoke to you; how his voice changed to be much softer when he addressed you. The urgency in his voice when he thought that you were in danger. The way that he always worried about you, just how you worried about him. The way that he looked at you, just how you looked at him.

It all made sense now.

The kiss was incapsulating. In this moment where nothing else mattered, merely you and him. You each opened your mouths, delving your tongues in to dance with the other as your tastes swirled together. He tasted like honey and cigarette smoke, you tasted like wild berries and rum. His hand hovered over the curve of your waist for a few seconds, before he hesitantly placed it down, pulling you close to his chest. Your arms snaked up his chest and wound around his neck. Arthur hooked an arm around your waist, gently lifting and shifting you over to sit in his lap.

You broke the kiss, breathing heavier than usual as you looked at him. A sweet shade of rose covered the cheeks that you gently pecked before stroking with your thumbs whilst you cupped his face.

“We don’t have to go any farther.” Arthur declared; his voice low despite there being no one around. You breathed for a moment, scared of all the new feelings that erupted throughout your body. Though, the fireworks in your stomach couldn’t be denied. So, you smiled.

“You—Your wounds…” You mentioned, and he chuckled softly.

“Darlin’, I’m fine. But we can stop if you ain’t comfortable.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

A smile spread over Arthur’s lips at your words and he hummed in response. “Tell me if you wanna stop, okay?” He asked, cupping your cheek, to which you nodded before leaning in to kiss his lips once again. You couldn’t get enough of him. He tasted so good. Whilst your lips worked against his, his practised hands ran over your body and his fingers began to work at the buttons on your shirt, threading them back through the hole before pushing it off of your shoulders. His hands moved up to knead softly at your breasts, rolling your nipples between his calloused fingers which earned a mewl from your throat.

He pulled away from your lips, jaw falling slack when his eyes fell over your now bare top half. He hummed as his excitement grew, moving your head to the side with his thumb before burying his face in your neck which he peppered with open mouthed kisses and gentle nips that began to purple the flushed skin, branding you to him. With your noises of approval and your fingers unthreading the buttons of his blue shirt egging him on, he began to suck the skin at your clavicle to which a breathy moan was pulled from your throat.

Shrugging his shirt from his shoulders, you moved your legs on either side of his hips, straddling him. Your fingers gently caressed each of his scars that you felt. He was beautiful. As he continued to leave his mark on you, your hands reached up to tangle in his locks, tugging ever so slightly, but a growl left him, nevertheless.

“Do it again.” Arthur pleaded, his lips brushing against your skin to cause goose bumps. A low groan fell out of his kiss swollen lips when you repeated the action. His large hands cupped your ass, pulling you closer against him, his arousal rubbing against you through layers of fabric that separated you from feeling all of him. You needed to feel all of him. You moaned at the contact, fumbling messily with his jeans while you kissed him, but he pulled away.

He picked you up, laying you down before he shed himself of the remainder of his clothing. While his back was turned, you did the same. When Arthur turned around, he bit his lip at the sight of you, flushed, sprawled out for him on his bed. He licked his lips hungrily, cock twitching before he lay above you, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips which you held while his hand dug lower. His fingers spread you open, teasing by gently brushing against your clit. He smirked at your wetness.

“Arthur—” You whined. “Please.” He took your endorsement, groaning in delight at the sounds you made when he quickened his pace, curling his fingers inside you. The hot coil began to grow in your stomach, and he watched as you writhed beneath him, moaning deliciously at how good he was making you feel. His cock was painfully hard and ached for release, but he wouldn’t stop until he had brought you over the edge at least once before he fucked you.

“This for me?” Your hips bucked up in a silent plea for more friction and he chuckled slightly into your mouth before pushing a digit inside you. With a sharp inhale beforehand, you moaned in approval, causing him to add a second finger, pumping in and out of you at a slow pace.

“So good for me, darlin’.” Arthur’s voice was husky when he spoke, his words wrapped in lust and desire, eyes dark with adoration. His free hand reached up to toy with your nipples, pinching gently, teasingly to bring you closer to your release.

It wasn’t until your hips bucked uncontrollably and a strangled cry left your plump lips that Arthur pulled his fingers out of you, the hot coil snapping in such a wonderful way that left you aching for more. His mouth opened and closed around his fingers, coated with your juices. When the taste hit his mouth, a low groan rumbled in his chest, and the mushroom head of his member leaked with arousal.

Arthur didn’t touch himself once until he had brought you over the edge one more time with his tongue alone, and when that hot coil broke in your stomach once again, he lapped up the remainder of your juices, making sure to not waste a single drop by licking along the insides of your thighs for any excess. His cock throbbed painfully from the influx of lust, his hand stroking himself up and down a couple of times before he pushed himself into you. The sound you made from him entering you alone nearly made Arthur cum there and then, but he was determined to make you feel good. After pushing in about halfway, he pulled back out completely, groaning at the sight of your slick on his cock. You whined at the lack of contact, reaching to touch him but he swatted your hand away.

“I don’t think so.” He said with a chuckle before pushing into you entirely. You cried out, digging your nails into his shoulders, loving how he stretched you. “Mm—” Arthur’s hips thrusted against yours once as he moaned at how you clenched around him. “Such a good girl for me.” He set a fast pace, each thrust increasing in power and might, and soon enough an animalistic desire consumed him, his hips clashing against yours. Your names left each other’s lips among curses and beautiful sounds of pure pleasure. Series’ of moans spilled out from your reddened lips.

Arthur kissed you, hard. You could feel the swelling of your lips. The bristles of his unkempt stubble tickled your skin. When your tongues met, you groaned at the taste, your taste. Your nails sunk further into his skin and he groaned at the sensation, his spare hand reached down to focus your sensitive bundle of nerves with the pad of his thumb. His cock throbbed against your walls as the familiar feeling began to grow in your stomach once again. He pounded into you with a near primal hunger, your plea for him and your beautiful sounds being the only thing to fill his ears. Arthur made his own share of delicious noises, both of your voices ruined with pleasure though it sounded like the most stunning symphony.

You felt your third climax nearing, the white-hot coil repeating but so much stronger than before. With your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands on you, he made you feel wanted. He made you feel loved. It was nearing closer, and closer and you covered your face to which Arthur removed your hands from your face, pinning them above your head with one hand while the other returned to its spot at your clit.

“Nuh-uh, darlin’. Hafta see you.”

Soon enough, your release washed over you like a wave of pleasure. A ravishing sound forced itself from you, your legs trembled, your body shaking violently from the pleasure. Arthur felt your climax all over him, his body entirely racked with pleasure. As you clenched around him, he pushed in once more and pulled out, releasing with a husky shout that you would dream of for weeks on end. His juices lay atop the bedsheets and he sighed happily, pulling you in for a soft, loving kiss.

Arthur reached over into his pile of clothes to find a dark piece of cloth, his bandana. He soaked in some water from a bucket outside his tent and gently dragged it over you skin, revelling in how incessantly beautiful you were. At first, when he reached your folds, you whined from the overstimulation, but soon relaxed at the feeling.

Once you were cleaned up, he lay beside you, cradling you in his strong arms. You pecked his lips before resting your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Your eyes fluttered closed and Arthur hummed contently. “I love you, darlin’.”

lmk if you want to be added to any of my taglists!!<3

“I love you too, Arthur.”

648 notes · View notes

fridayfirefly · 4 years ago

Text

Seeing Ghosts

Read Seeing Ghosts on AO3

Masterlist

For Maribat March Day 12 - Second Chance

For as long as she could remember, Marinette could see ghosts. It wasn't always the ghosts of strangers, though. Her ghost encounters started small. When Marinette was four years old, her parents told her that the family cat, Tikki, had left to live in the countryside. Marinette didn't understand, because Tikki still lived with them. Tikki still meowed for pets, still purred when Marinette pet her, still played with her favorite toy, the laser pointer that Marinette got for her last birthday. It wasn't until two weeks later, that Tom and Sabine sat Marinette down and explained to her that Tikki had died, that she needed to stop pretending that she was still there. Marinette was confused until she saw the way Tikki's paws batted right through her toys, the way she never ate the scraps that Marinette dropped on the floor. Marinette knew two things for sure: Tikki was dead and Marinette could still see her ghost.

For years and years, Tikki was the only ghost that Marinette saw. Then Marinette turned fourteen and Marinette could suddenly see.

They haunted the corners of her eyes, lurking in her periphery. They were just shadows, phantoms until Marinette focused her eyes, and then she could see them clear as day. Ghosts were real and Marinette could see them. Ghosts were real and they were everywhere, an inescapable reality for Marinette.

Quickly, the ghosts learned that Marinette could see them. They followed her around, lingering at the edge of her sight. She could hear them too, little whispers about the baker's daughter, the only person who could see them. However, none of the ghosts were bold enough to approach her. That was the status quo, until one day when Marinette came home from school one day to a ghost lurking in her room.

Marinette gasped as she saw the ghost sitting in the chair at her desk, staring at her with knowing blue eyes. He was her age, which made his brutal injuries all the more horrific to look at. His skull was caved in. His chest was mangled. His skin was shredded and burned. He had been beaten to death, tortured in his final moments.

"I've been told that you can see ghosts," the boy remarked, ignoring Marinette's shock entirely. He spoke in English instead of French, luckily Marinette's class had been learning both languages, so she was able to understand.

Marinette nodded, her throat suddenly unable to get a word out.

"You can hear ghosts, too. Can you bring them back to life?"

Marinette shook her head, clearing her throat as she began to speak in English, "I've never tried, but I don't think so."

"Could you try? For me?" pleaded the boy, the desperation in his expression breaking Marinette's heart.

"I don't even know you," said Marinette, trying to find a way to gently let the boy down. Seeing ghosts was one thing; bringing them back to life was another thing entirely.

"I'm Jason Todd." Jason stuck out his hand and Marinette tentatively shook it.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

It wasn't until Marinette pulled her hand back that she realized that his hand - and now her's - was covered in blood. With a shriek of surprise, Marinette stumbled backward away from Jason. "What did you do?"

"What did I do? What did you do?"

"This has never happened before. Somehow my touch turned you corporeal enough for the blood on your hand to transfer to mine."

Jason glanced down at his hands. "Your fingers left prints in the blood. I've spent hours trying to wash the blood away for months, and you managed to do it by accident."

Marinette stared at her hands, the realization sinking in. Jason Todd was dead and his blood was on her hands. In the blink of an eye, Marinette was running to the bathroom to throw up. She thought she would be able to handle looking at the injuries of the dead, but Jason's wounds suddenly felt personal. Someone beat him to death, beat him until his bones broke and his skull caved him. Marinette heaved into the toilet, unable to cope with the violence of Jason's death.

When Marinette finally lifted her head, she saw Jason lingering at the door, looking guilty. "I'm sorry. I know that this is pretty graphic to look at." Jason gestured towards himself.

Marinette shook her head. "You don't have to apologize." After rinsing her mouth out until the taste of vomit was gone, Marinette turned to Jason. "Come here."

Jason approached her at the sink. With the water still running, Marinette took his hands and held them underneath the water. They both watched as the water turned red, then pink, then ran clear as all of the blood washed off Jason's hands. "Thank you," Jason whispered.

Marinette took a deep breath. "I can't make any promises, but I will do my best to bring you back."

Bringing the ghost of a human boy back to life seemed like an impossible task, so Marinette started small: with Tikki the ghost cat. It took two weeks of experimentation before Marinette realized that with enough meditation she could funnel some of her energy into Tikki's ghost. With Jason to help her take notes, Marinette began to figure out the ins-and-outs of resurrection.

The most difficult part was figuring out exactly how much energy Marinette could expend before it took a toll on her physical health. The very first time she gave Tikki energy, Marinette woke up the next morning with bruises littering her body. Tom and Sabine took Marinette to the doctor's where she was diagnosed with anemia and prescribed iron supplements. Jason was so concerned about Marinette's well-being that he refused to let her give any more energy away before she had returned to her full health.

A few weeks after the initial mishap Marinette got back on track. Every morning she would push just a little bit of energy into Tikki. Little by little, Tikki turned from specter to physical being. Then, one morning, as Marinette pushed energy into Tikki, she felt her energy hit a wall. At the same time, Marinette felt Tikki's fur under her hand for the first time in ten years.

"You brought her back!" Jason exclaimed.

Marinette let out a whoop of joy, scaring Tikki, who jumped out of Marinette's lap with a startled meow. Marinette grabbed Tikki back up, able to properly hug her beloved pet for the first time in ten years. "I've got to go show Tikki to my parents. I'm going to tell them that I found her outside."

"You'll need to give her a new name," said Jason. "Might I suggest Alfred."

Tom and Sabine were surprised, which was to be expected. After all, it wasn't every day that their daughter found a doppelgänger of their dead cat in the alley behind the bakery. However, they were quick to rationalize the event, shrugging it off as a strange coincidence. Alfred became a beloved new member of the family.

After her success with Alfred neé Tikki, Marinette turned her attention to Jason. Their very first attempt took place in Marinette's bedroom. Marinette and Jason sat down cross-legged on the floor. Marinette placed her hands on top of Jason's and concentrated. She felt the life force within herself and pressed it forward, through her hands and into his.

"I can feel it," whispered Jason, "I've never felt anything like it before. It's so warm."

The awe in Jason's voice made Marinette feel warm inside as well. "I'm going to start with just a little bit of energy. I don't know how transferring energy to a human will differ from transferring energy to a cat, and I don't want to burn myself out on the very first transfer."

"Do this at whatever pace you need. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Marinette smiled with his reassurance. She took a deep breath, and let the energy flow out of her. When she finally finished, cutting off the flow, she looked back up at Jason and gasped. Jason's broken finger, which had bothered him for weeks, had straightened out. The cut on his collarbone had closed shut. The bruise on his cheekbone had faded. His wounds were already starting to heal.

Quickly, Marinette and Jason fell into a routine. Every day after school they would sit down in the back corner of the bakery and Marinette (under the guise of doing her homework) would push more of her life energy into him. It was a slow process. Though Marinette often wished to give Jason just a little more energy every day, to speed up the process, she was constantly aware of the fact that Jason would fuss over her and stop the transfer of energy entirely if he saw any sign of pain or exhaustion on her.

In the months that Marinette had known Jason, he had grown protective over her. Marinette spent most of her time with Jason. He slept in her room on the little couch in the corner, followed her to school, and wore the clothes that she designed for her. Jason changing his clothes was an incredibly embarrassing affair, as the only way for him to be corporeal enough to touch the clothes was for Marinette to be touching him while he did it, leading to averted eyes and blushing on the part of both Marinette and Jason (but it was worth it for Marinette, to saw Jason's relieved smile when he realized that he never had to see the blood-stained clothes that he died in again).

In total, it took eight months from the day that Marinette met Jason to the day that Marinette brought Jason back to life. It started as an uneventful morning. Marinette woke up to her alarm, grumbling as she got ready about how it was inhumane to make teenagers wake up so early. She made herself a coffee while chatting to Jason. They walked to school together, Marinette dodging through the crowded sidewalk while Jason moved straight through people with ease. Marinette got to her desk at school and took a seat next to Alya. Luckily the seat behind Marinette was empty, so Jason sat there when he followed Marinette to school.

Marinette had asked Jason before if it bothered him that he was unable to participate with the rest of the class since they could neither see nor hear him. Jason claimed that he didn't mind. Despite that, if Jason ever whispered comments or questions about the lesson into Marinette's ear, she always made sure to ask the teacher, even if she already knew the answer.

Sitting in on lessons had the additional benefit of teaching Jason French. Marinette did her best to teach him the basics, but immersion was the best teacher - after eight months of hearing and speaking only French, Jason was fluent in the language. Marinette often praised him for his quick learning, which was how she learned that Jason was prone to blushing when he was complimented. Jason always grumbled when Marinette pointed it out, but Marinette found it adorable.

Once school was over on that fateful day, Marinette and Jason walked home together. Marinette set her backpack down at her usual table, sat down, and got to work. It had become an easy routine: put in her headphones and play some calming music, find a quiet place within her brain, and focus on the feeling of energy welling up inside of her. Then take Jason's hands, concentrate on that energy, and push it through her arms and into him. Controlling the direction of the energy was easy - it was controlling the rate that was the difficult part. It moved slowly at first, then all at once it flowed faster than Marinette can control, and it was a race to slow it down before it could all drain out of her.

That day, however, just as the energy started to speed up, the flow of energy abruptly cut off before Marinette even had the chance to react.

"Why did it stop?" asked Jason, looking confused.

The day had been so long coming that Marinette could hardly believe what had happened. "I have nothing left to give you. You're alive again, Jason."

Jason stared at her, wide-eyed. "Are you sure?"

"I'll go test it." Marinette jumped out of her seat and raced towards the front of the bakery, heading for Tom, who was behind the counter. "Papa, can I get a plate of macaroons for me and my friend?"

Tom glanced over at Jason. "Who is he? I don't think I've ever seen him here before."

"He's a foreign exchange student," Marinette lied easily. "His name is Jason."

"Here's a plate for you and Jason." Tom handed her a plate, piled high with macaroons and other sweets.

"I might take Jason and show him around Paris, once we finish our homework. Is that alright?"

"Sure, sweetheart. Just make sure you're home before dinner."

"Of course," chirped Marinette. She made her way back to her table with a bounce in her step. "My papa could see you. You're real."

In that moment, Jason looked lost. He glanced down at his hands, flesh and blood once more. "What do I do now?"

"You're alive again. You can do whatever you want."

Jason took a deep breath. "I've been gone from this world for so long. I want to go home."

Marinette tried not to let the fact that her heart was breaking show on her face. "I have enough birthday money saved up to buy you a plane ticket. You might have trouble getting on a plane without any identification, but I'm sure we can come up with a solution."

For a moment, Jason looked upset. Then, Marinette saw on his face as a realization dawned on him. "I didn't mean alone. Marinette, I want you to come with me."

There was no sugar-coating it: Marinette's parents were going to kill her. The plane was half-way across the Atlantic Ocean and Marinette's phone was turned off. There was no way to check, but she was certain that her parents were already sending her frantic texts. By the time the plane landed in Gotham, Tom and Sabine would surely have already called the police.

Marinette could only hope that her and Jason's fake IDs would hold up against the Gotham Airport security officers. While seventeen-year-old Jason could easily pass for nineteen, the age listed on the fake ID for Jasper Townsend, Marinette was worried that she looked young enough to cause suspicion. The age on Marie Davis's ID needed to be eighteen in order to get Marinette onto the plane, so whether she liked it or not she had to look eighteen. Resigned to her lies, Marinette put on a heavy face of makeup and wore three-inch heels on the international flight. It was a little funny, in an ironic way, that her heels had one inch for each year she needed to make up for.

Marinette was still confused about how Jason managed to get them fake IDs in the first place. Jason just shrugged and said that he knew a guy who owed him a favor. It was a side of Jason that Marinette hadn't ever seen before, a side of him that she was deeply curious about.

They had gotten on the plane just as the sun was setting. Marinette had sent her parents one last text message, telling them that she might be a little late. It was the understatement of the century. Marinette had never lied to her parents like that before. All of her past lies had been little things - lying about the number of macaroons she ate, or how late she stayed up the night before - but never a lie about her personal safety. The guilt was killing Marinette. It made her feel sick to her stomach.

Jason placed his hand (flesh and blood) on Marinette's shoulder. "I'm sorry that I'm making you do this."

"I'm not sorry. I would never make you do it alone."

Marinette could practically feel the nervous energy radiating off of Jason as their plane landed in Gotham. "I'm assuming you know where we're going next. Should we rent a car?" she asked once they cleared security (miraculously, no one looked too closely at Marinette's feeble attempt at a disguise. Marinette was glad to switch out her heels for flats and wash off the makeup in the airport bathroom).

Jason shook his head. "We don't need to rent one. He always keeps a car at the airport just in case someone's flying in."

Marinette wasn't sure who he was supposed to be, but Jason had been reticent to share any information about his past, and Marinette wasn't going to pressure him. Jason had been beaten to death, after all. There was a lot of trauma in his past and Marinette wasn't going to force him to share it with her until he was ready.

Jason led her through to the VIP parking lot to a luxury black sedan. He reached underneath the car, feeling at the underside until he pulled out a key. "Bruce keeps a key taped to the underside."

"That seems... irresponsible." Marinette was delicate with her words. Jason had been tense since the plane landed, like a loaded gun. She didn't want to bring up anything that might set him off.

"He also has a tracker planted in the car," Jason remarked offhandedly.

Marinette rolled her eyes at that remark, unable to keep walking on eggshells around the topic of Jason's family. "Irresponsible and paranoid. That's an interesting combination."

Jason laughed. "Just wait until you meet Bruce in person. I promise you, none of what I could tell you about him would ever live up to the real deal."

They got into the car, Jason in the driver's seat and Marinette in the passenger's. Jason's driving was a little rusty at first (which was understandable, given that he hadn't driven in nearly a year), but by the time he got on the highway, it was like he never left the driver's seat.

"Do you think that your family will believe you when you tell them that I brought you back to life?" asked Marinette, her voice quiet. The closer she and Jason got to Jason's house, the more questions Marinette had. It had taken her weeks to rationalize the fact that she could see ghosts, and she was the one seeing them. She couldn't imagine how Jason's family would react.

"Bruce was the one who found my body. There wasn't any faking that. I think he'll believe you."

"We've never talked about what happened to you. I- Is it safe for you to go home?"

Jason nodded, eyes on the road as he pulled off the highway onto a winding road. "Bruce did everything he could to save me, but he was too late. I was there for the funeral. I watched him mourn. I think... I think the reason I never passed on was because he never got over my death, never stopped feeling guilty. I wanted to pass on. I wanted to tell Bruce that I didn't blame him. I went and found you so that you could pass on the message for me. But then, when you could touch me, when you took the time to wash the blood off of my hands, I realized that I might be able to tell Bruce myself. I realized that I could have a second chance. I realized how badly I wanted a second chance, because a second chance at life meant that I had a chance with you."

Marinette blushed, looking over at Jason. "You know that doesn't matter to me. I wouldn't care if you were dead or alive."

With a snort of amusement, Jason said, "You might want to rephrase that."

Marinette rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. I liked you before you were corporeal. Human or ghost, you're my friend, Jason, and that's never going to change."

"I know that, but I like being alive better. I like being able to hold your hand for real."

Before Marinette could say anything in reply, the car turned. Marinette was too shocked to speak when she saw the size of the house at the end of the driveway. "Welcome to Wayne Manor, Marinette."

Marinette got out of the car first, smoothing down the fabric of her skirt and running her fingers through her hair. She hoped that she looked presentable, even if no one would be looking at her once they saw the resurrected Jason. "Are you coming?"

Jason nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath. "Yeah. I'm ready." Jason got out of the car and slipped his hand (flesh and blood) into Marinette's, and even though questions and doubts were swirling through Marinette's head in a whirlwind of anxiety, she knew that as long as she could hold Jason's hand, everything would be okay.

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribat #jasonette #Jason Todd #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #MaribatMarch2021 #ghost jason todd #medium marinette dupain-cheng #ghosts au #miraculous ladybug fic #my work

289 notes · View notes

swagatron9 · 2 years ago

Text

Vivianna

Pairings: Jedidiah Sawyer x OC

WARNING: THROUGHOUT THIS BOOK, THERE WILL BE MENTIONS OF MURDER, DEATH, SUICIDE AND QUITE BRUTAL SCENES. THERE WILL ALSO BE IMPLICATIONS OF SEXUAL, PHYSICAL AND MENTAL ASSAULT. TAKE THIS AS YOUR WARNING THAT THERE WILL BE QUITE TRIGGERING AND MATURE SCENES.

Vivianna was another troublemaker amongst the walls of the Gorman House Youth Reformatory, her past completely forgotten due to the so-called therapy sessions they do to help.

In a cell, separated from everyone else, was where Vivanna was located; it was rare that she got into the playroom. Today was one of those rare occasions where Vivanna was allowed to go somewhere other than the basement. So she sat at a table alone in the back of the room as she stared down at the blank pieces of paper. "Hey, Viv!" Clarice called out from the opposite side of the room. "Come sit over here!" She gestured to the table where she sat, her boyfriend accompanying her. Vivianna kept her head down and focused on the blank piece of white nothingness as she attempted to ignore the desperate pleas of Clarice.

"Vivianna." A new voice called out to the girl slowly. Vivianna looked up to see a nurse standing at a table with two male patients. The nurse smiled happily at the girl as she tried to make her feel comfortable. "I'm Lizzy. I'm a new nurse here. I was assigned to be your nurse." Vivianna stared at the nurse that knew every little detail about her, wondering what exactly her motives were. Lizzy, feeling uncomfortable under the gaze of the supposed dangerous patient, looked away from the girl.

Vivianna looked at the male patients that Lizzy was also assigned to. Of course, she already knew their names, but she didn't understand why they were in Gorman. Her eyes flickered down to the scribbled piece of paper that Bud was currently passing to her. She lightly held onto it and placed it in her pocket.

Suddenly, Clarice stormed up to the group; anger displayed throughout. "Stop harassin' her." She hissed at the nurse as she stood in front of Vivianna. "She don' wanna talk to you." Clarice looked the nurse up and down.

"Fuck you, asshole." Everyone's attention was redirected to Ike as he yelled at another one of the patients. "I'll pop your eyes right the fuck out of your head!" Ike screamed at him as he gripped him by the shirt. Lizzy took this as her cue, so she stormed up to the two of them, hoping to separate the delinquents from causing even more trouble.

"Let him go," Lizzy spoke softly to Ike.

Ike, angered by the nurses' interruption, yelled, "Mind your business!"

"It is my business." Lizzy kept to her soft tone. "What is the problem?"

Ike smirked as he admired the new nurse. "He said some things I didn't care for. Something about a girl in a nurse uniform, what she might taste like." He licked his lips before grabbing the nurse by her arms and pulling her close.

Clarice, still standing beside Vivianna, glared at the duo as she beamed holes into the nurse's skull for gaining Ike's admiration. "That bitch is lucky I don't go over there and kill her."

Vivianna felt her adrenaline rise as she watched Bud rush to help the nurse. She could feel all her pent-up anger wanting to tear through the wall that was built, but it all slipped away when the guards came rushing in. "Break it up, pinheads!" They shouted at the two guys. "Back to what you were doin'!"

Immediately Ike turned defenceless as he cowered back from the guards; everyone knew the consequences he would face, Bud as well.

Everyone in the room watched as Bud and Ike were pulled out of the room, Lizzy being asked to follow behind before everyone went back to what they were initially doing. "Of course Ike's getting in trouble; he always gets blamed." Clarice spat as she took the seat in front of Vivianna. Jackson looked over at Clarice as he heard her words and looked at her in confusion. It was undeniable that Ike had been the one to start this mess, yet Clarice was too delusional to realise that. "What are you starin' at?" She snarked. "You wanna go with 'em?" Clarice threatened. As she went to stand up from the chair in order to intimidate Jackson, Vivianna placed her hand on Clarice's. She shook her head at the heated girl causing Clarice to storm away, leaving Vivianna to be alone once more.

Jackson found himself staring at Vivianna. He recognised almost everyone in Gorman, and he did recognise Vivianna, but he couldn't help by wonder why he rarely saw her. "Uhm- Thanks for that," Jackson mumbled to the girl. Vivianna continued to face down as she kept her eyes trained on the image she had created in her mind. Jackson looked away, embarrassed, thinking that maybe she didn't hear him; instead, he trained his eyes on the scribbled-out artwork created by his best friend and brother Bud as he cursed out Ike for getting him in trouble.

Vivianna was still sitting at the table, not moving an inch, when Dr Lang returned to speak with Lizzy about the incident that occurred. "Everything alright?" He asked Lizzy.

"Uh, yes, Dr Lang. I'm- I'm fine." Lizzy stammered out.

Dr Lang released a sigh. "I'll have a word with Isaac and... Bud." Dr Lang trailed off as he looked over at Jackson, knowing that he and Bud were close.

Jackson gritted his teeth as he glared over at the primary Dr. "Bud didn't do nothin'." Jackson defended.

The doctor smirked at Jackson's words. "Lookin' forward to our session tomorrow, Jackson?" He taunted.

Dr Lang's words snapped Vivianna from her trance as she frantically looked around. After hearing the word session, she believed that it meant it was her turn, and she immediately went into a panic. Her eyes searched everywhere for somewhere to run, or at least somewhere to hide. "Do you need help, Vivianna?" Dr Lang spoke in a sultry tone.

Lizzy and Jackson both looked over to the girl, who was very clearly panicking. Jackson believed it was due to the fact that she had also experienced the regular shock therapy, whereas Lizzy thought it to be something different, judging by the tone of the doctor's voice. Lizzy turned the attention away from Vivianna by continuing on with their previous conversation. "Sir, Jackson's right. Bud didn't do anythin'-"

"He was just fightin'?" Dr Lang raised an eyebrow. He was very strict on his no-fighting policy, and some patients got his unique therapy when they so much as sent a glare at another person. "Remind me to tell you later what he did to his last foster family."

"They took away his dog." Jackson seethed.

"That's a perfectly good reason to bludgeon somebody into a coma?" Hearing those words made a memory come back to Vivianna, one that was part of the reason she was the way that she was.

Seven-year-old Vivianna hid underneath the dining room table as she hid from the bad man she called her father. Days like this meant he had been drinking a lot, and alcohol and a violent man were never a good combination.

He sauntered into the house, his clothes torn, makeup smeared all over him, and a mixture smell of perfume and alcohol reeked from his body. Instantly Vivianna's mother realised what had happened, and whilst she was usually the tame one in the family, this was her last straw. She picked up the first object she could find and piffed it at the man, causing it to hit the wall beside him.

A sick smile formed on the drunken man's face as he looked over at Vivianna's mother. His quick steps were in slow motion to Vivianna as she watched her father storm up to her mother. As soon as he reached her, he grabbed her by the hair and swung her onto the ground. "The fuck was that for, bitch!" He spat at the woman on the floor.

Vivianna's mother kicked at the lying man she called her husband. "You're out fuckin' other bitches. That's what that was for." She responded back with twice as much anger. The man got on top of her, resting all his weight on her lower stomach as he threw punch after punch. "Viv, run!" Her mother spat out through the blood that began to block her airway. Vivianna listened to her mother and ran into the kitchen. Not knowing what more to do after calling for help, she hid under the table as it was her best hiding spot when playing hide and seek.

The sound of fists connecting with her mother's face stopped, and everything went silent. "Mummy," Vivianna mumbled.

The trio looked at Vivianna as she stared up at the ceiling, mumbling almost incoherent words to herself. As Dr Lang heard Vivianna mumble the word Mummy, he immediately called for the guards to come in and take Vivianna away. He knew that she was starting to remember, so he knew his plan wasn't working after all. "We're finished here." He said to Lizzy and Jackson before walking away.

#Jackson Sawyer #Jackson #Leatherface #Leatherface 2017 #Texas Chainsaw Massacre #jedidiah sawyer #jedidiah sawyer x reader #leatherface x reader

10 notes · View notes

chemicalpink · 3 years ago

Text

Outlaw: Intro ♡ Jung Hoseok

Pairing: Hoseok x Female reader

Words: 1.2k

Genre: smut, sci-fi (?, enemies to lovers, spy AU

Warnings: unprotected sex, kinda public sex but not really, brat!reader, kinda brat tamer!Hoseok, creampie, Y/N is imprisoned.

A/N: short one BUT it'll be my first attempt at a chaptered fic. Won't be too long but please do tell me what you think of the idea! Part of the BCC Summer Games. I was inspired to do a spy au ever since the LV x BTS came out.

Summary: How many surprises can life hold for you? The obvious tension you had with rival spy Jung Hoseok was evident ever since the two of you were training, and getting captured was definitely not in your plans, but who could really say a thing about it when he fucks you so good. Ohhh my sweetest @knjsnoona asked to be tagged ilysm.

The lights were kept off for the most part, giving you a barely there sense of what time of the day you were living in, you must have been captured somewhere along the first week of July… four? five? weeks of the lingering and stuttering red light outside the imprisonment capsule living a long life, somehow thankful for it being the only sense of continuity in your life, able to illuminate the otherwise empty room even for a few seconds at a time.

The door slides open with not so much as a beep, confident steps resonating inside the area until a shadow stands against the glass that keeps you from escaping, you don’t even get to bring your eyes up before he speaks “Ready to talk yet?”

You save the need to sneer for yourself, only a smirk painting itself on your face “Fuck you, Jung”

“Oh Y/N we’ve been down that road already” he crouches to your eye level, feeble body barely able to keep yourself awake after an extensive round of interrogation. Your left side hurting from the dry laugh you let out at the memories of just a few weeks back. A silent agreement between the two of you to give in to the accumulated tension of being each other’s mission, a merely physical truce for the day.

The way that you felt your head hit the wooden surface of his desk after feeling the strain on your neck and deciding to place it back for a bit, the table’s legs screeching underneath you each time Hoseok thrusts into you and the sounds taking over the room seem too loud for your liking.

The way that his left hand hadn’t left your hip as he partly supported you, partly just pushing you against the wooden furniture that was inside a workroom, a few steps down the hall where the rest of his team were. Your right leg had long been resting on his shoulder to give him better access to fuck into you, a loud moan escaping from the back of your throat as he turned his head towards it and bit the skin at one particularly hard thrust that had your eyes rolling back into your skull.

“Who would have though you’d make a better fuck toy than a spy, Y/N” his tone can’t really count as teasing with the venom in it as he leaned down to you, kissing your lips in the sloppiest way possible and he makes sure to swallow a moan from you; you could feel him losing his rhythm for a few seconds and that was enough confirmation that he was close, the room’s noises so loud and lewd around you as he sped up his pace while your cunt clenched around him; there was undoubtedly no way anyone outside the room hadn’t heard you two inside.

“U-ugh Hoseok p-please, speak for yourself” you didn’t even had to try to steal a look at the man to know that he was smirking down at you before you heard him groaning as you got a glimpse at his head thrown back in pleasure once you felt him spill inside you, your own climax taking over, spasming around him as he moaned through gritted teeth

“That’s it, Y/N, milk me fucking dry” you’re not even done coming down from your high as he decided to smear his spilling cum all over your folds, rubbing at your clit with the head of his cock, a moan drowning on the back of your throat when there was a knock at the door.

It had all gone downhill from there, Hoseok’s team coming in as you were barely dressed back up in your underwear, truce gone out the window when it clicked. This was his plan all along. So perhaps it had been really stupid to trust Jung Hoseok on that one, but the man was hot enough to abid to the consequences of it. Making up a plan to escape should have been easy enough if it weren’t for the fact that you were kept from your usual three meals a day. Confined to the regular visits Hoseok made throughout the day, just to question you further, always coming up empty. Some of the times are filled with so much sexual tension that if anyone were to walk in, they would be able to cut into the air. Lewd words, Hoseok losing his temper and grabbing your face to maintain eye contact for as long as it took you to lean into him before he tosses you aside, smiling and retrieving with a promise to come back later.

“I’m just saying, after he gets through her skin we should get rid of him” the words are barely audible as people pass by your cell, faces indistinct as they pass by where Hoseok had just left.

“That’s the plan”

As much as yours and Hoseok’s relationship (if you could even call it that) was certainly not ideal, you were good enough of a specialist in your field to acknowledge that he was a remarkable man in what he did, and knowing that his team, the people that were meant to protect him from people like you, were willing to get rid of him made your blood boil. Jung Hoseok was the only one person, besides yourself, that you knew from the training times to escalate as quickly as possible towards captain in the rouge ranks, it was really a pity watching him turn righteous and join your opposing branch, but the man knew what he was doing, that much was true.

Just as the thoughts kept spiraling inside your head, whether given your position and history with Hoseok, he was worthy of the intel you had, he walked inside the room for the second time in the day, just in time for the undersized meal serving you were allowed to have.

“Brought you lunch” he placed the container on the tray that allowed the food to go inside your cell before he closed the lid back up, a short silence following his arrival “What? No snarky remark now?”

You turned to him, fixing your eyes on him as if urging him to listen to you. When he doesn’t walk away, you take it as an invitation to open your mouth while trying to be casual about it, nipping at the odd-looking plate “Your team is planning on getting rid of you”

Much to your surprise, Hoseok dissolves into a fit of laughter, almost doubling over, eyes squinted delightfully “Oh Y/N, you’ve always been a slow one darling” he presses his body closer to the glass separating the two of you and lowers his voice, so as not to get caught by any of the cameras surrounding the room “Of course I knew that already”

“So take me with you”

He steps back slightly and smirks at your words “So that you try and kill me again?”

Your eyes look pleading as you see a flash of teasing in his gaze, letting you know that perhaps there was some type of hope for you to get out of that place “We’ll both go rouge if you take me with you”

He acts as if he’s pondering your words for a few seconds “Wouldn’t dream of leaving behind the best double spy this sorry-ass place has ever seen”

#networkbangtan #houseofddaeng #hyunglinenetwork #bts smut #hoseok smut #bts imagines #hoseok imagines #btscreatorscorner #bccxsg #kwritersworldnet

78 notes · View notes

cherrynojutsu · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chapter 7/?: Catalysts

Sasuke doesn’t indulge in baser needs often, despite the frustrating paradox that is the male endocrine system’s apparent determination to make him do so. He finds it feels… empty, after. Like there’s supposed to be something more, but instead there’s just whatever is situated above his head to stare at while his breathing levels out, an interminable abyss of silence and stars, or tree foliage, or apartment ceiling. Impulses and feelings of a sexual nature are probably normal for anyone his age, but in the past, satiating desires like this has made him feel guilty, given the context.

When he's not plagued by nightmares rife with gore and blood and bodies, or the occasional aching memory, his subconscious takes the opportunity to bombard him with dreams of a suggestive nature, having deduced somehow that it’s the most effective method to get him to… tend to things.

This variety of dream customarily involves pale pink hair, multifaceted eyes, and soft fingertips, branded into the part of his brain that controls his most base instincts with a hot iron.

He notes begrudgingly as he gazes at plain plaster above him, brows furrowed, that ostensibly, it works well enough, if the intricate mess of thoughts and feelings in his head and on his abdomen are anything to go by.

Sasuke would never admit it to anyone, but Sakura has headlined exclusively in nearly every sexually-charged dream he's ever had, and resultingly the majority of his sentient thoughts while indulging outside of dreaming, too. When they were Genin, it was innocent enough; he had reasoned that, being the main girl his age he associated with, it made sense his inadvertent dreams, beyond the scope of his control, involved her. He'd shaken it off in those early days as the by-product of the developing hormonal cocktail that is the pubescent masculine mind, and ignored the part of himself that kind of had a crush on her even then. Or definitively more than a crush, after the Chunin Exams and the hospital and jealousy.

He had tried convincing himself of the same thing at fourteen, once he'd left the village and had attempted to sever all bonds. It didn’t work, though; by that point he knew better, knew what the feeling he was trying to squash actually was.

Which meant it didn’t work at fifteen, either.

Nor sixteen, and definitely not seventeen, eighteen, or nineteen.

All of that has been wholly indecent on its own in the past, causing him to feel shameful every time it happens, and even more ashamed if it’s a rare day where he’s weak enough to act on it, a day where he wakes up mere seconds from an edge rather than minutes.

But this morning, he woke up on the tail end of all of that with the addition of freckles , of all things to fixate on, and he just knows he's never going to forget about them now, that they’re branded into his grey matter in perpetuity. Freckles just above the interior of a shoulder, eight of them, a small scattering he had been pressing his lips to, listening to a softly whispered Sasuke-kun, reaching around her with his only arm, so he could make her say his name like that again.

It is far from the first time he’s touched himself to the thought of Sakura, but it is the first time he’s indulged since they’ve been… together.

Except this time felt… different.

Less like an unrealistic reverie he should try to abstain from and more like an eventuality. Less guilt, too, or rather, almost none, because he’s in a relationship with her now, and he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to have feelings like this regarding her. Not that he is anywhere near ready to do anything about them, because he absolutely is not; he’s not certain he even comprehends that level of vulnerability, to touch another person and allow yourself to be touched by them, though he badly wants to, someday.

No, Sasuke doesn’t indulge in baser needs often… but he did this morning, when he woke up teetering just on the precipice, fantasizing about tiny tan flecks seen and unseen, and he’s trying to work through how he feels about it, this guilt surrounding the fact of not feeling guilty like he ordinarily does, as well as the lingering curiosity he’s struggling to force down regarding how many other freckles Sakura has.

Even moreso, he yearns for soft words that he has often thought may be sentimental to the point of being utterly quixotic. It's why he doesn’t typically submit to this kind of inclination in the first place; it’s meaningless on one’s own, he secretly thinks, though he has nothing to compare it to. No sense of connection or true lasting fulfillment like he imagines there must be, for people to talk about it the way they do; just pleasure that's there for a blinding scattered second and gone the next, with nothing tenderhearted or meaningful in the moments following as his vision refocuses and he picks up the pieces.

He stares at his ceiling, an aporia of longing and complicated compulsions ricocheting in the hallways of his head, or perhaps from his skull to the roof and back again, an absurd push and pull that leaves him with more questions than answers.

Has she ever thought about him the way he thinks about her?

What would it sound like, Sasuke-kun, when she’s like that?

Is it okay to feel like this, now? To think about her in this regard?

Sasuke is accustomed to not sleeping well - it comes with the territory of his lived experience, an unfortunate fact of life he’s somewhat learned to deal with - but during the mission to Sand, he'd slept fairly restfully, though in short increments of five or six hours. That's apparently the tipping point of how long he gets to go without being sojourned by some variety of vision in the night.

He eventually makes his way to the shower, using torrid water and soap to double cleanse what’s left of his mess. That's a big contributor to his consternation, too; it's so embarrassingly messy that it’s impossible to imagine ever doing anything like it with her . He flips the dial to cold after he’s bathed for the better portion of five minutes, because serpens caput is still burned into his retinas, and he’s hoping against hope to freeze it out of himself like he has tried to do with shame in the past.

It doesn’t work; it just induces shivering, algidity overwhelming the senses but doing nothing to distract the mind.

He shoves his face into his book after, desperate for the distraction a proverbial fiction featuring an old fisherman can provide and thinking once again that he needs to acquire a lamp. Anything to get the thought of pressing his lips to her freckles out of his head, because he’s pretty sure if he keeps thinking about it, he’ll have to take care of things for the second time today, and then he really won’t know how to feel.

So when a banging erupts on his apartment door shortly following eight, followed by a shout of, “TEME! I'm here, let’s go!”, all he can think is finally, because he knows it will at least get his mind off of this strange lack of guilt and a curiosity he’s not ready to unpack yet. The book helped, but he thinks he needs the challenge a fight against Naruto can provide to truly leave behind this level of prurience. He doesn’t know how he’s going to look her in the eye when they meet at three as they planned, otherwise.

Sasuke shoves on his sandals and grabs his chokuto before opening the door. “So you finally showed. Thought you'd sleep all morning.”

Naruto’s eyes narrow, indignant and already launching into a retort. Good. Maybe he’ll get some iota of order knocked back into him, enough to put compelling constellations away for the time being.

XXX

Sasuke feels monumentally better by noon. It’s another draw, an absolute whirlwind of swinging limbs that made it impossible to focus on anything else. He didn’t take joy in it necessarily, and he suspects Naruto bruised his ulna bone to the extent it almost cracked, but it helps, the diversion of pain; the tinge he feels when he moves it is a welcome hindrance. They’d stuck mainly to taijutsu and clashing weaponry, so physically, he’s pretty exhausted.

They’re resting in the dirt, making a valiant attempt at rehydrating. It’s moderately hot for this time of year, barely on the cusp of mid April, but it’s seeming like the Konoha heat will be returning with the same vengeance it always does. A small trickle of sweat sinks its way down his back.

Sasuke feels nearly normal again. Or normal to the extent he generally feels, anyways. He gets the urge to do something good - to tip the scale, so to speak.

"...The cutting board works. Thank you." It’s not what he’s most thankful for right now, but it’s a nice thing to say as substitution.

His friend grins at him. "Welcome! It was all me, by the way. Hinata-chan didn't even help me pick it out!" Naruto scratches his head, downing more water. He’s moving rather slowly, as if he is sore, too; Sasuke thinks perhaps he came close to beating him this round.

They stare upwards for a while, soaking in the sun as clouds roll lazily by. Birds fly overhead, finches and song sparrows twittering their selections, collecting materials to build more nests for this new season. It’s another effective distraction, one that fills him with a sense of nostalgia, replacing his earlier sense of compunction regarding the mystifying concept of physical love and the whims that accompany it.

Naruto speaks up after a bit. "Ne, teme, wanna go to the market with me? Hinata-chan asked me to get some groceries and some stuff for the backyard."

Sasuke glances at his teammate and contemplates. It can't hurt. He did want to pick up potatoes to make actual curry with, and he could get some other things, too. He'll still have time to shower before he meets Sakura at the hospital.

"...Sure."

Naruto takes longer to rise than he does, shuffling carefully as if he is in pain, but once he’s standing, he seems fine enough, stupid grin slapped on his face at Sasuke’s agreement to go with. They set off in the general direction of his building so he can drop off his weapon first. He gets dirty looks sometimes, walking around, though it’s not nearly as bad as when he first returned and it doesn’t bother him on the same level that it used to. When he’s with Naruto or Sakura, he gets less of them, but he can't imagine a sword strapped to his back in the market will do much to help his reputation.

Naruto doesn't allow the easy silence to last. "Y'know, teme, it's really good to have you back in the village. It feels like everything's finally coming together. We'll have to do some fun stuff this summer. And also in the fall!” Gears are turning behind cerulean eyes, and he adds, ”...Hmm, and the winter, too!"

"...Yeah." He stares at the mountain, thinking about what cherry blossom trees look like in summer and fall and winter. It will be nice to see the one across the street change colors throughout the seasons. Or the one on the hill, where they're going later today. He has seen their like numbering in the thousands, scattered everywhere on his journey - he’s highly cognizant of them, for obvious reasons - but he hasn’t been granted the privilege of watching the same one through the whole of a year’s growth cycle in a long time.

"Sakura-chan seems really cheery lately, too. Can't imagine why." The second sentence is said flippantly, without any real conviction, as if Naruto knows exactly why.

Sasuke glances at his teammate, neck warming and heart skipping a little at the mention of her. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing that Sakura is happy from secondhand sources; it makes him feel like he’s doing something right for once. Maybe not all his impulses are complicated in nature enough to require dissection, as he was accustomed to doing when he was away; spending time with her is one, and he's been indulging it often.

He briefly entertains the idea of outright telling Naruto that they're together, then, but the dobe is moving on before he comes up with the words. "Well, anyways. Wanna spar Monday morning, if neither of us get a mission by then?”

That’s… specific. Maybe he doesn’t need to say anything to him, after all; he’s sure it’s no coincidence that Naruto is asking about the exact time period Sakura is busy training with Ino, probably as aware of her schedule as Kakashi is. Their old sensei might have told him, he supposes, or maybe Sakura said something; Sasuke wonders when he last saw her.

“...Sure. If you think you can handle it.”

The response he gets is a slug on the left shoulder, but it’s not overly hard. Sasuke narrows his eyes in response more out of habit than any real malice. He sees as Naruto’s hand retreats and slips out of a fist that words are written on his palm. He didn’t notice it throughout the morning due to their hands constantly being locked around weapons or thrown in punches, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes; it's likely a grocery list.

Naruto leans against the brick downstairs while Sasuke drops off his sword, and then they head to the main market area as the dobe chatters. It’s fairly busy, it being a Saturday, but it’s not intolerably so; most people are busy eating around now.

Sasuke is completely unsurprised when Naruto beelines straight for the noodles; naturally he would be out of them. He takes the opportunity to procure a blend of wild rice. Thus far he only has white and brown in his own pantry, and he’s been trying to eat it often. He's always liked rice, but it’s high in calories, too, an easy way to try putting on weight. Another variety to choose from would be beneficial.

He trails after his friend to the baking supplies next, where Naruto examines containers of flour and sugar. Sasuke concludes Hinata must bake, because he’s confident any cookie prepared by the dobe could not possibly be edible. While his teammate is occupied, Sasuke turns the corner and procures a half dozen eggs, a large bag of potatoes, and two different varieties of tomatoes. The extra five pounds of weight held in the crook of his arm doesn’t do wonders for his bruised bone situation, but it’s not wholly unbearable; he’s fairly used to dealing with pain.

“Hinata-chan said to go to the gardening stall on the north end,” Naruto says once they’ve paid and exited the building, so they begin a course in that general direction. “She said they have the best perennial bulbs; that means they come back every year!”

Sasuke twitches, surprised he can even pronounce the word perennial if he’s lived this long without knowing what one is.

“Anyways, she wants to plant some, uh…” His voice trails off, and he peeks at his hand, where Sasuke now sees the names of flowers written in feminine writing that has to be Hinata’s.

Of course. Like he could spell the words, let alone read his own sloppy handwriting.

“Iris, phlox, and uh… echo-na-na-chee-ah.”

“Echinachea,” Sasuke corrects dully, giving him a withering look.

“Sure! That! She wants to plant those in the backyard, kind of line the house with them, since the front is looking pretty nice now. She said to get bulbs; they root better. They might bloom this year, but if not, they’ll for sure come in next year!”

“...And she entrusted you with this?” Sasuke asks, raising an eyebrow.

Naruto just laughs, utterly unphased. “Duh, that’s what the list is for, teme. Hinata-chan is super smart like that. Putting it on my hand makes sure I don’t lose it!”

They meander to the northern edge of the market, past the congregation of other stalls selling seeds and garden starters. It's getting towards the end of planting season for Fire Country, but there is still plenty to choose from here, allegorical gates of green swinging open in salutation. They pass some tomato plant starters, already starting to climb their cages, but Sasuke decides against it; his hand is full presently, and the bone still kind of hurts, and none of them are red heirloom tomatoes anyways, being smaller variations like plum or cherry or grape. He likes all tomatoes, honestly, but if he was going to grow one, he’d just want the one of a favorite to worry about. Repotting a starter would also require a planter, which he doesn’t have; another thing to carry.

The stall Naruto leads them to is probably the nicest one there, judiciously laid out and everything labeled neatly with precise calligraphy. The few tables the vendor has are overflowing with perennial starters, but Naruto goes to the three vertical displays of seeds and bulbs, so tall they are at eye level with both of them. They’re filled to the brim with diminutive packages, printed with large pictures of the flowers they contain the beginnings of, along with genus names and common names in smaller text. The blond examines them, surveying his hand, then the display, then back to his hand again in scrutiny.

Sasuke watches, resisting the urge to sigh and waiting for the inevitable.

“Hmm… I guess this would be a lot easier if I knew what any of these looked like. Gonna have to read them all.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes and steps forward to point to the section of iris bulbs to start with. He gives him a minute to work out which colors to pick, observing the throng of people entering and exiting around them, young and old and in-between.

Phlox are next; he directs his teammate to the appropriate section, where there are quite a few options of hues. Naruto examines them as if he is making a grand decision transformative in nature, mumbling to himself.

“Hmm… She likes blue and purple. Maybe I should…”

His own gaze wanders as he tunes Naruto out, taking in pictures of begonias and caladium on plastic shiny in the sunlight, before his vision locks on the far display.

He wanders over to it as if his body is moving of its own accord.

There are several varieties of lilies, he learns as he scans the packaging, oriental, trumpet, and what is apparently called nerine. White nerine lilies had been the variety his mother grew, lining their yard with curved porcelain petals, clusters emanating from many single stems.

He sets his groceries at his feet to free up his hand, picking up one of the packages to read the instructions on the back. His arm aches as he does so, but he couldn’t care less.

Nerine lily bulbs require good drainage. If there are still puddles in the prospective planting area 5-6 hours after rain, locate another site, or amend the soil with organic material to raise levels 2-3 inches. Nerine lilies also require soil that is somewhat gritty, though it also must be organically rich. Adding compost may increase nutrient content.

In spring, choose a location in full sun. If you are in a hotter region, site them where they will receive morning sun and afternoon shade, and plant the bulbs with an inch of the slender top above the soil surface. The top of the bulb is the area that looks like the stem of an onion. Install bulbs 8 to 11 inches apart for a massed look.

Nerine bulbs develop foliage that gather sun rays and strengthen the plants during the spring and summer months. Flower stalks develop in the fall. Provide water when the plants are actively growing, and very little when they are dormant.

You may cut the final flower stems to display decoratively. This will not hurt the plants and the cuts last long periods of time indoors. After they finish blooming for the year, cut off any remaining flower stalks. Your plants will rest for the winter months before sending up new growth in the springtime. Over time, nerine lilies will form clumps. They like to be crowded, so don’t feel pressed to divide them unless flower production begins to decrease. Clumps can then be dug, split apart, and moved to other parts of the garden, or shared with friends.

When Sasuke looks up, deep in thought, he notices Naruto searching for what he assumes is echinacea, flitting stiffly at random between the first two displays and scratching his head. Wordlessly with the package of lily bulbs still in hand, Sasuke points to the bottom right corner of the first, where several color selections are.

“Thanks, teme!” Naruto plows back to the specified stand and stoops down comically slowly, though Sasuke barely sees, gaze drawn pensively back to the packet he was examining.

The memorial stone has decent drainage, aside from the occasional hard rain like last weekend; that will become less common as the weather warms, and one or two monsoons a summer never drowned his mother’s lilies. Shade in the afternoon could be an issue, though. There’s a large oak tree on the west side that might cast some protection over it, but he only ever visits under the cover of night, so he’s unsure. He would have to examine the trajectory in person to gauge.

He considers the market bag the groceries were handed to him in earlier, studying it closely.

Carefully, he puts the package back where he found it, though his eyes linger on it. He’s no gardener, not like Sakura is, and besides, his arm hurts.

XXX

He’s leaning up against one of the blue columns outside of the hospital when Sakura emerges at three, sprightly as ever. She’s holding the two journals and the medical text from their first trip to the library; she said yesterday that she needed to return them, but there shouldn’t be any new ones she needs to check out just yet. He hadn’t stayed terribly long after they’d finished the tenmusu because he needed to shower and write his mission report, but they’d made plans to swing by the library and journey back up the hillside to read together again. There was also mention of possibly picking up food afterwards, to take to her place. Hazel Wood must be in her tote, hooked around her shoulder.

“Sasuke-kun,” she greets cheerfully. “Whew. It’s getting warm out already.”

“...It is,” Sasuke comments before he extends his hand for her texts, his own already held there, a silent offer to carry them for her.

She blushes as she passes them to him, sliding them into his hand. His eyes drift to the freckle on her cheek, and he wipes his mind blank by sheer willpower alone as they head east. The books aren’t as heavy as the groceries had been earlier, so it doesn’t hurt as much, but he's wondering at this point if the bone might actually have a small crack. He thinks he should ask her to look at it; maybe later, at her apartment.

“My balcony days may be numbered by now, at least until the fall comes,” Sakura observes as they meander.

He contemplates. “...Do you sit out there often?” It is so utterly befitting of her that he thinks he can picture it, her reading out there, surrounded by plants. He wonders if she ever admires the night sky. Their team had stargazed sometimes, on missions that first year as Genin.

Green eyes settle on him from his right. “I like to, when it’s nice out. A lot of times in the summer it gets too hot, though there is an occasional night when it’s cool enough. Fall is really the best for it. You can see the changing leaves from above. Even if it's a chillier day, it’s pleasant with some tea and a blanket in the evening."

He debates for a long moment, but decides against bringing up stout squirrels or chestnut-flavored everything or Naruto slipping on a leaf.

“...It sounds nice,” he comments simply instead, wondering if he’ll be invited to sit with her on her balcony, once fall arrives. They would have to sit kind of close; the space doesn’t seem very big from below, and it's cluttered with greenery.

Sakura smiles up at him, a look that says she agrees with his assessment.

Then, she offers softly, "You can sit out there sometime with me, if you'd like."

His neck warms; all he can do is nod and avert his gaze elsewhere, an abundance of something tender and sweet flaring to life in his belly.

Returning the books barely takes two minutes; they’re wandering towards the outskirts of the mountain in short order. Sakura sprawls in the same spot she did last time, so he takes up the same position, too, leaning up against the trunk of the tree, stable and strong.

And then his eyes catch on another freckle she has, this one near her elbow, and all he can think about is the slightly textured consistency of his ceiling, and whether the impulse to press his lips to her skin without guilt was an okay thing to feel.

She reads and he more contemplates than reads for about an hour, sprawled beneath the scant amount of shade provided by this tree that has lost its petals, trading them in for florets of a greener variety. It’s pleasant, once he can drown his inner disarray of thoughts. He eventually gets through a sliver of his book, though turning the pages is a little cumbersome, tinged lightly with pain. Perhaps he shouldn’t wait until later to ask her to examine his arm.

Sakura finishes her own book, though she keeps the pressed petal between its pages; she must have gotten through more of it while he was on the way to and from Suna. She just reclines there, after, looking up at the sky with her arms at her sides, near exactly the relaxed pose she used to lie in when they were younger.

Sasuke finishes the passage he’s on, and marks his place with the petal she’d plucked from his hair last week, before pointedly setting the text aside and following her eyes to the azure. Fluffy clouds are floating by as the sun inches closer to the west horizon, pushed steadily by the breeze.

“How is Ichika’s recommendation?” She questions.

“...Interesting.” He genuinely is enjoying reading it, despite his aberration.

Her head angles towards him, lying against a gnarled root at a slightly different angle. Her expression is curious, like she’s encouraging him to elaborate.

“Simple, but heavy with metaphors.” He considers for a second, then adds, “You might like it. Poetic.”

Full lips twist upwards. “Maybe I’ll read it next. Her recommendations are usually pretty apt; she gets a good read on people.”

“...How was yours?”

“Hmm.” She pauses, as if thinking it over. “A girl and her mother who get caught up in some bad luck. They inherit an estate - that’s where the title comes from - and supernatural things start happening. It’s kind of a story within a story situation; the grandmother they inherited the house from was an author, so they start going back and reading her writing for clues.”

“...A mystery.” It seems like she’ll read any genre. Mysteries would probably entertain her; she’s always liked to solve things.

She laughs, music to his ears. “Yeah, I suppose it is. It was pretty good. Well written; better than the last one.”

There is a pause.

“...Maybe I’ll read it next,” he echoes, her same words from earlier.

Green sparkles at him, amused before she shifts back towards the firmament.

“...Sounds like a book club.”

It is the most Sakura joke. He huffs a ghost of a laugh as more gauzy clouds drift idly by. It is peaceful, sitting here underneath the same sky as her, observing in easy silence through branches with fresh emerald buds.

And then Sasuke flexes his forearm, shifting slightly, and it still hurts. He considers; she probably won’t mind.

"...I think Naruto cracked my arm bone," he finally confides.

She turns to him, expression fluctuating immediately into one of disquiet, pink brows knotting closer in concern. He blinks and she's standing already, walking over and sitting cross-legged in the nearest open space, an indent in gnarled roots that she navigated through and found a place in as if it were nothing.

Wordlessly, Sasuke holds it out for her to inspect once she’s seated, and she gently rests her fingertips on his forearm.

"It’s from this morning?” Sakura asks, looking concerned in a way that makes his heart thump a little. Or maybe it’s from her hands encircling his skin.

He nods; she must have deduced that they trained earlier. She prods gently before threading green chakra beneath his skin towards the bone, probing for a break.

She frowns. "Oblique fracture in the ulna, though it's very slight and non-displaced.” Her gaze flicks up to him, and all at once, it’s the exam room again, him hyper aware of how close she is to him even though this is clinician Sakura. “I’ll fix it; you really shouldn't have been carrying anything on it."

It takes him a moment to realize she’s referring to him carrying her books earlier, because he’s thinking about the groceries from the market, which were definitively heavier. Her proximity and the aroma of tart berry and the freckle on her cheekbone are all incredibly distracting. Especially the freckle. He peers at her fingers, glowing verdant, and notices one on the inner portion of her right wrist, too.

"...Sorry." He says finally, flicking his eyes back up to her nervously after a long minute is spent mending marrow back together. She inclines her head back down to his arm, apparently accepting his apology for not mentioning it sooner. It's an odd sensation; he can feel the crack fusing from the inside out, ataractic chakra seeping into the diaphysis to fortify.

He feels like he should clarify, so he adds as she works, eyes fixed on her face which has settled in concentration, “I thought it was just bruised at first.” She nods as if that makes sense, working on it for another minute or so without glancing up.

He hopes she's not mad at him. Sasuke shifts his gaze downwards, something in him sinking.

“Flex it, then bend, please,” she requests, not moving her digits; she must need to feel the arm move to determine if it’s healed. He does as she asks and it’s notedly improved, no lingering pain.

“It’s better. Thank you.” He looks upwards just as she does, hoping the jade will still be soft on charcoal.

It is, startlingly so, and she’s flushing all of a sudden, dropping her hands from his arm and rising to her feet a step away, as if she, too, just realized how close they were. It's different here, daylight and not part of their routine like her entryway is becoming.

“You’re welcome,” she says somewhat hastily, complexion darkening. He’s not sure he’s much better; his neck is warm, and he remembers very specifically where each of her fingers had just been on his skin, like the ten points of contact are singed into his epidermis, and likely his grey matter, too.

As he tries to force his pulse to even out, Sakura adds, softly, “You could have just come in with him.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “...What?”

Sakura blinks, countenance appearing as if she is sorting through a problem in her head. Pink dissolves back to her normal coloring.

“Naruto came in with a slipped back rib, earlier today. I assumed it was from sparring with you.” She rolls her eyes, then. “He went and got groceries before coming in; he had them with him. Luckily nothing chilled; he had to wait for a bit.”

"...He didn't say anything about his rib." Now the slow rising and crouching is making more sense.

She sighs, closing her eyes for a second as if something has become clear, but she only replies, "Ah. Of course."

"...Wouldn’t shut up?"

"...Yeah." She turns away slightly, cheeks stained anew for some reason; it makes him curious what their third teammate babbled to her about. "He said as I was kicking him out that he was going to plant flower bulbs with Hinata this afternoon. He showed me the ones he picked. It’s good timing; the perfect time of year to plant some. Pretty soon it'll be too warm."

He lets those words drizzle slowly into his being, a little gentler than a summer monsoon.

"...Our next Hokage can't pronounce echinacea," he eventually tells her.

She chuckles with mirth, a sweet sound he finds relieving; she must have gathered he was present for that endeavor, now, and she can't be too mad at him if he can still make her laugh. Sasuke inwardly hopes she doesn’t gather that he also got groceries; he doesn’t think she’d be very impressed. It was kind of stupid to do that with a questionable arm, in retrospect.

"No," Sakura acknowledges finally, appearing highly entertained. "And he didn’t know what a perennial was until this morning, yet he’s planting an army of them. Probably without reading the directions."

They look over the village together for a lengthy moment in which he considers text printed on the back of a white package.

Then she says his name, so quietly it’s almost a whisper. "Sasuke-kun.”

He angles to her, and sweet jade is on him again, ebbing seafoam cresting as the late afternoon sunlight hits her.

"Thank you for telling me about your arm. In the future, please come to the hospital, if I'm working. You can wait in my office, if you’d prefer. I don't mind; use the window.” Her expression changes to troubled, and suddenly she is no longer the clinician version of Sakura; everything is tinged with something more, something that burns him in its intensity. “You shouldn’t just… suffer in silence, if something hurts. Even if you think it’s nothing. Please tell me."

Oh. She’s not mad, just worried. Heat grazes his ears, and he swallows, staring down at his forearm.

He wants to be close to her. He really does.

"Okay,” he agrees, and means it, carefully meeting green.

They head down the hill together to seek dinner before the rush hits, deciding to go to the yakitori stand she mentioned when he first returned. She chatters about how Naruto wants to have a bonfire in his backyard, once summer’s here and everything is planted.

“...He’s excited about his yard,” Sasuke comments after they’ve ordered, leaning against the wall of the exterior waiting for their takeout. He requested his without the sauce, since Sakura said it’s on the sweeter side for yakitori.

Sakura grins, and she’s really pretty, shadows of a nearby tree dappling her skin, cheeks still red because he paid. It’s only fair; she’s been feeding him. “Yeah, he is. I’d like to see their flowers and garden in the back, eventually. I’m sure once they’ve got it how they want it, they’ll have all kinds of get-togethers back there. Last year we carved pumpkins at their place, instead of at Ino’s and Sai’s; there’s less mess to clean up if it’s outside. He said today that you should come this year.”

“...What?”

She blinks as if remembering something, then smiles sheepishly. “So I never mentioned this, because it happened after I…” She flushes, and she looks away for a second. “...After I sent a letter for the month already, but Sai learned about this artistic thing they do in the Land of Woods, a couple years ago.” Her gaze shifts back to his. “They hollow out pumpkins and carve designs into them, in late October. Warding off evil spirits as they go into the cooler season or something; they put them on their doorsteps with candles in them so the carvings light up the night. It’s odd, but I think it’s become a tradition now. It’s fun, once you get the hang of it. We roast the seeds with salt and Hinata bakes pumpkin bread.”

That sounds entirely odd and completely characteristic of Sai; he supposes there is the artistic angle to consider. Sasuke passed through the Land of Woods three separate times, but never in the fall. “What kind of designs?”

She smiles as if she’s trying not to laugh; his expression must be that of one who is exceedingly perplexed. He supposes it’s not an expression he wears often. “Well, they’re supposed to be scary, I think, but we don’t really do well at making them that way. They’re more funny or decorative. Sai makes pretty good ones, I guess, mean faces with sharp teeth.”

“...What do you carve?”

Her eyes twinkle. “I tried a leaf, the first year, and a crescent moon the second. Sai and I teamed up to carve one for Kakashi-sensei, too, last year; a scarecrow with a cat.”

A crescent moon is not at all what he would have guessed she’d gravitate towards; he thinks immediately of the Six Paths Yin Seal that once adorned a hand he no longer has. Then he comprehends the final part of that sentence.

“...A cat?”

“Oh. Yeah, he got a cat.”

“...His summons are dogs.”

She giggles. “Yeah, Naruto and I thought it was weird at first, too, but he does kind of seem like he’d be more of a cat person overall, the more we thought about it.” Sakura shrugs. “He’s in the village most of the time now, being Hokage, so I guess he thought he could be around enough to take care of one? They’re more low-maintenance than a dog would be. I usually get tasked with feeding it and changing its litter, when he travels to watch the Chunin and Jonin Exams.”

Momentarily, he wonders if Sakura knows what’s under Kakashi’s mask; their old sensei allowing her into his space in his absence may have given her opportunities for some form of low-key reconnaissance on the matter.

Then his brain seizes on another notion, one that’s far more amusing, because she said she teamed up with Sai, and that can only mean one thing.

“...What does Naruto carve?”

Sakura’s grin widens as if she perceives exactly what thought he’s just had. She probably does; she knows him well. “He’s terrible at it. His never look like anything; just orange mush. He loves it, though, and Hinata puts it on their front step anyway.”

He snorts. Figures.

A bell dings, so they peer back in, and sure enough, their food is ready. Sakura steps forward to collect it, thanking the worker, but as she turns, she pauses.

Sasuke follows her gaze, and sees none other than their third teammate in the street, walking their direction and waving emphatically. He’s wearing a different pair of pants, knees absolutely covered in dirt and grass stains.

“Oi, teme! Sakura-chan!”

Sakura glances up to him before swiveling towards the road, their food in hand; Sasuke trails close behind, pushing apart the hanging banners of the stand as he steps beyond the threshold of the restaurant.

“Naruto,” Sakura greets when they’re out in the open.

“...Dobe.”

“Looks like you’ve planted everything,” Sakura says more than asks, gesturing to his pants as evidence.

“Hehe, yep, all of ‘em! It was work, but it will be worth it, later in the year.” Naruto scratches his head, grinning. Sasuke lets those words sink in, too, drenching dead roots.

“And now you’re getting Hinata yakitori as a treat?” Sakura pushes, seeming incredibly amused.

“Well…” Naruto looks away bashfully, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah. Gotta repay her somehow. She has good ideas. I just follow her lead.” He looks back to them, then. “Did you tell teme about all our awesome plans?”

Sasuke’s focus falls to Sakura, who is flushed, biting her lip in a smile.

“I may have started to.”

“Well, good, because our yard is going to be totally the best, and if he thinks he’s getting out of it...” the dobe points at him accusingly, “Then I’ll kick his ass!”

Sasuke scoffs. “As if you could.”

Sakura shakes her head, pink locks fluttering with the motion. “Always with the physicalities... Anyways, I’m sure it will be lovely, when everything finally comes together.”

An uncommonly stretched pause passes where blue eyes zero in on the food container Sakura is holding, before they travel up to the two of them.

The grin shifts to something remarkably tender.

“...Yeah. I’m sure it will be.” He says it with the utmost confidence, like he is as certain about it as he is about the sun rising tomorrow, and Sasuke gets the sense that he is no longer referring to gardening.

The moment passes, and then Naruto is punching them each on the shoulder respectively and sidestepping away towards the yakitori stand. “Anyways, gotta go, so I’ll catch ya later! I’m guessing you have plans of your own.”

Sasuke blinks as their teammate disappears into the restaurant, ears burning a little. When his vision travels down to his right, Sakura is blushing a dark red. She meets his gaze, smiling sheepishly.

They turn to go to her building. The entire way there, Sasuke considers everything in the beginnings of a green that seems endless, nurtured by people from all walks of life. He has been noticing it this whole time, since his return, but now he's thinking about how dull it would be without it, whether it’s dirt roads or lifeless grey granite. This is not the wilds, where seeds sprout unabated. Here, one must put in the work to grow things, find suitable locations and till the soil.

When they reach Sakura’s apartment, his eye lingers on her plants as he follows her inside. She sets the takeout on the table by her window. A shadow of a leaf from the jasmine above them is cast hazily out of focus on her left cheek.

“Would you like any sauce with yours? I could make some teriyaki sauce quick, or I have lemons I’ll be cutting up anyway for mine.”

“...Lemon?” Citrus complements chicken, he knows, but he understands that to mean she’s planning on putting it on hers, over top of the yakitori sauce.

Her lips curve upwards. “I like it on other things, too. It’s good on yakitori.”

So Sakura slices a lemon and it sits on the center of the table between them as they eat. She drizzles her yakitori with three of them, and he takes the other three. The chicken is pretty good, tart with the citrus and seared alongside green onions. It’s still warm, as it wasn’t a long walk to her place at all, a convenient sort of sustenance.

“...What else do you like lemon on?”

She chews thoughtfully, swallowing before answering. “Hmm, a lot of things. Fish, even ones that are usually served with lime. Pork. I like it on vegetables, too. Salads, pasta, rice. Most desserts that include lemon I like, as well.” She pauses again, and adds, “Lemonade, if it’s homemade.”

No wonder they’re always in her fridge. “...And tea.”

His heart flips at the way she smiles at him.

“...And tea,” she agrees.

They watch the streets fill and empty from her window, finishing the meal in a companionable reticence, smelling faintly of citrus rind and shadowed by greenery from above.

He helps her prepare decaffeinated sencha after, trying not to stare at the freckle on her cheek. He’s pondering this morning further, the notions of impetus and yearning, and also the way she says his name, but this time uttered softly under a cherry blossom tree with an invitation into her office, if something hurts.

Sakura cares about him. A lot. Sasuke knows this, has known for years, but it’s the actions of her affection, the way she expresses it purely and simply as if it’s a true north cascading through her veins, that has inched its way into his bone marrow, engraved on the latibule he carved inwardly to avoid dry swallowing life’s more bitter medicines.

As she stirs sugar and honey into her own cup, she asks, “Care for a chess rematch?”

He doesn’t even have to think about it; he nods his assent. It’s time to test something.

They arrange the board together at her table. The first round, Sasuke cautiously plans every move, surveying alternating squares and attempting to predict what strategy Sakura will employ. In some instances, he mirrors her, moving a rook a turn after she does, shifting a pawn out of imminent danger, and so on. It’s a very involved way to play, requiring attentive calculation of each move.

It’s a prolonged match that he eventually loses with a final sweeping motion of her remaining bishop, but it’s fairly close.

“...Again?”

She grins and wordlessly starts setting up the pieces she has captured, so he begins to set up hers. It’s an interesting task, a message of opposites, her setting up his dark figures and him setting up her light ones.

The second round, he simply follows his instincts, negating planning ahead farther than a couple of turns. If he gets an impulse to shift a pawn one way, he does. If his gut tells him to move the knight into her territory or to retreat a rook, he goes with it.

It drags on for the better part of an hour, and ends in a stalemate.

The smile she gives him is breathtaking, a broad and warmhearted validation.

“You’re good,” she comments, jade eyes dancing with joy. He gets the impression that it is not often she gets forced into a draw. He wonders who else she plays with. It can't be Naruto, but maybe Sai or Ino also play.

“...So are you.” He is somewhat reassured now. His impulses used to be ruinous, stemming from anger and anxiety and loss, but perhaps his journey helped in that regard. He just needs to make sure they're rooted in the right things, whether it be logic or affection, and then the major task becomes to feel rather than to overthink.

When he kisses her good night in her entryway, another movie watched and plans for tomorrow later, he doesn’t reach for the freckle the first time, though his hand twitches with the longing to. It’s treasured, this tender pressing of lips that feels like dipping a toe into still water. It is imbued with both of her hands resting on his shoulders again, ten fingertips that have him in her grip more than she could possibly fathom.

He studies her eyes when he pulls away, staring down into soft depths of viridescence. He will drown in them someday, he thinks, slowly but surely working up the courage to wade into the deep end.

The second time he kisses her, he lets himself graze her cheek to truly appreciate the difference, allowing acknowledgment of the impulse, compelled forward rather than backward as if bound by some metaphorical form of northern star situated on the rise of her cheekbone.

Sakura leans into his touch once more as she did yesterday, but this time, she brings up her own hand and delicately lets her fingertips rest atop the outside of his, as if she encourages the caress, thumb brushing against his knuckle as his lips gently brush hers. Her other hand stays resting on his clavicle, a tender embrace, osculant in a way he has hoped for countless times, inclusive of this morning.

It is exactly what he needed, a catalyst of encouragement comprised of a heat that is gentle, coaxing, but still brands him all the same.

Maybe it's okay to want to skim her freckles and more, to allow the affinities he has to breathe. They’re together now; it stands to reason they'll one day venture into territory more uncharted, if he can concede to that kind of vulnerability. Not that he’s anywhere near ready for that - he’s not - but his instincts don’t appear to be all disastrously calamitous. Touching her cheek is something she clearly welcomes.

Sasuke gave in to darker tendencies once. Perhaps it's okay to give in to lighter ones; nothing grows in the absence of light, after all. He brushes a thumb across the high point of her cheekbone once more with her hand encompassing his before they part, embracing a new habit prior to whispering good night.

The way she smiles up at him, skin aflush and glimmering eyes, is everything.

XXX

He inspects the stone and the soil surrounding it for a long while, heavy-heartedly trying to ignore the encyclopedia of names in favor of envisioning what it would look like with lilies surrounding it. Less lugubrious, probably. The trajectory of the tree’s shadow would touch the stone in the evening, he sees, now that he’s here in person. He only ever haunts this place after nightfall when there's less chance of someone happening upon him. He wishes it was more secluded for that reason; maybe healing happens in the sunshine, and that’s why he still struggles with coming here after so many years, creature of the night that he is.

Evenings with Sakura feel like healing, though, and they linger after hours consistently. Maybe next time he’ll visit his dead kin at twilight, a brittle sort of compromise.

He'll see if the impulse still grips him tomorrow, and then decide. He knows his mother would like them. Itachi would, too, although it never feels like he's here, not the same way that it feels like the rest of them are, the air weighted with an accursed brand of perfume pouring outward in all directions.

White lilies may be able to touch the light in his stead for the time being. Even if they don’t grow, he at least will know he tried, and there is always next year. By then, he may have the capability of asking Sakura if she would help him; she’s clearly a capable gardener, and there should be less sediment, if he puts in the work.

By the time he leaves for his apartment, a thin layer has loosened.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #like gold #fanfiction #i said chapter 7 by the end of august and we cut it kind of close but we made it B)

52 notes · View notes