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hush-writes-preg · 2 years

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Of Tempests & Flames: Bringing Forth the Heir

Commission for: @themightyfluffyone Word count: 5,082 Summary: (A D&D-inspired story based on the commissioner's characters and universe) Storm is sick and tired of being hovered over by the infuriating sun elves just because he's carrying the heir to their kingdom. He's also done with the endless summer heat, and those pesky cramps that he just can't seem to shake…

(Part 3 of 4; Part 1, Part 2, Part 4)

TW: Labor, birth

He really, really shouldn’t have gone out today.

The sun shone overhead in a cheery, blinding ball of heat that left sweat beading on Storm’s skin, with nary a cloud in the sky to block its intense rays. He usually didn’t care, but the summer sun left the temperature uncomfortably warm, which coupled with the dark, draping fabrics he always insisted on wearing, left him unbearably hot.

All the extra weight at his middle didn’t help matters, either.

The moon elf let out an exasperated puff of air as he paused yet again to rub at the middle of his back, his massive belly hanging before him as a constant reminder of, well, everything. Of the fact that he’d let the prince of the sun elves knock him up after months of trying in return for safe haven, which he needed because he was a wanted man, and he was on the run because he’d stolen a necklace to increase his power but also happened to piss a whole bunch of people off in the process. Now he was stuck here in Sunvail, with his rented womb occupied—

A tiny foot struck him right under the ribs as if its occupant was scolding him for his spiraling thoughts.

“Sorry, little one,” he muttered under his breath, one clawed hand curling under his pregnant belly and rubbing soothingly. “I know it’s not all bad. Your father is… not as infuriating as he used to be, and you’ve grown on me too.”

Someone just out of sight cleared their throat in that insistent and slightly pompous way that always left his teeth grinding in irritation. His royal babysitters were rarely out of reach, especially now that he was so close to birthing the kingdom’s eagerly-awaited heir, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Or them.

He didn’t like many people, honestly.

“Sir?” the voice asked with forced politeness. “Is everything alright? Would you prefer to return to your quarters and rest?”

“No, I damned well would not,” Storm practically growled, drawing his spine ramrod straight in a facsimile of his usual arrogance and doing his best to ignore his aching body’s prompt protests. “I fully intend to finish my walk, Boon. I’ve had far too much ‘resting’ lately, and if I get too much more of it, then I might have to break something. Or someone.”

“Very well,” came the other’s dry reply. “Just keep in mind that His Majesty, Prince Flamecaller, will be indisposed until well into the evening, so you would do well not to overexert yourself and draw him away from important matters of state.” Boon was one of many palatial servants who’d been assigned to his well-being as his pregnancy progressed, and like most of them, he seemed to have a stick lodged firmly up his ass. Boon in particular thought Storm beneath Flamecaller’s notice, and had on more than one occasion bemoaned the fact that the prince hadn’t chosen to mate with one of his own kind instead of some waspish moon elf.

Needless to say, they didn’t get along very well.

A faint muscle spasm along the underside of his belly compelled him stubbornly forward. Storm was all too aware of the countless eyes that watched his every move while he was out in public, guards and attendants and curious passersby all helping themselves to a look at the heavily pregnant moon elf in their midst. Moon elves and sun elves rarely mixed these days in a social fashion, so to see one in the capital city was odd enough. Anyone who happened to see a pregnant moon elf so close to the palace almost certainly knew who Storm was and what he was doing here, which was why his occasional trips outside had grown few and far between in recent weeks.

Anyone who had a beef with him or the royal family would know to paint a huge target right in the middle of his back.

So while he’d managed to convince his babysitters to let him outside today, they actually hadn’t left the confines of the palace, preferring to let him stroll around one of Solarian’s many gardens instead of risking his life (and the life of the royal heir) by actually venturing into the city.

But by the gods, he was growing claustrophobic.

Step by step, he made his way around the lawn, sticking to the shaded areas where he could and boldly striding through the unavoidable sunny spots when he had to, with his gravid middle leading the way. To be sure, he had a bit of a rolling gait, but if anyone had even tried to suggest that he ‘waddled’, he might take their head off. Sweating, aching, tired, and far too warm, his already prickly personality had grown outright scathing over the past few days.

Storm nearly made it the entire way around the inside of the garden wall when another cramp spread through his midsection, the tight pain sending him stumbling to a halt. The midwives called it ‘false labor’, but the moon elf felt like it was just another way for nature to torture him through this entire experience.

“Sir?”

“Fuck off, Boon.”

His attendant didn’t bother trying to hide a longsuffering sigh from somewhere behind him. If Storm hadn’t been exhausted from hauling around an extra thirty pounds (and all of the other trials that came with this pregnancy), he might have whirled around and torn into the infuriating man. Instead, he shuffled his belly around and tossed a glare in Boon’s general direction that lacked its usual biting ire.

He was fucking miserable, okay?

“You’re dismissed, Boon. I’ll take things from here.” Another voice rose at Storm’s side, just as familiar and posh as Boon’s yet bearing a no-nonsense tone that clearly communicated that it expected no defiance. “I’m sure you must have much better things to do elsewhere, yes?”

Storm didn’t bother listening to Boon’s reply, sure that it was just as snide and passive-aggressive as the rest of him, but waited for his footsteps to fade before addressing the newcomer. “I don’t recall asking for anyone’s help, Win.”

“And I certainly wouldn’t deign to give help where it wasn’t requested, my lord.” He could nearly hear the smile in the other’s voice as he spoke, his tone just as dulcet and soothing to the ear as his appearance was to the eye. Dressed in muted robes of blue, grey, and silver with his long white hair bundled into a fashionable knot at the nape of his neck, Frostwind was a lithe, pretty male that would have turned many a head in the Court of the Sun if it weren’t for the tell-tale grey tinge of his skin that spoke of mixed parentage. Storm didn’t know much about him besides that he worked as a palace attendant and somehow seemed immune to most of the moon elf’s hormonal mood swings, which was quite an impressive feat. “But I do know that you’ve been out in the sun for almost an hour now, and your robes are stained with sweat. Perhaps it’s time to take a break, if only for a little while?”

Storm wanted to snap at him, to stubbornly do the exact opposite of what Win suggested just to be contrary, but he was ridiculously thirsty and his backache had only gotten worse. Besides, the baby picked that exact moment to punt him right in the bladder.

“Fine,” he growled, wincing. “But only because I’ve got to take a piss.”

By the time he made it back to his room, the cramps had gotten bad enough to steal his breath, but Storm refused to give anyone another reason to fuss over him.

They’d already done more fussing than he had the patience to deal with. The King had insisted on arranging the most extravagantly prepared birthing chambers for the arrival of his son’s heir-to-be with all of the awareness of someone with no real concept of money, including hiring enough midwives for a whole platoon of expectant parents, which led to Storm threatening to sneak away in the middle of the night and never come back. It was already bad enough that he’d probably have to spread his legs and push out a baby in front of a stranger or two, but he sure as hells wasn’t going to do it in front of an entire guild and half the royal family in the middle of a gold-gilded suite.

He’d butted heads with the king over the issue for weeks until the overwhelming stress and a bit of frightening spotting had forced Solarian to surrender the fight. Instead, they’d had only the essentials moved into Storm’s quarters, while the King swore that no more than a handful of necessary staff would be in the room to assist with the birth.

After stripping off his warm, sweaty robes in exchange for nothing more than an oversized tunic, the moon elf promptly kicked every servant and attendant right out of the room, unable to deal with the presence of anyone else. He’d had these kinds of cramps before, but not this bad, and the discomfort sapped away his already limited ability to cope with other people. Collapsing to his side on the bed, Storm curled around his swollen belly and tried to wait them out.

Time seemed to creep by as morning turned into afternoon, but the pangs only seemed to strengthen rather than fade with rest. The baby shifted and kicked from within the confines of his womb as if they were just as bothered by the tensing muscles, and the moon elf found himself rubbing his hands over his dark grey skin in a vain attempt to calm them. But he soon found himself too unsettled to remain lying down, and after a great deal of effort and some rather ungainly wriggling, Storm managed to get himself out of bed and back on his feet.

The soothing smells of sandalwood and citrus filled the room from a small pot warming in the window, a subtle reminder of the prince’s own scent, but even that failed to soothe his frazzled nerves. Storm began to pace through the room, one hand pressed against the small of his back while he tried to distract himself by running through mental lists of spell components and memorized incantations. The cramps had to stop soon, right? They did every other time he’d gotten them. It wasn’t like he could already be in labor, not when the midwives said he had another couple of weeks before the baby came. If anyone in the palace even suspected that he might be in labor, they’d descend on him like a flock of vultures looking for any scraps of gossip they might devour, and he’d never get a moment’s peace.

Gods above and below, he missed not being pregnant.

The next cramp shuddered through his gravid womb and left his abdomen painfully tight, forcing him to grasp blindly for the bedpost and hang on while he tried to breathe through it. “Fuck,” he groaned, his cloudy eyes fluttering shut. Maybe he had overexerted himself this morning, and his body was retaliating. Of course he’d feel a little pain and cramping from carrying around such a huge load for too long. It was only natural that he’d–

Pop. Storm gasped as he felt a strange release of pressure and a sudden cascade of fluid down the insides of his thighs. Cheeks burning in embarrassment, the moon elf clutched his legs together in a vain attempt to stem the flow. Yeah, pregnancy had been hard on his bladder, but he’d never outright wet himself before.

Oh gods, what if Flamecaller walked in and saw him like this?

Mortified, Storm grabbed for his discarded tunic and tried to mop up the mess. It wasn’t until he realized that he didn’t smell the sharp scent of urine that the pieces finally clicked.

Cramps. Back pain. Water.

He was in labor.

Storm wasn’t sure what was worse: the contractions or the pressure.

Once he realized he was in labor, he couldn’t sit still. It wasn’t like his body would let him, anyway, considering how the contractions continued to speed up and hit harder as time crept along. He found himself using every piece of furniture in the room as a support to breathe through the rhythmic spasms, clenching his teeth and biting down the cries that threatened to bubble up from the back of his throat. A new layer of sweat left his tunic clinging to his heaving body, the thin fabric sticking to his milk-swollen breasts and the gargantuan dome of his abdomen. But still the stubborn moon elf refused to call out. He’d grown so used to hiding any hint of weakness or vulnerability that even now, he struggled against the thought of exposing himself.

Bent over the edge of the bed with the latest contraction, Storm arched his hips and tried to rock through the pain, his belly hanging pendulously beneath him. He could feel the weight of the baby sliding into his pelvis and filling him with an intense sensation of fullness as it worked its way lower, and the knowledge that he’d soon have to give birth began to unravel his carefully-cultivated calm. His hands and face buried in the bed’s opulent sheets, the moon elf muffled an involuntary scream against the mattress as he tried not to give in to the growing desire to push. He wasn’t ready to deal with that yet, maybe not ever, and–

“My lord? Would you care for some refreshments?”

Oh my fucking gods, no, I don’t want you or anyone else near me right now. Swallowing heavily, Storm struggled for enough composure to answer, but unfortunately, he waited a bit too long.

“...My lord? Is everything alright?”

Another contraction ripped its way through his thin frame, centered on the massive bulge of his belly. Silk and fine linen tore like paper beneath his clawing fingers while another spurt of warm fluid trickled down to his knees. “Everything is fine,” he finally managed to growl out, but his forced answer came at a price when the last word degenerated Into a strangled whimper that only a forge-deafened dwarf would miss.

A muffled curse rose on the other side of the heavy carved door, followed by the sound of keys. “Hold on, Storm. I’m coming in.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Storm half-sobbed, but it was already too late.

Frostwind pushed his way into the room without an ounce of his usual poise, his hurried steps faltering as soon as he caught sight of the moon elf’s barely-covered bottom and the puddle at his feet. “Goddess preserve us,” he breathed, his gaze darting around the room before returning to the panting elf beside the bed. “How long have you been in labor?”

“Don’t know,” Storm muttered into the sheets.

“How do you not– oh, never mind.” His voice held the slightest touch of exasperated fondness before he turned to poke his head back through the door and shout something

Storm wasn’t exactly of a mind to listen to what he said, though. He knew that he’d soon be inundated with nosy sun elves intent on watching him make a further mess of himself, and the utter mortification of the approaching situation was starting to settle in. In half a daze, he tried pulling one of the torn sheets from the bed to wrap around his waist in a half-assed skirt, but someone grabbed his hands.

“None of that, now,” Win gently rebuked him, pulling the fabric away and wrapping a careful arm around his waist instead. “Come along; let’s get you settled in your chair, alright?”

“Leave me alone,” the laboring moon elf grumbled, trying and failing to pull away from the delicate-looking elf’s suddenly firm grasp. “I am not sitting on that stupid-looking–” Another cramp sent him doubling over, and if it wasn’t for Frostwind’s support, he might have toppled over. He did cry out this time, a pathetic sort of wail that he knew he’d deny later, but how else was he supposed to react to being split open by something the size of a melon?

Frostwind hushed him and drew him along like a petulant child towards the chair Storm had ignored for weeks. The low wooden monstrosity with a bench seat and handles looked like it’d been made for torture rather than comfort, but apparently it was a traditional piece of birthing equipment in these parts. Win patiently guided the moon elf into place despite the way the male swore at him, brushing sweat-damp hair from his face and even going so far as to drape Storm’s sheet over his lap to give him a little privacy. “There we go,” he said soothingly, his lips curled in a faint smile even when he had to duck back to avoid Storm’s sharp claws. “Try to catch your breath for a moment. The other midwife will be here soon, and I’m sure His Highness the prince will be right on her heels.”

The ‘other midwife’? Storm glared in Frostwind’s direction, his eyes narrowing as he finally put the pieces together. “Are you telling me that you’re a midwife?”

“Guilty as charged,” the other male chuckled, drawing up his loose sleeves and tying them in place to leave his arms bare. “Do you honestly think you’d have agreed to my near-constant presence over the past few months if you knew that? His Highness didn’t think so.”

No, he definitely wouldn’t have agreed, because he hated the idea of being treated like some delicate flower on the verge of breaking. But Storm refused to admit that. “I don’t like being lied to,” he snarled, ducking away as Frostwind tried to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“And I never lied to you,” the midwife cooly answered. “You just never asked. Perhaps if you tried to get to know people instead of skulking around all the time, you wouldn’t find yourself surprised by such basic facts.”

Before Storm could shoot out a sharp retort, a chaotic whirlwind of reds, golds, and purples burst through the door. The usually composed and regal form of Flamecaller, prince of the sun elves, was in slight disarray, almost as if he’d half run the length of the palace to get there. His breathing was a little fast and his eyes a bit too wide as they landed on Storm’s disheveled shape, but otherwise he managed to hold a noble air around himself like a slightly-tattered cloak. “Are you alright, Storm?”

“Does it look like I’m alright?!” the moon elf snarled, gesturing wildly at his sweaty, bloated body. “I’m– I’m– oh fuck–”

“The contractions are coming pretty quickly now,” Frostwind said with his usual evenness as he gestured to indicate where the other midwife could set a basin of warm water. “Your mate managed to hide them from me for hours before I realized what was happening.”

“Not… his mate,” Storm groaned, clutching at his quaking belly.

“Of course not,” Win replied in an infuriating and entirely too-agreeable way. “Now I need to check your dilation, which means I need to touch you. Can I do that without you taking a swipe at me?”

Wood scraped across stone as Flamecaller pulled a stool to his lover’s side, dropping into the seat and grabbing for Storm’s hands. “I’ll keep him occupied,” he promised, drawing one to his lips to give the back a quick kiss. “You know, I was in the middle of a meeting with several of the western lords when the runner came. You should have seen their faces when I got up and walked out in the middle of one of their tirades.”

Storm leaned back against the chair, sweat glistening on his brow as he tried to ignore the midwife’s probing fingers, infinitely glad that the other kept his claws filed short. “Are you expecting an apology from me?”

“Of course not. They’re as interesting as boiled porridge and twice as useful in matters of state,” the prince said with a smile. “I’m thankful for the reprieve. Let Father deal with them.” His words might have been lighthearted, but there was nothing trivial about the intense way his eyes met Storm’s. Something burned within them, brighter than flame magic and twice as hot, an unspoken affection to which they’d both been reluctant to put a name. Flamecaller leaned close, his warm lips brushing briefly against the corner of his lover’s mouth. “I’ve got more important things to deal with right now.”

They might have been having a moment, but the baby wasn’t about to stop for anything. A new contraction rippled over Storm’s swollen womb before he could respond, leaving him scrunching his face in pain as he let out a distressed howl through clenched teeth.

“That’s right, ride it out,” the midwife said from his incredibly intimate position between Storm’s outstretched legs. “You’re almost completely open, Storm. It won’t be long now.”

“Gods, it’s already been hours,” the moon elf griped. He turned to glare at Flamecaller, his cloudy eyes narrowing. “Your child is already a menace, you scheming bastard.”

“Well, at least we know where they got that from,” Flamecaller replied with a smirk. “It’s certainly not from my side of the family tree.”

The two males stared each other down, ignoring the sound of clinking glass and pouring liquid until a chilled glass was pressed against the prince’s palm. “Here,” Frostwind murmured, gesturing at the glass with the point of his chin. “Bloodfruit juice. He needs some fluids, and the sweetness will give him some much-needed energy.”

Rime clung thickly to the glass from the midwife’s magic, leaving its crimson contents startlingly cold against Storm’s tongue as he took a careful sip from the offered drink. Something shifted heavily around the bottom of the glass, but Win predicted the prince’s question before it even left his lips.

“Moonstone,” he said, sparing Storm a glance. “For the Goddess’s blessing. Mother always swore by it.”

It was such a small thing, but that faint nod to their shared heritage in this foreign land eased a little of the tension from the moon elf’s shoulders. “Thank you,” he mumbled quietly.

Perhaps it was the moonstone’s boon, or perhaps it was Flamecaller’s presence, or perhaps his body had just gotten fed up with the whole process of childbirth, but everything seemed to escalate from that moment. Storm barely had a chance to catch his breath before the next contraction slammed into him, and his claws dug weeping punctures in the prince’s fair skin when the pain grew too much. Soon Frostwind began urging him to push, and he felt the baby’s tiny body shift farther and farther down.

“I can feel the head,” the midwife called up to them after the next contraction, his fingers probing gently into Storm’s straining opening. “You’re making excellent progress, my lord.”

“Just get it out of me,” Storm moaned, exhaustion starting to creep over his features. “Please.”

“That’s all on you, my lord,” Frostwind replied, wiping his hands on the towel the assisting midwife handed him. “Keep pushing, and we’ll meet them soon enough.”

“I’m already fucking pushing!” the laboring elf practically wailed, the dome of his belly almost impossibly tight from the near-constant waves of contractions.

“Shhh,” Flamecaller whispered, pulling his lover against his chest and cradling him close. “You’re doing great. It won’t be long until our baby’s here, my beloved tempest.”

“I hate you,” Storm grumbled, unwanted tears soaking into the prince’s fine shirt. “You godsdamned bastard. You did this to me. Hells, I’m never gonna let you touch me again.”

“I hate you too,” Flamecaller replied, but the spoken words didn’t at all line up with the obvious tenderness coloring his voice as he ran a pale hand soothingly over his lover’s hair. “But let us save those honeyed words for after the little one comes, alright?”

Swallowing and giving the prince a half nod in response, Storm grasped the chair’s handles and tried to brace himself for the next contraction.

But gods, were they brutal. It felt like a giant fist closed over his womb every time and tried to squeeze all of his insides right out through his cunt.

Everything started to blur together into an endless cycle of pain, cramping, and pushing. The room rang with Storm’s wails, with Frostwind and Flamecaller’s calmer voices adding to the din with their encouragement and soothing tones. But no matter how hard he bore down, the moon elf couldn’t seem to get over that last threshold.

He’d nearly brought the baby to a full crown when panic finally hit him. Wild-eyed and near frantic, the moon elf threw an arm over his face and slumped back in his chair as he desperately gulped down air.

“Don’t stop now!” the midwife called, kneeling expectantly between Storm’s cloth-shrouded knees as if ready to catch the child at any moment. “They’ve stretched you almost as wide as you’ll have to go. Push a little harder, and they should slide right out.”

“I can’t,” the exhausted elf whimpered.

“You can.”

“No, I can’t!” Electricity fizzled around the edges of Storm’s wide-eyed face, his chest heaving for every breath. “I can’t– I can’t do this anymore. Just get the godsdamned baby out of me.”

“If you’ve got the energy to discharge magic like an unschooled child, then you have enough energy to finish giving birth,” Frostwind scolded, his lips turning down in the first frown that either of them could ever remember seeing on his comely face.

“No!”

Warm fingers tucked under the stubborn elf’s chin and turned his face towards Flamecaller. The cocky smile on the prince’s face wasn’t as bright as it usually was, but it still radiated warmth as he met Storm’s eyes. “Focus on me,” he murmured. “I have faith in you. I know how powerful and incredibly stubborn you are, so I know you can do this. You’re already so, so close.” His thumb brushed across the bottom edge of the moon elf’s lip, a gentle caress that spoke of all the things they hadn’t yet said. “In fact, if I reached down right now, I could– I could touch our little one. The one we made, together. The one you’ve carried in your belly for all these months.”

Storm let out a shuddering sigh and gave the faintest of nods.

“But you know what I’d like most, my impetuous Storm?” His fingers slid reverently over the moon elf’s cheek, his magic drawing some of the heat from his lover’s flushed skin. “I want to hold them in my arms and see whether their features take after yours or mine. I want to place them against your chest and watch them suckle from their father for the first time. I want to be able to look upon the purest, most precious gift that anyone’s ever been able to give me and finally understand what it means to have everything.” Flamecaller was the son of a powerful king, and he’d long since learned to mask his thoughts and feelings behind a carefully-cultivated veneer, but at that moment, something akin to vulnerability touched his eyes. “Please, Storm. Let’s meet our baby, hmm?”

The thin body pressed against him relaxed ever so slightly, its owner managing a faint chuckle. “And here I’ve always thought you were a heartless bastard,” the moon elf whispered, leaning into the prince’s touch. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft.”

“Never where you’re concerned,” Flamecaller teased, though further banter immediately ceased as soon as a tell-tale flash of pain skittered across Storm’s face.

“Save the bedroom talk for later, my lords,” said the midwife, giving Storm’s knee a purposeful pat. “It’s nearly time for you to push again.”

It didn’t happen during that contraction or even the contraction after that. But on the third grueling clench of his overtaxed womb, the moon elf gripped the handles of his birthing chair and filled the room with a fierce shout that threatened to shake the very rafters. The sound abruptly ended, leaving behind a silence that seemed eager to be broken.

And just like that, it was.

The mewling squall of a newborn filled the gap left by its father’s voice, reedy yet somehow still quite angry, as if its owner couldn’t believe the impertinence of being forced out into this cold, unfamiliar place. “It’s a boy!” Frostwind called out, cradling the tiny heir to the sun elf kingdom in his arms. The hall was immediately filled with shouts of unmistakable joy and congratulations, accompanied by footfalls as runners took off to deliver the news throughout the palace.

“Let me see him,” Storm mumbled, slumped tiredly against the chair. Everything hurt, and everything leaked, but somehow it didn’t seem to matter anymore. All that mattered was the tiny gray-skinned child in Frostwind’s arms, a shock of pale hair plastered to his oblong head while his wrinkled little body flailed.

The midwife nodded, expertly winding a soft cloth around the babe’s body before handing him over to Flamecaller. The slick cord still trailed from his belly, and his skin was streaked with gods-knew-what, but somehow he was still perfect.

“A son,” the prince whispered in barely-concealed wonder. “You’ve given me a son.”

“I’ve given us a son,” Storm chided, though there was only a hint of the usual edge to his voice. “If you think I’m going to go through all that and then just walk away from him, you’ve got another damned thing coming.”

“Fine, you’ve given us a son.” Placing the baby gently against the moon elf’s chest, Flamecaller let his hand linger, stroking his fingers along the newborn’s back. “But I’d hate for him to be an only child. Does this mean–?”

Someone let out a polite cough, and they looked down to find Win staring at them with one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised. “I expect you to wait at least four to six weeks, gentlemen.”

“For what?”

Flamecaller burst out laughing, which startled the baby into another bout of displeased sounds just as horrified realization spread across Storm’s face. The moon elf’s mortified voice added to the cacophony as he leveled a string of scathing curses at the now-grinning midwife and the prince alike, all while the news of this joyous occasion spread across the capital city like wildfire.

And somewhere, the Goddess smiled.

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pyrographic-memory · 9 months

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To start, happy first of the year for everyone! I hope everyone's parties and/or chill sessions went well, I myself hid at home enjoying games and drink, heheee

I am already melting with glee at feedback to my addition on @moonchild-in-blue's artist thread, I've been stimming for a good hour bc I'm not sure how to properly respond 😂😂 i am very shy, let's just get that out of the way but thank you for the responses you guys are beautiful!

Here is the close-ups that were requested! I really just have them for Vessel's "face" and hands, as they have the most detail vvv

I actually had a lot of fun messing around with "face" designs bc I knew I was not gonna be able to draw Vessel's current mask in a full-body piece like this at the level of detail my brain would be pleased with on this canvas size. I've seen so many cool takes on Sleep's eyes tho and how they would manifest through Ves, so I had to give my little spin on it

The ribbon was actually a suggestion from my friend bc originally the idea was for him to be holding some kind of necklace or chain, but I couldn't really decide on like, a style? so they helped me out lol

The pauldron was also cool to get down tho why must filigree be so difficult @.@; I stared at one single reference photo for like 3 hours, I swear it was ingrained into my retinas for about a day once I'd finished that part 😂😂

And I had to add the claws, you can never go wrong with claws on a not-quite-human character. The gradient of the paint was also a must, I'm a sucker for subtle corruption elements

I am god awful at backgrounds, so this was literally me just fucking around and throwing stuff onto the canvas and saying yep, it's good 😂 obviously there's a decent amount of callback to Sundowning, towards the end I did kinda try to give it a blend of all three eras/albums, but there's definitely not enough TPWBYT. That can be rectified in the future tho, heheehe

Of course, however you guys want to read it isn't necessarily right or wrong, just like how we all see the music, go wild with it. I am absolutely down for different takes

Thank you for coming back for my TED talk loves, cheeries! 🖤

#im definitely switching to bigger canvases the pixelation is killing meeee #my art #sleep token #again thank you guys for the replies i will wail into my pillows every time i see new comments and tags #i will be a rambly mess until i get used to this pls bear with

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xoteajays · 2 years

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“When you look at [trigger], you… what is that?” + Naila, maybe?? 🖤🖤🖤

Naila’s been quiet for a while.

It’s strange, since she liked to talk almost as much as Ellie did. Every since she’s joined them, the pair had gotten on like a house on fire; they could barely manage silence when it was needed to be getting around the infected, but even then they’d usually be back to talking by now. Joel hadn’t minded the peace, but he’s been curious about her sudden silence.

As they sat around a fire, keeping it low to avoid detection, he catches the glassy look in her dark eyes. The fire lights them up, but it’s like she’s not there, hollow inside. Her mouth is drawn in a serious line, it looked odd on her usually peaceful or cheery features.

“Hey, Naila … When you looked at that infected, you… what was that?” Ellie pipes up.

Joel moves to reach across and knock her shoulder, make her gaze shoot to him in that classic Ellie ‘what?’ expression. He’d been wondering too, but he wasn’t so bold as to actually ask her. She’d frozen up back there around the infected, Joel had had to drag her along to keep her moving. Her hand had been clammy in his own, her feet stumbling where’d they usually be cautiously precise.

When they look back to her, Naila’s glassiness is shaken from her eyes and her features have been seemingly forced to relax. She draws Ellie easily into her side, carding a hand over the younger’s messy crown.

“Oh, farashati, it just … reminded me of someone,” Naila says, tone light.

Joel watches her free hand fumble to her throat, her fingers flittering against her skin where a necklace pendant would lay if she wore one. He watches her swallow thickly, eyes quickly blinking when tears welled.

“I thought …” she starts, her voice sounds far away, like she wasn’t really there again, “A man I knew, someone I loved … he wore a necklace just like that infected had hanging around its neck. The way it glinted in the light … I thought …”

She draws in a shaky quick breath, her bottom lip trembling. She squeezes her eyes shut tight, brows creasing in remembrance. Ellie’s big eyes stare concerned at her. All at once with a shake, Naila comes back to herself. She runs her hand over the length of Ellie’s ponytail before landing it on the girl’s shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.

“It was just a memory. That’s all.”

~~~~~~~

noticing trauma sentence starters

#starlit epiphany #tj answers #oc: naila el shafei #‘farashati’ means ‘my butterfly’ in arabic #tlou oc #the last of us oc

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wamulu-gorillaz · 3 years

Note

Halloo idk if you still take reqs but can i get a gorillaz matchup (if you dont take reqs anymore feel free to ignore this ask lol)

• Appearance •

im 5'5, 58kg. I have long black hair (halfway down my back) with bangs and i dyed the underneath teal. Afab (i use she/her)& of south east asian descent (i prefer not to specify)

• personality types thingies •

Aquarius, istp, sanguine, type 7w6 enneagram, love language is quality time, and also im a gryffindor

• style •

for tops i mainly have black and white striped tops and graphic tees, for bottoms i wear black skinny jeans with some rips & some dark green cargo pants, for shoes i wear doc martens and high tops, and lastly for accesories i wear unusual earrings, dog tag necklaces & chokers (not at the same time lol) and i wear black midi rings to match with my dark nail polish

•hobbies•

I like listening to music and spooky stories while i draw/paint and i like to sing to myself bc i aint that confident to let others hear. I watch horror movies and watch people play horror games and like making pretty notes about random knowledge that i will never use

•Likes and Dislikes•

likes: coffee and earl grey tea, Cool weather, Cupnoodles, the colours :violet, navy blue and maroon, people who listens and tries to actually know me

dislikes : touchy people, hot weather, overbearing people, the colours neon green and yellow, overly serious people

•what am i like•

Im generally a chillaxed but cheery type of person, i like to point out the brightside of things to other people. Im shy at first but im very talkative when im comfortable with a person. I dont like to disappoint the people who are close to me so its hard for me to say no. acc. to some they see me as passionate and blunt but really im just lost and i just do what feels right. Im terrible at expressing my emotions via talking soo i just write it out instead.

Anyways this is my first time asking for a matchup req so sorry if its long, idk what and what not to put lol

Anywayss Tysm!! <3

(also, apologies for any grammar and spelling mistakes english is not my first language)

2D!

- Beware! Spooky story sound affects from him whenever you have a story going. But also beware! He might spook himself and that doesn't help anybody ("BOO!" Oh no... no... calm down, there Stuar', we were goin' for spooky, not frickin' diabowlickle - he says to himself)

- Sometimes, to make you feel more at ease with expressing your emotions, he'll hide little letters of affection throughout the house or in your bag. Sometimes, however, it's just random things like 'I'm sad Tottenham didn't score last time they played'

- He also secretly hopes that you dye the underneath of your hair blue like his. He would be over the moon if you did

(Also, you don't need to apologise for your grammar and spelling mistakes! I understood everything. And besides - I can guarantee that everyone whose first language is English makes the same mistakes. If they don't need to apologise, neither should you xx)

#2d #2d x reader #2d gorillaz #gorillaz #gorillaz x reader #gorillaz matchups #gorillaz matchup

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mochegato · 3 years

Text

Capturing a Dream

Chapter 10 – Who Do You Trust

Chapter 1 Chapter 9

*Note – Savage is working with Klarion for his plan. Klarion is the one controlling everyone, but the Team doesn’t know that.

After a prolonged encounter with Firestorm, Chimera ran out onto the platform freshly recharged and ready to fight. She had already used Mullo, Roaar, and Stompp and was now on Pollen. She was beyond curious to see what cataclysm would do to one of Green Lantern’s creations but she was afraid of what it would do to his ring and, well, the power of cataclysm on a floating rock in space seemed like a poor decision, so Plagg had stayed with Adrien.

She hadn’t had time to feed any of the kwami after using them except Trixx, who she needed to keep up the illusion of her suit, so for now, each kwami was only used once then put back in the flute. She’d make sure to give them all extra treats and thanks after the fight. Taking the time to recharge Trixx had been risky and time consuming, but necessary. Didn’t mean she liked it. She had to hide and do nothing while the rest of the team were getting attacked. She hated it.

Taking time to hide and recharge meant her team had to fight on their own and cover their own backs. It lead to situations like the one she ran in on, a possessed Batman throwing Robin across the platform and kicking Rocket into a buttress. The force bubble that had been around Wonder Woman disappeared as Rocket’s focus was forcibly removed. Robin’s focus remained squarely on the threat in front of him. He stood, facing Batman, the apprehension in his stance was clear to Chimera. It likely would have been clear to Batman as well, but hopefully whoever was controlling him only saw confident defiance. Despite the façade, Chimera knew this particular fight was the worst for Robin; fighting the man who had become like a father to him. Even knowing he was being controlled, she could see the strain in Robin’s eyes.

She rushed forward to assist Robin. He threw a handful of smoke pellets before jumping at Batman, kicking at where he knew he had been, the kick designed to deliver maximum impact to sensitive areas. He landed roughly in an empty space instead. Robin turned around just in time for Batman to punch him with enough force to knock him back a considerable distance.

Chimera took advantage of the distraction to attack from behind. She almost made contact with the still distracted mentor when she was roughly yanked to the side. She landed on the concrete with a grunt. She looked down to see Wonder Woman’s lasso around her chest, pinning her arms to her side. Her eyes trailed the lasso back to Wonder Woman’s hands. An unnatural predatory glint was in Wonder Woman’s eyes. “Now, tell me,” she implored in an eerily cheery voice. “Who. Are. You?” She pulled the lasso tighter, drawing Chimera closer. “The Lasso of Hestia compels you.”

Chimera’s breath hitched as she took in the lasso. Wonder Woman’s eyes narrowed in glee. She would not be able to resist the Lasso of Truth. Any second now Klarion would know who Chimera really was, and more importantly, what she was. And once he knew that, he would know how to defeat her. Their next encounter would go very differently with that information.

Chimera looked over her shoulder to gauge the fight between Batman and Robin. When she looked back toward Wonder Woman, it was more a look of amusement than fear. Whoever was controlling them was clumsy. A novice at UMS could do better than this amateur. Their strikes were wild and indelicate. Not taking full advantage of the fighter they chose. She raised an eyebrow at Wonder Woman. “A weapon of subjection and dispelling illusions? Really? You think this has power over me?” She pulled on the lasso, easily pulling the normally well prepared Wonder Woman off balance, causing her to stumble toward Chimera as the lasso fell uselessly at her feet. Wonder Woman kicked off Chimera, using the momentum she gained to flip away from her, putting necessary distance between them.

But, the movement caused her to lose sight of Chimera for a few seconds. A few precious seconds that were all an expert UMS player, like Chimera needed. She spun her top out, just barely grazing Wonder Woman’s exposed upper arm. But, a touch was all she needed. Wonder Woman froze in the last moments of the flip. Unable to adjust to land, she crashed inelegantly onto the concrete in a way that Chimera was sure was going to bruise in the morning. Chimera slowly walked up to her, confident the person controlling her was still listening. She knelt down next to Wonder Woman’s ear and whispered, “You want to know who I am?” She pulled Wonder Woman’s face toward her so whoever was controlling her could see Chimera. “I’m a goddamned goddess.”

She dropped Wonder Woman’s face so she could no longer see Chimera and winced. It was kind of true in the cock your head to the side and squint kind of way. Like a 3-D picture, you had to look really hard and focus on what was behind what was presented. Okay, it wasn’t true, but there was a goddess involved somewhere and whoever was controlling the Justice League was listening. It would be nothing but beneficial for their enemies to have the wrong idea about her. It meant they not only didn’t know about the miraculous, but they would focus on the entirely wrong weaknesses, making them less able to figure out how to fight her.

Chimera gently laid the inoculation patch on Wonder Woman, watching it as it merged into her body. Chimera let out a small breath, laying her hand on Wonder Woman and wishing a silent apology for the pain she would feel in the morning. She looked over her shoulder, Robin was still holding his own against Batman. He still had some tricks he could pull out. She however was on a timer. Trixx would time out any second now. She looked toward where Rocket had been thrown earlier to see if she was moving yet. She could see some movement, but not much.

Chimera rushed over to her to see if anything was seriously wrong. “I think my head’s going to be ringing for a few hours, but I’ll be okay. I can still create bubbles. Just point me where to go,” Rocket stated confidently, but the urge to hold her head in her hands was evident.

Chimera gave her an understanding smile. “No. You’ve already taken out quite a few members. Go hide somewhere until you feel better. We have almost everyone by now, just a few more. It wouldn’t help anyone if they caught you in this state. Once you feel up to it, check with Aqualad to see where he wants you,” Chimera ordered her. Rocket nodded and shuffled to another room to recover.

Chimera let out a breath and found an alcove and hid herself… again. She huffed at the thought and vowed to make the transition as quick as possible. “Trixx, Pollen, separate,” she whispered, causing Trixx to come spiraling out of her necklace. She tossed a cookie to Trixx. “Eat quickly. Robin needs us. And I have no idea where Superboy is.” She tried to glance back nervously.

“Done, Guardian,” Trixx chirped after only a few seconds.

Chimera gave her a relieved smile. “I think you’re getting faster. Thank you so much, Trixx. Trixx, Pollen, unite.” Before the wave of light had completely engulfed her, she was already pulling Longg’s choker out of the flute. “Pollen, Trixx, separate. Great job, Pollen. I will feed you as soon as this is all over,” she promised, moving to tuck the comb into the flute. Pollen nodded in understanding and disappeared into the comb. Longg spun out of the choker to face her the moment it was secure around her neck. “Good evening, Guardian.” Longg bowed to her.

“Good evening, Longg. I hope you’re ready to fight. Longg, Trixx, unite.” She was blowing her melody in the flute before the light was done. “Mirage.” She was running the instant the word left her lips, her costume changing as soon as she finished the word.

She narrowed her eyes at the still ongoing fight between Robin and Batman. She corrected her course toward their fight but skidded to a stop just in time to see Superboy burst through the ceiling and the floor right in front of her. “Superboy!” She tensed to jump down to check on him, but got hit by Superman and knocked through the wall into the main meeting room before she could. She shook her head to clear away the fog and moved quickly back to the fight, still a bit hazy from the hit.

She got to the hole she had created in the wall just in time to see Batman kick Robin through the hole in the floor Superboy had created. She quirked her lips to the side as the unbidden thought that they were going to be doing a lot of reconstruction when this is all done occurred to her. Seriously, she and Superboy alone had been thrown through at least four objects, leaving gaping holes.

She jumped when Wolf hit the wall next to her with a loud thump. She whipped her head around to see Martian Manhunter stalking toward them. She will deny to her death that she yelped when Sphere came out of nowhere to knock him out of the way. She shook her head again to focus on Batman and Superman. She crawled through the hole in the wall and ran to the floor hole.

She peeked over the edge in time to catch Superboy swing Robin in a circle before launching him into Batman. Robin deftly placed the patch on Batman as they fell, rendering him unconscious before he hit the ground. Chimera took the distraction as an opportunity to drop down through the hole, landing behind Superman, who was charging at Superboy.

He heard her land and twisted mid-charge to swing at her instead. She jumped back at the unexpected move, just barely missing the hit. She dropped to miss his next kick and kicked her leg out instead to sweep his legs out from under him, but he floated up just enough to miss her leg, without having to resettle himself as he would if he had jumped. Instead, he could leverage his new height into a dangerous body slam. “Cheater,” she grumbled, flipping out of the way before he landed with enough force to create a crater right where she had been a second before.

Whoever was controlling them was clearly more familiar with Superman’s strengths than he had been with the others’ she’d come across already. She flipped out of the way his punch, but it passed by closely enough that the low pressure created interfered with her trajectory just slightly, throwing her a bit off balance, just enough for him to grab her arm and throw her into Robin. They landed in a heap of tangled arms and legs and bruises.

Superboy punched Superman from the side, knocking him over a few feet. Superman returned the punch, but Superboy blocked it. He kicked Superman in the stomach, causing him to double over, but not as much as Superboy had been hoping. Superman used the change to add power to his uppercut that connected with Superboy’s jaw with a sickening smack. Superman kicked him, launching him into a wall. The wall folded under the pressure, a spider web of cracks emanating from his point of contact. Superboy fell, landing on his hands and knees, muscles shaking with the strain to get up again.

Chimera kicked Superman’s knee from behind, forcing him to fall back slightly. She was at his side in an instant with a well-placed punch, knocking him to the side. She rose up her leg to kick him back, but he grabbed her leg. She tried to kick him with her other leg but he floated up into the air with her. He spun around a few times and let go of her, launching her through a buttress and out of Superboy’s sight.

“Chimera!” Superboy screamed, searching for any indication of her status. Not seeing any, he switched his focus back to Superman, who was still watching her to see what she would do. Superboy’s face was contorted in a dangerous grimace, eyes narrowed and glaring at Superman. He kicked Superman in the back, sending him sprawling forward just enough to almost put him off balance. He whirled on Superboy, using the momentum to increase the impact of his punch. Superboy deflected the punch only allowing it to graze him. Superboy delivered an uppercut of his own, knocking Superman back a few feet. Superman stopped his backward momentum and flew forward with both fists in front of him, sending Superboy flying into the wall.

Robin tried to sneak up on Superman but he sent his fist out behind him, swinging his body after it, to backhand him. Robin flipped back in a series of perfectly executed back handsprings. Missing the entire volley of punches Superman sent his way. The distraction gave Superboy the opportunity to grab Superman from behind and latch onto him, pinning down his arms.

“Sure about this?” Robin double checked, pulling a box out of his belt. Conner had agreed to it when he’d gotten it out of the Batcave, but now it was actually happening. Now he would have to actually feel the pain of it. Now it was real.

“Do it!” Superboy yelled in confirmation, bracing himself for the pain. His face was set in a determined frown. He needed to check on Chimera and this was taking too long.

Robin nodded and opened the box, slowly advancing on the two supers as the tell-tale green glow of kryptonite emitted from the box. Superman and Superboy both groaned in pain and slowly started curling in on themselves. Robin had almost reached them when he was knocked into the wall by Martian Manhunter. He reached down and placed the shard of kryptonite back in the box, easing the drain on the two supers before turning back to Robin. He moved quickly to attack, but Robin had jumped away before he could reach him.

Superman recovered quicker than Superboy. He grabbed onto Superboy’s arms, which were still wrapped around his chest, securing them and Superboy, into place. He launched himself, or more precisely Superboy, into the wall behind them over and over again until Superboy was barely standing. Superman turned and kicked Superboy in his sternum with enough force to knock out the already weakened super.

“Superboy!” Chimera screamed. She watched him, waiting for him to show any indication of movement. Seeing none, she turned her focus to Superman, glaring at him with an intensity that would have put Batman to shame. Superboy just couldn’t get a break from Superman. It didn’t matter if he was being controlled or fully in control of himself. No matter the situation, Superman kept making Superboy suffer, and for what?

She stood slowly, her entire body tensed like she was bracing for an impact, her arms hanging by her sides, but ready to spring at a moment’s notice. She started walking slowly toward him. She looked down so Superman couldn’t read her lips and silently mouthed “lightning dragon”. She slowly twisted her wrists as lightning crawled over her hands. Her fingers crackled with the electricity surging over them. Yellow sparks flared dangerously from her fingers, in short, controlled bursts. “How bad can I make him hurt?” she asked sharply.

Robin’s eyes widened in surprise, almost not jumping out of the way to miss Martian Manhunter’s grab for him. He’d never heard Chimera speak with such coldness. Even when facing enemies, she was rational and never used excessive force. The look in her eyes showed she was holding back now, the desire to hurt him warring with her natural inclination to protect. “He’s still our friend,” he cautioned her between jumps and kicks. “He’s being controlled.”

“Right. Just don’t kill him,” she nodded curtly. She brought her hands in front of her, wrapping them around each other, forming a large ball of yellow lightning coursing through it. Veins of electricity traced the invisible barrier she’d created and reinforced with her movements. She controlled the power’s path. She set the route and the destination.

Superman’s eyes narrowed and his body tensed to rush her. She gave him a second to demonstrate his super speed, allowing him to get closer to her before she struck, flicking her hands forward to direct the lightning at him. He froze in pain. He tried to move through the force of the lightning, but couldn’t get his body to function properly. Electricity trailed over his body, around his legs and arms, over his chest, holding him in place, interfering with the internal electrical impulses controlling the muscles, pushing them to contract. He screamed out in frustration and pain, trying to push through the restraints, but barely able to keep all his muscles from contracting and forcing him to curl into a ball.

Chimera’s face contorted in concentration and strain. She had not used Lightning Dragon before and utilizing it at full strength while maintaining an illusion of her regular costume, was quickly draining her energy. She focused her full attention to Superman, trying to increase the strength until he passed out. Her focus was distracted when Robin grunted loudly. Chimera spared a quick glance to Robin.

Her lightning almost faltered when she saw Martian Manhunter holding Robin strong enough to break bones. She looked back to Superman, trying to run through her options. She couldn’t drop lightning. Once she dropped it, Superman would start moving. She faltered for a second before deciding on her only option. She moved her right hand toward Martian Manhunter, splitting the impact of her lightning.

Martian Manhunter immediately dropped Robin in surprise and pain. Robin fell into a crouch, quickly moving away from Martian Manhunter while he regained his breath. He watched the scene before him. Chimera was holding the two heroes at bay, but just barely. Sweat had started dripping down her forehead from the exertion. With the force of her lightening split, Superman had started making progress toward her, though it slowed as he got closer and the strength of the lightning increased. But, even slowed, it was still there. He needed to act quickly to get to Superman before he got to Chimera. Martian Manhunter was closer, so he would have to be first.

“Hurry up, bird boy,” she grunted. “I’m starting to feel like the Emperor.”

“Drop Manhunter’s!” Robin called out as soon as he had positioned himself behind him.

Chimera moved her hand so they were both directed toward Superman, halting his progress only a few feet away. Robin quickly placed himself behind Superman as well. “Cut it!” He yelled out.

Chimera turned her hands up with a sharp flick, cutting the lightning’s path. She gasped for air, her chest finally feeling like it could fully inflate, as Superman collapsed on his hands and knees. Before she could take a full breath, she was already on the move to check on Conner, trusting that Robin had placed the patch on Superman’s neck the moment the lightning cut.

“Conner!” she called to him, gently repositioning him to lay down on his back and lifting his head into her lap. She gave him a quick check over to see if she could see any grievous injuries. There was nothing that stuck out, but he would likely have bruises and maybe a concussion. He may be invulnerable, but she wasn’t at all sure if that still that still held true against another Kryptonian. They could kill one another after all, that had to mean it didn’t, right?

Robin crouched next to her. “How’s he doing?”

“I’m not sure yet. X-ray vision is his thing, not mine,” she motioned toward Superman. “But he’s breathing, so there’s that. Go, help the others get Savage. I’ll stay here with Superboy. I’m going to need to recharge anyway. Let me know if you guys need help.”

Robin nodded in agreement. He laid his hand on her shoulder, gently squeezing it to give her silent comfort before running toward the Observation deck, where he was sure the rest of the team was heading as well.

Chimera brushed Superboy’s hair away from his forehead. She quietly cooed at him, trying to urge him to wake up. “It’s okay, Conner. You’ll be okay. We’re not done yet,” she reassured more for herself than for him. She anxiously ran her hands through his hair, in what she hoped was a comforting ministration. “I just need you to come back now. Come back… to me… please.”

She took a deep breath and looked around her to make sure nobody was looking before pulling out a few treats from her flute. “Trixx, Longg separate.” Trixx twirled out of her necklace with a tired smile.

“Guardian,” he nodded at her.

Chimera smiled back at him and tossed him a cookie. “Thank you, Trixx. Eat up. We might have more fighting before we rest.” Trixx nodded and started eating the cookie. “You did really well again, Trixx.”

Trixx smiled at her and twirled in the air. “It’s al…”

“Was that a light?” Conner muttered, scrunching his face and clamping his eyes shut to block out the light.

“Conner!” Chimera immediately brightened. “How are you feeling? Are you okay?”

“I feel like a human hit by a truck,” he groaned. “Repeatedly.”

Chimera chuckled. “That’s probably about accurate. Hopefully fewer broken bones though.”

“How are you?” He tried to open his eyes but the brightness hurt. Instead he slowly sat up and hunched over, trying to put as little strain on his aching muscles as possible.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “That spin move definitely looked a lot more fun when you did it to Robin than when Superman did it to me, but he didn’t hit me nearly as hard as he hit you, or as much.”

He hummed noncommittally. He didn’t believe her, but he was in no position to argue currently. He needed to focus on opening his eyes. “Is it over?” he asked, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He slowly opened his eyes just a bit, blinking repeatedly to try to make them accustomed them to the light.

“I think so. I haven’t heard anything over the coms yet. The League have all been immunized. The Team is just making sure Vandal is gone.” Trixx floated in front of her with an urgent look, glancing back and forth between Superboy and Chimera. Chimera’s eyes widened in realization. She looked down at her suit, her distinctly not normal suit. Once Superboy turned her way, he would see her in a very different suit from normal. He would know that her powers made her appear differently.

She looked down at Superboy again and let out a long breath. Would that be so bad? Would it be so bad for Conner to know that her suit looked different depending on what power she was using? She wasn’t going to tell him everything, just… more. And this was Conner. She trusted him with her life, and more importantly, she trusted him with her loved ones’ lives. She trusted him and he deserved to know that, in a way that he would understand. And there were just so many lies, she really needed there to be fewer. She needed someone to know more, someone who could understand her.

She motioned to the kwami to hide and looked back at Superboy. “Hey, Conner?”

“Yes?” He kept his eyes closed, but inclined his face toward her to show her he was listening.

“Want to see something nobody else has ever seen?” There was a distinctive edge of vulnerability in her voice.

He scrunched up his face in confusion. What could there possibly be on the Watchtower that nobody had seen. “Okay?”

“Open your eyes,” she softly instructed.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked at her. His brows furrowed for a few seconds in confusion, letting his vision adjust before realization set in. His eyes widened and he snapped up into a sitting position, swaying slightly from the change in blood pressure. She reached out to steady him, watching him carefully to read his reaction. He was staring at her in awe, mouth slightly agape.

When he didn’t react for more than a few seconds, she looked to the side, nervous under his scrutiny. “It isn’t… I can’t drop…” She took a deep breath and looked back at him with a nervous smile. “You know I said I draw on different powers?” He nodded mutely, too shocked by the change to be able to formulate words. “I draw on two main ones, but occasionally add a new one if I need it. Each new power changes my appearance to enable the power. I use mirage to hide it so nobody knows. But I’m not doing that now.”

His eyes raked over the new costume and hair. He reached out to touch her face dumbfounded. His fingers traced her mask. The new shape felt odd, but didn’t seem out of place. Her hair was still pulled back, but in an elaborate French braid, that trailed down her back and flared out like a tail. The red and black of her current suit seemed to fit her much better than the brown and orange or her regular suit.

But the thing that absolutely captivated him was her eyes. They were blindingly, brilliantly, beautiful and visible. For the first time since he’d met her, he could see her eyes. “Your eyes are blue,” he breathed out. She smiled gently at him and nodded. He stared at her entranced trying to memorize every aspect of her like it might be the last time he would ever see it, which if what she said was true, it very well could be. “Why?”

“Why what?” she cocked her head to the side. “Why are they blue?”

“Why are you showing me? I thought… I thought you couldn’t,” he answered breathily, still staring in her eyes, trying to memorize the exact color, a deeper shade of blue than his own yet still bright.

“I’m not supposed to. It’s still not me, not me me. It’s another suit,” she babbled. Superboy nodded distractedly, only partially taking in everything she was saying. His eyes kept jumping from one detail to another, subconsciously comparing what she looked like now to what she looked like normally, searching for commonalities and differences to come up with a more complete picture of what she looked like.

“Nobody has ever seen me in just this suit,” she continued. “You’re the only one. I wanted you to see… well, I want you to see more, but…” she furrowed her brow in consideration, trying to force out the words she wanted to say while at the same time trying to keep the tears in. “There’s too many secrets. I hate it. I can’t… How close can I get to anyone when it’s all lies?” she stuttered out, trying to organize her thoughts, but there were too many coming too quickly for her to divulge them in an orderly manner. “How can you build trust when everything is built on lies? How can I expect you guys to trust me when you don’t know me?”

Superboy shook his head adamantly. His eyes became hard. “You’re being stupid again,” he growled.

She looked up at him shocked and furrowed her brow. “You know calling someone stupid, isn’t as comforting as you seem to think it is.”

“Then stop being stupid.” He flicked her forehead. She pouted at him and rubbed her forehead. “You don’t get to blame yourself because I screwed up.” She opened her mouth to object but he cut her off before she could say some ridiculous, insane reason it was her fault. “And what lies? What you look like? You’ve never lied about it. We know that isn’t what you look like. I know this isn’t what you look like.”

She opened her mouth again, but he cut her off again, more aggressively this time. “No! That was Savage’s mistake,” he argued, brows furrowed in frustration. “He underestimated us. We may not know the details, but we know what we need to know. I know you. And you do know me. You knew what drove me to use the shields. I didn’t have to tell you. You never suspected me of making a deal to get them. You never doubted me. Because you do know me.

“And I know you.” At some point during his speech he had started yelling, but he couldn’t stop now. It was too important that she understood this. “I don’t know who your parents are, but I know they love you and you love them. I don’t know your friends’ names, but I know you think of them like family and would give everything you have for them, for us, without hesitation. I don’t know what you want to do for a career, but I know you’re creative and have a drive and determination that whatever it is you want to do, you’ll succeed. And I know that you’ll drive yourself into the ground doing it unless you have someone there forcing you to sleep and take care of yourself.” He gave her an annoyed look.

“I don’t know how powerful you are or will be, but I know you’re scared because you want to protect people from getting hurt, not cause it. And I don’t know the names of all the people who broke your heart, but I know you use it to guide you in everything you do.” He took a deep, calming breath and looked at her tenderly. “I don’t know everything, but I trust you.”

She stared at him, frozen as she tried to process his words. He started to question if he had broken her somehow when she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. The hug both calmed her and set her skin on fire. She buried her face in his shoulder to hide her blush and so she didn’t have to look in his eyes, because if she looked in his eyes, all of her resolve would fade and she would do something dangerous, for her and Conner and everyone else.

They broke apart before at the sound of Robin’s voice over the coms. “Savage is gone. How is Superboy?”

Chimera took a deep breath and pulled away, keeping her eyes on the ground. “He’s awake. I’ll send him over while I recharge.” Superboy frowned at her, but nodded in understanding. He didn’t want to leave. It felt like they were close to something, but he wouldn’t force her into anything.

“Come on, our other teammates are waiting on you.” She gave him a strained smile, swallowing down the bile that pushed up her throat. The word was bitter on her tongue and she hated it. She reached out her hand to help him stand up, keeping a close eye on him to make sure he was stable enough to stand on his own. While he kept his eyes on her to make sure she was okay as well.

She nearly jumped when the New Year was announced over the internal system. “Happy New Year, Justice League.”

She let out a breath and chuckle. She looked up at Superboy, feeling vulnerable under his soft gaze. She smiled ruefully and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Happy New Year, Conner.” She patted his chest and walked away to a more private area to recharge and catch her breath.

Recharged, refocused, and back in her normal suit, she joined Superboy on the observation deck, standing on the other side of Wolf from him, letting Wolf act as an emotional barrier for her. She crouched down to pet Wolf and quickly check him over for injuries. She cooed at him a few times and fell over laughing when Wolf accidentally knocked her over in his excitement.

Superboy smiled at her as he watched her play with Wolf. Laughing, he helped her up after Wolf knocked her down. His arm twitched to be slung over her shoulders, but she seemed like she needed space and as much as it killed him not to touch her right now, he would never not give her the space she needed. She suddenly straightened up. “Oh my God! How much did I miss?”

Superboy looked down at her, a confused furrow in his brow. “What do you mean?”

“Look at Robin and Zatanna. The way they’re standing. Their body language is completely different now. There’s no way they didn’t kiss at midnight. ��Look at those goofy smiles and blushes. And look at Kid Flash with his arms around Artemis. They must have gotten together too!”

Chimera was jumping with excitement and tugging on his arm. Superboy grinned at her enthusiasm and closeness. He looked back to the group. “Aqualad is looking a bit flustered too.”

Chimera cocked her head to the side to examine him, her eyes widening. “Oh my god, you’re right. Do you think Rocket kissed him, too?” She grinned at the couples, but suddenly wrinkled her nose in disgust. “They’re all going to be making out all over the Cave now, aren’t they?” She looked back at Superboy. “I’m happy for them and all, but I have no interest in seeing them making out.” Especially when she wasn’t able to herself.

Superboy laughed for a moment before he stilled, the idea hitting him too. He scrunched up his face. “Me either,” he agreed. He wouldn’t want to see that in the first place, but seeing them do it and knowing he couldn’t do the same with Chimera was going to suck. “We could always start carrying water guns around for whenever we see them making out,” he offered with a smirk.

Chimera’s eyes went wide, a mischievous smile spreading on her lips. “Next time I go to the store I’ll get a few super soakers and a ton of water balloons.” They started giggling at the idea until they felt a presence behind them.

They turned around slowly, eyes widening at the sight of Superman, standing stiffly behind them. “Hello Mr… Man,” Chimera scrunched up her nose. “You know, you supers really have a problem with your names. You make it hard to mock you based on your name. It’s rather annoying.”

Superman chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry about that… I guess. I’ll try to work on it.”

“Wouldn’t be my priority of things to work on, but you do you, I guess,” she muttered wryly, knowing full well both of them could hear her. Superboy smirked, but hid it with a downturned face. Chimera looked back and forth between Superman and Superboy, almost laughing at the awkwardness. They both looked extremely apprehensive and nervous, looking anywhere but each other’s eyes. She was starting to wonder if the inability to process emotions was genetic.

She studied Superman closely as she waited for him to say why he had approached them. He kept tensing his jaw like he was getting ready to say something before sending her a furtive glance and looking away. “Riiiiight,” she drawled, rocking back and forth from her toes to her heels. “Oh look! It’s Red Arrow… all alone… I should go check on him. Let me know if you want me.” She gave Superboy a supportive pat on the back and walked over toward Red Arrow.

She felt slightly guilty about abandoning Superboy to speak with Superman, but it looked like Superman really wanted to talk with him and wouldn’t with her around. He looked contrite, which was a really good sign for them starting to move toward a relationship, and that was something that Conner desperately needed. She grimaced slightly at the thought that it might be all in her head, just wishful thinking that Superman had finally realized how much he was hurting Conner and that he was blaming Conner for being created. If that was the case and he wasn’t going to try to make amends, she would personally recreate their earlier interaction… for scientific purposes, of course.

She glanced over her shoulder to check on their progress. Her steps faltered as she saw Superboy reel back in mortification. Superman reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder with an awkward smile, calming Superboy immediately. They spoke a bit more then both looked her direction. Superman’s expression was indecipherable. Bemusement, maybe? But Superboy was giving her a proud smile. She squeaked and turned back to Red Arrow, focusing on the task at hand.

She smiled slightly as she sat next to him on the steps. “Hey. Good job earlier. You were really brave going in like that, serving yourselves up like that for Savage.”

He shrugged and looked up with a wry smile. “It’s what I was programmed to do.”

“No, you were programmed to betray us,” she corrected him. “You chose to help us. You chose to protect the innocents from Savage and whoever he was working with. You chose to risk your life. That was all you,” she insisted firmly. She watched him for a few moments. Her determined set lips turned sympathetic. “How are you feeling now that all the adrenaline is wearing off?”

He huffed out a bitter laugh. “I have no idea. I don’t know what is me and what is programming.”

Chimera nodded looking away, staring at the great abyss of space beyond the barriers of the Watchtower. Her brow slowly furrowed in deep thought until the lines seemed etched deep enough they would never leave. “I mean… we’re all programmed in a way. Most of us not so literally, or so malevolently” she granted. “But memories we wish we didn’t have. Events we wish we could forget. Involuntary reactions we wish we could control.” She looked down at her hands, glancing over to him furtively every so often. “I break out into sweats and start hyperventilating when I see either a butt… certain insects. I can no longer function correctly. It’s in my head now and I can’t get it out no matter how hard I try or how logical I am about it. I can’t control the reaction. It’s just there and I can’t make it go away. I can never see them the same anymore. Which is terrible because I used to love them. They used to make me feel calm one kind of insect used to make me feel powerful.”

He stared at her for a few moments. “What happened?”

She shifted her gaze to the floor for a few moments considering her answer before waving her hands like she was waving away his concern. She looked back at him with a supportive smile. “It doesn’t matter. My point is we all have things in our heads we can’t control and can’t get out no matter how hard we try. Things that were put there against our will. But… that’s what makes us who we are. It’s all a part of us. We wouldn’t be ourselves if we didn’t have it there.” She looked at him for a second before her face fell. “But, I mean… that’s a stupidly simplified comparison. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be dismissive of what you’re going through. I do realize it is much worse than that. And if you wanted it out, I’m sure Martian Manhunter could work with you to get it out.”

Red Arrow shook his head and laid his hand on her shoulder. “No, no. That helped. Thanks.”

She gave him a supportive smile. “You know, if you need a place to stay while you’re dealing with everything, you can stay with us. Even if you’re staying somewhere else but need a break, we’re always there. Aqualad, Robin, and Kid Flash are there all the time so they’d be there to hang out with. Or, if you need space, Superboy and I can run interference,” she rushed to assure him. The Cave was a sanctuary for her. She wanted him to know it could be one for him as well.

“And you?” he asked quietly.

She quirked her head at him. “Me?”

“Will you be there to hang out with?”

“Oh! Yeah, well, mostly. I mean, I have school and other obligations, but yeah. I live there so I’ll be there. We’ve tried to make the Cave home for all the Team members. Even if you aren’t technically a member of the Team, you’re still our teammate and we watch out for each other.” She offered him a bright, reassuring smile.

From across the room, Superboy let out a satisfied laugh, his concerned frown from a few moments before turning into a smirk. Roy had just been teammate zoned, and he didn’t even realize it. He could continue to flirt with Chimera as much as he wanted, he wasn’t going to get anywhere. He made his way over to Chimera and Red Arrow. He took a seat next to Chimera, close enough that their hips were touching.

“Couldn’t help but overhear…” he started.

“Was that because you were eavesdropping?” Chimera asked with a pointed look.

He avoided her eyes, leaning forward to look past her toward Red Arrow. “Super hearing, can’t control it.” He pointed to his ear and shrugged innocently.

“Uh huh,” Chimera mumbled, rolling her eyes.

“Anyway, we have lots of rooms in the Cave. If you want one permanently or for a short term, feel free to take one,” he offered.

Red Arrow noted how close they were sitting and nodded, looking away. “Thanks. I don’t think I can rest yet though.”

Batman walked over to the trio, focusing on Chimera. He opened his mouth but quickly closed it, seeming to think better of whatever he was going to say before trying again. “You did good today.” He glanced over to Superboy. “You both did. You two… work well together.” Chimera blushed and looked down, not noticing Superboy do the same and Red Arrow roll his eyes and look away.

“Red Arrow?” Batman stepped forward to catch his attention. “We would like to discuss today’s revelations with you.”

Chimera could see Roy tense at the invitation. He nodded to Batman. “I understand.” He stood and started following him, but Chimera stopped him, grabbing his wrist as she stood and pulling him into a tight hug. “Good Luck,” she whispered. “Don’t forget if you need us, we’re here. That goes beyond just a room.” The corner of Roy’s lips quirked up in a reluctant smile as he hugged her back. He nodded to Superboy and followed Batman out of the room.

Chimera sighed deeply, watching him leave with Batman. She wrapped her arms around herself feeling impotent. “I can’t imagine how hard this has to be for him. I really hope he asks for help if he needs it.”

Conner stood and joined her, watching her with concern rather than Red Arrow. “He knows we’re here. You made sure. Now it’s up to him to decide what he wants to do.”

“I hate it,” she grumbled. She watched the spot where he disappeared for a few more seconds. If the Team hadn’t rescued Conner when they did, that could have been him, or worse. They could have made him into anything they wanted. He would have had nobody there for him, no support, just people criticizing him. Speaking of which, “Oh, hey! How’d it go with Superman?”

He startled for a moment with the new topic. “It went okay. He said we did good,” he hesitated before continuing. “His last name is Kent, too.”

Chimera reeled on him in surprise. “That must be why Martian Manhunter suggested it… He didn’t seem mad that you had the same name,” she hedged.

“He wasn’t. He said it fit,” he assured her with an uncertain smile.

Chimera squealed in excitement. “That’s great Conner!”

His smile turned bright at her excitement. “Yeah, I guess it is. He said he likes you.”

Chimera stared at him wide eyed. “Seriously?”

Superboy nodded with a chuckle. “He said he’s glad I have someone like you watching out for me.”

She looked away at nothing. “Who knew Mr.… Wait… Kent? Like Clark Kent? He’s Clark Kent?” she whisper shouted.

“Yeah? You know him?” He cocked his head to the side in confusion.

“I know of him. Oh my God, if my best friend ever found out I electrocuted Clark Kent, she’d flay me.” She looked toward where Superman had been standing and grimaced at the thought of Alya finding out.

Superboy furrowed his brow. “Is he famous?”

“Eh,” she made a so so gesture with her hand. “He’s famous in journalism. Especially among those who report on superheroes.” She quirked her lips to the side in thought. “Huh, I guess that’s how he gets all those exclusives with Superman. Cheater,” she grumbled but with no real heat behind it. She knew exactly why Alya had gotten all the exclusives she had gotten with the miraculous team so she really had no right criticizing someone else.

Superboy chuckled and looked over their teammates. He let out a long breath. It had been an extremely long few weeks and he was ready to do something relaxing for as long as they were allowed to. “Ready to go home? Maybe watch a movie or just… sleep for a few days?”

Chimera slumped against his shoulder. “That sounds amazing. I just want to sleep until school starts in a few days. What do you think are the odds they’ll let us?”

Superboy chuckled and shook his head, not wanting to admit the very low likelihood of it happening. He slung his arm over Chimera’s shoulder and pulled her into his side as they walked. “So… fall asleep watching a movie?”

She smiled up at him and hugged him around the waist as they walked. “Definitely.”

Chapter 11

Tags:

@mickylikesstuff @mystery-5-5 @roguishredaxion @vroomtaka @laurcad123 @just-an-observer-ignore-me @emimar7 @moonlightstar64 @maribat-writing-and-prompts @aespades @yokomisaki @glastwime859 @mysticknown @glastwime859 @fan-writtenen @stackofrandomstuff @jalaluvsu @ultimatetornshipper @charme-de-malchan @lozzybowe @deathwishy @too0bsessedformyowngood @kokotaru @ichigorose @nathleigh @dorkus-minimus @ira-sairain @jayjayspixiepop

#maribat #Capturing a Dream #connette #connerette #konmari #conner x marinette #Marinette x Conner

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dancingazaleas · 4 years

Note

Can you write a modern au Historia Reiss x fem!reader imagine where the reader is in a band and has a very punk rock style, and Historias the popular cheerleader everybody drools over, and they hate each other but at a party some girl is flirting with the reader so historia takes her and fucks the reader silly in a bathroom and after confesses her feelings to r?

historia reiss | promise

ofc!!! pls i literally love cheerleader!historia. i hope this is good enough <33 !!

18+ pls ! [unedited]

warnings/notes: cursing, use of alcohol and drugs, eventual smut, jealous dom!historia, modern au!, college au!, cheerleader!historia, bathroom sex, degradation, slight praise, enemies to lovers supremacy, fem reader!, finger fucking, hints at pegging, and aftercare

you’re pissed, so pissed that you’re seeing white. you only know that you’re sitting under the bleachers of your college campus and that your best friend, annie, is sitting beside you.

historia reiss, the popular cheerleader adored by everyone, decided it would funny if she pulled a prank on you. the prank being drenched in ice water and then pouring pink glitter on your body from the second floor of campus.

the glitter stuck everywhere, even in your mouth. before you scrubbed some of it off, you looked like a bath bomb. the water made it stickier and made you cold.

you don’t know what kind of vendetta historia has against you, you’ve only just met her two years ago! you hadn’t even really talked her up until your freshman year of college. even then, you don’t think you had said anything rude or wrong.

you just assume she gets pleasure out of your suffering.

you’re ranting about historia to annie, who witnessed the whole incident, still covered head-to-toe in glitter. she’s smoking a cigarette and listening to you absentmindedly, a sign that she’s getting slightly annoyed. she grabs your jaw with her hand and turns your face towards her. she’s taking in a breath and you know exactly what she’s about to do.

when she pulls the cigarette away, she blows the smoke into your face and let’s go of your jaw.

“thanks for that,” you grunt, the smell always seems to calm you down for some odd reason.

“y’know, instead of ranting, you could go home and take a shower,” she looks sleepy as she holds onto her cigarette.

“i know. but she’s just so frustrating! wanna know what makes her even more frustrating?!”

annie decides to play along, she thinks you ranting is funny, “what?”

“she’s hot. scratch that, she’s literally gorgeous. she looks like a fucking goddess and has the personality of a witch,” you shout angrily, following annie’s movements of getting up and walking towards your dorm.

“i dunno,” she snickers, “she’s pretty nice to me.”

“yeah, cause she’s got some sort of vendetta against me. i swear—i have never done a single thing to her!! do you remember when she bashed our band?! does she even listen to punk?!”

annie’s made a mistake in encouraging you, “anyways. speaking of our band, don’t forget we’re playing tonight at eren’s house.”

“you mean at his frat house,” you snort, bumping your shoulder into her’s. you immediately regret it when you pull away and see pink glitter stick to her shirt and a shiver going down her spine.

“yeah, whatever. thank god he’s loaded enough to pay for a band. i can’t believe his dad just gives him and zeke cash,” annie coughs while she chuckles, smoke puffing out of her nose.

you’re laughing at her coughing, slapping her firmly on the back as you walk.

you don’t notice large blue eyes staring at you from far away.

————

you’re trying to ignore the idiotic comments annie’s making while mikasa does your eyeliner.

you, mikasa, annie, and—surprisngly—jean are getting ready for your show tonight.

originally, it had just been you, annie, and mikasa until mikasa and jean had started dating. she vouched that he could play the drums—and he definelty could. he also gets along surprisingly well with you and annie.

mikasa usually sings back-up for you—despite your begging for her to be the lead—and plays the electric keyboard.

annie’s on bass guitar. she gets stupidly smug everytime she’s done playing and the praise she gets from her girlfriend doesn’t help. annie also writes most of your songs.

“guys, we should make a bet,” annie’s twirling some of her hair, eyeing you and mikasa.

“what’s the bet,” jean smirks and raises a bushy brow. mikasa and you give a hum of approval.

“i bet that one girl is gonna be all over (name) tonight,” you snort sarcastically.

“elizabeth? i think she’s trying to seduce me so i’ll partner up with her for this project we have coming up in our music history class,” mikasa’s pullled away, screwing the cap of the eyeliner back onto the bottle. she hands you coal black lipstick.

“you know what i bet,” jean starts, you know it isn’t gonna be good, “historia’s gonna be eyefucking (name) all night.”

you’re in the middle of applying lipstick but you stop at his statement.

“no, before you say something, jean’s gotta point,” mikasa muses, fanning her hand.

“yeah. dunno how you didn’t noticed,” annie shrugs, hopping out of her chair and stretching her arms upwards.

you’re irritated and finished with your lipstick, eyebrows furrowed bitterly.

“anyways,” you grit your teeth, “it’s showtime.”

————

it’s been five minutes since you and the band performed, and after all that belting you just want a drink. you’re walking through the messy and huge kitchen, trying to avoid stepping on spilled shots and egg yolk—who knows—because these boots were expensive.

luckily, most people are partying like a mob in the main room of the smelly frat house. it smells like weed, everywhere. and when you open the fridge you see a long platter of chocolate brownies, is eren alright? you shrug internally, snatching a water bottle that’s sitting on the top shelf.

after you’ve closed the fridge door and opened it, you’re chugging the water bottle like your life depends on it. when you pull away, you try to not notice the lipstick stain and that you’ve drank the bottle more than halfway. you’re leaning on the island in the middle of the kitchen, you don’t plan on partying too much since you’re supposed to be the designated driver for annie, mikasa, and jean.

you’re about to take another swig of your water, eyes staring down at your phone and continuing to read a article. before you can bring the bottle to your lips, teasing laughter from your front is distracting you.

it’s historia, wearing a baby blue v-neck tank top that ends at her ribs. she has a white skirt on, pulled up to the middle of her bellybutton and stopping at her upper thighs. her shoes are white and chunky with sparkly blue butterflies on the sides of them. her makeup’s cute, a light blue sprinkling on the outside corners of her eyes that tickled her cheekbones, a light and natural (for her at least) pink lipstick on her lips coated with shiny gloss. she’s pretty.

“fuck do you want,” you frown with narrowed eyes, you’re praying there aren’t anymore tricks.

“nothing, nothing!,” she’s got a cheery smile on her face, “just wanted to see how you were doing! i cant even do that?”

rolling your eyes, you scoff, “not after you drenched me in ice cold water and then poured glitter on me. it took me two hours to get rid of the glitter in the shower.”

she’s opening her mouth, but you’re already done with her shit, “fuck off, dude.”

you’re stomping out of the kitchen, huffing with frustration. what the fuck was historia trying to play at? she’s such a cunt, pulling these mean pranks on you with no provocation and then coming up to you after and asking how you are?

you’re seething. you’re so angry you’re not even paying attention to where you’re going.

but it’s interrupted when you bump into someone’s back. lower... back.

said person, turns around and looks down at you. she’s tall, and you’ve seen her around campus with eren and zeke. she’s quiet and cunning, you’ve heard rumors that she gets paid to beat people up sometimes. you can’t really judge her, money’s money.

but she’s also gorgeous. glowing gold eyes and choppy blonde hair. she’s wearing a loose black blazer that closes at her sternum and down, with nothing underneath. she’s got some kind of necklace—you think it says ‘p’ or ‘z’—and pretty silver rings on her fingers. her heels make her tower over you more than she probably would without them on.

“shit, my bad,” you sigh and look away.

she shakes her head, the tiniest smile painting her face and her cheeks turn a little red.

“you’re alright,” she hums, “i don’t think i’ve met you. i’ve definitely seen you around, but no one’s ever given me a name.”

“oh, i’m (name),” you smile shyly, “i don’t know your name either.”

she chuckles a bit, somehow wrapping her hand in your’s and leading you to a nice loveseat. her nails are painted black and you feel inclined to put your legs over her lap.

“i’m surprised,” and that’s when you notice zeke and pieck on the couch next to you, “there are a lot of rumors about me. however, i guess whoever told you—or didn’t—left me anonymous. i’m yelena.”

you give a laugh, watching her throw her arm up onto the top of the couch. you’re cuddling her side within seconds, drawing a deep chuckle from her. her other hand reaches to your cheek, making you look up at her. she’s holding your chin with her thumb and staring at you with her hypnotizing eyes.

“you’re just the cutest,” she mumbles, letting go of your face and tapping your nose.

you’re getting embarrassed at the attention, and you don’t know what to say other than ‘thank you’. you’ve never been pussy whipped a day in your entire life, but you think you might change that.

she’s leaning in closer, ignoring the couple, who was staring at you two with amusement, that sat on the couch cuddling. you feel like you recognize them for a moment, but the thought it forgotten whenever yelena kisses you fervently.

she’s running her tongue across your lip and the shiver that goes down your spine makes you realize she has a tongue piercing. she’s pushing you down to lay on the couch, to which you happily oblige, her hand crawling up to your neck.

before you can even let her shove her tongue in your mouth and choke you, your hand is being tugged and all of a sudden your upper torso and body is on the floor and your head is aching. you’re dazedly looking at yelena, who’s just as surprised as you are, then turning to the couple on the couch.

holy fucking hell, how did you not realize that the couple was pieck and zeke. that isn’t even your main focus when another tug to your wrist pulls your lower half off the couch.

“what the fuck?!” you’re suddenly not dazed anymore, “let go of me!”

you’re snatching your arm away and scrambling to your feet, tugging down your short dress that rode up. you turn around to face the assaulter, only to look down and see historia.

historia grabbed you?!

before you can even scream or slap her, she’s, once again, pulling you away by your wrist. for such a small girl, she’s got a tight grip.

you’re stumbling as you follow her, not like you couldn’t, yelling profanities. you pass by annie, who spits out her drink at the sight of you, it startles her girlfriend, hitch. you mouth a ‘help!’ towards her just as you’re swung forward.

it takes you a second to balance yourself out, and before you can turn yourself around, you’re being shoved forward.

what the fuck is her deal?!

you’re pushed into a bathroom, finally turning around to see historia as you fall on your ass. she’s slammed the door closed and locked it, staring at you on the ground.

“the fuck is your damage,” you scream, leaning against the bathroom counter.

“you’re a fucking slut, that’s what!” she’s yelling back, now standing in front of you. her hands are trapping you against the counter, and you’re looking down at her.

“you’re a dirty little slut. you can’t help but get down with a woman when i’m not with you for five fucking minutes,” you can’t even open your mouth and opted to push yourself towards the counter more as you squeeze your thighs together.

“look at you,” she’s laughing mockingly, “you look like a dog in heat. are you enjoying this, you fucking whore?”

you whimper, shaking your head side-to-side.

“you’re a liar,” she’s laughing again, standing on her tip toes to brush her lips against your’s.

“i’m not.”

“if you’re not, go ahead and push me away then,” she smirks, leaning closer.

you look away, listening to the mocking giggle that she was releasing right in your face. her left hand is grabbing you by the jaw and forcing you to look at her.

“can i kiss you,” her look softens and you nod at her.

“yes,” and within a second, her lips are on your’s. the kiss is surprisingly gentle and sweet.

with a bit on your lip, her tongue is rubbing against your’s and her hands sliding under the thin straps of your dress. you’re whining when she pulls away and laughs. your dress is halfway down your body, chest jumping up and down as you pant from the lack of breath.

“look at you, baby,” she turns your head to the side, which gives you a profile view of yourself in the mirror. your lipstick’s smudged in the corner of your mouth, eyeliner’s smuged as well as your eyeshadow.

weak product.

“you need better makeup,” she’s giggling as she leans her head towards your neck.

she’s kissing and sucking almost everywhere on your neck and chest, as if she were marking her property. moans are bouncing off the walls as her hands release your boobs from the strapless bra you’re wearing and sucking on your nipples. honestly, you’re glad it’s off. it’s been tiring having to pull it up everytime it slipped even just a bit.

you tug at her blonde hair when her small hand gropes one tit and her mouth bites at the other. she’s tugging the rest of your dress down with her free hand, and it pools around your boots. she goes back up to kiss your lips, laughing in your mouth as you struggle to kick off your boots. she’s kissing at your cheek and ear, tugging at the waistline of your fishnet tights.

“might wanna take these off too if you don’t want them ripped,” yelping when she bites at your earlobe.

“i...,” you’re catching your breath, “need help.”

she giggles while nodding, helping you shimmying the tights down to your knees.

“jump up on the counter, babe. it’ll make it easier for me,” you’re obident and jumping on the cool bathroom counter, it makes you shiver.

historia’s on her knees, shoes kicked off, and her fingers tickle your legs when she’s sliding the tights off your legs. she’s got a sultry look on her face when she throws said tights over her shoulder, palming your kneecaps. she bites back her smirk when she pulls your knees apart, showing off your black panties. you fall back against the mirror and you lean mostly on your elbows, ignoring the loud bang that came from it.

her mouth’s leaving open mouthed kisses against your inner thighs, pants leaving your mouth. her fingers hook around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down quickly whenever you lift your hips.

your going to close your legs, but her hands prevent you from doing so. her eyes are glued to your pussy, lips spread open and your wetness shining in the light. you’ve got a little hair on your pubis, but that isn’t going to stop historia reiss from changing her name to sasha braus.

she’s sucking at your clit and spreading your legs apart as far as she can. she pulls away from your pussy just for a second.

“keep your legs open,” she says, a thumb rubbing circles into your clit.

it’s lazy and it’s satisfying, but it’s not enough to make you cum. she knows that.

you’re letting out high pitched moans and fingers tangled in her golden locks as she eats you out like a man starved.

‘i wish i had realized that i’m gay sooner,’ you think as historia slowly slides her middle finger inside of you.

you’re throwing your head back against the mirror when she suddenly adds a second finger, claiming that you could take it since you’re a slut.

considering your wetness is dripping down your ass and onto the counter, you can’t really object the statement.

she’s curling her fingers inside you, mouth closed around your clit. your moans go up an octave when she finds the spongy part inside of you, thrusting her fingers in and out of you after she angles her digits.

“fuck!” you moan and start clawing at historia’s free arm, which is holding down your hips.

“h-historia...,” you pant, “gonna cum... pl..please let me cum.”

her laughter sends vibrations across your clit, and that’s what sends you over the edge. you’re crying out as historia helps you ride out your orgasm by slowing her fingers down and pulling away from your clit. historia’s admiring you while she wipes off your juices from her chin, a small smile adorning her lips.

your head is thrown back against the mirror—once again. eyes rolled back and mouth opened in a silent moan. the hand that was gripping at her arm is clenched in a fist that has your knuckles painted white. your toes are curled and your back is arching in the air.

she doesn’t pull her fingers out of you until your calm, letting you catch your breath before she does it all over again.

———

your legs are trembling as she helps you sit down on the toilet.

you know you look like a mess—historia’s been forcing you to watch yourself. the eyeliner and mascara you have on is now smeared and ran down your face since you cried. your lipstick is smeared up and down, worse than last time, and your hair is messed up and tangled from historia pulling on it.

historia’s squatting before you, looking for a rag to wet down and clean you up with.

“next cabinet over,” you breath, throwing your head back.

“you know who’s bathroom this is?”

“yeah, jean’s in this frat too. him and marco share it. this place is pretty nice when there isn’t a party going on,” you giggle, somehow this whole situation seems funny to you.

she’s running hot water over the rag she now has, staring at herself in the mirror. historia’s got hickeys on her neck too and teeth marks on shoulders. she’s got glittery blue on her cheek, must be her mascara.

she turns off the water and wrings it out. she walks over to you, nudging your legs open with her knee. you comply and absentmindedly reach for one of her hands to hold. she takes the offer, squatting in front of you and cleaning up the slightly dried cum and juices on your thighs and vagina.

you shiver and let out little whines and whimpers, still sensitive from the previous orgasms. historia was also still wearing something. something that you didn’t even know she had.

a fucking 6 inch strap on.

“by the way,” you start, “how’d you get your strap-on here?”

“i came to the house before eren started throwing the party. i brought a bag with me and just hid it in the empty cabinet. i think eren wanted to hook up with me and mentioned something about pegging. brought it in case,” she explains, small smile spreading across her face as she starts cleaning your face.

you start giggling again, the hand that wasn’t holding her hand weakly grabbing at her wrist.

“hisu... can i get a kiss,” you pucker your lips when she pulls away the rag from you. she flips the rag to a clean slide, rubbing herself in the same areas as she did for you.

historia holds your cheek and gives you the sweetest kiss you’ve ever had.

“i’m gonna take you back to mine and ymir’s place. you’re still in sub-space and you wobble instead of walk,” she says, squatting down again to help you get your panties on.

she’s able to get your dress on the lower half of your body, but you both realize there’s a fucking cum stain on the chest. historia gives you a jacket that was in her bag, zipping it halfway. the dress stayed sitting at your waist, you’re to tired to get it open even if you have a cover up.

she’s done cleaning everything up within ten minutes, including herself. she throws the rag in a hamper in the bathroom closet that had jean’s name written on it in sharpie.

she’s slipping the bag on her shoulder and helping you walk with the other one. when you walk out, ymir is leaning on the wall by the door with a smirk.

ymir squats down a bit, laughing at your shaky legs every time you took a step. historia and her manage to get you on ymir’s back. you fall asleep before you three can get to the car.

———

when you wake up, your whole lower body is sore. your eyelids feel heavy as you open them, coming to your senses. you recognize ‘dance moms’ playing in the background and historia eating cereal as she watches.

you groan lowly, and historia finally notices your consciousness.

“so...,” you yawn while you stretch your arms up into the air, “talk about last night?”

historia nods while she chews, “so basically, i was jealous that you were hooking up with another girl that wasn’t me.”

“but why would you be jealous...? i thought you hated me,” you rub your cheek against the pillow you’re laying your head on.

historia blushes as she looks away with a pout, “i never hated you... i just... i didn’t like the feelings i have for you.”

“oh,” you lay on your back and ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks, “what are.... the feelings..?”

“i may or may not love you,” she hides her face by holding her bowl full of cereal to her chin.

you don’t say anything for a few moments, trying to think of what you wanted to say.

“i... i love you too. but, that doesn’t just mean i forgive and forget all the horrible shit you’ve done to me. i’ll start dating you when i feel that you’ve... ‘atoned’ for your sins,” you sigh, “it’s gonna take some time but if you want this to work or even start, you’ve gotta make it up to me and understand where i’m coming from.”

she looks at you with slight excitement, “i... of course! i was really mean to you and you didn’t deserve that, no matter how much i disliked you. i promise to make it up to you.”

she’s holding her pinky finger up to you.

you smile and link your pinkies with her’s, “promise.”

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #historia reiss #historia x reader #anime

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ahkaahshi · 4 years

Text

enchanted [bokuto koutarou x reader]

pairing: bokuto koutarou x fem reader

genre: smut (18+)

warning(s): explicit sexual content, nylon/lingerie fetish, thigh riding, penetrative sex, car sex, slight praise kink, creampie, brief mentions of drug usage, implied alcohol consumption, bo calls reader “bunny”

word count: 2.6k

overview: bokuto just can’t keep his hands to himself, and why should he when his precious girlfriend looks so hot in her costume?

notes: I definitely drew a hint of inspiration from geralt and yennefer for these matching costumes lol I mean they’re hotties so why not?? also, hope everyone has a safe and happy halloween this year :)

Inside the large house packed to the brim with partygoers, you’re only aware of the throbbing bass knocking the air out of your lungs, the heat creating a thin veil of sweat on your skin, and your boyfriend’s large hands on your waist. His fingers tighten against the black, lacy lingerie serving as the top of your costume for the evening before sliding down the slits of your long, silky skirt and tracing along the decorative edging of the thigh-highs held up by a garter belt hiding beneath the material covering your lower half. The sensation of his warm breath against the hot skin on your neck as he leans over your shoulder sends pleasant tingles down your spine, and you tilt your head toward him to press another kiss against his lips that has him humming affectionately.

Saying that the two of you hadn’t been able to keep your hands off each other since reuniting at the notorious Halloween party the men’s volleyball team threw each year would be a sore understatement. Though you and Bokuto hadn’t arrived together in the spirit of keeping your appearances a surprise, everyone in the entire house now knew that the two of you were an item if they hadn’t before. Aside from the time you’d spent meandering around to speak with a few of his other teammates, your attention had been largely focused on your him—and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

With the way he looks in the dark trousers that strain around his muscular thighs and the white button-up shirt that’s all but buttoned up, you can hardly resist him. And it’s clear that he feels the same way about you given how he’s spent the entire evening with his hands on you, fingers wandering up and down the semi-sheer material of your delicate hosiery and the lace adorning the lingerie you wear beneath the cover of your dark cloak.

The dragon pendant of your necklace thumps against your sternum as you dance to the music pulsing throughout the house’s interior decorated with orange and purple lights, ghost and skeleton streamers, and other, random Halloween-related paraphernalia. His grip moves your hips against his in cadence with the beat, and your bodies are melded together so seamlessly that it’s almost as if you can feel every part of him against you. A gentle tug at one of your sides prompts you to turn around so you’re facing him, and, in spite of the chaos surrounding you, he’s the only person you see.

His golden eyes are clouded with a noticeable and recognizable haze as they gaze into yours before departing to roam over your figure. The way you look under the flashing lights, swaying to the music in a rather suggestive manner has him feeling enchanted. As if you’ve fully embodied the sorceress persona of your costume and cast a spell on him that made it impossible for him to keep his attention off of you.

You continue moving to the music as you wrap your arms around his neck, (e/c) eyes watching the way the matching necklace he’s wearing rises and falls against his exposed, heaving chest. Gripping the cloak draped loosely around his shoulders to coordinate with yours, you pull him closer to you, undeterred by the stagnant heat of all the bodies in the room. Clearly, he’s not the only one who’s spellbound by his significant other.

“Kou,” you mention in as low a voice as you possibly can, given the bass that swallows every sound in the room aside from the buzz of chatter and bouts of raucous laughter.

Breath tinged slightly of beer fans over your face as he replies, in a husky voice that has you struggling to keep your thighs apart, “What’s up, bunny?”

Your heart warms at the pet name that leaves his mouth seemingly out of pure instinct, and you allow him to pull your body flush against his as you move your face closer to his ear. “Can we get outta here for a bit?” you request sweetly before adding, “I want you. Badly.”

“Fuck, you don’t even need to ask, pretty girl,” he groans, hands sliding down to your rear to give it a firm squeeze. You know he’s been waiting all night for this, and it shows in his eagerness to take your hand in his so he can guide you through the throngs of costumed partygoers hanging around each area of the property. Too impatient to go upstairs and search for a free room—since he lives in an apartment with you rather than in the house with some of his other teammates—he, instead, leads you out the front door, past a group of vampires passing around a blunt and a very disgruntled Sakusa donning the mask he’d incorporated into his costume, and out to his car parked around the side of the property.

Holding open the back door for you, he ushers you inside quickly to keep you from being exposed to the chill in the brisk, nighttime air for too long before sauntering around to the other side. The instant both the doors are shut and locked, Bokuto’s pulling you onto his lap and pressing hot, passionate kisses against your lips. The tension building in your core has you unintentionally rutting against his thigh and moaning into his mouth as his tongue slides along yours while his hands knead the supple skin on your ass.

“Wanna ride my thigh, bunny?” he breathes. The way his normally bright and cheery eyes are narrowed at you and filled with lust has heat rushing between your legs in an instant, and you nod enthusiastically. “Take off my pants and make yourself feel good, then, baby.”

Your hands move to his belt, unbuckling it so you can undo the fly of his trousers and push them down. His large palms come to rest atop yours, and he lifts his hips so he can help you slide the fabric below his knees, giving you ample space to work with. The cloak over your shoulders is quickly shed, and his fingers are moving to the waistband of your skirt to relieve you of any fabric separating your now dripping pussy from the bare skin on his thigh. When he notices you reach to undo the lingerie bodysuit you’re wearing, he halts your efforts by grabbing your wrists.

“Leave it on.” The pace of your heart skips a beat as his hand slides between your legs to trail along the thin layer of wet fabric preserving your modesty. A small whine of desperation leaves your mouth that transforms into a squeak of surprise when he pushes the material aside, putting your glistening folds on display. “You look so pretty like this—all worked up over the thought of my cock,” he muses, nestling his face in your neck to pepper your heated skin with kisses, “You’re so sweet, bunny.”

A loud moan escapes your lips at the feeling of your sensitive clit meeting the firm skin on his thigh when he pushes your hips down toward it. Placing your hands on the upholstered surface of the backseat to steady yourself, you begin grinding against his leg, drawing more cries and mewls of satisfaction from your own mouth. Bokuto loves the way you look when you’re getting off, and he loves seeing you riding his thigh while wearing the prettiest lingerie you own. With a small hum of satisfaction, he allows his hands the freedom to roam across the soft material of your nylons before sliding them up to your breasts.

The sensation of his fingers tugging down the sweetheart neckline of your top so he can roll your hardened nipples between them has you moaning out his name rather loudly. Out of your own desperation to please him as well, you reach for the noticeable bulge in his boxer briefs, palming his erection as you continue rutting against his thigh, coating his skin in your essence. Before you can slip off the fabric around his lower half, though, he’s hooking a finger in the necklace hanging in front of your chest and pulling you closer to him so he can take one of your nipples in his mouth instead.

“Kou!” you cry wantonly, feeling the heat in your core building at his actions in combination with the delicious friction against your clit with each drag of your hips along his leg, “Feels so good!”

“You love getting yourself off on my thigh, don’tcha, pretty baby?” The low yet gentle tone in his voice sends more waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you can barely stay focused enough on anything aside from chasing your own orgasm to nod in response to his question. “Gonna cum soon?”

A “Yes,” escapes your mouth in a gentle whimper, but you add, “Want you inside me, baby; please. Wanna feel your big cock inside of me.”

“Yeah?” he growls, jaw instinctively clenching when your hands return to the waistband of his underwear to slide it past his hips. Giving him another nod, you move your face closer to his so you can press more passionate kisses against his lips in the hopes of making the desire you’re sure he already feels burn brighter. Sure enough, the sensation of your delicate, careful fingers wrapping around the shaft of his thick cock as you continue grinding against his thigh and dragging your tongue along his soft lips causes his grip to tighten around your waist.

Another one of your squeals bounces around the hot air inside the car when he lifts your hips from his thigh so he can position your entrance above his dick and slowly plunge inside of your familiar and welcoming warmth. You murmur softly, eyes screwing shut at the bittersweet sensation of his size stretching your walls to their limits as he pushes deeper and deeper into your core. His thumb traces your hipbone in slow circles to help you relax, since he can feel the tight squeeze of your pussy clenching around him—nearly forcing him out with each contraction.

“There you go, bunny,” he soothes, golden eyes trained on the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you, “Mm, good girl! You always take me so well.”

Your walls flutter around him at the praise, eliciting a gentle groan from his throat. “Kou…” you utter quietly, your voice no louder than a breathless whisper as he bottoms out, “You feel so good, baby.”

The kisses he plants along your jaw are sweet and tender to match the slow pace you set when you begin riding him. Small grunts of pleasure fall off his lips and onto your skin each time your hips sink back down towards his, fully sheathing him inside of you once more. A small whimper bubbles in your mouth with each small thrust of his upwards, pushing himself just that tiny bit deeper inside of you and nudging your cervix. Your legs are quaking with both fatigue, pleasure, and yearning as you use then to move his dick in and out of you.

“A little faster, baby; c’mon,” he encourages, gripping the nylon wrapped around your thighs for a moment before placing his hands on your hips so he can help you set a quicker pace. Soon, the pleasure of his cockhead hitting your sensitive spot fills you with more desire, and you find yourself falling into the rhythm he sets, riding him faster and harder than you’d been before. “That’s it! You’re making me feel so fucking good.”

As you find yourself nearing your orgasm once more, your head rolls back and you release more feverish pants and mewls of delight. The sensations of your boyfriend plunging deep inside of you are wonderful, but you can’t seem to push yourself over the edge. Bokuto knows how close you are with the way your pussy squeezes him so desperately, and his own craving to ravish you floods his body in what feels like an instant to you.

Before you know it, you’re being pushed sideways onto the backseat, splaying your body out across it. Your legs instinctively fall apart to accommodate his broad torso between them, and your core stretches once more when he enters you again. The little space available in the back of the car has your hot bodies in close quarters, causing the windows to fog up even more—until they’re nearly opaque. Now, he’s thrusting into you harder and faster than you could’ve hoped to fuck yourself while riding him, and he feels so damn good.

“Fuck, Kou!” you moan, “Right there! I’m—ahh—I’m gonna cum. Please!”

The entire car shakes with the force he’s using to slam into you, hellbent on helping you reach your high. His skin slaps against yours and more praises rain down on you from his mouth, shaking with the intensity of his thrusts and effort. “You can do it; c’mon! Cum for me, bunny. Wanna see that cute, little face you make.”

Your mouth falls open moments later and your hands move to his shirt, gripping the fabric tightly between your fingers as a powerful orgasm washes over you. His name is the only word you can utter over and over again in a breathless chant while your body shudders and your pussy spasms around him. Seeing his precious girlfriend in such a state of disarray and ecstasy, pulling him close to her and crying out for him as she cums around his cock awakens an animalistic desire within Bokuto that has him driving into you at breakneck speed until he sees stars and feels the knot in his own stomach come undone.

Cursing loudly and moaning unabashedly, he releases inside of you in such a large load that his seed seeps out of your core before he’s even finished riding out his high. He could care less about the seats or your lingerie getting dirty, though, with how divine you feel and sound. His heavy pants fan across your skin once his pace slows, and there’s a few beats of silence before he opens his eyes and looks down at you once more. Chest rising and falling in deep breaths, (e/c) eyes slowly fluttering open and struggling to focus on him in your euphoric haze, droplets of sweat beading on your forehead and tender skin, he can only think about how beautiful you are—and will always be—to him.

“Fuck, (f/n),” he sighs, another one of those bright smiles of his spreading across his lips as he admires you, “I can’t believe I’m the one that gets to take you home with me.”

You giggle softly against his lips when he leans down towards you to bestow a few, affectionate kisses against yours. “Likewise,” you respond once he allows you a break for air, running your fingers along the strong muscles in his back.

He groans softly and lifts your back off the seat so he can sit up and pull you into his lap before wrapping his arms around you. “I don’t even wanna go back inside,” he comments as he places his head on your shoulder, “I just wanna go back home with you.”

“Aww, is the party animal all tuckered out now?” you tease and mindlessly card your fingers through his spiked, salt and pepper colored hair.

His grip around you tightens in response before he answers, “Nope, not at all.” The sensation of his lips dancing along your neck has you humming expectantly and closing your eyes as you lean into him. “Because once we get home—before we settle down, eat some candy, and watch a movie together—I’m gonna make you cum more times than you can count, bunny.”

treat me to a coffee! ⭐︎ kinktober masterlist

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen, @devlovesramen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin, @kac-chowsballs, @osamusmiya, @nit-sir-hc, @arixtsukki, @shinsurou, @ichorizaki, @dominikmagnus

bokuto: @why-aminot-dead, @lotsoffandomrecs, @atsunakaashi, @heyhinata, @cuddlysoftbear

#haikyuu x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #bokuto x reader #bokuto smut #haikyuu smut #ahkaahshi gets wild #ahkaahshi's mini kinktober 2020 #x reader #reader insert #haikyuu fanfiction #tw alcohol #tw drugs #fran writes hq!!

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mizelophsun11 · 3 years

Text

Mizeloph's Tale Chapter 12

Pairing - General Kirigan x OC Sun Summoner is still the pairing, however with each chapter it gets closer to the switch over to Kaz Brekker x OC Sun Summoner

Summary - Crossing the Fold was not easy, but a band of 4 was able to make it with no casualties. Now a plan, get into the Little Palace, a heist for something that would get them closer to the target. The closer they get makes his wonders about Anna closer to the front of his mind.

Word Count - 2012

They had made it through the Fold, another step closer to completing their goal, now they had to find a way into the Little Palace.

Arken appeared with a poster in his hand “this is our way in, The Little Palace Winter Fete. However, a fair warning that it will be crawling with Second Army, but they will most likely be too focused on the party”

“If we do go during the Winter Fete then we need to know the outlay of the Little Palace, that way we can get in and get out” Inej said, knowing that they could not go into this blindly

“A way in and a way out, that means blueprint” Kaz was beginning to think through a plan

“I know that the Kribirsk archives house has the Little Palace blueprints, unfortunately they are guarded under lock and key. Extreme precautions to make sure that they are kept away from the prying eyes of the public” Arken sighed, not thinking anything could be done about it

Jesper smirked “well, far away from the public, needing to break in, you all know what that means” Kaz and Inej both smiled, seeming to be in on the inside understanding

Arken looked at them confused “what does it mean persay?”

Jesper was getting excited “time for a heist”

However, before they could start their plans for the heist, Jesper had to do something very important. He eventually found someone that would take Milo and give him a home, a nice barmaid. He was slightly heartbroken by having to send Milo away, as he handed Milo to the barmaid he placed a necklace with a bullet around Milos neck.

“Goodbye Milo, I leave you with this bullet to remember me, never forget me Milo and I will never forget you. I must go, this lovely barmaid has promised to take you in, she needs your support” Milo bleated for Jesper as he was taken by the barmaid and all Jesper could do was watch

“I have a job for you, we need a ride east to the Little Palace, make friends” Kaz told Arken

Arken chuckled “that’s the hardest job”

Kaz smirked a little “you won us over, didn’t you?”

The trio went to a table closer to the back of the room to figure out what they would be doing, this heist was an important step towards the bigger goal, they could not fail.

“Royal Archives heist, here's the plan. Watchmen are always walking the halls, the key is to get in and out as quietly as possible. Jesper that means no guns” this heist was all about stealth and so using guns at any moment could blow their cover

Jesper pouted “fine”

Kaz looked to Inej “the dome on the roof is directly above the repository where the blueprints are kept”

Inej nodded “my way in”

“I’ll set a phosphorus trail that will help lead you to the correct compartment where they keep the blueprints. The repository has a two-part lock mechanism that is secured at all times, so Inej you have to leave the way you came. Sunset in two hours, Jesper you will need to blend in”

Jesper already had a plan in mind “I think I have an idea” Kaz nodded

“The second floor is where the light valves are” Kaz looked between Jesper and Inej

“Lights out is my cue, then follow the trail to the blueprints” Inej realized that this mission had her playing a big role

“The archivist has to pull them a number of times in a day, meaning we can’t steal them or they will know something is up. We will have to make a copy, buy carefully, if a heavy had is used the ink could bleed”

“Don’t worry I know what I am doing” Inej said, they finished up going over the plan, now it was time to take action

Kaz got into a costume to make him look like a painter. He walked with his cane into the Kribirsk archives house entrance where he walked up to the desk.

“Hello, my name is Ivanovski, The sculpture.” Kaz gave a fake enthusiastic smile

The archivist looked up “alright.. Do you need something?”

“Yes, I desperately need your help, I am working on a real show stopper for the Winter Fete, the Little Palace entrance dimensions are what I need. It would be quite awful if my grand masterpiece could not fit through the door frame. The king would have my head if his statuary must be kept out in the courtyard” Kaz said

“Damn fete..” the archivist sighed “having to pull the blueprints everyday.. Wait here”

Kaz tossed the phosphorus pad which landed underneath the archivist's foot, he waited at the desk. For the moment that he had to himself he thought about Anna, if she really was the Sun Summoner, this heist was just the next step to her. He needed time to think about what would happen when they were face to face, the anticipation of her possibly recognizing him was on his mind. Right now he was ready to use their childhood friendship to his advantage for the kruge, but that was now, things could change.

The archivist came back “the dimensions to the entrance of the Little Palace”

Kaz put the fake enthusiastic smile “may the Sun Summoner bless you”

“I honestly don’t believe” the archivist said

Kaz leaned in “truthfully, I don’t either”

However, Kaz was not sure what he believed. Answers that he so desperately wanted were in the hands of a childhood friend that had meant the world to him. Days where he missed her had brought him to the present and with her being labeled the Sun Summoner made things interesting. Eventually he would have the answers, but that would come in time.

A few hours later the sun had set allowing for Inej to sneak in through the dome of the archives room. Inej used a rope to get down into the room, the darkness allowed her to see the phosphorus footprints on the ground. She followed them to the drawer, opened it and pulled the blueprints out and laid them onto the ground. Pulling out a blank page out of her bag then laying it over the blueprints, she sprayed it with perfume and applied the slightest amount of pressure. Through this she was able to make the copy of the blueprints without the original ink bleeding. Inej put the original away then the copy went into her bag, but suddenly the lights came back on. She ran to the rope and pulled it down so then no one would suspect that someone had gotten in. A guard came in and began to inspect the room, Inej was able to get behind the man and just barely stay out of his view. When the guard went to leave he turned around one more time, Inej hid behind a desk to make sure her cover was not blown. Everything was once again locked, Inej went to the gate and tried to open it, but it did not budge. Jesper in his disguise went up to the gate and tried to see if he could open it, he noticed that the clock was about to chime.

“Inej stand back” Jesper pulled out his gun and at the chime of the clock he shot the lock, which then opened

They both made their way back to the courtyard where they were going to be meeting Kaz, but a guard was standing there. Inej brought her hand up for Jesper to stop and took one of her knives out. She slowly snuck up to the cladded stranger and just as she was about to strike but a recognizable cane stuck out, it was Kaz.

“Bit slow on the draw there” Inej said

Kaz smirked a little “or just in time”

They left with what they needed, now they had to meet with Arken and figure out what the next steps would be. Once they got back to the tavern they went back to a more private part and laid out the map to get a better look.

Jesper looked over the map and pointed to a section “you think this?”

Inej shook her head “it wouldn’t..” she pointed to something that would allow guards to see them which would lead to their capture

“Oh..” Jesper said and went back to thinking

Inej pointed to a hallway “what about here?”

Jesper shook his head and pointed to a guard tower “they would see us”

“No way in..” Inej sighed

“No way out..” Jesper said

“We will have to come up with something else” Kaz motioned to Inej to close the map, they were done looking at it and he wanted to make sure no one suspected them of anything

Arken sighed “well, I thought this plan might not work..”

Suddenly, behind them a performer slipped from her silks and onto the floor, definitely injured. Arken had a certain look about him, like he knew why that girl had fallen, but made sure that he didn’t see, incredibly suspicious. The trio went up to the bar to get a drink, something to hopefully fuel some sort of crazy idea to get them into the Little Palace.

Jesper sighed “I mean, Kribirsk isn’t all that bad. Maybe we could even open a bar, brew East Ravkan beer for Westerners?”

Inej and Kaz looked at him “shut up Jesper” they said at the same time

“I miss Milo” Jesper was still having a hard time with parting from his goat friend

Arken approached them with a smile “Friends”

Kaz looked at him “and what could you be so cheery about?”

Arken motioned over to the other man standing close by “this is Marko, he is the leader of a traveling troupe known at the Pomdrakon Players and his group has been invited to this year's Winter Fete. They have the wonderful opportunity of getting inside the Little Palace, however, one of their star performers was injured in a freak accident. They have become desperate in finding someone with the same set of skills and as Ketterdams’ premier talent manager, I came up with an idea”

Both boys looked at Inej “a good friend once said, ‘if I can’t crack this, none of us are going anywhere” she got up and went to were the silks were

Through Inej talent, she performed an extraordinary routine that had the room standing on their feet applauding.

Marko walked up to her “the Saints must have sent you, yes! The show will go on” he snapped his fingers and one of his assistants brought over a very colorful leotard “so, do you think you can fit into this?”

Inej looked at it unsure but Jesper walked up to her and wrapped one arm around her shoulders “of course she can, in fact those are her favorite colors! However, Inej is what you call, a package deal”

“No free rides” Marko said “does anyone else in your group have talents?”

Jesper was able to shine by using his guns. He sat on a chair with his back to Inej and his gun resting on his shoulder pointed towards her. She was hanging upside down with a card in her mouth, Jesper cocked his gun and shot the card in Inej’s mouth splitting it in half. The people clapped and cheered, impressed by the talent that had suddenly fallen into their laps.

“What about you sir? Got any talents for us to see?” Marko asked

“I’ll make my own way” Kaz was already coming up with a plan for himself to get in

They had found their way into the Little Palace, it would only be a few days for them to finish up the details of their plan. Kaz knew that he would have to prepare himself for possibly seeing Anna after all this time apart. He was feeling something that he normally wouldn’t before anything, nervous, the great Kaz Brekker was nervous.

Author Note - Hello Everyone!! I am looking forward to giving you this chapter, it might be a bit more of a filler, but it is all building up to the important Winter Fete. Please let me know what you think if you have the chance, I would greatly appreciate any feedback people would like to give. I would also like to let anyone who is new to my story, or if you would like to, be added to my tag list. Feel free to message me or leave a comment, I will make sure you are added if that is what you wish.

Tag List - @rika90 @itsemy01 @hotleaf-juice @teatimeforusreaders @benbarnes-supremacy @graciefullygracie @aleksanderwh0r3 @klaudosh @herbatkazmilosica @hiddenbisexuell @atemgirl94

#grisha fic #grisha netflix #grishasworld #the grisha series #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone fanfiction #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #aleksander morozova #aleksander x reader #freddy carter #freddy carter x reader #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader

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yanderepuck · 4 years

Note

How about the boys caring for a sick mc who’s pushing herself too hard? (If you don’t wanna do all of them, I prefer Comte, Theo, Leo and Arthur but I would literally die for all of them soooo)

This is very much me everyday bc I push myself too hard until I have a 2 week mental breakdown and repeat.

Comte legit just spoils. He keeps telling you not to over work. Take a day off. Treat yourself. Then he over hears you saying how sore you are from working, because you will wake up and start work, and you won’t stop until you go to bed. He makes you take a few days off to relax. He takes you out to a nice dinner, gets you a new dress and probably even a beautiful necklace. He brushes you hair after your shower and rubs your back. He knows you’re just going to do it all over again because that’s who you are as a person, but that’s why he’s making you not work.

Theo knows the signs all too well. He does it himself. He keeps going and going and going until he drops from exhaustion. You started to work with him and you started to love the work, you’ve learned so much and now you can’t imagine not doing it. But you end up doing extra work. You do Theo’s paper work, you deliver paintings early int he morning so Theo can get some extra sleep after a long night. You gained the habits you were trying to get him to break. The only way to get you to stop is for the both of you to take a break, and it is a well needed one. You sleep in his bed and cuddle, King is on the bed with you. He plays with your hair and tells you that he’s going to take you out to breakfast, and for the rest of the week there is going to be absolutely no talk about work.

Leonardo didn’t notice at first. He knew you were often busy, but didn’t know how busy. He does the same thing. The moment he gets an idea he doesn’t stop until the idea is fully out of his head, wither it be a drawing, or some sort of invention, a theory he has and scribbles into a note book. He notices you aren’t as cheery in the evenings and you seem to be avoiding him, saying you have something to do and you’ll talk to him later. Eventually he catches you and brings you back to him room to cuddle. You fall asleep automatically, even you didn’t realize how tired you were. The next morning he won’t let you go. His arms are wrapped around you. You’re still too tired to fight back so you stay there and sleep more. Next thing you know its after noon and Leonardo has made you lunch and Lumiere is laying beside you purring.

Arthur is either working hard or hardly working. When he gets an idea for a story he will stay up day and night writing, no one int he mansion will see him for days. His blood basically turns to coffee. You knew not to bother him in those times, you didn’t want to either, you are glad to see him busy with his work, but then you also get carried away. You’ll bring Arthur food at different times during the day and that’s about your only interactions for a week or so. Even when night time rolls around you still find yourself cleaning something, or getting something ready. It gets to the point where you don’t even know if you slept, or if you just stayed busy. Finally one day when you went to take Arthur some lunch, he was out of his desk stretching. He could read on your face that you haven’t been taking care of yourself. You seemed to be nodding off just by standing still for too long. He was getting to be the same way, so he set the tray of food to the side and pulled you into his bed for a nap . . . a 16 hour nap.

I will do the others, but I will make a separate post before this one gets too long <3

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neon-junkie · 4 years

Text

Sinners Prayer

Summary: Dutch has asked you and Micah to tag along for the evening at the Mayor's party, but the catch is that you two have to go as a pretend married couple.

Pairing: Micah Bell x f!Reader

Word Count: 6557

Rating: SFW

Tags: Friends to lovers, Strangers to lovers, Fake relationship/marriage, Saint Denis, Shady Belle, Party, Dress up, Formalwear, Slow burn, First kiss, Flirting.

Notes: God I LOVED writing this, which is why it's sooooo long. I've had this fic idea lingering in my head for months now as I'm a sucker for the whole fake couple/marriage trope, but it feels so good to finally write this<3

Obsessed is a strong word to use, especially when it's relating to a stranger. But maybe it was the right word because you found yourself swooning over this man over and over, despite barely ever speaking to him. You were in the same camp, sure, but that didn't mean much apart from sometimes riding by his side during a mission, or sitting on the same log as him at the campfire. You'd exchanged few words and you somewhat hoped it'd stay that way, knowing exactly the kind of man he was.

Was this secret obsession something to do with past trauma? your previous encounter with a toxic man that you thought you'd gotten over? or was Micah really just meant to be yours?

But seriously... Micah. Micah Bell. Micah Bell the third, in fact, because somehow his shitty family had managed to breed more than once.

You want to feel sick every time you see him, you really do, just like everybody else in existence does, but you find yourself gazing at him from the other side of camp every single day, so drawn to various little bits of him.

There's the scar on his chin, the one that starts at his split lip, and you're curious as to how he got it, but not as curious as to if you'd be able to feel it when you press your lips against his. You try to tell yourself that his facial hair is stupid, but he always keeps it so neat and clean, and you can't help but wonder what that 'stache would feel like brushing over your thighs as he kissed along them. And his hair, his scraggy shoulder-length hair, the dirty blonde locks that you just want to run your fingers along and grip onto if you had the chance to ride him.

You're doing it again.

You give your head a little shake as you snap out of your daydream, straightening your back and taking a swig of your drink. It's late, and you're enjoying a beer before bed after finishing your shift on guard duty. Micah's sat at his usual space by the campfire in your line of view, and thankfully you haven't zoned out staring at him else, well, that'd be embarrassing.

Micah also seems zoned out, staring at the fire with his hands dangling freely down his sides, one ankle crossed over the other. He lets out a sigh and rolls his head back, staring up at the stars before looking over at you.

Oh shit.

You quickly look away, taking another sip from your drink. You can feel Micah's gaze still on you, but when you do finally peek over, he's back to staring at the fire.

You've accidentally met his gaze a few times before, a mix of you meeting his, and him meeting yours. At least it wasn't always you staring at him, he seems to have an interest in you too, though the two of you rarely ever interacted. Micah had, for some reason, kept his distance from you, despite his blatant and poor attempts of flirting with other women of the camp. Maybe you just weren't his type? But then why would he always stare at you?

Your beer is finally finished and you turn in for the night, following your nightly routine and climbing under your blankets, only to stare at the tent walls and think about Micah.

Ugh. That man, if you can even call him one.

You're a sinner, just like the rest of this crazy bunch that you run with, but it seems whatever Gods float about in the sky continue to ignore your prayers, despite them being desperate.

Please, please can they just stop this attraction to him? Please. There were so many better men out there, a handful of which you run with, but you find yourself worryingly obsessed with this foul man, yet you can't seem to stop it.

You roll onto your side, letting your eyes fall shut and as always, drift to sleep with the hopes that you won't be obsessed when morning comes.

Morning does come, and oh boy, does it hit you hard.

Dutch was quick to call you upstairs to the balcony by his room, telling you to finish your breakfast first, but hurry up as soon as possible.

"It's a party," Dutch tells you. "The mayors' party," Dutch smirks, raising his hands as if he was waiting for you to jump with joy.

"And...?" you question.

"Well. I've picked a fine bunch to tag alongside me, but I'm asking you specifically to help with a special task. Myself, Hosea, Arthur, and Bill will be mingling as singles, but we need a couple to go. We need a couple to weave their way in there with all the others and see what they can find. Maybe get invited to some fancy private getaway or... whatever it is those upper-class city folk do in their free time," Dutch explains, speaking with his hands as always.

"Dutch," you laugh. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm unfortunately single," you tell him as you shake your head.

"I know, just like the rest of camp, but I'll make suitable arrangements for you, my dear," Dutch replies.

"What about John and Abigail?" you ask, the only couple that springs to mind.

"I wouldn't dare ask them, not after that whole fiasco that happened with our dear boy Jack," Dutch says as he shakes his head. "You can say no if you want to, but I could really do with this."

You let out a sigh but then ask "what arrangements are you thinking?"

"Well..." Dutch begins. "I wanted you to be a part of this job to begin with, I knew that as a fact. You've got a good charm and I've seen you gussy up folks before. You know exactly what you're doing, and I need that strength right now," Dutch compliments, though his tone of voice and the way his eyes begin to avoid yours makes you fear for the worst.

"Trelawny's going to take you into the city to pick out a dress for you, the women have already said they'll help get you ready for the party-"

"Dutch. Who am I going with?" you cut him off, noticing the way he's avoiding the elephant in the room.

"I put a lot of thought into this, ___. I really have. I've gone through all the members of the camp-"

"Dutch," you sigh as you cut him off again. "Just tell me."

"Micah," Dutch says as his eyes meet yours. "Like I said, you can say no if you'd like. I just know the two of you would be able to make this work, and I could really do with this," he explains.

"Have you already asked him?" you question.

"I have, and he said he's happy with it if you're happy with it," Dutch tells you as he watches your expressions and body language, though you surprise him as you show no signs of discomfort.

"Alright, I'll do it," you shrug.

"Thank you, my dear," Dutch grins as he places a hand on your shoulder. "It's this evening. Trelawny will be waiting for you outside the tailors in Saint Denis, and make sure you're ready a little early. I want time to run through the plan before we set off."

The Gods were definitely mocking you at this point, sat up there on their high horses, laughing and pointing down at you as they continued to worsen your situation. Really? A party with posh folk? And you have to pretend to be a couple with Micah? You barely know him for starters. What if you two really weren't meant to get along? The last thing you wanted to do was cause a scene after Dutch had asked you so kindly to go in there and fish out information for him.

Trelawny seemed in his usual cheery mood when you met him, helping you pick out something nice. Honestly, the dress is gorgeous, and you feel beautiful wearing it. You have no problem playing dress up, sometimes secretly looking forward to it as you rarely get an occasion to wear something other than your usual attire.

The women shower you with compliments as they help do your makeup, picking out some nice matching jewelry that compliments your facial features, along with a pretty necklace that seemed to draw even more attention to your cleavage. You haven't worn a corset in a while, and the sight of your boobs bulging up against your chest was clearly meant to be a distraction to try and lore out some weaker men. Maybe Micah would end up dragging them off to the side, only to knock their lights out and loot them for "looking at my woman!"

Ugh. Your stomach hadn't stopped turning like a stormy sea the second Dutch had told you who you were going with. You hadn't seen Micah around the camp all afternoon, probably mentally preparing himself for whatever shit-show that was about to happen.

Well, you were ready.

Mary-Beth was quick to run out of the house and draw everybody's attention, attempting to give you some kind of grand reveal, as if the camp had never seen you in a dress before. They have, but this was the fanciest you'd ever worn; with your hair up in a do that took all afternoon to keep in place, and jewels that perfectly matched the shade of your makeup.

"She's ready!" Mary-Beth squealed, attracting the attention of Dutch and Arthur as they lingered over, the rest of the camp perking up their ears and eyes. "Now, you better all flatter her 'cause she seems a little shy, and we spent all afternoon helpin' get her ready, but-"

"Mary-Beth, please," you sigh as you exit the house, not wanting the grand entrance that she would want. There's still a mix of oo's and aah's throughout the camp, and Susan is quick to rush over and take your hands in hers, looking like she's about to cry.

"My dear, you look so wonderful," Susan tells you.

"Thank you, Miss Grimshaw," you reply as you give her hand a little squeeze.

"She's right, ___. Trelawny and our women have excellent taste. Thank you, all of you," Dutch tells them as he speaks to the camp, then turning back to you. "Are you ready, dear?" he asks.

"Physically, yes. Mentally, no," you joke, though you're serious.

"Well, it'll have to do," Dutch nods.

"My my," a dreaded voice calls out. Micah's approaching, stopping just beside Dutch as he speaks to you. "Ain't no way you can go the party like that, sweetheart. You're gonna knock 'em all dead with them pretty looks of yours," Micah compliments.

Your stomach begins to turn again, though you begin to question if you should curse the gods or thank them, because the sight of Micah in a tux is one you could get used to. He's dressed like the other men, a smart black tux with a white shirt and bowtie. He's clearly had a bath, as his hair looks the cleanest you've ever seen it, nearly bunched into a low ponytail with a few loose strands shaping his face. Micah always keeps his facial hair clean, but it's freshly trimmed and perfectly shaped just underneath his jaw.

You notice Arthur already glaring at him in the corner of your eye. Why Dutch didn't ask Arthur to go with you was beyond your knowledge, but something tells you he has a deeper reason behind picking the two of you to go together.

"Thank you, Mister Bell," you softly reply as your eyes meet his.

"Guess that makes you Mrs. Bell for this evening," Micah smiles. "Don't it, Dutch?" he asks as his eyes quickly turn to Dutch's.

"It does! Now, let's all get going before we're even later than we already are. I'll go over the plan on the way there," Dutch huffs as he waves his gloved hands about, hurrying everybody along to the stagecoach that was waiting.

You're about to walk off, but Micah's sudden movement catches your eye. He offers you his hand. "Gotta look the part, darlin'," he tells you.

"Oh! I just remembered!" Micah says as he suddenly moves his hand away, reaching into his pocket to fish out a pair of gold wedding rings that he no doubt had stolen recently, specifically for this event.

"May I?" Micah asks, holding out his hand again. You take it, your soft palms gently settling in rough ones. He flashes you another smile, then flicks his eyes down to focus sliding the wedding ring onto your finger. The sight of that alone is enough to make your knees go weak, but you try your hardest not to pass out, and thankfully Micah doesn't seem to notice how lovesick you're feeling.

The ring is only slightly too big, and hopefully, you'll notice it if it gets close to slipping off. He quickly slips the other one onto his own finger, and takes your hand again, his eyes finally moving away from yours as he leads you over to the stagecoach, following behind the others.

The ride there isn't too bad, and the plan seems simple enough. Steal nothing, only information. Only your 'husband' was most definitely not going to do that, even if he doesn't tell Dutch about it.

He helps you out the coach, gently tucking your hand around his arm as he walks with you into the party. Surprisingly, Micah didn't bring his guns with him, making a comment to you under his breath about how he doesn't trust anybody with them. That's understandable.

Dutch and Arthur head upstairs to do whatever it is they were going to do, speak to Jack's surrogate father or whatever, leaving you and the others to wait on the balcony.

You rest your hands on the railing, looking down at the mishmash of strangers below. Micah removes his hand from yours, resting it on the small of your back as he turns to speak to you.

"You nervous?" Micah asks.

"I'm sure I won't be after a couple of drinks," you joke, turning your gaze to meet his. You've never seen his expression so soft before, and have his eyes always been that blue? They're an icy shade, maybe a warning sign about his cold heart, but he's making yours burn up with his stupidly sweet smile and that stupid cute little ponytail that he just had to tuck his hair into.

"So now I gotta take care of my drunk wife whilst also lookin' for leads?" Micah jokes back, though there's something about him calling you his 'wife' that makes your stomach turn faster than it ever has before.

"I ain't gonna get drunk!" you laugh. "Your wife can handle herself, thank you very much," you raise your nose jokingly.

"You sure? Cause if I remember rightly, the last time you got drunk you tripped over and almost fell in the campfire," Micah chuckles, watching your expression drop. How did he remember that? That happened months ago!

"I'm a changed woman," you reply, "for tonight," you add.

"Sure you are, Mrs. Bell," Micah grins as he moves a few loose strands off your face. "Then after tonight, you can go back to fallin' into campfires."

"And would my dear husband not save me if he saw me falling into one?" you question.

"I ain't really your husband, sweetheart. Not unless you wanna keep that ring on and keep playin' dress up with me," Micah replies, trying to make it sound like a joke, but you both know that if you said yes, Micah would happily continue your fake marriage.

It's a good thing Dutch arrived when he did, cutting you off as you opened your mouth to speak, but you were thankful as you hadn't even thought of a reply.

Dutch gave you all another pep talk before shooing everybody off on their way, and you were thankful a server passed you as you reached the bottom of the stairs, taking a glass of champagne for yourself and thanking them, Micah grabbing one for himself also.

Your hand finds Micahs arm and he walks with you a while, eyeing up any obvious leads as you pass through the strangers. You come to a stop at the back of the party, pulling Micah to one side as he rests his hand around your waist. God. You could get used to Micah having his hands on you at all times.

"You see anything obvious yet?" you ask Micah before taking a sip of your champagne. At least it was decent, not having that awful cheesy flavour that cheap bottles had.

"I ain't been lookin'," Micah replies, making you snap your eyes over to his with a little scowl on your face.

"What?" you ask.

"Hard to focus on a bunch of snobby strangers when I got this pretty woman clinging onto me," Micah grins. You realize that your hand had come to rest on his forearm as his hand had found your waist, clinging onto him a little too tightly, your body practically pressed up against his. At least the two of you looked like a couple.

You go to take a step back, but Micah is quick to pull you against him more, holding you firmly in place. "I'm jokin', sweetheart," he tells you. "I've spotted a few here 'n' there."

"You better not be lyin'," you tut.

"You not trust your own husband?" Micah smirks, chuckling even whilst he has a sip of his drink. "Besides, we ain't even planned our story yet. How we gonna mingle with other couples when we don't even know how we met? Or when we got married?" Micah asks.

He's right, the two of you had no time to prepare your story, but you're far from earshot of these strangers, so now would be a good time to get your stories straight.

"Well, what have you got planned then? Seeing as you brought this up?" you question.

"Nothin'," Micah shrugs. "I figured I'd ask my lady, seeing as you women tend to fantasize about these situations." You can't deny that, because little does Micah know, you've had a few fantasies about the two of you getting together for quite some time now.

"Do I look like the type for romances, Micah?" you ask.

"Do I?" Micah replies. Good point.

"Well..." you sigh, trying to think of a few ideas. "You plan how we met, and I'll plan our wedding?"

"Sure, darlin'," Micah nods as he finishes off his drink.

"Wait here. I'll go get us a refill," you say as you take Micahs empty glass, finishing off your own, and wandering off back into the party to find your next round of booze.

Micah watches you leave, tucking his hand into his pockets to fish out a cigarette to enjoy whilst he waits and ponders.

Finding a server wasn't hard, and you thanked them as you swapped your glasses over. On your walk back you overheard another couple talking about how they met, saying she was a server on one of the ferries and he was there to gamble, only he ended up spending the night distracting her from her job.

You find your way back to Micah, who's just finished his cigarette, stomping it out on the ground with his polished black shoes. "I picked you up at a bar," Micah tells you as you hand him his drink.

"What? No," you scoff, scrunching your face up at the generic and boring backstory.

"What else you got then, sweetheart?" Micah asks before taking a sip from his drink.

"I just overheard a couple say that they met on one of those gambling ferries. She was a waitress and he spent the whole night chattin' her up."

"You wanna steal their backstory?" Micah tuts. "Dutch said we shouldn't be stealin," he says as he shakes his head jokingly.

"We'll just change it a little... I was a bartender and you spent the night chatting me up," you suggest.

"A woman bartender?" Micah questions your suggestion.

"Times are changing, Micah. It's believable," you reply, getting a little defensive.

"I didn't mean it like that," Micah says as he raises his hand. "I like it. And we met 4 years back, got married in April last year. How's that sound?" he asks.

"Good," you nod, realizing that you'd done each other's jobs rather than the ones you assigned. "You ready to mingle?" you ask him.

"Fine," Micah sighs.

Neither of you wants to do this, both forcing a fake smile and kind accents as you speak to the strangers. After an hour, you haven't found much, a few mentions of summer homes and private boats, but nothing within the area.

You're a few more glasses in, beginning to feel ever so slightly tipsy, but you needed that buzz to help you get through the smugness of these strangers.

"You want another?" you ask Micah who has barely sipped on his current one. He's only drunk a glass less than you have, but he doesn't seem affected, though his tolerance is probably higher than yours.

"I'm alright, my love. I'll wait here for you," Micah tells you as he moves his hand off your waist, letting you wander off into the crowd.

You're still not used to the pet names, but you hope they continue to roll out of Micahs mouth, seeing as you no longer had that sickly feeling in your stomach. It seems your nerves had finally calmed down, being replaced by a warm and gentle buzz instead, though that's probably the alcohol in your system.

You thank the waiter as you take another glass and turn to leave, but overhear the most hideous voice you've ever heard call out to the same man you just thanked. You attempt to walk away, but quickly stop and look over your shoulder, face scrunching up at the sight of quite possibly the rudest woman you've ever seen, if you can even call her a woman.

She drones on and on, insulting this poor stranger that was only trying to do his job. God. The way she spoke to him made you sick, and before that little voice in the back of your head can stop you, you've already approached her and cut her off, attempting to speak to her sweetly.

"Are you an entertainer?" you ask.

"What on earth are you yapping about?" She questions as she looks you up and down in disgust.

"Well, it's a very good act you've got going on here. Playing the stereotypical obnoxious upper-class woman, though I wouldn't recommend performing it when you're not on stage," you respond, acting as if you genuinely thought she was a man in drag.

"Well, I never!" She squeals. "You've got some lip on you, little girl. Do you now know who I am?"

"Oh, I do apologize, madam. What's your act called? Maybe I'll drop by to hear you squeal on stage next time I pass the theatre."

You can't hold back the grin creeping across your face as the stranger's face turns red, her huffing and puffing attracting a handful of eyes nearby. Thankfully, the poor served had managed to sneak off, so at least she wouldn't take it out on him any more than she already had.

She goes to open her mouth again but is quickly cut off when Micah appears by your side.

"Oh, I do apologize for my wife's behaviour," Micah says with a wave of his hand. "Sweetheart!" he says as he turns to you, putting his arm around your waist and beginning to walk you away. "What have I told you about feeding the animals?" he says in clear earshot of the woman.

The both of you don't get to see the woman explode as you rush off, but your grins are as wicked as each others as you lead Micah to the back of the party, giggling devilishly.

You can still hear the woman protesting as she's asked to leave, and is eventually dragged out, which was more than satisfying to watch. The party returns to how it formerly was, the strangers barely looking your way as it seems you'd done everybody a favour.

Your eyes meet Micahs, his arm still wrapped around your waist as your hand rests on his shoulder, your body pressed against his. Both of your grins remain there as the two of you look at each other, suddenly realizing just how pressed up you were against your 'husbands' body.

"I ain't seen that fire in you before, sweetheart," Micah tells you.

"There's a lot of me you ain't seen, Micah," you reply.

"Ooooh," Micah sighs as he chuckles. His head dips down slightly, speaking more directly into your ear but far enough that he can still see your reaction. "Well if you'd be so kind as to show me," he flirts.

Your knees feel like giving up on you, and you're thankful that Micah's grip is tight enough around your waist to hold you upright. You go to open your mouth and invite him to find out, but you're cut off before you can even make a sound.

"Mister and Mrs. Bell?" A familiar voice asks. Both of your smiles fade as you turn to see Dutch standing there, his brows slightly furrowed. "What the hell was that?" he whispers through gritted teeth.

"She deserved it," Micah shrugs, his voice returning to his usual tone as he softens his grip on you.

"What happened?" he whispers.

"Dutch, trust me, anybody would have done the same. It seems I did everyone here a favour," you reassure him.

"I don't care if she deserved it or not. Just stop drawing attention to yourselves, please!" Dutch hisses.

Micah raises his hand innocently, "sure, boss," he says.

"We'll keep quiet," you add on.

"Thank you, now go and mingle," Dutch attempts to force a smile, waving his hands about as he encourages you to head back into the crowd.

He doesn't walk away, so you're forced to drag Micah back into the handful of strangers and continue where you left off, doing whatever you can to find at least a little something to take back to the camp.

Thanks for ruining the moment, Dutch.

The whole time you're speaking to these strangers, all you can think about is the flirtatious glisten Micah had in his eyes when he said that line. His hand is around your waist once more, only you're well aware of the way his hand is slowly trailing down you, eventually resting on your tailbone, a little too close to your ass, though you wish he'd move his hand a little lower.

A stranger quickly thanks you for having that woman kicked out of the party, and your bitching session about her is cut short from the loud bang coming from the sky. You almost drop your drink, surprised to hear what sounds like gunshots, only to turn and see the sky glowing an array of colours.

They're fireworks. You've heard about them before but never seen them, and despite how pretty they are, you wish they were a little quieter. Sure, you're a gunslinger, but loud noises still make you jump, despite being somewhat used to them.

Micah stands almost directly behind you, moving his hand to your hip as he pressed his body against yours. You relax against him, your back pressed against his chest and shoulder. Micah places his empty glass on a tray that trails past him, using that same hand to brush a few strands of hair from your face, catching your attention as you move your gaze off the fireworks.

"You think we're doing a good job, sweetheart?" Micah asks.

"A good job of what, exactly?" you reply.

"You know exactly what I'm on about," he chuckles. His gaze was soft on you to begin with, but it softens out even more as you make him laugh.

"I think we're doing well, but we can always do better," you flirt.

"Oh?" Micah smirks, picking up on your hints. "And how are we gonna do that, my love?"

Micah boldly places a gentle kiss to your temple, your heart fluttering as his 'stache brushes against your skin, a lot softer than you thought it'd be.

"Well, for a start, you could kiss my lips rather than my temple," you reply, just as boldly as his move.

"That so?" he smiles.

"It is so, darling," you reply.

"Just you wait," Miah grins, kissing your temple again. "I ain't gonna let that happen in the middle of these folk," he explains.

"That's alright, Mister Bell. I can wait," you reply as you rest your head against the crook of his neck, angling upwards so you can continue to watch the fireworks.

Micah places another kiss to your temple before wrapping his arms around your waist, enjoying the way your hand rests on top of his, the other one still holding your glass. He continues to place gentle kisses against you every so often, holding your back firmly against his chest.

Little do you know that Micah's heart is also racing just as fast as yours, his stomach feeling just as sick and his knees feeling just as weak. All those times he'd accidentally met your gaze from across the camp were times when he'd been admiring you, watching you from afar as he tries to figure out a non-creepy and non-cheesy way to talk to you.

When it comes to one night stands and quick hook-ups, Micah will blurt a few stereotypical pickup lines out and hope for the best, but he's been lovesick the second he saw you, and his feelings continued to grow the more he saw your personality come out within the camp. He felt a little jealous at first, finding a woman who's just as good with a gun and knife as he is, but the thought of "but what if she was mine?" struck his mind, and he then decided that he just had to have you.

Micah struggles to talk to women, he's barely interacted with them, and it's even worse growing up without a female role model in his life. But the camp continued to move and hunt for money, and when Micah found out that Dutch was invited to the mayors' party, he finally saw his chance. Despite trying to recommend taking another set of hands along, without Micah making it obvious that he wanted an excuse to talk to you, Dutch quickly picked up on what was going on and decided to stir the pot even more.

Originally, Micah just thought Dutch could do with his help and maybe take one of the ladies, but Dutch is smart and picks up on little things like the two of you admiring each other from afar. Dutch grinned as he thanked Micah for his suggestion, and then said he could do with a fake couple there so they had all their options open. Micah was quick to dip his hat over his face and blurt out "sure boss, I'll leave it to you," scurrying off when he realized that he'd dug this hole a lot deeper than it was meant to go, but he swallowed his fear and went along with it.

And here the two of you are, Micah leading you over to the gazebo at the back of the mayors' house to have a "little talk about the leads we've found." There's another couple stood on one side, but the gazebo is big enough so if the two of you stand on the other side and speak under your breaths then they won't hear you.

"Well, what you think?" Micah asks as he gently removes your hand from around his arm, holding it lightly in both of his hands as he leans back against the railing, crossing one ankle over the other.

"We got a few bit here 'n' there. It ain't been easy," you shrug. It seems that despite every single person here being an obnoxious prick, they had their guards up around strangers, not letting things slip out too easily.

"But have you had fun?" Micah chuckles.

"I've had fun playing dress-up with you, Micah," you grin, noting the way Micah's fidgeting with the ring on your finger, probably slightly nervous.

"We can always do it again some time," he flirts. "Maybe go to one of them fancy poker games they host at the saloon here," Micah suggests.

"Oh, I bet you'd enjoy that," you giggle. "Gambling, liquor, and me sittin' on your lap."

"How could I not enjoy that?" Micah asks as he stands upright. "But is it a sin if I do enjoy it?" Micah asks, his tone turning slightly stern as he looks into your eyes.

"Do you want it to be?" you ask, watching as Micah moves your hand from his to rest on his shoulder, his hands finding your waist.

"I ain't really bothered, sweetheart," Micah tells you with a little shrug. "Sin or not, I'll have you on my lap, so I'll be happy," he adds.

"You know, we ain't gotta play dress up again just for you to have me sit on your lap," you flirt as your other hand comes to rest on his shoulder, slowly wrapping around his neck.

"Don't say that, darlin'. Cause we both know that you'll get tired of me constantly takin' up that offer," Micah jokes.

"You think I'm gonna get tired of you, Mister Bell?"

"You might," Micah says with a shrug. He moves one hand off your waist to gently cup your chin, making sure your eyes are on his. "Mrs. Bell," he says with a grin, noticing the way your heart flutters at the sound of it.

"I bet you I won't," you smile.

"We'll just have to see about that, won't we?"

"We will, Mister Bell."

Micah gently moves his hand from your chin, gently brushing it along your jawline as he cups it, his thumb rubbing slowly over your cheek. You melt into his touch, and the sight of that is enough to pop Micah's patience.

He finally dips his head down, gently pressing his lips against yours, though he's not surprised when you begin to kiss back, deepening the kiss. Micah's hand moves from your cheek, joining the other one around your waist as he holds onto you, pulling your body against his.

Despite how firmly his lips are pressed against yours, his moustache is a lot softer than you imagined, running against your upper lip, lightly tickling you. There's the strong taste of champagne on his lips, and a faint taste of tobacco on his tongue as he slides it against yours. It's a good thing Micah has your body pressed up against his, holding you firmly, as you can feel your knees getting weaker by the second.

Micah lets out a soft sigh as he moves one hand to gently cup the back of your head. Your fingertips brush against his low ponytail, a style that you hoped to see him wear again. Maybe he'll keep it for this upper-class poker date that you'd both just planned, and even though neither of you said it was a date, the way you were gazing at each other says otherwise.

There's a sudden cough, and that's when you realize that someones been coughing to get your attention a few times now. You were far too engulfed in locking lips with your 'husband' that you didn't notice poor Arthur standing a few feet away, trying to get both of your attention.

Micah momentarily breaks the kiss to mumble "go away, Morgan," before bringing your lips back to his, continuing where you left off.

"We're leavin', Micah," Arthur tells him in a stern voice.

Micah ignores him, and although you feel bad for Arthur being there, you're not willing to break this kiss for anything. You've waited far too long for this.

"You two, come on," Arthur sighs, and Micah finally breaks away from you.

"Fine," Micah frowns as his gaze meets Arthurs. Arthur ignores his attitude and walks off, heading through the slowly-dispersing crowd to find the others.

Micah doesn't say anything but flashes you a cheeky smile as he offers his arm once more. You take it, and he leads you through the party, meeting the others who are already climbing into the stagecoach when you arrive.

Micah does most of the talking on the way back, telling the others about the few leads the two of you had found. His hand rests on your knee the whole journey back, and Dutch seems to notice it, smiling to himself.

When you arrive back at camp, Micah offers you his hand as he helps you down from the stagecoach, and despite being back, his hand still lingers in yours whilst you say goodnight to everyone.

"You want me to walk you home, Mrs. Bell?" Micah jokes.

"Oh, you're so kind, offering to walk me ten steps," you giggle.

Micah does it anyway, stopping outside your tent.

"I err..." Micah gulps, his eyes flicking around the camp, then back to you. "I had fun tonight. Now I know we didn't get many leads, but I still enjoyed myself."

"I did too. Maybe we'll make up for our losses when we go on that upper-class poker mission," you smile. Micah's eyes widen a little.

"You were serious about that?" he asks, a tint of doubt to his voice.

"I was. But I understand if you're tired of pretending to be my husband already," you jokingly sigh, bringing a smile back to Micah's face.

"I ain't ever gonna get tired of it. But if you're up for it, then well, I guess I better start lookin' for a way to make it happen," Micah replies.

"You let me know as soon as you find it."

"Anyway, I ain't gonna keep you up. You get to bed, sweetheart," Micah says as he takes hold of your hand, placing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

"You still ain't learned where my lips are, have you?" you flirt, watching Micah's eyes light up at your comment.

"I guess you better show me then, Mrs. Bell," Micah grins, his face dipping down to meet yours as you lean up to kiss him, your arms wrapping around his neck once more.

Micah doesn't keep you up for too long, softly kissing you goodnight and finally letting you turn in. You hear him walk away as you close your tent flaps, taking your time to get undressed and get ready for bed. The whole time you're changing, your stomach is still turning with butterflies, in shock at tonight's turn of events, even though you adored all of them.

In some ways, the Gods finally did answer your prayers, giving you the sinner you fawned over rather than taking your feelings away. Either outcome would have been fine, but you definitely preferred this one, especially now you had a date lined up.

Maybe those romances that Mary-Beth reads aren't so silly after all.

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askdimtrio · 3 years

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Greetings!

Hello, friends. I am Fate Changer, an AU version of Dimentio. My friends, Mind Bender Dimentio and Music Maker Dimentio, are also AU versions. Music Maker has been wanting to make an ask blog like this for awhile, and for some reason she decided I am the one to write the intro. For some reason.

Anyway, allow me to give a rundown of how this works.

1. You may ask any of us any question, as long as it's PG-13 and not containing any bad stuff. Use common sense. After all, our creator is a minor.

2. Our responses will mostly be in text form, but sometimes our creator will include drawings along with our responses. (Usually she's as lazy as a cat sunning itself, so don't expect much.)

3. If we don't respond to your question, don't be mad. While this blog might not get much attention and will probably be as well-known as an over-shadowed sibling, we are very busy jesters, with many things to attend to.

That's about it, as far as a rundown goes. Music Maker also wanted me to include short things about our personalities, so fine.

Yours Truly, Fate Changer:

--My main power is my strings of fate. With a simple tug I can change whatever I desire about you or someone connected to you.

--I may be an AU version of a Dimentio, but do not call me Fate Changer Dimentio. Dimentio was my old life, full of idiocy. So please. just call me Fate Changer, FC, or Fate.

--Musi and Mind Bender claim I am as edgy and as cross as a double edged sword. Whatever.

Mind Bender Dimentio:

--His main power is hypnosis magic, along with other phsychic abilities.

--He carries a necklace, with a stone that is of rainbow color that shows a spiral carved in the middle. He has an infuriating habit of swinging it back and forth on his finger, and because the necklace is enchanted, he keeps "accidently" hypnotizing people. Sometimes it seems like there's someone else controlling MB's actions... but that's absurd, isn't it?

--Claims his mind is strong, and that everyone else's mind is weak. He's as egotistical as an orb-headed space-themed DJ.

And finally, Music Maker Dimentio:

--Her main powers revolve around music. She also has other abilities pertaining to sounds.

--More cheery than Mind Bender and I. Constantly obsessing over whatever new music she finds.

--Found Mind Bender and I because of a Prophecy of some sorts, but that's unimportant.

Now that this is done and over with, I have business I need to attend to. Ciao.

Ooc stuff like DNI and tags under the cut!

DNI:

Racist, Homophobic, transphobic, terf, etc etc. If you are here to spread hate, please leave. you will be blocked. Also NSFW blogs DNI. I am a minor for pete's sake

RULES:

ABSOLUTELY NO SEXUAL STUFF, I AM A MINOR. Flirting and romance is allowed however

Harrass the Muses, not the Mun

DON'T spam my replies or Inbox, be patient! A reminder every now and again is ok, but be patient because I will get to it eventually!

TAGS:

they're all here--Dimtrio

master of destiny--Fate Changer

conqueror of free will--Mind Bender

miastro of sound--Music Maker

what the...? -- M!A

give it a try-- RP meme

a new guest--Rp

#super paper mario #dimentio #they're all here: dimtrio #master of destiny: fate changer #conqueror of free will: mind bender #miastro of sound: music maker #what the...? m!a #give it a try: rp meme #a new guest: rp

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ariannjs · 4 years

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PRISON CELL | A SasuSaku FanFic One Shot

A day late but here's my entry for #SasuSakuTwitFest 2020 Day 4: Travels. I also posted a part of this for #sssnippetaday on Twitter.

Enjoyyyy!

-A

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Being on the road for two long years has led Sasuke to resign to the fact that he would be needing help from other people. With his lack of resources, he knew it's only appropriate for him to take whatever he can get from anyone who is willing to offer him anything. Provisions of food and a space to rest gave him the comfort that he thought he didn't deserve, usually from a widow, an old couple, or a starting family, who, by some miracle, did not see him as an S-rank criminal like how almost the rest of the world did.

He's usually still on edge around people, shinobi and civilians alike. It wasn't unknown to him that not everyone was happy with Konoha's decision to spare him from a heavier punishment. But as he continued to travel, the weight on his shoulders began to lighten for he got to realize that there are still good people in the world, increasing his motivation to keep on pursuing and fighting for the peace that his brother had always hoped for.

Now, he has a lot of stories to tell when he goes back home.

On one of his visits in Ame, he was welcomed by an old widow in her home for three productive days. She insisted that he should be well taken cared of while he looked after the village to catch the group of rogue shinobi lurking in their area since the week before. It was a huge task that the civilians couldn't repay, according to her, so it was the least that she could do.

When he was about to leave after succeeding in his task there, the old lady even packed a bento for him. And he couldn't help but remember being a child once again as he accepted the bento and muttered a thanks at her.

"No problem at all, Uchiha-san. You've done so much more! A lot of people here are even fond of you because of what you did for us. So it's you whom we should thank."

"It's nothing, really."

"Ah. Such a fine gentleman you are! You've probably had lots of girls in your life, hmm?"

Sasuke slowly shook his head. Growing up, many girls threw themselves at him with the hopes of getting his attention, but there was only one that annoyed him and tugged his heartstrings despite his years of denial about it. "Just one."

"My, my. It's wonderful to know that a handsome man like you is faithful to his one and only!" The old woman giggled. "Ah, young love. Could you tell me something about her?"

Blinking twice, Sasuke stared at her and thought about her surprising question. Until his mind traced back to those solitary moments he had in a prison cell in Konoha.

He was well aware that she was just doing her job. But despite her silence and his sight's absence, he could feel the tenderness of her touch and the warmth of her heart as she tended to the remnant of his left arm for the third time that week.

No words were spoken since the first time. But as he heard the movements of her hands while performing the signs for the jutsu to open his cell, he forced his dry throat to release something.

"Sakura, thank you."

He received no response that night, but he was sure that his former genin teammate smiled at that as she exited and locked his cell again.

The next time she visited for his checkup, he struggled between staying silent or asking something that has been bombarding his mind for days. It might have been obvious because he was startled when he heard her finally speak.

"You have something to say."

He gulped. Unsure of how the conversation would go once his question was already out. But regardless of her answer, he knew he'd be able to sleep – nap – better that night when he finally hears from her. And so he asked, "Do you...still love me, Sakura?"

Astonishment was apparent with the medic for he felt her chakra fluctuate a little as she checked his left arm. He convinced himself that it didn't matter if he received a negative answer, but every second of her silence felt a lot more suffocating than being in that cell for weeks.

Yet she responded after a few moments, and it shook him to the core. "You know the answer to that."

"But Sakura, things change, don't they?"

"Not my feelings."

"Even after everything?"

The flow of her chakra in his system completely stopped and he heard the movements of her hand signs once again. But before he heard the clink of his cell's lock, she muttered, "Even after everything."

A week later, his chakra blindfold was allowed to be removed. It must've been because of Kakashi. He mentally thanked the man when he finally saw with his own eyes what he realized was his favorite shade of red.

Sakura entered his cell with her usual shinobi clothes this time, unlike the past weeks wherein she was wearing her lab coat. He knew this because he could feel its cloth whenever she was beside him, so today was quite unusual if he would think about it.

He stared at her as she approached him with a pout.

"You look weird, Sasuke-kun."

He raised an eyebrow inquisitively, making her chuckle.

"I'm here to cut your hair." Then she took out a comb and a pair of scissors from her back pocket.

He wanted to question her, but he ended up letting her do what she wanted as she gently placed a big cloth around his shoulders, thinking that it was probably a part of her job.

However, it was when she asked if he wanted her to shave the stubble on his jaw that he realized what she was doing was beyond her role as the medic looking after him.

"You don't have to do that, Sakura."

"But I want to."

"Why?" He pressed.

Then surprisingly, Sakura glared at him.

And with that, he already understood. He wasn't able to stop himself from smiling once she left him in his cell that night.

The old lady beamed when she saw how deep in thought Sasuke was, giving her the impression that this man was serious about the woman in his mind right now.

Sasuke cleared his throat. "She...never gave up in choosing to love me." He looked down at his feet as he remembered her face when he left a gentle poke on her forehead on the day of his departure. "Never. Even when I was so lost."

"You must feel very blessed, Uchiha-san."

"Aa." Despite the fact that he still felt like he didn't deserve her.

"Give me a moment," the widow suddenly said as she rummaged through a drawer in her living room. "Oh! Here it is!" She then reached out for Sasuke's hand, startling him, and placed something on his palm before closing it with her hands. "When you return to your lady, I hope you could give that little gift to her." She showed a smile that seemed to be partnered with a remembrance of someone.

Sasuke stared at his closed fist. "Thank you. But, why?" The cheery attitude of the woman mellowed as she answered, "I was supposed to give that to my daughter after she comes back from a mission. But then, the Fourth Shinobi War broke out." Pausing, she eyed Sasuke for a few seconds, causing him to recall the past war in such a vivid way. "But she died on the battlefield, fighting for the shinobi world. I believe it's her love for the people that drove her to give her all." "I'm sorry about your loss." "Oh, don't worry, I could say I've somehow recovered from it. I strongly believed that her death wasn't in vain, especially because you and your team have given that war a successful closure." Sasuke looked down once more. It was still quite weird sometimes, how a few people saw him as a hero, yet more people still viewed him as an international criminal that ended people's lives with his own hands. "The way you talked about your girl reminded me of my daughter, so please, give that gift to her. At least I know it will be in good hands." She smiled yet again, but this time, with eyes that were starting to become glassy. A small smile appeared on Sasuke's lips. There was something about the way she considered Sakura as his that calmed his entire system. And it amazed him how even though she's not here, Sakura could still draw people close to her. "She actually fought alongside me in that war, aiding me and Naruto in taking down Kaguya." The old woman gasped again, with a glint of recognition appearing on her eyes. "You mean..." Sasuke nodded. "Yes, it's Sakura Haruno." The words weirdly came out with some sort of pride from his lips. And even he was surprised to find himself verbally admitting to anyone Sakura's position in his life. The woman beamed and clasped her hands, returning to her cheerful attitude like earlier. "Uchiha-san! You two look good together! And, I guess that gift was after all truly made for her, don't you think?" She gestured to Sasuke's fist. Sasuke furrowed his brows in wonder and slowly opened his palm. His lips then twitched upwards when his gaze landed on a necklace with a cherry blossom crystal pendant.

"Now go home to her, Uchiha-san. I'm pretty sure all your exhaustion from your travels would subside once you see Haruno-san again."

He thought so too.

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Hey guys! Hope you're all enjoying the #SasuSakuTwitFest2020 so far! Let me know your thoughts and feels about this one😄 There's a lot going on these days, but I pray that we'd all find inner peace despite this. Please stay safe!❤️

-A

#SasuSakuTwitFest2020 #ss fanfics #sasusaku #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #ariannjfics #sasusaku fanfics

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