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lucytara · 4 years ago

Note

Yeah I get wanting some variation in your writing and whatnot. Hmm.

Gold. "I defy you. I defy your god. The laws of the universe said my love was gone from me. I said watch me save her." Bumbleby.

Have fun!

it’s possible. that i went. a little overboard with this prompt.

"I defy you. I defy your god. The laws of the universe said my love was gone from me. I said watch me save her."

All four candles are lit in the corners of the small room, wicks burning purple and melting black wax. Her offering sits in a dish at the feet of the small statue - an old, worn piece of paper, bent and torn around its edges - and she herself kneels in the center of the floor, her hands clasped.

“I’ve never done this,” she begins, “but my name is Yang Xiao Long, and I humbly request an audience.”

Nothing happens, though she isn’t sure what she would’ve expected even if it had; the flames flicker with her unsteady heartbeat, the blood in her ears crashing as if waves in a storm. For some reason it’s embarrassing, calling on a higher entity who decides to put you through to voicemail.

She tries again, and aims for theatrical exaggeration; maybe the gods like a bit of a show. If she’s making a fool of herself, she might as well do it brilliantly. “O, Great Goddess! I call upon thee - All-Knowing Ruler of the Dead, Empress of the Night, Most Holy Lady of Darkness, Reigning Queen of Entropy--”

“I think that’s probably enough,” a voice comes from in front of her, amusement evident beneath its tone. “What was that one in the middle? ‘Empress of the Night’? I might keep that.”

Her head whips up towards the sound, and a woman in a deep purple cloak is leaning against her own statue, arms crossed and watching her performance with a look that can only be described as shameless delight. Gorgeous black hair framing golden eyes, like the sky wrapping itself around stars; the statue doesn’t do her justice.

“Oh my God,” Yang says, sitting back on her heels. All the preparation and rehearsing she’d done isn’t enough to conquer the shock of a beautiful, unearthly woman appearing in front of her and--

“Yes, I get that a lot.”

--mercilessly mocking her.

“Well, Yang Xiao Long?” the woman continues. “Why have you called upon me?”

“How do you know my name?” Yang says stupidly.

“I’m a god,” the goddess replies, a smile pulling at a corner of her mouth. “I’m the all-knowing ruler of the dead or whatever. Also, you said your name when you summoned me.”

“Fuck,” Yang says, struggling to regain her composure and failing spectacularly. “I - yeah. Right. Okay. Is it rude to swear in front of gods? And what do I call you?”

“I’ll allow it,” the woman says. “And you can call me Blake.”

“Blake,” Yang repeats; her hands open and close like a nervous tick. The name is a heavy weight in her mouth, settling her into steadiness. “I’ve come to request guidance.”

“Guidance?” Blake repeats, and gently lifts the note from the offering dish, turning it carefully around her hands without opening it to read it - she doesn’t need to. Yang registers faint surprise in her expression; yes, she’d assumed the sentimentality would fetch a rather large price. “This is quite the payment.”

“It’s the last note I have from someone who loved me,” Yang says. “I figured it would be sufficient.”

Those bright, inquisitive eyes glance over to her, and now the playing field has been reversed: intrigue and curiosity outweigh Yang’s atrocious initial delivery.

“Stand, please,” Blake commands softly. “I want to get a good look at you.”

Obediently, Yang rises to her feet, and with an odd jolt realizes she’s a few inches taller than the goddess. It’s unexpected, and it seems to unnerve Blake for a moment, too. Or maybe that’s the candlelight, throwing shapes and colors, turning the room cavernous. Maybe Blake is shrinking and she’s growing. Maybe once she was so tall the entire world trembled beneath her feet.

“You already have power,” Blake says, circling her curiously, and now she’s seeing what isn’t visible, looking for handprints on her soul. “You have been claimed. Whom do you answer to?”

“I didn’t receive this power from a god,” Yang says quietly. “I’ve had it as long as I can remember.”

“That’s impossible,” Blake says, and her gaze is piercing into Yang’s heart; she sees its strength, but she sees its scars, too. And its emptiness. There is plenty of that.

“Touch me,” Yang says. “You’ll find no prior claim.”

“I don’t need to.” Blake takes another step closer to her, the way you’d inspect a painting in a museum. Hands at her sides, cautious of glass and rope. “I can see your aura. But it’s impossible.”

“I’m looking for something,” Yang says, and Blake glances up, briefly meeting her eyes. “I don’t know what it is. But I’ve been looking for something for what feels like my entire life.”

Quizzical, now. One by one the candles are burning down. The room is collapsing in on them, or perhaps that’s simply the god in front of her, looking like she’d dive into Yang’s veins and unravel her if it were permitted.

“Why me?” Blake asks finally. “You know what I’m the goddess of, don’t you?”

“You guard death,” Yang says, her voice impossibly gentle; dusk flows river-like from her mouth. There is a world Blake can almost see. “But you can’t guard death without also guarding life, right? I don’t know what I’m looking for, but whatever it is, I imagine you encompass it.”

“Poetic,” Blake responds, and waits further. “I would like the truth, please. Our time is running short.”

There’s no point in playing games with gods. “The truth is stupid,” Yang says bluntly, and the corner of Blake’s mouth tilts again.

“Try me.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Yang says, and Blake’s eyebrows raise in amusement. Bold, reckless, and absolutely pushing her luck to the furthest corners it can inhabit. “Accept me as yours, and when the time is right, I will tell you the truth.”

“Is the truth that powerful?” Blake says, curious despite herself.

The last candle flutters, throwing shadows from Yang’s eyelashes to her cheek. “I think it is.”

“Welcome back, Empress of the Night,” Ruby says upon her return to the Kingdom, giving her an exaggerated bow. “I hope you enjoyed your summon, My Lady of Perpetual Darkness.”

“What the hell was that about?” Weiss asks. “I haven’t even heard you crack a joke for, like, a millennia, and suddenly you’re the court jester?”

“She was amusing,” Blake says, shrugging. “Usually people are so timid and terrified. I felt like having some fun.”

“You?” Weiss says dubiously.

“Shut up, Weiss,” Ruby says. “You mustn’t speak that way to Our Patron Saint, Duchess of Death.”

“Now you’re not even trying.”

“Don’t you both have work to do?” Blake says, ending the interrogation before it can really begin. She’s not sure she’d have the answers for them, anyway.

Yang journeys east.

Find me again, Blake had said. The closer you get to my temple, the more I can see of you. She’d brushed aside Yang’s bangs, touched a single finger to her forehead. It felt like a teardrop, or a meteor shower. It felt like digging up a grave, or chiseling into stone. It felt like the last explosion. It felt like the first breath.

You are mine, Blake had said, and something about it had felt far too right.

She crosses from Sanus to Anima, spends days traversing forests and mountains, fending off bandits and monsters. Eyes flashing red and fire licking up her skin. Aura glowing golden before breaking. There is something wrong with the trees, she thinks; there is something wrong with the sky. Like I’m looking at them from the wrong side.

Nobody is there to answer her, and not for the first time, she wonders how she came to be so alone.

Blake watches Yang’s power unveil itself from above. Yang is hers, now, and though she can’t make house calls to the world below without a summon, she at least has instant access to her claims. There aren’t many of them, and Yang is different.

It reminds her of the God of Vengeance, almost - how he absorbs power before returning it, strike by vicious strike - but Yang’s is personal, sacrificial. She feels the pain before she can utilize it, and her anger is never cruel, her actions never misplaced. And she doesn’t complain.

Sometimes, Blake wishes she would: she can hear when she’s being talked to, even if she can’t respond. Every prayer, every curse, every devastation, every hope.

She waits for the sound of Yang’s voice, but it never comes.

There’s a small shrine in a village called Shion, which is still weeks out from the docks where she can potentially get a ferry to Menagerie, but the locals are kind, and honor her far too greatly for being touched by their ruling god. They direct her to their place of worship deep in the woods, and leave her without looking back. It’s a sacred thing, a bond between a god and their chosen, and law forbids them from watching her ceremony.

Yang pulls the candle from her pouch, lighting it at the foot of the shrine. She kneels down on the stone, worn with the imprints of a thousand prayers, and says, “Blake.”

“I was wondering when I’d hear from you again.” The voice comes almost immediately, as if its owner had been waiting to be beckoned.

It’s still a bit of a shock, though she’s much better prepared for it this time. “Hi,” Yang says, and stops there before she can fuck it up.

“Hi,” Blake says, and seems to be amused against her will. More guarded, less open. Yang can read the warning signs, but she’ll cut them off at the source.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she means it, getting to her feet. “If I waited too long to contact you, I mean. I’m...not familiar with this area.”

“Don’t worry,” Blake says, lowering her arms. “It’s only been a few weeks. I won’t smite you until at least a month.”

Yang laughs, and unexpectedly to the both of them, Blake goes deadly still. Her body language says Yang’s done something wrong, but her expression says she’s hearing music.

The candle is burning. The moment can turn itself over gently, if Yang knows how to guide it. She keeps her smile on, but makes it quiet. “You know, I didn’t expect the Goddess of Death to have a sense of humor.”

It seems to work. “I like to surprise people,” Blake says, and moves closer. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You never talk to me,” she says, pretending to be in control of something she clearly isn’t. “Why not?”

Only the forest speaks for a moment, branches creaking, leaves rustling. And then: “Do you want me to?” Yang asks.

“It’s...something people tend to do,” Blake says slowly. “But not you.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Yang says.

“It’s not a bother.” The words come out too quickly, tone too reassuring. Blake’s own want is what laces the conversation, rather than Yang’s uncertainty. That’s a new, dangerous line.

Yang takes a careful step forward, her eyes lowered to the ground as if in apology; they raise slowly, trailing over Blake’s form until meeting her gaze. Looking for lines she’s crossed, and should step back over; searching for lights that say go. Instead, she only finds an intense, hungry confusion - I want it without understanding what it is.

“You know,” she murmurs, “these statues - they never do you justice.”

And she lifts a hand to Blake’s cheek, hesitating over her skin - is that Blake’s catch of breath, or is it the wind? - before gently cupping it in her palm. She could lose an arm for this; touching a god without being explicitly asked is the greatest sin a mortal can commit, but Blake only stands there, unmoving, eyes wide and lips parted, the moon sitting in the hollow of her throat.

“Blake,” she whispers, and it can only be a god’s strength keeping her voice steady, “I’m never not thinking of you.”

The candle goes out.

Nobody is waiting for her when she returns. This is how gods give each other gifts - by saying, no, I see everything but I didn’t see you.

Yang starts talking to her, and changes her routes so that rather than taking the most direct path to Menagerie, she’s able to stop at some of the smaller shrines on the way. There are only two more, and she hasn’t called Blake since Shion. Yang hopes she’ll still come.

“Isn’t it strange,” Yang says, “how much easier it is to think about someone than to talk about them? I think about you differently than I can talk about you. I don’t even know if that makes sense.”

No response; not that she expects one. At this point, she assumes Blake’ll just kill her if she gets too annoying. Maybe a tree will fall on her, or she’ll do something embarrassing like trip over a rock and break her neck. “I can’t remember much about my life. I know there were people I loved, but I can’t see their faces. I must’ve traveled a lot; I don’t like sitting still. I don’t know how old I am, or even when my birthday is.” She’s never admitted this before; never admitted she came to lying on the ground, with only her name left ringing in her skull and a note in her pocket.

“I think you’re beautiful,” she tells the warm night air. “That’s what I was trying to say. Before. Blake, I think you’re beautiful.”

A star shoots across the sky, light trails leaving imprints against the swirling blue-purple-black of the galaxy, but it must be a coincidence.

Another shrine, another candle. This one burrowed into the side of a mountain, a dome of a room with a hand-woven rug for kneeling, several long benches behind. The statue sits against the far wall, centered.

“They’re getting better,” Yang says, getting to her feet. “This one, at least, gets your eyes right.”

“Hm,” Blake says, pressing her lips together. She moves to stand next to Yang rather than in front of her, and they both examine the statue together. “I suppose you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“Were the compliments too much?” Yang asks, impressed with how light her voice sounds. She nudges Blake’s elbow with her own. Oh, she’ll see how much distance she can cross. She’s already walked miles - she’ll swim oceans, too. “You said you wanted me to talk to you.”

“I didn’t say that,” Blake denies unconvincingly, and then pauses. “And in regards to your first question - I didn’t say that, either.”

Yang could tease her - so even gods like being called pretty, huh - or she could be brave, turn to Blake, take her face in both of her hands and lean in--

“Yang,” Blake says, and does step one of that plan by turning to her. “What do you want from me?”

Maybe the idea’s overwhelmed her to the degree that she can no longer see its risks - its potentially horrible, literally life-ending consequences - and that's what drives her to do it. Maybe it’s that Blake is looking at her like a poem; something beautiful, not to be understood by anyone but the artist who made her.

“What would you do if I kissed you?” Yang says, as if it were merely an interesting, hypothetical concept to explore and not the end of the world. “Is that possible, even if you wanted me to?”

This room is warm and close and silent. The clay is cracking where the floor meets the walls. A tunneled-through skylight is the only thing that keeps Blake from swallowing the place in shadows, instead coating them in an amber, dream-like glow. Like if you mixed the two of them together, you’d still be left with light.

“I think,” Blake murmurs, “we’re both going to have to find that out.”

Step two of her plan. Both of her hands cupping Blake’s cheeks. She’s strangely aware of her lifelines - do they mean anything to you, she wants to ask, does my life mean anything to you now and if it doesn’t, will my death - she leans in, their noses brushing, Blake’s breathing as if she needs to, Yang isn’t and she does; teach me about magic, teach me about memory, tell me how I knew you before I knew myself--

Blake kisses her, tired of her caution and hesitancy, lips parting and fists knotting around the fabric of her shirt. Yang expects them to crash together, like comets. She expects them to crumble and collapse under the impact, buried in the ruins of each other and suffocating. She expects them to decay there, reveling in their own destruction.

What she doesn’t expect is sunlight.

Her skin set aflame, Blake’s tongue in her mouth, hands traveling from her face to her lower back and pressing close - somewhere a rule is being written about the gods and desperation - Blake pulls away, gasps, her fingers begging for Yang’s heart.

“This power,” she says, mesmerized, staring at things only she can see, golden gossamer roots running up Yang’s veins. “Where did you get it?”

“I don’t know,” Yang breathes out, and kisses her one last time before the candle burns out. “But I swear I’ve never felt closer to finding out.”

Nobody attempts to stop her from barging through God’s door. Weiss and Ruby, Sun and Neptune; they all avert their eyes. I see everything, but I do not see you.

“What is she?” Blake asks, standing before them with her head bowed. “Please, God. I need to know.”

“If you weren’t already sure,” God says, “you wouldn’t be here.”

She hates it when they’re right.

Yang hits the docks; situated on the outskirts of a fishing village called Ito, and with constant transport to Menagerie, their shrine to Blake is the largest one yet.

“And this one?” Blake asks, before Yang has even begun to pray.

“How did you do that?” Yang says, staring up at her, startled. “Are we, like, super close now?”

“Shut up,” Blake says, but she’s smiling. She extends a hand, helping Yang to her feet. “Your soul calls me. You barely even have to light the candle, anymore.”

The sound of the ocean knocks on the door; the smell tackles the windows. Above, the seagulls are crying out, angry at all the fish they can’t have. Yang says, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Blake says, and kisses her. Soft and chaste. Something so human and so immortal. “I missed you.”

“I’m your favorite, aren’t I?” Yang teases, her fingers catching Blake’s chin in her hands.

“No,” Blake says, and for the first time, smiles with her teeth. Oh, this is happiness. “I do this with everyone who requests my presence. I’m very popular.”

“I can imagine,” Yang says, brushing a thumb across her bottom lip. “So what else are you the god of?”

“You had a few of them right,” Blake says nonchalantly, settling against Yang’s body. She could be taller, if she wanted to be, but there’s so much beauty to see when looking up. “Night, and all things within it. Darkness, shadows. Death.”

“What else?” Yang says, watching her mouth shape every letter.

“Forgiveness, and justice,” Blake murmurs. Oh, there’s a fine print for this, and she’s violating every word. “Promises,” she continues. “Seduction.”

Hook, line - a heavy wave rattles the walls; oh, the sea, the sea! - Yang shudders against her mouth, salt sinking into her blood. Leaves her bouyant and floating, the earth bubbling up beneath her. Rising and rising and rising.

“Shockingly,” Yang says, letting Blake press kisses into the crook of her neck, “I don’t find that hard to believe.”

“God,” Blake finds herself standing before them once again, hands clasped and head bowed. She speaks formally in the presence of God, as is customary of respect. “Please, God. I am supposed to be guiding her, but I fear all I’ve done is lead her astray. I need to know where she came from, and where she is going.”

“Blake,” God says, and touches the top of her head with their hand, “she is close to your temple. Look at her, and tell me what you see.”

Menagerie is a busy, populated island, and Blake’s temple is the primary reason for that. Pilgrimages are made from around the world to pray at her shrine and leave offerings at her feet. Protect me from loss, help me navigate my grief, let me fulfill my promise.

Yang is none of those things. And when the keepers of the temple ask the reason for her journey, she says, “I am in love with her.”

“You have been touched,” one says, and bows to her upon entry. “You have as long as the goddess is willing to give you.”

The heavy doors close, but the room shimmers, firelight glittering over golden-accented walls. A large moon is carved into the marble floor, crossing over a sun. Before her is the largest, most intricately carved statue of Blake she’s ever seen, and it looks exactly like her.

Yang kneels.

“You know,” Blake says from behind her, “you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“No,” Yang says. “But it - it’s been a long journey. And I’m only here because of you.”

Blake’s footsteps echo, her boots stopping at the north point of the sun. “How do you feel?”

It’s enough to make Yang smile. “I know you heard me,” she says pointedly, but her amusement is apparent. “You hear everything I say.”

“I thought I’d give you the chance to tell me yourself.”

For the last time, Yang rises to her feet. Blake’s eyes glitter, mischievous and playful. She looks as she always has, but clearer, somehow; defined and resolute. She carries the truth in the way she extends a hand, in the way she searches for Yang’s mouth. When they kiss, Yang swears she can see another world.

“I’ll tell you something better,” Yang says. “The truth.”

She leans down, bumps their foreheads together. Blake’s arms loop around her neck automatically. Oh, Yang thinks, if I were the god of anything, I’d want it to be habits.

“So what’s the truth?” Blake asks.

“The truth,” Yang says unshakably, “is that it was you. I woke up with no memory and a note, and somehow, I knew I had to find you. The only thing I’ve been searching for is you.”

It’s you, she says. It’s you. You. You.

“God,” Blake says, and this time God is ready for her.

“Blake Belladonna,” God says, and inclines their head. “Come. Show me what you have.”

In her hands is a small slip of paper, worn and ripped around the edges. “It is a note,” she says, and unfolds it gingerly. “It is a note, God, in my handwriting.”

“And what does it say?” they ask.

“Find me,” Blake recites, “and I promise I’ll bring you home.”

“Well,” God says whimsically, “you are the Goddess of Promises.”

Tears build in the corners of her eyes, shipwrecks gaining water. “Yang,” Blake whispers, and now that she is close, she can see everything. Meteors falling from their showers; the day the sun went out. “Yang. I’m sorry. I’m so, so--”

“Shh,” Yang murmurs, pressing her lips into Blake’s hair. “What are you apologizing for? I found you, and you brought me home.”

“Oh, this is exciting,” God says. “I so rarely get to come to Remnant on business.”

“God,” Yang says, and bows her head. The temple doors remain locked; Blake’s hand is clutched tightly in her own. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Yang Xiao Long,” says God. “You fell in the last war, over five-hundred years ago. Do you remember this?”

“Yes,” she says. “I was trying to protect my sister.”

“And what happens when a god falls?”

“We forget them,” Blake says. “Their power is forfeit; they are erased from our memories, and our world.”

“It is not a law of justice, but a law of reality,” God says. “Or it was, previously. Only you did not forget immediately, Blake Belladonna. I did not know it was possible for two souls to be so intrinsically bound that they leave traces in the other, but you did not forget, just long enough to leave her a message. It took five hundred years for Yang to fall to earth, and when she awoke, she did not forget, either.

“Gods are made, and this means that what we are gods of can change,” they continue. “Blake, you were not previously the Goddess of Death. You became it because you believed that Yang had died, and no god had as strong a connection to loss as you. Your power became a beacon, just as it now will be a beacon for Remembrance.

“And you, Yang Xiao Long,” God says. “Goddess of the Sun, of Loyalty, of Sacrifice. You were many things. And now you are the Goddess of Rebirth.”

#Anonymous #bumbleby #rwby fic prompts #rwby fic

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dokifluffs · 4 years ago

Text

Falling Asleep on Him | Yamaguchi, Ushijima, Osamu

Pairings: Yamaguchi X Reader (gender neutral), Ushijima X Reader (gender neutral), and Osamu X Reader (female)

Genre: more sleep, more fluff

Author’s Note: im a ‘samu simp if you haven’t noticed

Warnings: Osamu has a kid! Also post time skip for Ushijima and Osamu!

Falling Asleep on Them | Oikawa, Atsumu // Falling Asleep on Them | Tsukishima, Akaashi, Iwaizumi // Falling Asleep on Them | Kenma, Kuroo

Yamaguchi: BB 1

The metro car whisked by all the busy streets of the city, everyone and everything moving by in a fast blur

The car was pretty empty with only a few people in their own worlds, some standing, some sitting whereas the two of you sat towards the back in a paired seating

Yamaguchi felt so light and free with you beside him as he spent the day with the one person he held to dear to him: you

No one spoke or made any disturbances, the only sound came from the sound of the speedy mode of transport whizzing by over the metal rails through the city

The two of you sat peacefully side by side each other, both feeling the exact same way for each other- heart racing whenever one was near the other, when you or he came into the room, things just felt brighter and lighter

His freckles, growing confidence

Your smile, the light shining in your eyes

Yet neither of you knew about the other’s feelings

The movement of the metro itself mixed with the few hours of sleep you missed in anticipation of today slowly began to make you feel lethargic, the warmth Yamaguchi’s body was radiating to yours was like the perfect icing on top

He could see just a tiny bit in his peripheral vision the way you would suddenly rapidly blink your eyes to stay awake, how you gradually raised your hand to cover your mouth as you yawned

His thoughts were zipping as fast as the metro, part of him pointing fingers at himself for not being able to confess his feelings for you for months now, how he wasn’t even able to do what he wanted to do all day

Yet it was as if someone had heard his pleas

His heart dropped in his chest when your head bumped into his shoulder as you slowly let yourself get pulled away by the currents of sleep, your vision going in and out before the last thing you could really see was his hand

Your hand rested beside his on your leg, laid on your side with your hand completely relaxed, open for him

He mustered up the courage, feeling like his heart was beating so loud, you could hear it or that it was going to beat out of his chest before reaching your stop

He tested the waters, sliding the pads of his index and middle finger, doing his best to keep himself from being shaky

You reacted to his touch, your own heart melting as you opened your hand, palm up, inviting him in

He slid his other fingers across your soft hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, happily taking it

The biggest weight lifted off Yamaguchi’s chest, his head suddenly light as he internally cheered

“I’ve always liked you, Tadashi,” you mumbled sleepily, nuzzling your ice into his shoulder, your voice as pleasant as always in his ears

It took him what felt like forever though it was only a few seconds to process your confession

“M-Me too,” he stammered, hesitantly resting his head barely on top of yours before you held his arm with your free hand, getting one of the best little naps in your life with someone you cared about and cared about you so tenderly

He wished this metro ride would never end if it meant he could stay like this here with you, his heart as full as could be

Ushi:

You watched in awe seeing the force of his swing, the loud boom of the ball making impact with the wooden floor of the gym

Ushijima landed briskly on the balls of his feet, watching where the ball had made impact, satisfied seeing it land right on the corner of the court where he had aimed

This was working

The next game, the Adlers were sure to win

As he approached where you sat beside his bag, it made you wonder as you eyes his structure, what it felt like to be so strong, knowing how hard one could hit something

Blockers always looked as if their arms were going to break, especially against Ushijima

His strength had been growing since high school and things were only going up

You handed him his towel and water bottle you had filled as he started his hitting practice using the ball hitter mechanism- a machine built that half a basket of volleyballs on top, letting a single ball go down into the little arms that held it in one place

This allowed the player to do their approach, hitting the ball at the most optimal height they deemed fit

“Thanks,” he sat down on the wooden floor beside you instead of the bleacher his bag sat on

He had been here since this morning for his personal practice which was mainly working out and hitting, and you had come in the afternoon, staying here since

“Toshi?”

“Hm?” He hummed as he swallowed mouthfuls of chilled water from the fountain, instantly cooling his body as he wiped the sweat off his brow, the ends of his hairs sticking to his face

“How was your day?” You asked, leaning your head on his shoulder, not giving a second thought to his sweaty stench

You asked out of genuine curiosity. Was he bored being alone for practice? Having no one else to pass with but himself, no one to set for him, using a machine that held the ball in a single place every time even though in games, it would never be the same

“Mm, I’d say it was pretty good.” He thought over his day, evaluating about what stood out to him, his mind leading to tomorrow and what else he could do

He did enough hitting practice for today

He thought of tomorrow’s workout regiments and what he could add on to it to prolong his workout time itself

“How was yours?”

He turned to look to you, your head resting on his arm until he noticed it- you were asleep on him, your heavy eyes after being here all day were to shut

The entire gym was silent until the air conditioning came on, though the place was still instead

He sat still, unsure of what really to do since you had only fallen asleep on him in bed at home, not a place like this

Your chest slowly rose and fell with every breath you took, eyelashes fluttering every now and then yet they were closed and you were asleep

Carefully without making too much movement to disturb you, he grabbed his phone from his bag behind him, astonished himself at the time seeing that it was almost midnight

He knew he had been here for a long time, but not as long as today

“Y/N,” he slowly moved his shoulder back and forth to shake you awake. “Y/N.” He repeated as he tapped your leg beside him. “Let’s go home,” he spoke, voice deep and silky smooth in your eats as he gathered his belongings in his bag when you stood, stretching your body out

After a quick clean up and clearing the court, the two of you were off, his hand holding yours securely to head home

Osamu:

He peeked his eyes open as he laid in bed sleepily, the blanket covering half of his body, releasing his bare upper body as you trudged into the bedroom, your feet dragging a bit over the carpet

You let out a big yawn that shook through your body, the tears instantly cascading down your cheeks that made it seem as if you were crying

Crickets chirped outside, cicadas buzzed, filling the atmosphere with their noise as the full moon was close to reaching its peak in the clear night sky

The mattress springs squeaked as they strained under the weight of your knee as you climbed into bed, sliding yourself beneath the covers to join Osamu

He opened his arms, welcoming you into his embrace to which you happily joined, instantly burying your face into his toned chest, his muscular arms enclosing you in

Now that you were here, there was nowhere you could go - though you didn’t want to regardless

“S/N finally fell asleep?” His voice was dipped deeper than normal from the exhaustion fro work coming to take over his body now that he was relaxed in bed

“Mmhm,” you hummed

You rest your head on his arm as your personal pillow as his hands rest on your lower back, circling under your shirt at your smooth skin

He smelled so clean, you melted being so close to him after being home all day, having little to no contact with him as he worked and you stayed home to take care of your son

He was the light of you guys’ life but never slept no matter what you did

Compared to what you’ve read and seen online, it took twice as long to get your son to sleep and he woke at the lightest sound

You drifted wordlessly into sleep in a matter of moments in Osamu’s hold, your legs intertwined beneath the blanket, his body blocking the dim lamp light on his night stand behind him, casting you in his shadow

He reached his hand close up to your face, caressing your cheek, taking in this time that you were asleep to make up for the hours upon hours he had missed today and recently as he worked at his restaurant

The first thing he noticed were the bags under your eyes that were clearly formed over these past weeks with your newborn son

Your breaths were short and light, tickling his chest and neck as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over your cheek, holding the face of the love of his life, soaking it all in that this was his reality with you beside him in sickness and in health, til death do you part

“I’ll do more,” he mouthed into your forehead as he leaned close, pressing gentle kisses repeatedly to solidify his vow to you as aching guilt bubbled like magma inside of him

The restaurant’s popularity was growing, making the days busier than ever

This meant the days started earlier and ended later. He would be gone by the time you woke and be back when you were fast asleep, most of the time in your sons nursery to hold him as he slept

How Osamu wished he could lift the two of you into his arms to bring to bed with him, to ignore the world and responsibilities on his shoulders if it meant he could spend just a day with you and your guys’ son

To hold the two of you so close, nothing could take either of you away from him

He carefully turned, reaching behind him to not wake you, and switched off the lamp with a click of the knob, letting the room be engulfed into darkness with the faint pale moonlight shining in behind closed curtains

“You are my everything…” the last thought that surfaced in his mind as the lethargic feeling swallowed him, his nose being filled with the scent of you, his hold never leaving you but only loosening

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046 @mazey-chan @sunboikyo00 @kara-grayson04 @fortheloveofbakugo @tsumtsumsemi @osamuonigiri @1-800-wholesome @yamagucci @realityisoftendisapointing@plantisnotplant @k-eijiakaashi @pink-panda-pancakes @differentballooncollection @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction @euphorihan@turquoiselace @macaronnv @oxmaddy @mrkoala4prsdnt @curiouslilbeast @plantisnotplant@therestless101 @abcdaichi @oyasenpai @kaaidalupita

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

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Hey☺️ I was wondering if you could do 14 & 90 from prompt list 1, for reader x Javier. I think it would be cute if they were on about to head home or something and reader convinces Javi to go to the carnival. They play the carnival games that are almost always rigged (maybe I just sucked at them lol) and reader gets competitive over it. It’s a very fluffy request but it would be so cute to see javis playful side come out a bit🥺 thank you so much and I love your writing❤️❤️🥺

14. “But the carnival is right down the street! Can we please, please go!?”

90. “I didn’t know you were so competitive.”

I think Javier deserves some softness, don’t you?

Also not necessary, but I picture this being Javi and his Dulzura from AGM 🥺

Javier Peña x Fem!Reader ; warnings: language

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was a warm evening in Laredo, and the sun was starting to go down, casting the sky into brilliant hues of purples and pinks. It was warm still, the end of summer was slowly turning into fall, but warm enough where you could get away with wearing short sleeves and summer dresses. On this particular day, you were strolling hand in hand with Javier, taking your time as you walked home from dinner and back to Chucho’s house.

You’d come down to spend some time with Javier’s family, staying in town for a while for a wedding, and finally getting to relax and unwind for a while. You’d both been incredibly busy and it seemed like you hadn’t had more than a few minutes of alone time together. That’s why neither of you minded taking some extra time off and just being together.

On this particular evening, Javier had taken you to one of his favorite places for dinner; it was nothing fancy or extravagant, but it had been his go to spot since he was young. You’d worn one of your - and Javier’s - favorite sundresses, not minding in the slightest as he eyed you up. Despite having been together for a few years now, you appreciated the attention. He always made you feel like you were the most beautiful thing in the world, like you were the one that personally hung all the stars in the night sky that he loved to watch so much.

You couldn’t help but grin when you felt his thumb gently brush over the engagement ring that you now sported - soon enough it would be joined by a wedding band. He never thought he’d admit that he was exciting to get married, especially after his first engagement had ended in disaster, but fuck. He was excited to marry you - so excited to call you his wife. And you were just as excited to call him your husband. Javier was a good man - the best man - and to even think about spending the rest of your life with him was enough to set your soul on fire.

You grinned as you swung your hands back and forth, a little pep in your step as you noticed a commotion up ahead. Poking your head around, you tried to figure out what it was, but the laughter, music, and noise quickly provided an answer for you. Javier looked over at you, watched as your eyes widened in excitement, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“Javi,” you tugged on his hand lightly, “the carnival is right down the street! Can we please, please go?”

“Hmm,” he pretended to muse softly as he quirked a brow at you. Your mouth formed a small o as you quickly realized he had known that it was here, “what a complete surprise...I had no clue. Definitely didn’t plan on walking this particular way at all, or anything…”

“You planned this,” you looked at him with soft eyes, watching as his own crinkled in the corners as he nodded with a smile, his dimple making its appearance. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned over and quickly kissed him, letting your lips linger against his own, “look at you, always managed to surprise me. How very romantic of you, Javier Peña.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it that,” he shrugged lightly, relishing in your praise as a tinge of pink, similar to the color of shirt he was wearing, crept into his cheeks. Reaching over, you ran a hand through his dark locks, sighing contentedly as he keened into your touch, “but I thought you might like the idea.”

“I love it,” you agreed, giving him a quick kiss, “I love you. Now - come on! We have to go; I want to go on the ferris wheel and those silly little games, oh! Cotton candy! No, no, no, funnel cake!”

“Don’t worry, Dulzura, it’s not going anywhere, we have plenty of time,” he insisted softly as you pulled him along with an excited bounce in your step. He couldn’t help but laugh as he followed after you. It was times like this, watching you get so excited and happy, that made him realize just how wonderful the little things were. Maybe it was just because he was so in love with you, maybe it was because he had softened with time - whatever the reason, he didn’t mind. He was happy; truly, truly happy.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You couldn’t help but giggle as Javier grabbed the bright blue cotton candy out of your hand. His fingers wrapped around your wrist as he brought your hand to his lips and licked your fingers clean of any of the sticky sweet residue. Your face flushed at the naughty little gesture, especially as he shot you a cheeky little wink.

“Behave Javier,” you warned, playfully slapping his cheek as you watched all the people around you. You’d been walking around, taking in all the sights and sounds as you watched the various people. Naturally, you’d already dragged him to the ferris wheel first, wanting to watch the remainder of the sunset from the top. You’d caught part of it, but the rest was cut off by Javier gently grabbing your face and kissing you until you were both breathless and grinning at each like lovestruck teenagers.

“What was that for?” you asked as you thoroughly lost the battle to keep the smile off of your face.

“No reason,” he promised, “I just really love you is all.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” Javier gently interrupted your thoughts as you pulled you back into reality. You hadn’t realized that you’d zoned out and were staring at a small family that was nearby. It was a couple, flanked by their small daughters, both of which sported dark curls and soft dark eyes. You couldn’t help but think about yourself and Javi; perhaps one day that would be you as well.

“Nothing,” you shied away from his question as you finished off the beer you were sharing while he polished off the sugary treat, “it’s silly.”

Almost as if he was able to read your mind, he turned to look at the happy little family as they started to walk away. You gave him a sheepish smile as he reached over and grabbed your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, “hopefully they’ll take after you.”

“Nope,” you grinned at him, “I hope they take after you, Javier Peña! Especially with those curls and those soft eyes, and that smile. Whatever way - they’d be lucky to have you as a father.”

“Nah,” he shook his head, “they’ll be lucky to have a mother like you.”

“One day,” you said softly as he nodded in agreement, “one day.”

“Yes,” he promised, his heart already fluttered at the idea of your future children. He’d never given much thought to children, not before you anyway, but now? Now it was something he wanted just as much as he wanted to marry you. Who would have thought? Then again, he’d never expected you to make an appearance or just an impact on his life either. But here you were…”come on, let’s go play some games. I saw you eyeing that little hedgehog earlier!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

"All I have to do is throw the silly little ball into one of those big cups?" you asked, looking between Javier and the game attendant, as both men nodded. You took the bucket of balls that Javier had purchased, sure this would be an easy win. Plucking out the first one, you spied the lucky cup as you got lined up your shot.

"Don't get too confident," Javier smirked at you as he leaned against the counter. You scoffed lightly before dramatically pulling your arm back and making a show of shooting your first shot. It had to go in, there was no chance that it wouldn't and yet...nope..it bounced off the rim of the cup and landed in the space next to it.

"No way!" you groaned in disbelief as Javier tried not to laugh too loudly, his shoulders shaking with effort, "that totally should have gone in!"

"Try again, Dulzura," he insisted softly as you huffed lightly, "I'm sure you'll get it."

"Duh," you insisted with a smirk as you took another shot. This one, just like the last, hit the rim of the cup and then fell away from it, "umm...this is rigged! It has to be!"

"You've got plenty more tries," the attendant nodded towards your bucket, "surely one of them has to go in."

"It can and it will," you huffed as you tossed another ball, this one missing even worse than the last. Biting your lip, you held back a groan as Javier watching in amusement, "fuck!"

"Baby, there's children around," he almost doubled over in laughter at your reaction but you quickly flipped him the bird as you went back to your little game, "I didn't know you were so competitive!"

"Always," you insisted, "I always get what I want - I got you after all didn't I?"

"Yeah," he agreed with a goofy little grin, "you did. Go on and win big."

Even with his best wishes, you couldn't seem to get it right. It was another 17 tries and none of them got close. It seemed like it kept getting worse and worse with each successive throw.

Once the balls were all used up, you groaned heavily, as the attendant took the empty bucket back.

"Fancy another round?" he asked as you pouted at Javier. He shook his head as he came over and put his arm around your shoulder.

"We're good," Javier kissed the side of your head as he led you away and you sighed lightly, "its alright, Dulzura. Those games are set up for you to lose."

"I know," you looked around at some of the other games, a smile working its way back on your features as you watched all the kids laughing and screaming. Your eyes quickly found another game that intrigued you - this one where you had to aim water from a blaster at a small target in order to fill up the meter first. You weren't about to say anything, deciding it wasn't worth the time, and were ready to move on.

"Do you want to play?" Javi nudged his head in the direction of the game as you slowly nodded, "I saw that look in your eyes."

"I wasn't going to ask!" you laughed as he took your hand and led you over.

"Because you know I'll kick your ass," he insisted as plopping down on one of the worn stools before beckoning for you to do the same. You quickly obliged as he paid, taking a hold of the mounted water pistol and aiming and trying to line it up with the target, "ready? Whoever fills the meter with water first wins."

"You're going down," you stuck your tongue out at him as the attendant unlocked the pistols and water began shooting out.

Quickly enough the two of you were laughing and giggling like maniacs as you both tried to win, playfully cursing each offer. It was hard not to get lost in Javi's laugh and excitement; it was also nice to see him so carefree and unfiltered.

"You're losing baby," he teased as you pulled yourself out of your head and adjusted your aim. His meter was almost at the top as yours was filled a measly halfway. You should have known better than to challenge a man with copious shooting experience.

"You're a cheater," you insisted when he won a few seconds later, looking over at you with a victorious smirk, "this was a set up!"

"Nope," he insisted as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your lips, "you got distracted."

"Ugh," you teased as he helped you off the stool and the game attendant told him to pick out a prize. Javier feigned great interest as he walked around the whole booth, looking thoughtfully before calling the woman over. He whispered something in her ear before she nodded and he dashed off. You watched him in confusion, but stood there and waited.

It wasn't long before you heard footsteps behind you and he whispered, "close your eyes."

You obliged, making a show of holding your hands to your eyes as he shuffled around, "Javier…"

"Fine! Open," you slowly opened your eyes back up and when you did, all you saw that stuffed little hedgehog that you had spotted earlier in his hands. You looked between the plush and him as he slowly nodded and you grabbed it, holding it tightly to your chest, "I can play nice."

"Javi," you whispered softly, "you're too much. Thank you...I-I love you. So much."

"I know," he put his arm around your shoulder and you wrapped yours around his waist, "I love you too. But right now you're just saying that because of the hedgehog."

"I love you before then," you laughed, "and long after! Now, there's one more thing I want to do."

"Oh?"

"The tunnel of love!" you insisted with a wicked grin, "and excuse to sit in the dark on a dinky boat and make out like horny teenagers."

"Perfect," he agreed as he threw his head back with laughter, "fuck - I love you, baby."

"I love you, Javier Peña," you promised as you grabbed his hand and practically ran towards the line, "now come on!"

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #narcos #forever-rogue's follower celebration #javier pena x you #javier pena

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ivanca · 2 years ago

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Overwatch had everything to be one of the best FPS games of all time, then Blizzard let it rot.

When Overwatch opened its beta version in 2016 I was visiting the US, I borrowed money from a local bank for that trip, I didn’t take my gamer pc with me, why should I? I was there to find some funding for my startup idea (or at least a co-founder), and for that task my outdated laptop was enough, it had been a few months and my lack of preparation and skills to pitch my startup were clearly showing and it was taking a toll emotionally. I knew the date of the open beta of Overwatch so I did something a bit reckless: I spend some of the little money I had to visit a gaming center place in downtown berkeley where you can use a gaming PC and pay per hour, as expected one little voice in my head harshly complained about why I’m being so short-sigthed? I had a gaming PC back home where I could play it if I just waited to return to my country, but I knew I badly needed a distraction from my frustations, so I payed for an hour, and it didn’t just distract me, it gave me thrills that I had never experienced from an fps, before that day my definition of an online FPS was hardcoded by Counter Strike and Call Of Duty, the classic stuff: a game where almost all guns are recreations of how wars are fought in real life so most of the time you aim and click, aim and click, rinse and repeat, sure there are grenades and some other stuff but it always felt secondary, hard-limited to a quantity of one or two per player, it always felt like tiny breaks from shooting and not much else, even sci-fi powers like seeing the footsteps of your enemy where all just helpers the player to reach the point where they aim and shot; and I enjoyed the hell out of those games (and still do!), but Overwatch showed me a whole different world, almost the complete opposite, and I found myself in a FPS where the likelyhood to real weapons had the lowest priority and fun had the first one, fun made of what? Entropy; let me give you an example in the next paragraph, if you already know what I’m talking about feel free to skip it. This is one hostile interaction out of dozens that happen in every single match: One character is called Junkrat, a pyromaniac with a bear trap, he throws it somewhere expecting the enemy will overlook it, it works and someone just stepped on it and is now unable to move (can still shot), Junkrat heard the trap firing so he shoots his slow -but deathly- bouncing balls near the trapped enemy, but this time the enemy is Mei, and just when the exploding balls aproach she uses her power: a wall of ice she can build almost instantly! It stopped the explosive balls from killing her, but she didn’t count with Roadhog, a huge terrifying butcher approaching far away from a side -not blocked by the wall-, he quickly throws his chain at Mei to pull her right in front of him (in his best “get over here” scorpion impresion) but just before he can pull the trigger of his flag cannon (a shotgun from Unreal Tournament) 135 kgs of german armor crash against him and drags him like a truck without breaks until it it a wall nearby, damaging and stunning Roadhog. But while those events unfolded junkrat throws a big bomb (his other power) under its feet and explodes it, propelling him high into the air, way more than enough to jump over Meis wall, from the sky Junk has a clear shot at mei killing her instantly, but he always throws a lot of those deadly balls so the ones that didn’t land on mei bounce almost as high as he was when he shoot them! Reinhard notices this and turns on his giant shield and aims it right over its head, successfully blocking all damage from them! But Roadhog is taking advantage and shooting Reinhard from the side, it seems like Reinhard is not gonna make it but then an angel... yeah literally an angel comes flying an starts healing Reinhard! But the damage is slightly greater than the healing! But it gave Raindhard enough time to recharge his, and now run like a truck to escape from his own dead, unfortunately for the angel a sniper shot her head as she was attempting to revive Mei, but her sacrifice kept Reinhard alive, which turned out to be critical to make his team win.

That all seem too chaotic to be enjoyable but quickly you learned that's far from the truth, quickly after starting every match you always know which characters is the enemy team using, this information is vital as you know what abilities the enemy has available, before you know it you instinctively know exactly how long mei’s wall can last, how tall it always is, and the same thing happens with every single ability; plus all characters look so different you can quickly determine what you will be dealing with as they approach, what really drives the game is how you mix the different abilities of your team to play, and equally important is how good are you at reading the enemy movements, individually and as a group. What really set Overwatch apart was the amount of interactions possible between abilities, when you saw one for the first time “Of course that’s possible, its logical it just didn’t ocurre to me”, when a interaction produced something ilogical it was soon patched,

The other thing that set Overwatch apart was the characters, their personalities were so different, their powers so different, their models so well designed, their past so mysterious, their world so different from ours, so the lore felt rich, and social media reacted, the amount of memes and fanart of Overwatch was ridiculous.

Then months went by, and a new character were added like just 5 months after launch, a few maps coming in, first halloween came up and there was a special event, life was good, then new characters started taking 8 months, halloween came up and they reused the exact same event, the exact same animations, exact everything... except new skins for sale of course, those never stopped, then it took almost a year for a new character... and they started reusing attacks for the new characters, I think thats when I knew it was doomed, and of couse halloween never got a new event, I had more than 2000 hours and realized I knew every single of the 21 maps better than my own house, then the bomb dropped, Overwatch 2 will have all the exact same maps and the powers are pretty much the same, its free and its focus is selling skins.

I expected so much from Overwatch, and how could I not? They copied so many good ideas from other games to develop all the initial characters that it was obvious to me that they had the right formula in their hands, they just had to stick with it and it could have been seriously argued to be the best FPS to ever exist. They didn't stick with it, they did the exact opposite. Like many other players I liked to fantasize about what new characters would be coming next, some artists even draw their ideas, my own imagination went wild, maybe the new character will walk like spiderman over any surface! Or a healer who wraps one ally and it takes the damage for them! Or maybe someone like rogue from x-men that can copy one ability from a non-tank enemy! Or be someone like pikachu that can use electric attacks, maybe even use conductive surfaces to increase its area of attack! No, the next character will take one year and will just remix existing abilities, the next new event will be never, the next map will be never, but hey... thousands of skins for the character you are bored to death of playing!

#Overwatch #blizzard #failed

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just--another--daydreamer · 4 years ago

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Cotton Candy

» Katsuki Bakugo x gn!reader (no pronouns used)

» Fandom: My Hero Academia » Genre: Fluff » Requested (by anon): Hi there. Your writing is amazing, I love it! Could I suggest Bakugou knowing how to get he wants and how to make you weak at the knees. Sorry if it doesn’t make sense » Warnings: swearing, mentions of death » Words: 1.8k

You can find a link to my Masterlist in my bio

Please check my bio for the status of requests before sending something in

A mild breeze brushed over your face as you inhaled the familiar scent of the funfair that was popcorn and cotton candy mixing with the smell of the warm spring day. The many booths spread across the field provided shadow, keeping you cool as you strolled around the fair midst the many people who had been drawn to the same spot by the inviting smells and sounds. The crowd’s chatting was drowned by joyful screams and laughter whenever you passed by one of the rides, adults and children alike seemingly having the time of their lives.

Bakugo and you blended into the crowd perfectly. You had cotton candy in one hand, the other held onto your boyfriend’s right one as you passed by the booths.

It was your first date in a while. The new boarding school system at UA put many restrictions on your free time, as well as on how you were allowed to spend it. You had gotten the permission to go to the funfair by All Might, who had given in after a few days of you begging him nicely and Bakugo threatening to blow stuff up if he didn’t let you two go on this date. Any other teacher would have probably said no after the recent events of Bakugo and Midoriya sneaking out, but after all that, your boyfriend still managed to convince All Might. He knew how to get what he wanted at all times.

Most of the time, that was achieved by excessive yelling and him trying to intimidate the other person, sometimes even setting off small explosions and threatening to kill them – which was more terrifying to anyone than only intimidating – but it always worked. Though, there were some rare exceptions. And you were one of those.

Before you had started dating, and before you even became close friends, Bakugo used to try to get his way by yelling at you too, only to be met by a blank expression and you immediately brushing off his demands. It frustrated Bakugo to no end, to the point where he just gave up on that tactic. Asking nicely was what had worked out with you in the end, and it was what Bakugo had stuck with ever since, even though it felt humiliating - Bakugo could have walked around UA naked and he would feel the same. But if it was a way to get what he wanted, he would do it.

You got Bakugo’s attention by tugging at his shirt lightly. “Look!” Bakugo’s eyes followed the direction you pointed with your cotton candy and landed on a booth with a simple game – though what had caught your attention was not the game, but the prizes, specifically the stuffed animals.

“Huh?” Bakugo looked back and forth between you and the booth. “You want one?” You smiled and nodded silently. A frown formed on your boyfriend’s face as he continued looking at you. “Seriously?!” “Come oooon, Katsuki!” you whined. “Please? This is a date after all!” He seemed to consider your words for a moment before he sighed. “Ugh, okay, fine.” Letting go of your hand, he approached the booth and you followed him close behind.

The game was simple: you had to throw a ball at a target to win a prize. Bakugo dug his hand into his pocket and slammed some money onto the counter. “One throw.” The man behind the counter exchanged the money with a tennis ball. Without looking at you, Bakugo yelled over his shoulder, “you want this one, right?” he pointed at a huge teddy bear dangling over the counter. “Yeah!”

“Young man,” the guy behind the counter started, “I’m afraid you’ll need more than one thro-” “Shut the hell up!” Bakugo began cracking his knuckles while eyeing all the targets in front of him.

“I’m assuming this is the main prize and that I’d have to hit more than one target for it?” “Correc-” “Are there any other rules?” “No, there are n-”

A wide grin appeared on Bakugo’s face. “Then step back, old man.” The man looked confused but did as he was told. You took a step back as well, already covering your ears. Bakugo let his knuckles crack one more time before he winded his arm, aiming at one of the targets. Even though you were protecting your ears, the explosion that came simultaneously to Bakugo throwing the ball made you flinch a little. It was not a huge explosion, just enough to blow away every single one of the targets and to make everyone else who was around turn to face you, which might also be because Bakugo had shouted “die” while throwing.

The back of the booth had been blown away by the explosion, particles of dust and smoke as well as pieces of wood flew through the air. The older man behind the counter fell into a state of shock and was only able to nod when Bakugo pointed at the big teddy bear once again, asking if he could have it now.

“There you go.” “Thank you so much, Katsuki!” You landed a kiss on his cheek before welcoming the stuffed animal with open arms, earning a huff from Bakugo. “You jealous?” You teased with a raised eyebrow. “Tse, dream on.”

You took one last look at the hole that your boyfriend had blown into the booth before you took Bakugo’s hand once again and continued walking, the teddy bear in your arm.

You came across some more booths, bought some sweets for your friends and went on almost all of the rides together.

“There is only one ride left,” Bakugo pointed out. “Yeah.” You slowly approached the Ferris wheel that was towering over the funfair, cabins slightly shaking every once in a while, whenever an evening breeze caught them.

“Come on, let’s go!” Bakugo started walking but was held back by you. You remained right where you were standing. “Hey! Why aren’t you coming?” Your boyfriend looked at you a little confused. “I-” you started, avoiding his eyes. “I’m not sure about this, Katsuki.” “Huh? The Ferris wheel?” You shook your head. “It’s getting late, y’know?”

Bakugo took a quick look at his phone and groaned. “Who cares if we come back a little too late, this is my date and I make the rules.” This came as a little surprise to you. Bakugo was usually the first to go to bed, at eight in the evening, and never a second too late. If someone tried to stop him, he blew them up. “Mister Aizawa might get mad at us,” you argued. “Who cares?!” Bakugo repeated, louder this time. “Let’s go, Y/N!” He made another attempt at pulling you towards the ride, but you did not budge. Your boyfriend let out another annoyed groan before he turned back to you.

He tilted his head to the side, a frown on his face. Before you knew how to interpret his expression, it changed again. This time, into a sly smirk. Bakugo knew how to win. He always knew.

One of his hands grabbed your wrist, pulling you closer until you were only a few inches away from him. His breath fanned over your cheek as he let out a short chuckle. With his other hand, he lifted your chin, made you look into his eyes. Your heart skipped a few beats as you stood there, stunned, and surprised by your boyfriend’s sudden change in behaviour. The places where Bakugo’s fingers were touching your skin – light and gentle, like feathers – tingled pleasantly and sent signals through your veins. Your legs – no – your whole body felt like putty in this exact moment while your brain was filled with nothing but cotton candy.

“You know,” he started, voice low and quiet, “If anyone says anything about us being too late, I’ll kill them. Let’s enjoy this moment. Together. Just you and me. Come with me, Y/N. We have all the time in the world.” Heat started rising to your cheeks and you wanted to turn away in embarrassment, but all you could do was stare at him. “Take my hand,” Bakugo continued in the same tone as he took your hand in his, that had been holding your wrist just a second ago. He intertwined your fingers and took a step back, though his other hand lingered beneath your chin for one more moment before he let go.

When he started to walk again you followed him closely, legs barely working yet carrying you by themselves. Your mind was still clouded, and the state only began to fade when you sat down in one of the open cabins.

The wheel started to move not soon after and you pressed the teddy to your chest as you started to rise off the ground and into the sky. It took a while, but soon you were able to overlook the whole funfair. The farther away from the ground you rose the quieter it got, and soon the laughter and the screams were nothing more than faint sounds barely reaching you. You came to a stop exactly at the top.

“Look over there.” Bakugo nudged your side. You tore your eyes away from the ground and instead looked at what your boyfriend wanted to show you. Your eyes widened at the scene in front of you. The sky was painted in bright orange and golden colours, the clouds shone in a soft yellow. The cities and fields in the distance were bathing in the warm colours of the evening sun, like a sea purely consisting of light.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Bakugo put an arm around you without looking away from the sunset. “Yeah,” you whispered. The light was dancing on Bakugo’s face as well, making his hair appear in a rich gold. You leaned against him and rested your head on his shoulder. A kiss was pressed to your forehead and you turned your head to receive one to your lips as well. It was a sweet one that faintly tasted like cotton candy. Bakugo lingered there for a while before pulling back with a smile on his face.

The whole spectacle only lasted a few minutes before the orange was replaced by a crimson red that faded into deep blue. Slowly, the Ferris wheel began turning again.

Once you had landed back on the ground, the lights of the fair turned on one by one, blinking and flashing in the rhythms of the music that was playing.

You shivered and walked a little closer to Bakugo when you made your way across the field, past the booths, and back to UA. “You cold?” Without even waiting for a response, Bakugo put his arm around your shoulders again. It was not a lot of protection against the cold, but warmth spread through your body anyway.

“I had an amazing day,” you told him after a while. “I’m glad.” “Do you think we’ll get yelled at?” “If someone tries to, I’ll kill them.” You only chuckled and leaned in for another kiss.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #x reader #x male reader #x you #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugo #bakugou #bnha x reader #bnha x male reader

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years ago

Text

Naked To the One You Love

by: @ameliaodair

Prompt #46: They really do toast privately in CF – Katniss wearing an orange dress for Peeta and Peeta making cheese buns for Katniss. They wanted something their own. No one knows about it and there’s no baby (as far as they know) but how would this change their relationship? How they make their decisions? Would anyone actually believe them when she gets to District 13? [submitted by anonymous]

Peeta, with the help of Prim and Rye has the perfect day planned for he and Katniss. This is the day they will finally have their toasting. Will everything go as perfectly as Peeta planned it?

This story goes hand-in-hand with my current WIP called, “Another Way Out.” If you want to read more, you can find it on AO3 and FFN.

Word Count: 5768

Rated: M for fluff and smut and lemons.

Warning: Adult content below

Un-beta’d, all mistakes are mine

Naked To the One you Love

| Peeta |

“What are we doing?” Katniss asks as I lead us toward the meadow. It’s early still, the sun barely making its presence known along the horizon as it bleeds its hues of purples, oranges, and pinks into the morning sky.

“Having breakfast,” I tell her simply, shivering from the cold.

“In the snow?” She quibbles, rubbing her hands together to warm them up. I sneak my arm around her shoulder and pull her close. She allows it, pressing her popsicle nose into my neck.

“Just be quiet and follow me,” I tell her, which grants me a scowl— no surprise there. When we finally reach our tree, we climb up and I surprise her by opening the door to our tree house.

“Wow, it’s a lot bigger than last time,” she smiles, looking around the tiny room to inspect my handy work. It was only a little more than a week ago when I found a large plank and, with Rye’s help we got it to the top of this tree. Using some of my dad’s tools, I nailed the plank to one of the sturdier branches. Each day since then I have come out here, adding more planks to it, and now it looks like a tiny little house. Or well, well … more like one … very small room of a rather tiny house. It is just spacious enough for the two of us to stretch out comfortably, but it’s a place of our own, somewhere to go when we need to get away. It’s the closest we can get to the woods since the fence is electrified twenty-four-seven now.

We spend the morning in our little makeshift tree home, enjoying the breakfast I packed and watching the miracle of another sun rise. After surviving the games with the love of your life, you learn to appreciate the little things in life. Like sunrises and sunsets. Like sharing meals with your loved ones. Things you didn’t think were important before suddenly become of the utmost importance. So, Katniss and I bask in the warmth from the sun and just enjoy being together like this. With no cameras and no Haymitch. No Effie or prep teams chasing our tails and scolding us about schedules. As much as we love and adore all of them, it’s nice to have a break from them. Finally, it’s just us, which is just the way I like it.

“I think it’s time to get Prim,” Katniss tells me when she sees the sun positioned above the bakery. It always amazes me how she knows what time it is by the position of the sun.

I frown and jut my lip out, exaggerating my disappointment. “No, not yet. Just one more minute,” I whine, leaning in for a kiss.

“Come on Peeta, I don’t want Prim walking home alone.” Katniss contests, squirming out of my arms. As much as I don’t want to leave right now, I know she’s right. We leave everything in the tree and climb down, deciding we’ll most likely return once Prim is safely back at home. Together, we walk to the school and wait for Prim just outside the gates of the school yard. I’m not sure how much Prim knows much about what’s going on, if anything, but Katniss and I are too afraid to let her walk anywhere in the district alone. Afraid of what Snow might do.

Everyone, even Katniss’s mom said her father’s death was just a stroke of bad luck— that he had an aneurysm that no one knew about, that ruptured. That if they’d had the technology the people in the Capitol have at their fingertips, they could have caught and treated it. But we know better. There was no Capitol technology or any fancy device that would have spared his life. There is no doubt in my mind— or Katniss’s that Snow was the cause of her dad’s untimely death. Of course, it wasn’t him per say, because he was clearly safe inside the President’s Mansion in the Capitol, but more than likely one of his spies here in 12. The timing of everything was just too coincidental, not to mention the fact that he offered his condolences before it even happened.

“Oh, I told Rye we’d stop by the bakery on our way home today,” I tell Prim and Katniss, giving Prim a little wink. It’s a lie, but Katniss doesn’t know that. When I clued Prim in on my master plan just the other day, she was more than happy to go along with it— knowing that we all need something positive in our lives— something to celebrate.

We stop by the bakery and I breathe a sigh of relief that my mother is nowhere in sight. She isn’t supposed to be here for another hour or so, but that hasn’t stopped her from making an unscheduled appearance before. Rye has trouble keeping a straight face as he prepares a bag for us, filled with Katniss’s favorites.

“Hey, I uh … I was about to head out and stop by to see Dad, I can walk Prim home,” Rye suggests, also aware of my plan.

Katniss squirms in place, uncomfortable to even the thought of letting Prim out of her sight but I assure her it’s okay. Rye will protect Prim and keep her safe. They have grown rather close over the last few weeks … or, well, ever since Mr. Everdeen got sick while Katniss and I were still on the Victory Tour.

I remember thanking him for being there for my surrogate family and he rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah, like you’d ever let me hear the end of it if I was there and didn’t help if I could.”

‘Right,’ I thought to myself. ‘It had nothing to do with you actually caring about them, let alone that you are a decent human being,’ but I kept those thoughts to myself.

“Prim is safe with me, I assure you that I will take extra good care of her,” Rye assuages. Katniss squirms uncomfortably, so Rye adds, “Katniss, I promise. You have my word.”

“Extra good?” Katniss smirks after a second, her shoulders slowly relaxing. “Maybe on your way there, Prim can teach you some grammar,” she says in that snarky tone of hers.

“Katniss, we’ll go straight home, I swear!” Prim decrees, clasping her hands together and poking her lip out. Katniss narrows her eyes, which is preceded with a scowl, but then she finally concedes.

“Fine. Go straight home. NO detours.”

Prim wraps her arms around Katniss’s waist and squeals, “Thank you, thank you, thank you Katniss! You are the best sister ever!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Katniss remarks, trying to hide her grin. Like me, she finds it extremely difficult to deny Prim anything.

After Katniss and I collect our stuff from the treehouse, I get an idea. “I want to make a snowman,” I tell her with a cheeky smile.

“A snowman? Seriously? But it’s cold Peeta,” she whines.

“That’s the point. You can’t make a snowman when it’s warm.” So, that’s what we do, we build a snowman until she gets the bright idea to chuck a snowball at my face. And then— it’s on. I scoop up a ball of snow and sling it at Katniss, hitting her square in the shoulder.

With her impeccable aim, I should have known that I had no chance in the world of besting her in a snowball fight.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” she whines when she sees the pile of snowballs I have hidden behind the snowman. She might have impeccable aim, but I am the youngest of three boys— I had to work twice as hard to keep up with them.

“You started it,” I tell her and chuck another ball of snow at her. For the next hour or so, we have fun, smiling and laughing while getting snow blasted in our faces. Katniss tackles me from the side and slams me down on my back. She straddles my hips, pinning my arms to the ground.

“I win, you lose,” she says triumphantly, planting a victory kiss to my lips.

“That may be true, but I think it’s me who is the real winner here.”

Her eyes knit together in confusion, “And just how exactly do you figure that?”

“Well, you’ve got me pinned to the ground, I’m trapped underneath you. I’ll gladly lose to you if this is my punishment,” I tell her with a crooked grin.

“Come on, let’s go home. I’m cold,” she says, climbing off my hips and helping me up. Under normal circumstances I do not need help getting around with my prosthesis. However, the snow adds many challenges to my already uneven gait.

No longer able to feel either our fingers, toes, or our faces, we make our way back to my house to warm up. Rye and my dad are hanging out two doors down, at the Everdeen’s, so I don’t have to worry about anyone barging in on us. Once I get the fire started, we curl up on a blanket I spread out on the floor, soaking up the heat from the flames.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Katniss tells me once the feeling in her fingers returns and then she makes her way upstairs. Her absence gives me the perfect opportunity to get everything in order. The moment she is out of sight, I begin creating a mental checklist of everything I need to do. Once I hear the water splashing against the tile floor, I zip into the kitchen and get to work. I begin by filling a tray with the cheese buns from the bakery— Katniss’ favorite, and pop them into the oven to warm them up. And then I take out the dough of the white bread I prepared a few days ago, made for this exact occasion. I open the drawer that contains the papers and pull them out. “Certificate of Marriage,” I whisper the words aloud.

“Please be okay with this Katniss,” I anxiously tell myself. “Stop it Peeta. She loves you, you love her; that’s the only thing that matters.” I remind myself, trying to talk myself up so I don’t chicken out.

Once all the bread is ready to go, I place them on a table next to the couch and wait for Katniss to come back down.

I am not waiting long when she comes gliding down the stairs in an immaculate floor-length orange summer dress. The straps holding the dress up on her shoulders are skinny, and for some reason they remind me of spaghetti noodles. It is snug at the top and gets looser the more the light orange fades into a deeper orange. My eyes nearly bug out of my head at the sight of her. She is beautiful, she is exquisite and stunning and just … WOW. It must be one of the dresses Cinna sent back with her, because I’ve never seen this one before. And although this one is clearly a dress meant for days with bright sun and scorching heat— it’s not like we’ll be going outside.

It is so unlike her when she twirls around once, a huge smile on her face. “Do you like it?”

For a moment, I’m speechless, “I … I love it, it’s beautiful; you’re beautiful.”

She blushes, joining me on the floor and I prop some pillows up for us to lean against.

“Are you hungry?” I nervously ask her. Dammit, why am I so nervous?

“What do you think?” She huffs, her eyes narrowing with her trademark scowl, which forces a chuckle to escape from my throat. It’s a stupid question to ask anyone who is a resident of 12. Everyone is hungry, even those of us who are more fortunate than the others. I hand her the platter of cheese buns, but she’s eyeing the other tray. “What’s that?” She asks, pointing behind my back.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I tell her and shift my body, hoping to block her view.

“Oh my God, Peeta; is that—” The papers are all but forgotten as her eyes go saucer eyed when she catches sight of the bread behind me. She crawls over me and picks the bread up, delicately turning it over and over in her hands. “Is this—”

I bashfully look away and nod my head, “It is,” I admit. Her head snaps to the right— and then to the left as she surveys the room. And then it all hits her at once as she realizes what this is. For a moment, I am afraid she’s going to go running for the hills, but instead, she reaches for the bread knife and begins sawing at the loaf. She frees the piece of bread and impales it on a poker before placing it over the fire. While she rotates the poker to evenly toast the bread, she looks over to me, her silver eyes glistening with the flames and smiles.

“Do I ever tell you how much I love you? H-how important you are to me?” She asks as her eyes meet mine. And maybe it’s just the heat from the flames, but her cheeks suddenly flush into crimson.

All my anxiety dissipates into her gray orbs as I extend my hand out, curling a strand of her hair around my finger. “It is implied every single day, in everything you do,” I tell her softly.

She pulls the poker back and places it down next to the hearth, but not before removing the slightly toasted bread from its prongs. She juggles the bread from one hand to the other— again and again as she waits for it to cool.

My eyes are cemented on her while my anxiety rises to a new level as I await her next actions.

“Peeta … you are … the most amazingly incredible person I know— have ever known. And … I never thought I wanted this, but you— you changed everything for me. You changed the way I see the world, and I … I can’t imagine a life without you. And … even if I could, I don’t want to.”

Woah, wait a minute, what is she doing? Those are supposed to be my words.

‘Katniss, what are you doing?’ I ask her in our silent form of communication.

‘I think you know,’ she smiles mischievously at me.

“Uh-uhn, no, that’s my job, I had this all planned out.”

“Oh, so that’s what today was all about?” She exclaims with a bright smile on her face. I can’t help but return the smile as I lean over and press my lips against hers. Using my weight, I push her down onto her back and kiss her deeply— thoroughly running my tongue along her lips, sucking … pulling her bottom lip into my mouth until she shivers.

“I love you Katniss Everdeen,” I mumble through our connected lips. “I love everything about you; even the things I hate about you, I love.” I crawl up next to her, our bodies continuing to absorb the heat from the flames as I stare longingly into her beautiful grey eyes.

“You ruined my plans, I’m not sure if I can forgive you for that,” I quip, smiling and gazing into her perfect eyes.

“What if I …” She intentionally hesitates, lifting the seam of my shirt up and tracing her fingers lightly across my stomach, “do this?” She finishes, sending goosebumps prickling against my skin and I squirm from side to side with her touch.

“Nothing’s ruined,” she promises. “All I said, was I wanted for it to be ours; that I didn’t want the day I became yours, and you mine to be in front of a Capitol audience. As long as it’s just us, I don’t care about the rest.”

And she says she’s not good with words.

I take her hands into mine, our heads sharing the same pillow as we stare into each other’s eyes, “Katniss, I was mesmerized by you since I was a five-year old, snaggle-toothed little boy. I can’t even remember a time I didn’t love you; and for so long, I never thought you would give me the time of day. I thought … for so long I thought that just being your friend would be enough, but after having your love— after having your heart … I can’t imagine a life without you. I know you only said yes because of … well, because of everything, but I swear to you, I will be the best husband you could ever hope to have. I—”

“Peeta, I—” She interjects, but I stop her.

“Please Katniss, please let me finish,” she nods, not pushing it any further. I glance down to the bread and then back at her, “I offer this toasted bread to you with the promise of being your best friend. I will listen when you need someone to talk to; when you just need to vent, my ears will be open, or if you just need a sounding board, I will be that too. You will never have to be alone again because I will be by your side.“

‘Always,‘ I add in our silent way.

“Even when you don’t think you want me there, I will be. I will hold your hand when you’re scared, and I will be right here, right next to you, scared with you. I will tell you that everything will be okay— because even if it’s not, we will have each other. I will always, always be there to catch you before you fall. And … and I’ll give you a push if that’s what you need, too. Because I love you.”

Her eyes are pooled with tears and her chin quivers as she reaches for our toasted slice of bread and holds it up between us. It is the only thing separating our lips. And then I part my lips and allow her to feed me the bread, our bread. Our little slice of heaven that signifies our love. I sink my teeth into the perfectly toasted bread, as does she. Our teeth sink into our promise to the other and then we seal it with a kiss.

“I love you Peeta Mellark, my husband.”

“And I, you; Katniss Everdeen; my wife.”

“I think that would be Katniss Mellark now; get it right,” she tries to scowl at me but fails, erupting in a giggle.

“I like the sound of that, Mrs. Katniss Mellark— Oh, that reminds me!” I exclaim jubilantly, nearly bursting at the seams as I jump up to collect the papers the mayor had given me earlier this week.

“What’s that?” Katniss asks me.

“It’s um … they’re the papers. To um, make it official.”

“Seriously? When— How?” I breathe out a sigh of relief when she doesn’t object. That she seems genuinely excited.

“The mayor. But … we can’t tell anyone; she’ll be in a load of trouble if anyone finds out.”

“My husband … conspiring with the mayor,” Katniss beams, glowing with pride. I am incapable of concealing the cheesy, shit-eating grin when she calls me her husband.

As I watch her grip the pen in her hand and sign her name on all the dotted lines, I pinch myself to see if I am dreaming. I can’t believe it; I am actually, really, truly and officially married to Katniss Everdeen— Mellark.

“Wait! I have something for you,” Katniss says and rushes up the stairs. I hear her run into my room and then a drawer slams before she is sprinting back down the stairs.

“You already gave me a ring, and I um … I want you to have this Peeta,” she says, her cheeks flushing as she reaches for my hand. Refusing to meet my eyes, she slips something onto my finger.

I pull my hand up to look at what she’s placed on my finger to see a ring adorned to the pointer finger of my right hand. Then she takes her ring off the chain of her necklace— (the one I gave her in District 4 the night of my true proposal to her— the one that once belonged to her mother, given to me by her father) and does the same.

It’s a tradition in 12 that goes along with the toasting. Everyone knows that your wedding ring is typically worn on the fourth finger of your left hand, but in 12, it starts out on the pointer finger of your right hand. There was a tradition from before the dark days that said you start off like this because there is a vein … or maybe it’s an artery that runs from your finger to your heart. And since marriage is the ultimate promise, by doing this you are connecting your hearts together. Once the ceremony is over, then you switch it to the fourth finger of your left hand.

Katniss leans over to kiss me and we switch the ring to our proper fingers while our lips are still conjoined. For now. I will eventually have to find a clever place to keep mine until … until well, I don’t know. But the Capitol cannot know we are already married.

After all the traditions are complete, I take our marriage papers to the office room upstairs and tuck them away in a safe place. Then, with a little extra pep in my step, I find my way back to the main room and scoop Katniss into my arms.

“Peeta! What are you doing?” She squeals like a giddy schoolgirl, encircling her arms around my neck. Carefully, I make my way up the stairs and into my room— our room. Who am I kidding? It’s always been our room— no piece of paper or ceremony was needed to decide that for us.

“I am carrying my wife over the threshold. The toasting isn’t complete until that’s been done,” I remind her with a kiss.

“Okay,” she says, nuzzling her head against my chest. No thanks to my artificial leg, we make it up the steps successfully. I press my lips against hers as my foot passes the threshold. Now, all the standard traditions of 12 are complete, except for the final one. The one that really seals the deal. Consummation.

Just thinking the word in my head causes me to stumble. My brain seems to forget how to gracefully put one foot in front of the other and I fall face first onto my bed, my body nearly crushing my beautiful wife.

She giggles; a foreign sound, but it is one that I cherish. “I love you,” I say, pressing my forehead against hers.

“Smooth,” she says, and I can feel her lips forming into a smile against my mouth.

“So, now, we’re supposed to um …” There is a nervous energy between us; she’s scared, as am I. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever been more terrified in my life, and that’s saying something— having survived an arena and all.

“Katniss, you know … we don’t have to do this, we can just—”

“What? You don’t want to?” She interjects defensively.

“No, no— I mean, yes, I do. I was just saying … if you don’t want to, it’s okay. We don’t have to, we can wait,” I stumble over my words trying to reassure her.

“I want to Peeta,“ she says certainly, never taking her eyes off mine. "I have wanted to for a while now, and I think we’ve waited long enough. Will you … will you help me unzip my dress?” Her eyes flit to the floor as she smiles nervously, her cheeks taking on a rosy hue.

She doesn’t have to ask me twice. While Katniss and I have done many things, getting caught up in heated kisses, touching in places I would rather not mention, we have never gone this far. We have never gone all the way. She turns around and pulls her hair to the side, granting me access to her zipper. I scrupulously glide the zipper down until it refuses to budge another inch and delicately slide the sleeves down her arms. A frown of disappointment encases my lips when she begins to braid her hair.

I press my lips to her bare neck and kiss my way to her shoulder, which causes a moan to expel from her lips. “Leave it down, please.”

“Mmm hmmm,” she moans.

“My God, you are so beautiful,” I tell her, my lips trailing down to the crest of her shoulder. Finally, I sling her dress into the chair next to my bed and she nervously flips onto her back, incredulously facing me.

‘Oh my God, Katniss is naked, bare to me and in my bed,’ I think to myself as I stare her up and down.

Feeling self-conscious … probably due to my ogling her, she reaches over and pulls the sheet to cover her near-naked body.

“No, what are you doing?” I ask her, tugging the fabric back.

“I just … feel so … naked without my clothes,” she says, flushing with embarrassment.

“Well, that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?”

“Well then … be naked with me,” she says, tugging on the hem of my shirt, eager for me to remove it. I slide my shirt off and it joins her dress in the chair. I am hesitant to remove my pants, still self-conscious about my leg.

“Pants too,” Katniss whispers in a raspy— so, so sexy voice.

“I … I—”

“Peeta, I love all of you, even the Capitol-made parts,” she takes charge and flips me over, undoes the button of my pants, and I am too paralyzed to refuse; not that I would want to. She removes my pants, then sits up and straddles my hips. With nothing but our underclothes on, we are completely bare to each other, and I understand what she meant about feeling naked without her clothes. There is nothing to conceal our insecurities, both physical and emotional. But that’s the point, right? To be completely open, bare— naked to the one you love. To have nothing— no secrets between you. However, underneath all my anxiety, I don’t know if I’ve ever felt anything quite this amazing before. We slip under the covers and I click the lamp on that sits on my nightstand. It emanates a soft glow, perfectly lighting the room, while producing a shadow over the insecurities.

“Can I take your leg off?” Katniss asks me. She must be in my head again— I was just too embarrassed to take the initiative— afraid she would find my mutilated leg … repulsive.

“Okay,” I say. For the first time I realize she’s had a lot of practice helping me put it on and take it off as she slips it off with ease.

“I don’t want any part of the Capitol here for this,” she says, placing kisses against the scar on my leg. I pull her up to me and flip her back onto her back.

We are a tangled mess of arms and legs, our tongues dancing together in a frenzy, yet in perfect synchronicity. As if they’d been practicing for years and years until they reached utter perfection. I trail kisses along her neck, down to her collarbone and across her shoulders. I want to kiss every inch of her body; I don’t want to miss a single bit of her skin. I reach down and cup her perfect breasts in my hands and she moans out in pleasure, which causes my cock to pulse until it is fully erect.

“Touch me Peeta,” surrendering to her every command, I stroke her arms, and then add light touches to her perfectly flattened stomach. I caress my hands up and down her legs, trying to muster up the courage to touch her there. Finally, I do, and she’s so hot and wet for me. I slide one finger inside her center and keep it in there while I use my thumb to rub circles on that little bundle of nerves that I know has the power to make her come undone.

Her body tenses up and I know I’ve hit the right spot when she pants out my name. “I could be satisfied … happy, just doing that to you … every second of every minute, of every single day,” I tell her once the intensity of her climax has subsided.

“Then how would you make me cheese buns?” She says with a heavy breath. Smiling, I inch up to her face and kiss her. Soft and light at first, and then harder, deeper— as if I am starving and her lips are the only way to satiate my hunger.

“I need you Peeta; I— I need you closer,” she breathes into me and I instantly know what she means. She wants me to be inside her. We have both wanted this for such a long time, I almost can’t believe it’s actually happening. I kiss her softly as I fumble my way on top of her. Using one elbow to prop myself up, my other hands grips onto my cock as I tease her entrance with my hardened member. Even without being inside her, I can feel how wet she is. Which only causes my already rock-hard cock to pulse even harder. She spreads her legs open for me and I fumble nervously, guiding my cock into her entrance and sliding inside her— slowly at first.

“Is this okay?” I ask her, recalling an embarrassing conversation with Rye as he gave me the intricate details that a girl’s first time can be painful, and that it’s important that they are “ready” prior to penetration.

“More Peeta, I need all of you,” she demands, locking her legs around my hips and digging her heels into the back of my calves. Slowly, I push myself deeper into her, impaling her, until finally, I am fully submerged into her heat.

“Holy FUCK!” I gasp, crying out when my cock is surrounded by her walls. “Is- is this okay?” I ask her again, not wanting to do anything that might hurt her. It is taking every bit of willpower that I possess to keep my body still— to prevent my hips from ramming deep— and hard, into her.

“Oh God, Peeta, you feel so good. Please … please, Peeta—” she begs me, and I’ve never been very good at denying her anything as I submit to her will. Slowly, I partially retract myself from her center and then slowly, slowly push myself back inside, our pelvises grinding against each other. Her nails dig into my back, finding their way to my ass and then she squeezes—

“Holy FUCK, how did you just do that?” I ask when her walls tighten around my cock.

“What … this?” She grins, repeating the action, “You like that?” She says in a teasing, seductive voice.

“Katniss— stop … or I’m going to … or I won’t last, and I want … this has to be perfect,” I beg her and then she reaches up, encircling her arms around my neck and pressing her mouth to mine.

“It’s already perfect because I’m with you,” she tells me in-between heated kisses. And once again, she stupefies me with her words.

“Oh God, I love you too, my perfect, beautiful, amazingly gifted wife,” I tell her, while gliding in … gliding out of her sex.

“Katniss … I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to last if you keep doing that … where do you want me to—”

“Right where you are,” she tells me, knowing what I am trying to say.

“But,” I question her with a raise of my brow.

“I took that pill Effie gave you— I mean, me,” she explains, running her tongue along my ear.

I shiver from the contact and lose all control as I slam into her— again and again before grinding into her center once more. We both grind; hard and slow, and deep— achieving the perfect rhythm until I feel that familiar stirring deep in my stomach— and then we’re both moaning, and yelling, and whispering— shouting— gasping the other’s name and I’m spilling into her, filling her with my seed; both of us believing that Effie’s miracle pill from the Capitol will prevent any watering of said seed.

0 – 0 – 0

Curious about their “unspoken language”? Or Katniss’s father’s untimely death? Or who the mayor of 12 is since it clearly is not Mayor Undersee? Come check out my THG re-writes: Changing the Game (Complete) and Another Way Out (In progress) (The final book/story is TBA). Told in multiple POV’s. AND, find out what happens once Katniss reaches District 13. Does anyone know they actually and officially got married in 12? Does Katniss get pregnant? Does Effie’s miracle pill work for them?

#ameliaodair #prompt 46 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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kueble · 4 years ago

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But You Would Still Miss Me in Your Bones

Prompt: Confessions

Title: But You Would Still Miss Me in Your Bones

Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: Teen

Content Warnings: none

Summary: Jaskier is unexpectedly dropped at Kaer Morhen.

This is my first prompt for my @sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo card! Prompt is “Confessions.” I’m going to tie them all together and figured this was a good place to start. I’m starting with the fluffier prompts and we’ll work out way up to the spicy ones. Taking a bit from the show and a bit from the game here. So here, have some mountain fix-it fic with a side of idiots in love.

---

Jaskier tosses the piles of branches down next to the little circle of rocks he’d put together before he went to look for firewood. He kneels down and starts stacking the kindling in the middle of the crude firepit and tries not to think about how much easier this all was when he had Geralt with him. Obviously that works about as well as the last hundred times he tried to forget about the witcher, so he just grunts to himself and tries to make the wood look more flammable. He looks up at the quickly darkening sky and hopes there won’t be a storm tonight. It’s so much easier to keep a fire going when you have igni on your side.

“Grumping about won’t help. He’s gone,” he mumbles under his breath before stomping over to his pack to dig out his flint. And honestly, it’s not like Jaskier had spent all of his time travelling with Geralt. There’s no reason for him to miss him so damn much, especially after what their last words had been.

That’s a complete lie, because there’s this gaping hole in his chest that he can’t seem to fill with wine, women, or song. And gods, how he’s tried. He’s spent the two seasons either drunk or moping around writing the worst, most melancholy songs he’s ever written. Jaskier glares down at the flint in his hand as if it’s somehow to blame and then kneels down next to the firepit again.

And then suddenly there’s a huge flash of lights and he’s being thrown back on his ass. Jaskier manages to fling the flint at the source of the light, but all he gets for his troubles is a melodic cackle ringing through the clearing.

“Lovely aim. I’m simply cowering in fear,” Yennefer teases as she looks down at him.

“Yes, well forgive me if I’m not used to people just appearing out of thin air. What do you want?” Jaskier spits out. He stands up and brushes himself off before waving a hand at her expectedly.

“Grab your things. You’re needed,” she tells him simply.

“If you think I’m just going to blindly follow you without any kind of explanation, you’ve got another thing coming,” he says, hands on his hips. She just laughs again and he remembers exactly how much he loathes her.

“Isn’t that what you do? We all know you’ve spent half your life blindly following Geralt. Now he needs you and I don’t want to spend a moment longer in this charming little forest than I need to. Do come along,” she says, ignoring his glare.

“Well I hate to break it to you, but we’re not exactly getting along right now. So I highly doubt he needs me.”

“Oh, I’ve spent the last six months hearing about your stupid little fight. Trust me, I’m sick of it, too. So let’s get you back to him and then he can stop moping around like a lovesick maiden,” Yennefer says. She offers a small smile and opens another portal before gesturing for him to walk through it.

And what the fuck? If there’s even a chance Geralt actually needs him, Jaskier has to find out. He grabs his bag and scurries through the portal.

It turns out all of Geralt’s grousing about portals was entirely justified. Jaskier drops to his hands and knees as his stomach empties itself of everything he’s eaten in the past week. His head is throbbing and he’s not sure he can stand up at this point. He closes his eyes and focuses on the feeling of the cold stone floor beneath his hands, waiting for his stomach to calm down. Then he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and opens them again.

He’s in the middle of a circle of very concerned people, all looking down at him in shock.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asks, his voice cracking on the word. Jaskier goes to stand and immediately falls back down to the floor. Suddenly he’s wrapped in Geralt’s arms, the witcher staring at him like he’s just seen a ghost.

“Yennefer said you summoned me?” Jaskier asks, still not entirely sure what is going on. Geralt helps him stand, and his feet don’t fall out from under him like a newborn fawn, so he thinks the effects of the portal are gone for now.

“Always helpful,” Geralt grunts, shooting a deadly look at the sorceress. Yennefer just grins back at him and then looks around the room.

“Everyone is sick of you being,” she flits her hand around, “like this. I was finally inclined to do something about it. You’re welcome, by the way. Now let’s all leave them to it.” She looks pointedly at everyone in the room, and they all start moving towards the door.

“I know him,” the blonde girl whispers as she walks out, and it takes Jaskier a moment to place her face. He’s used to seeing her at her grandmother’s side, not dressed in plain clothes and in the company of witchers. He offers her a smile and she returns it, suddenly looking every bit as regal as he remembered her.

“Finally claimed your child surprise?” Jaskier asks once they’re alone.

“She needs me,” Geralt replies. He hasn’t taken his hands off of Jaskier’s shoulders, just keeps holding him like he might run off at the first chance.

“Glad to see you realized that,” Jaskier says. He looks at his friend, really looks at him, and he doesn’t look well. He has dark circles under his eyes, his hair is an unkempt disaster, and he looks thinner than he should. “It doesn’t look like life has been kind to you,” he whispers.

“You were the only kindness in my life,” Geralt says softly.

“And here I thought I was the worst part of it.”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt blurts out quickly. “I’m so fucking sorry. Yelling at you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. You’ve done a lot of dumb things,” Jaskier offers. He still had anger - so much anger - boiling just under the surface, but his friend looks like shit and he needs him. Jaskier has always been a pushover for the man, anyway. Why grow a spine now?

“I mean it, Jaskier. I tried to find you, but then Cintra fell and I had to focus on getting Ciri back here and keeping her safe.”

“Where is here, by the way?” Jaskier asks with a laugh.

“Kaer Morhen. You’re safe here,” Geralt tells him.

“Huh. I always wanted to visit, but you never asked,” Jaskier says, looking around the room again. They’re in what appears to be some sort of common room. There’s a long wooden table in the center of the room and a large hearth with an inviting looking fire surrounded by armchairs that are just begging to be sat in. “Mind if we sit? I’m still a bit out of it from the portal.”

“Of course! I’m sorry. I hate portals,” Geralt grumbles and ushers him over to a chair. He practically shoves him down before he starts pacing in front of the fire.

“Care to explain why your lover felt the need to drag me here?” Jaskier asks bitterly.

“Not my lover. Not anymore,” Geralt says quickly. He stops stomping around and stands in front of Jaskier. “We found another djinn and broke the tie between us. She remains one of my closest friends, but there’s nothing else there anymore.”

“Oh, you’ve been busy,” Jaskier offers, his mind reeling at the thought that Yennefer is no longer a threat to this odd yearning he has for his friend. He scoffs at himself, because it’s more than a yearning. He’s completely gone for the other man, even though he knows it’s hopeless.

“Yen doesn’t like being forced into anything, and I was not aware of how much of a hold it had over me. Things are...a lot clearer now. I-I’m not good with this. How do you talk so much all the time? It’s fucking exhausting,” he laughs softly.

“For me it’s more exhausting to hold it in,” Jaskier says with a smile.

“Of course it is. Let me talk and then you can either decide to stay here or Yen will bring you back to wherever she found you, okay?” Geralt waits for him to nod and then continues. “Since that day on the mountain, it feels like part of me is missing. Whenever we parted in the past, I always knew we would find each other at some point. I didn’t do well without that promise of seeing you again. I spent some time in a prison cell and all I could think about was how you’d never know that I was sorry for the things I’d said. I hope you can forgive me for being such an ass. I...I can’t put into words what you mean to me.”

“Friend has a nice ring to it,” Jaskier suggests..

“More than that. I...fuck,” Geralt runs a hand through his hair and looks at Jaskier with wild eyes. “In for a penny,” he mutters.

“Huh?”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Geralt rushes out.

“I, er, what?” Jaskier asks, because he’s an idiot.

“I’m not supposed to feel like this, but I do. There’s this tugging in my chest, pulling me towards you. When I complained about it, everyone told me I was in love with you. I want to wake up and see your face in the firelight every morning. I want to watch you prance around a thousand taverns, just sitting in the back corner and watching you ply your trade. I’d really like to hold you, if you’d let me sometimes,” he trails off, chewing on his lower lip as he stands there in front of Jaskier.

It only takes a few seconds for Jaskier’s brain to catch up with everything, and then he jumps up and wraps his arms around Geralt. He clings to him, still processing everything that just happened. Geralt tentatively wraps an arm around him, pulling him closer, and Jaskier feels like this is it; this is where he’s supposed to be.

“I was going to be mad at you for longer,” he admits. “But then you had to go and melt my heart. I’m in love with you too, you silly man.”

“This is real?” Geralt asks breathily.

“As real as it gets, dear heart,” Jaskier confirms before leaning in and kissing him gently. It’s chaste and over far too quick, just a simple press of lips, but it’s the best first kiss Jaskier has ever experienced. He grins at Geralt, giggling at the look of pure awe that overtakes his face. They have time to figure things out. For now, he just hums happily and kisses him again.

---

Tags: @honeysuckletook @eya-trying-to-function @halerune

If you’d like to be added or removed from my tags list, please just drop me a note. Thank you!

#geraskier #the witcher #geralt #jaskier #fix-it fic #stupid mountain #this is the hardest thing I've written lately #it fought me every step of the way #ugh #my fic

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zenonaa · 3 years ago

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'The conglomerate taught him a dozen languages and how to play as many instruments. They trained him to operate multiple types of aircrafts, earn billions of dollars and not bat an eyelid as a rival company begged for mercy... However, when it came to developing feelings, that was treated in the same way as stabbing a fork into a plug socket, or offering to wash the dishes instead of letting the servants attend to them. It was common sense not to do those things.'

Fandom: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya Characters: Fukawa Touko, Togami Byakuya, Naegi Makoto Additional Tags: Togafuka Week Summary: Togami tries to prepare himself for his reunion with Fukawa.

Comments: Day 3 for TogaFuka Week! Fantasy/Kiss.

💗 Please like, share and comment if you enjoyed it! 💗

***

As the helicopter soars above the city, Byakuya visualises skyscrapers reaching toward the sky as if wanting to claim the blue expanse for itself, like that’s its God-given right. The buildings wouldn’t look out of place in a boss battle in a light gun video game. Makoto once compared them to the final level in an old zombie shooter that he played a few times at his local arcade.

Byakuya imagines the futuristic city, teeming with electricity and life, but the image lingers only for a couple of seconds before rusting, wilting, collapsing. In reality, Towa City is an industrial wasteland. Its railroad halo dips and splinters throughout, as if made from thorns, and the ghost of a bullet train explodes into dust that rains down on the city. Buildings have been amputated, leaving only stumps if nothing at all. Squinting, he discerns a car park that is now a graveyard, with graves instead of cars.

They land the helicopter in the concrete clearing behind a rundown hotel, the loud wailing of the rotorcraft’s blades slowing into pops before falling silent. No red carpet awaits them. A staircase unfolds from the helicopter’s doorway to the scarred ground. The sky is a red lipstick stain that fades into purple like a bruise.

And a short distance away from Byakuya stands Touko Fukawa.

Touko bounds toward him. “Byakuya-sama!”

Yes, he thinks, she would still call him that. Her wild mane of aubergine hair writhes with every step. Meanwhile, he glides over. His feet make no sound.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she says, stopping in front of him. She breathes in, filling her lungs with air. He brings a finger to her lips.

“Let me speak first.” Byakuya can feel her lips vibrate as words bubble in her mouth. After he lifts his finger off, her mouth hangs ajar but she stays quiet. Now it’s his turn to inhale deeply. “We have been on quite a journey. Before we met, I held the weight of the conglomerate and all the pressures involved, while you...”

The light against her lenses flashes warningly as her brow dips into a furrow.

“... had, and still have, your own,” he finishes. His teeth scrape against his lips. “When I entrusted you with Towa City, do you remember what I said?”

“No matter the distance, I will not feel a thing,” she recites.

“That’s right. You must understand that my creation was a business investment.” He swishes a hand through the air, maintaining eye contact. “Romance goes against my existence. At that time, though I had started opening up to the idea of relying on others, and letting others rely on me... I was not interested in... in romance.”

Her silence provides a clear sky that his voice fills with grey clouds. He coughs into his knuckles.

“Part of me rejected the idea of romance... And yet, to my surprise, during our time apart, where we could only speak in video calls, my heart grew fonder for you.”

Touko’s puzzled squint blooms into a wide-eyed stare. Its intensity burns his cheeks. Still, she doesn’t say a word. What if after she had drawn close enough, without the gleam on the computer screen on his face, she realised he is as cold as a monitor? Is that what is happening now? Aoi sometimes remarked that Touko was too good for him, and when Aoi became annoyed enough with something he did or said, she would add that Touko deserved better.

He used to never doubt himself, but for the first time in his life, he wonders if he is good enough.

It feels like he has taken his first step somewhere damp and mouldy, where the floorboards could give way at any moment. Without moving, his stomach drops as if he’s already falling. Byakuya’s tongue squirms in his mouth, as if trying to reverse the words that it already unleashed, but he can’t take them back.

Instead of trying to articulate his feelings, he decides to demonstrate them to her. He grabs her waist. Her head jolts back in surprise and a moment later, their lips bump together. For several long seconds, they stand stiffly, Byakuya’s hands on her body, Touko’s hands cupping air, until he needs to peel himself away to breathe.

She gazes at him, brow wrinkled, not smiling. Then she opens her mouth and asks, “Are you okay, Togami-kun?”

The voice does not belong to her. Byakuya blinks, fracturing the concrete, the sky, her body, revealing his true surroundings. Opposite him sits Makoto, the two of them seated in a helicopter.

“You zoned out there for a good few minutes,” says Makoto.

Byakuya responds with a grimace.

To bat away the encroaching silence, Makoto chirps, “I can’t believe in an hour, we’ll finally be reunited with Komaru and Fukawa-san.”

In response, Byakuya gives a solitary hum. Makoto’s smile wanes.

“Are you motion sick?” he asks Byakuya.

“No,” Byakuya says more harshly than intended, the syllable cracking the still air like a whip and making Makoto tense. He flattens his tone and adds, “I’m in thought. That’s all.”

“About the reunion?”

Byakuya nods.

“It’ll be fine,” Makoto assures him with conviction that puts Byakuya on the defensive.

“What am I supposed to say to her?”

‘Her’ being Touko, of course. The conglomerate taught him a dozen languages and how to play as many instruments. They trained him to operate multiple types of aircrafts, earn billions of dollars and not bat an eyelid as a rival company begged for mercy. With the matter of future heirs, they instructed him on what to look out for on female applicants’ forms while choosing potential mothers. However, when it came to developing feelings, that was treated in the same way as stabbing a fork into a plug socket, or offering to wash the dishes instead of letting the servants attend to them. It was common sense not to do those things.

And yet here Byakuya was, spending the journey to Towa City mentally rehearsing how he was going to confess to a woman who had gained the power to make his heart swell too big for his chest. The conglomerate could not have prepared him for such a woman. Such an intelligent woman. Such an empathetic woman. Such a loyal woman.

Most of all, a woman who drew strength from what the conglomerate called weakness. Love.

“I mean... you can say hello?” suggests Makoto.

Byakuya’s steely gaze clenches Makoto. “Then what?”

“Like... ‘How are you?’”

“I can’t treat this like a regular meeting, as if we had only last seen each other at the end of work the previous day,” says Byakuya.

“Why not?”

“This one is different.”

As Makoto’s eyes flicker, he drinks in the tension in Byakuya’s shoulders, the tightness in his fists, and says, “Ah. I see.”

Though Makoto must have known for some time now. He and the others had started alluding to Byakuya’s feelings for Touko before Byakuya was even in denial about them, back when Byakuya didn’t know what he was experiencing, or what was making his stomach flutter.

Evening has dyed the sky orange, darkness creeping in at the edges. Byakuya stares at it through the window. His unsmiling reflection leaves a faint imprint on the glass. Silence swirls around them, hanging over their heads like the rotating blades of the helicopter.

“Are you going to tell her?” asks Makoto, and he doesn’t need to elaborate.

“I should,” Byakuya replies.

“You can try a pick-up line.” Without having to look at him, Byakuya can hear the grin seeping into Makoto’s tone. “For example... Do you like raisins? How would you feel about a date?”

Byakuya’s reflection glares as Makoto carries on.

“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together. Or - ”

“That’s enough,” Byakuya says with a shudder, raising a hand. “I aim for my demeanour to be calm and composed. I do not intend to act like a fool, throwing out hackneyed lines.”

“Sorry, sorry. But if you don’t mind me saying, you’re overthinking it, Togami-kun.”

This earns Makoto a look from Byakuya. The curve of Makoto’s lips is slimmer now, but still holding on.

“In these sorts of situations, it’s best not to use your brain...” Makoto taps himself on the head. “... but to follow your heart.” His hand shifts to his heart and pats there next.

Byakuya tightens his lips and returns his gaze to the window.

“Easy for you to say,” he mutters.

The helicopter lands by the hotel that Touko and Komaru have been living in. If not for the lit windows and neon sign, the dark column would have blended in with the night. Steel bars cage the building, mostly unbent. Byakuya’s attention fixes longest on the sign that flashes ‘TOWA HOTEL’, ‘TOWA HOTEL’, pulsing like his heartbeat, reminding him over and over where he is.

He balls his sweaty hands into fists. He can do this. ‘Follow your heart,’ Makoto had said, and his heart has been caged for so long. It’s time that he freed it.

As in his imagined scenarios, Touko runs over, her arms spread as if about to take. Byakuya tenses, for a moment thinking that he has to catch her before she flies away again.

Fortunately, she stops in front of him, her feet rooted to the ground. “Byakuya-sama!”

Byakuya swears he feels the spray of her spit, but it might just be his sweat. Makoto digs him gently in the ribs, quirks his lips, then walks toward Komaru. At no point does Touko’s eyes stray from Byakuya, who lifts his chin and adjusts his tie. Low laughter simmers in Touko’s mouth.

“I can finally smell you...” She hugs herself. “It has been so long.”

In the past, he would have told her to shut up after saying something like that, but that doesn’t seem appropriate now. Such a comment used to come across as vulgar, and maybe it still does, slightly, but he has grown accustomed to the vines that her existence has curled around him. His tongue feels thick in his mouth as he tries to think of a response.

“Well, I can smell you,” he says.

This prompts Touko to shrink back and worry her lip with her teeth. “D-Do I...? I showered earlier today. Argh, did Komaru swap my shampoo for dog p-?”

Touko cuts herself off with a groan and shakes her head. Byakuya reaches a hand toward her.

“I mean you smell good.” He immediately cringes. Good. He said, ‘good.’ Her brow creases, whether it be from confusion or from hearing such a lame adjective, and he adds quickly, “You smell like...”

Byakuya breathes in but finds himself unable to smell her, so he leans toward her so he can. She gasps. He straightens sharply.

Time ticks as Byakuya mentally flips through the scripts he had rehearsed on the helicopter.

“Romance goes against my existence,” he says.

No, wait. He hadn’t meant to say it like that.

“Went against,” he clarifies. “Remember when I said ‘No matter the distance, I will not feel a thing’?”

Touko nods slowly, frowning. His head fills with steam, rendering it practically useless, which leaves him one other organ to depend on. His heart.

“Do you like raisins?” he says. “I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together.”

Her troubled expression gives way to concern. “Byakuya-sama...?”

Byakuya lets out a frustrated groan and slaps himself on the forehead. “What I want to say is...”

She springs onto tiptoe and pecks his lips.

In that moment of contact, time stops. No more than a second could have passed, but by the time she returns her heels to the ground, he feels like he has been flung up into the sky before crashing back down again, his head spinning.

While he stands frozen, she wraps her arms around him.

“I understand,” she says muffled into his chest.

He hesitates, then hugs her back, and presses his lips against the top of her head. She smells like strawberries.

#togafuka #togafukaweek #touko fukawa #byakuya togami #danganronpa #dr3 #fanfiction #one shot #makoto naegi

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blueprint-han · 4 years ago

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sunset and vine ↠ hhj.

↳ just a random day with your husband and your son. Caution because you may melt from the fluff. ;-;

genre: marriage au ; fluff

⇥ warnings: none, if you don’t count the tooth rotting fluff I wrote, also not proofread so please excuse any errors.

wc: 1.5 K 🤡 (This.... this was supposed to be a blurb...)

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not aim to represent the activities of the real Hwang Hyunjin, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. Also Sunoo here is only the name chosen for MC’s and Hyunjin’s child, it does not represent the member of Kpop group ENHYPEN. ♡

type: drabble

network tag: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @sunoo-luvs

↯ note: duhuewh i seriously don’t know why I named this sunset and vine especially when it has no similarity. But anyways, I hope you like it Zaara !! This was fun to write, and hehe I hope you like the little thing I did at the end. ;) Also forgive if this is shit. I tried :(( ⇥ dawn.☀️

The loud wail of your son’s cry erupted throughout the room, leaving your body tense as you rushed to the small, but cozy corner of the room. You’d only woken up a mere half an hour ago, having to pry yourself off your husband’s embrace as you started your daily routine.

You’d brushed your teeth, washed your face, started the coffee pot before going to water all the lush green plants that grew in your backyard. The backyard held quite a lot of close memories to you. You vividly remembered fighting with Hyunjin — your husband — to specifically choose a house that had a backyard, being enamoured with growing your own plants.

And of course, Hyunjin couldn’t deny you. Even if he wasn’t a fan of gardening, he couldn’t deny you the moment you gave him the soft expression and the pout™. The one that always rendered him soft from inside, one he could simply not resist.

So, when you heard the cry, it was pretty obvious Sunoo — your son — had either woken up because of a nightmare, or he was hungry. You hoped it was the latter, because your son tended to get particularly clingy when he woke up from a bad dream, plus you wished he wasn’t tormented with any bad memories. It was a trait he’d gotten from his father — Hyunjin tended to cuddle you extremely close when he woke up from a nightmare, which you honestly never minded.

The sound had stopped when you reached for the door handle, but you nevertheless, tiptoed slowly into the room, being oh-so-careful to not make a single sound, so as to wake up your husband or your son for that matter.

Immediately, you were welcomed with the sound of sweet giggles. Hyunjin had most likely not noticed when you entered, because as you stood at the doorway; he was lying on his back on the mattress, Sunoo in his hands as he lifted him high up into the air as though he were an airplane.

In fact, you were sure Sunoo thought he was an airplane, because the child spread his tiny arms out, a beaming smile on his face — one of pure joy. The scene honestly made your heart swell, you found yourself frozen at the door as you watched the almost raw, honest interaction between the father and his son. His hair and his eyes were jet black, almost tiny crescents because of how wide he was smiling, mirroring his father’s expression.

The sunlight poured from the half open windows (you’d opened it in the morning to allow fresh air to circulate) made it seem as though the both of them glowed. Almost trapped in the moment, so much happiness painted in their expressions.

Overcome with sudden emotion, you smiled, walking over to the mattress before plopping down at the edge.

“Sunoo, say good morning to mama~” Hyunjin said, noticing your entrance.

“Good morning” The little child said, or so you thought. You stretched your hand out, almost melting when his tiny hand wrapped around your finger, a coo leaving your lips as you rubbed his soft cheek with your other hand.

Looking at him with loving eyes, you asked “I heard a cry.”

“Yeah, I think he’s hungry.” Hyunjin yawned lowly, lifting Sunoo into your arms as he stretched his limbs out. His expression was dazed, as one’s usually would when they just woke up. “Good morning love,” He kissed your forehead after straightening up, and you smiled and mouthed the same in reply.

“Fine, I’ll go get him some breakfast, would you keep him distracted till then?” You murmured, though you knew Hyunjin wasn’t one to say no, especially to spend more time with his son. “Of course, love.” Hyunjin sighed, reaching out to tuck a soft strand of hair behind your ear. “You look gorgeous today.”

“Oh shut up, I haven’t even washed my face yet.” Typical Hyunjin, always the one to fluster you with so many compliments, even after so many years. And even after years of marriage, you still felt yourself get bashful over his tiny words of appreciation.

“And?” You giggled when Sunoo lied his head against your shoulder, yawning slightly as he murmured “Mama, mama” in his sleep. Hyunjin’s eyes drifted to his son’s suddenly sleepy form thrown over your shoulder, automatically reaching out to stroke his hair gently as he smiled.

His eyes glistened in the sunlight, filled with nothing but pure love and pinch of contentment at the scene in front of him. You — both of you — were his true home. This was the place, the sight that made him feel most joyous, the place where he could truly let go and be himself. The both of you were his guiding compass, and Hyunjin was ever-the-grateful. He would always be so.

“You’re too much.” You rolled your eyes playfully; handing Sunoo to his dad before rushing to the kitchen to prepare his meal. Knowing your son (a little too well), it would take about two minutes before he remembered that he was hungry again.

While you quickly mashed up the strawberries and filled water into his cup, your husband had taken Sunoo out into the garden, and you figured he was most likely distracting him with the sight of the freshly bloomed roses. It was a good thing, because Sunoo also loved flowers — again, a trait he picked up from his father.

While he looked a lot like you, he’d adopted most of Hyunjin’s habits — you didn’t really know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But it was adorable, especially when he’d give you a flower that seemed massive in his tiny hand, a small smile on his face paired with an innocent expression — or when he’d pat your head to wake you up on the occasional day he woke up earlier than you.

When you went out into the garden, Hyunjin and Sunoo were seated on the porch, and you almost laughed at how seriously they were examining a rose bud — almost like it held a treasure deeper within it. When you sat down next to him in silence, setting the tray of food at the side, Hyunjin glanced at you the whole time, eyeing you with a smirk pulled on his lips. He looked like he was admiring you, and honestly? You could get lost in his eyes, they sparkled as bright as the stars in a night sky, in a galaxy.

“What?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hyunjin simply poked at Sunoo’s arm, and immediately, your sun turned to his side, extending his tiny (yes, you were still not over the fact that Sunoo was adorably small, even if he was a child) hand with the rose bud clutched tightly, mouthing the words, “For you, mama~” but because of the fact that he didn’t know how to pronounce well yet, it came out as “Fow wou, mama” which in all honesty, just made you explode with emotion.

I swear to god, you thought. You and your father are going to be the death of me.

“Awe,” You cooed, gently taking the rosebud from his hand as you took a moment to examine it’s petals. Hyunjin always taught him little phrases of speech, though a little part of you melted with fuzziness every time Sunoo tired them out on you. “Thank you, little one.” You rubbed his cheek with the back of your index finger again, an action that led Sunoo to burst into a fit of giggles. He always loved it when you did that.

“I love you.”

You didn’t address the statement to particularly any of them, because it was meant for both. At this point, you were the happiest. Being with your small family in your cozy abode, sharing moments like these that always filled you with overwhelming warmth — the tiniest of things always gave you happiness, ever since you stumbled upon the man who ended up being your husband.

At this point, you knew, all fell at place. You could never feel grateful enough to have a literal angel for a husband, and then Sunoo came into your life. You’d always remember those small moments that brought a smile to your face, be it because of your husband or your son, or when they collectively plotted something to lighten your mood when you were feeling down, or when they were simply there, happy and smiling, almost like an embrace of joy.

When you snapped out of your daze, Hyunjin had gently taken your hand in his own, looking at you with an intrigued look, as though questioning what you might be thinking of. You shook your head, running your thumb against the skin of his knuckles.

“I love you too,” Hyunjin said, looking down to Sunoo, who was basically gawking at the both of you wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He laughed, the look almost intoxicating. Taking your son’s hand, Hyunjin placed it on your palm, a small squawk of delight leaving the child’s lips.

“And Sunoo loves you too.”

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor at least this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

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mudhorn-djarin19 · 4 years ago

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The Statesman Fair - (Agent Whiskey x reader)

@autumnleaves1991-blog is doing Writing Challenge Wednesdays and I just HAD to do this one. I love carnivals~ This isn’t my best writing cause I wrote it quick and I apologize but I still hope you all enjoy. I had a few ideas and charas I was gonna use... but then my bff gave me the idea of a Statesman run fair (after said state fair) and I was like OwO YES! I try to stray away from Whiskey for once but oops just get roped right back lol lol Summary: Jack takes you on a date to the Statesman Fair Rating: General Warnings: None but fluff~ AO3 Link | Masterlist | Join my taglist via here!

It was summertime and Statesman was hosting its annual fair again. Every summer they set up a fair within the distillery’s perimeters for the locals to come visit for some fun and help boost sales. Champ hired food vendors, games, rides, a petting zoo and even booked some music entertainment each year to keep things fun. Statesman staff could volunteer to help work the event or just attend for fun. You in the past usually volunteer with Ginger and this year was no different. The day of the fair came and you were sat up in the Statesman booth, selling your name brand liquor to the attendees when your fellow agent, Agent Whiskey swung by.

“Howdy ya’ll.” He nodded his head.

“Jack, we get this shit for free. Why are you here?” You laugh.

“Think Ginger will be okay to run the booth by her own for the rest of the day? I’d like to um… spend some time with you.”

“Jack are you asking me on a date?” You blushed.

“Um.. yea sort of. If that’s alright.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“I’d love that. Let me check.” You descend back into the booth and ask Ginger.

She gives a nod and with that you step out the side door and greet Jack, hooking your arm into his. “Lead the way cowboy.” You smirk.

Deciding you are both hungry you make your way over to the aisle of food vendors. There were so many options you couldn’t pick but settled on some classic corn dogs and fries. Jack said they weren’t as good as the ones at the Texas State Fair but weren’t bad. After finishing your lunch he leads you over to the petting zoo. You stepped into the big pen and started to feed and pet the goats.

“Aren’t you just a cute little thing.” You say scratching its ear.

Jack leans down to pet one but it instead rams him in the leg with its horn. “Ouch son of a-” He swears.

You laugh at the interaction. For a man who owns a ranch and grew up on a farm you think he’d not have such bad luck. You both move to pet the miniature horses to which Jack tells you about his three horses he has at home and how he’s love for you to come visit them sometime, which you gladly agree with. He leans back against the fence and smiles as he watches you pet and feed all the different animals in the pen. Not afraid of any of them and trying to share as much of your love as possible.

After spending a good time in the petting he leads you over to the games. Determined to win you a prize or two… or more, he takes his luck at the balloon pop game. He fails pretty badly which is not shocker but he does win you a silly cheap bracelet that you wear with pride. He swears at the balloons saying they are so hard to pop and his aim is not that bad, just you wait and see.

You lead him over to the baseball toss game seeing a cute dog plush you like. He tries his luck again and of course as he said, his aim wasn’t bad. Of course it isn’t, he’s a senior agent. He knocked all the blocks over first tying, winning you the big plush you wanted. The attendee grabs it down, handing it off to you. You both play a few more games, the water shooter game which Jack beats you at, winning you another plush and then whack a mole which funny enough you beat him at, winning him a plush in return. He objects to it at first telling you to keep it but you disagree, wanting it to be his. “You already won me three prizes. This one is yours. Keep it and think of me when you see it.” You wink. Heading back to the food for an afternoon snack you and Jack grab a funnel cake to share. You laugh when some of the powdered sugar gets stuck in his mustache. You wet your thumb with your tongue and then reach up to gently wipe it off. With powdered sugar collected on your thumb you pop it into your mouth. Pink tints Jacks face at the gesture.

As you both enjoy your funnel cake the sun starts to set, leaving the sky in a beautiful pink and blue tint. Jack leads you over to the ferris wheel. You place your prizes in a cubby box and hop on. As the ferris wheel lifts you higher into the air you curl more and more into Jack’s side. His arm drapes across your shoulders. The ferris wheel stops when you are both at the top, you both look across the Statesman property at all the fair hustle and bustle and the gorgeous Kentucky landscape.

“Thank you for a fun day Jack. I really enjoyed myself.” You smile, resting your head against his chest.

“Of course darlin’. Thank you for letting me take you out on this fun day.” His fingers find your chin, lifting it up to look at him. “I enjoyed our date. I hope you’d like to go on another with me sometime.”

You lean your face up to him, lips brushing against his. “Of course.” You reply, pressing your lips to his.

He presses his lips back and slides his hand around your shoulders down to your waist, pulling you closer. Your kiss is interrupted then by the ferris wheel jolting to a move again. You yelp and cling to Jack who chuckles and holds you close to him.

“I’d absolutely love to go on another date with you Jack. However, our date today though isn’t over yet… we still have all evening.” You chuckle, pressing a kiss to his jaw. Taglist: @sarahjkl82-blog @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @blackberries45 @s-unflowxr @donnaa @hailmary-yramliah @prideandpascal @parkjammys @so-many-reblogs @hb8301 @darnitdraco

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels #kingsman #kingsman golden circle #pedro pascal #fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #writer wednesday

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ellemany · 2 years ago

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The ____ date of my life - Chapter 8

<<< Index

<<< Previous Chapter

Walk

Recommended Music: Dengo - ANAVITÓRIA

Sova nodded briefly, rising from the bench with Sage. He played with their hands as they began to walk, with a lingering smile on his lips. He didn't think he could stop smiling like an idiot even if wanted to. Sage who guided the walk through the cars trapped in the eternal punishment that the traffic of that city was. She looked at Sova as they arrived across the street, seeing that he held his blazer in his free hand.

- Do you have a recipe to take this stain off? - She approached to Sova. She ran his arm around her waist, making him hug her. "Much better" she thought, passing one of her arms around him.

Sova looked from Sage to his blazer, snapping his tongue.

- Niet. - He threw his blazer over his shoulder, leaning on it. - It's my new floor cloth. - Sova smiled at Sage.

- It's the most expensive floor cloth I've ever seen.

- Don't remind me. - Sova grimaced, playing with his hair. - I made a theory.

- Oh, yeah? - Sage raised an eyebrow, with a sense that whatever Sova was going to say would be, at the very least, peculiar. – Tell me.

- You know that Phoenix really believes we're in a game, right?

Sage laughed, nodding. It was something expected from Phoenix.

- But not the classic The Sims. Everybody thinks that we live in The Sims. - Sova shook his head and then filled his cheeks with air, turning to Sage. - Do you know what The Sims is?

Sage made a face of disdain, looking at Sova as if to say "Are you serious?"

- You’re a nun so I taught… - Sova gestured with his free hand, shrugging his shoulders. Sage rolled her eyes, giving a slight smile.

- I didn't live in a cave, you know? - She raised an eyebrow for Sova with fun.

- Ouh... - Sova made a thoughtful face, looking at the sky. - I lived in a cave once.

- What? - She frowns.

- It was only for a week. - He smiled slightly at Sage. - And I shared it with bears.

- What?

- They were hibernating. - He gave a fun smile. - They were very warm. - Sova sighed with the memory. - Focus or I'll forget.

Sage was tempted to make Sova tell how he ended in a cave with hibernating bears, but made a mental note of making him talk about it later. He had some weird stories.

- Keep going. - She squeezed him slightly because of a gust of cold wind.

- Phoenix thinks we're in an FPS. If you stop to think, when we're on a mission, that makes a lot of sense.

- Uhum... - Sage nodded slowly with her head. – It makes total sense… - She spoke with irony, smiling funny.

- Let's get to the arguments. - Sova made mention of letting Sage go, but she held him with her free hand, narrowing her eyes at him. Sova smiled, gesturing with his other hand. - We're always wearing the same clothes on missions.

- It's called uniform.

- Raze was wearing a top in the Arctic. Killjoy and Yoru went to the beach in a jacket and Reyna wears heels.

- It's a stylish uniform. We suffer for style normally. – Sage looked at her heels, saddened. She could feel her feet numb, and if she could, she'd rip them off to save herself from the pain.

- Why doesn't the Protocol ever give us all the weapons we need? We have to spend our own money to get it.

- They gave us the job, we're the ones who get screwed. The logic is pretty simple.

- Okay. Did you ever realize that in the middle of the mission we make... - Sova pointed to Sage, waiting for her to complete the sentence.

- Ahw... - The Chinese frowned, thinking about what he wanted her to say. – Questionable choices?

- Yes! - He smiled excitedly, looking at her. - I'm a trained soldier. My aim is phenomenal. - The Russian wrinkled his nose. - I would never throw a shock dart at Jett's foot for nothing.

- You were mad at her that day. - Sage retorted, but made a thoughtful face. Some of the things they did on missions were really questionable considering their personality and reputation.

- I wouldn't throw a lethal weapon at her because I was mad. - Sova defended himself, shaking his head. - Come on, lil panda, I've seen you playing with the... Wavies. - He tried to explain, imitating the movement Sage made when she was about to resurrect someone. She looked at his hands and gave a fun smile. Okay, hearing Sova's theories was interesting. - And I'm not even going to talk about how many times I've been blinded. They should have learned to control that by now. - He rolled his eyes, thinking about the skills of the agents who had some form of blindness.

- And we say similar phrases when we go on missions. - Sage got into Sova’s mood, thoughtful. – And they’re... Pretty generic, actually. - She resumed the thought she had earlier, wrinkling her nose.

- Exactly! - Sova smiled excitedly, glad that Sage understood him. - Do you sometimes have an uncontrollable urge to squat and lift?

- Sometimes. - She admitted, a little embarrassed. Doing that out of nowhere was ridiculous.

- See? - Sova gestured with his hand, as if to show that he was right.

- But... – Sage filled her cheeks with air, looking forward. - If we are characters of a FPS... Where are we? In a dating sim event?

- No. - Sova shook his head, smiling. - It could be... But that's where my theory comes in. We're in a fanfic.

Sage obser.... No, wait, what did he say?

- A fanfic… Of a game? - Sage raised an eyebrow. Because it would be ridiculous for a fanfic character to consider that he's in a fanfic.

- Yes. Probably in an alternate universe even.

Please, Sage, think it's ridiculous to consider the idea of being in a fanfic.

- Umm... It's not that absurd.

OF COURSE IT'S ABSURD! YOU ARE NOT IN A FANFIC! WHERE HAVE YOU SEEN THAT?

- Think about it. When did you think I'd wear white?

You look good in white Sova, shut up.

- Or that all this would happen this day?

Bad days happen.

- Bad things happen. - Thanks, Sage.

- Have you ever had a bad day like this?

- There's always a worse one than the others. - Again, thanks, Sage.

- A duck. - The mere mention of the duck made Sage laugh, shaking her head. - A duck, Ling Ying! - Sova grimaced.

- Okay Okay… - Sage controlled her laughter, taking a deep breath. - Who the hell would read a fanfic like that?

- Someone with a...

- Questionable taste! - They talked together. Hey! That's offends me!

- Besides being someone sadistic... To read so much doom together and entertain yourself with it...

- Worse is who writes it.

I'm not a sadic… Right?

- It must be a hater.

- Who would spend time writing an all-hate fanfic?

- A hater's head doesn't have much logic.

Look, I agree.

- So... Would all this only happened for discourage the two of us from being together? - Sage looked at Sova, questioning him with her eyes.

Guys, that wasn't my intention. No, please, don't.

- If it's... - Sova made a thoughtful face and then looked at Sage. - It's going horribly wrong. - He gave a lovely smile. – With each new impediment that appears - The Russian leaned in Sage’s direction, kissing the top of her head, holding her chin. – I feel more like to kiss you… - He lifted her face, smiling funny.

Oh, Sova will always be Sova.

Sage did not close her eyes that time, watching Sova's lips turn toward her with attention. Unlike him, who closed his eyes. Then he didn't see from the corner of the view a cyclist approached them at high speed, looking distractedly across the street.

Hey, I shipp them. But, like, no kissing yet.

Sage pushed Sova when the bike went through them, almost running him over. The Russian widened his eyes, looking in the direction the cyclist passed, shouting an apology for the scare. Sage gave Sova a sympathetic smile, bowing her head to the side.

- It was a worth shot. - She muttered, getting back to him.

- I definitely hate who wrote this fanfic. - Sova hugged Sage's waist again, making a sullen face.

Trust me. You have no idea what I'm doing. But soon you'll know.

- It isn’t bad. - Sage gave Sova a light smile, hugging him again. – I’m still with you… - She looked distractedly at the shops on the street, sighing when she saw one of them closed.

Sova turned to Sage, feeling discouraged in her voice. He bowed his head to the side, watching her.

- What’s the matter?

- Ahw... - The Chinese turned to him and shook her head. – Nothing… - She turned to a store, pointing vaguely at her. - I like that store. It specializes in infusions and sells some wonderful butter cookies. - Sage gave a faint smile. - I wish it was open now. You'd like there. Well... I think.

Sova didn't know what infusion was. He was concerned about Sage's mood. His cybernetic eye began to work, noting micro expressions of tiredness and sadness in Sage.

- What’s the real matter? - He squeezed her lightly, thinking about all the possibilities of what might be going through her mind.

- Nothing… - She denied with her head.

Sova would insist, however, felt some drippings hit his head. He looked up, making a grimace.

- Oh, no.- Sova shrank, feeling the rain fall on him. – You must be kidding me. - Sova made an angry face to the sky.

Sage turned to Sova and smirked.

- Don't like rain, hunter?

- Let's say I prefer snow. - He held Sage's hand, walking faster. - Maybe we’ll get to the base before it gets worse. Let's go. - The Chinese nodded, but she pulled Sova, making him turn to her. - What? – He frowned, questioning Sage with his eyes. He felt the raindrops getting thicker every moment.

She opened her handbag and pulled an umbrella out of there. Sova opened his lips, surprised.

- I'm a smart woman. - Sage smiled at Sova, opening the umbrella, and giving it to him. - Will you hold it for me? - She passed both arms around Sova, hugging him. Sage gave a radiant smile to him, which melted the Russian.

He nodded briefly, passing one of his arms around Sage, holding her close to him as he held the umbrella. They walked faster, even though they were very close. They were silent as the rain intensified around them. Although Sova was concerned about Sage, her silence was not disturbing, like one that should be broken. It was calm, peaceful. Like she felt good there. Sova wishes they weren't in the rain, but protected indoors, hearing the drops hit the window and Sage's breath near him.

The Russian didn't know, but Sage wanted the same. Only she thought about it in long terms. She was busy playing with puddles of water that formed under her feet. With Sova, she felt she was okay to be herself, playing around. She wishes she could always be with him to feel that way. The way that made her light and loose.

Sage stepped into a puddle and the heel of her boot slipped, breaking. She would have turned her foot and fallen if it wasn't for Sova holding her.

- Oh shit! - Sage looked at her boot in anger. - Cheap crap.

-Are you all right? - Sova looked at Sage, worried.

- Yeah… Yeah… - Sage sighed, taking away the broken heel of the boot. She tested to take a step forward with the boot without heels. It looked like she was limping and it would be horrible to walk like that. He swore in Chinese, sniffing next. - Wait a minute. I'm going barefoot. – She stared to opening her boot.

- Ahw? - Sova raised an eyebrow, looking at Sage. – No way!

Sage turned slowly to Sova, raising an eyebrow as well.

- You want me to limp?

- I'm carrying you. - Sova spoke simply, holding the umbrella above her, protecting her from most of the raindrops.

- Your back was destroyed earlier. You're not going to carry me.

- Oh please. - Sova looked Sage from top to bottom, struggling to ignore the rain ricocheting off his back. - You're not even half of what I get up at the gym.

- Sova, I really...

- You're not going to walk like that. - Sova spoke incisive.

Sage slapped her hand in the face, taking a deep breath.

- What part of two days in the rain and the sun don't you understand? I can survive!

- You survived. But you didn't have me. If I were there, you wouldn't even have to walk all the way because I would take you. And I won't let you stay this way. - He made a serious face. His bionic eye analyzed Sage, demonstrating her temperature decay. Sova took his blazer and placed it around Sage's shoulders. – For less raindrops on you.

- Sasha. - Sage tried not to pick it up on impulse when Sova threw the umbrella at her. Unfortunately, because of her good reflexes, she immediately grabbed the object. – No!

Sova turned his back to her, with the rain quickly soaking him from the front. He looked Sage over his shoulder, serious.

- You have two options. You go in my back, or I'll carry you like a potatoes sack. I'll give you five seconds to decide. Five.

- I said you don't need to do this!

- Four.

- You irritant!

- Three.

Sage snored, crossing her arms. However, her tense posture loosened slightly when she noticed that Sova was shaking in the rain. Even so, he didn't seem inclined to change his mind.

- Two.

- OK! - The Chinese spoke angry, approaching him, patting him on the back. – Back. - She snoozes. She'd hate herself if he caught a cold for her fault.

- Great choice. - Sova spoke in a lively way, lowering himself a little for Sage climb on his back.

- Argh... - She rolled her eyes, putting her arms around Sova's shoulders, pushing herself to hold her legs around his hip. - I didn't know you were that stupid.

- I didn't know you were a stubborn either. - Sova raised an eyebrow, holding Sage's legs, straightening her on his back. - It's a beautiful day for discovery new thing about each other, isn't it? - The Russian struggled not to paying too much attention to Sage's thighs in his hands. And how firm and thicker than they seemed. Heavens, he was lost.

- Come on, let's go. - Sage spoke, grumpy, holding the umbrella so that she could protect as much as possible both.

- Your orders, ma’am. - Sova nodded, giving a smile as he walked again, keeping his concentration on the path in front of his.

Sage supported the cheek on Sova's shoulder, looking his profile. She didn't want to admit that she was happy for him carry her like that. And definitely wouldn’t admit that she thought he was so charming even when he was being annoying. She wishes there was a way for him to know how grateful she was to spend that day with him. Without using words, of course.

The Chinese woman snapped her tongue, closing her eyes.

- Stupid

Sova looked Sage, giving a smile.

- Silly.

Sage smiled amusingly, snuggly in him, because she knew that was the best he could say at the time.

>>> Next Chapter

#valorant #valorant sova #valorant sage #valorant fanfiction #SoSage #The date of my life #Chapter 8 #me trying

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alecmagnuslwb · 4 years ago

Text

Say Your Name Softly

Read on AO3

“Jaybird what happened to ‘don’t call any attention to ourselves’?” Roy asks as he looks around the bar where Jason has absolutely just caused a scene.

“I’m improvising,” Jason says throwing a wad of bills onto the bar for the owner as an apology for the trouble he’s just caused. “And choose between Jaybird or your trachea, you can’t have both,” Jason adds on because he doesn’t need Roy giving him some stupid nickname.

Roy, naturally, doesn’t listen. Jaybird sticks and despite his reputation and vague threats Jason never actually does anything to put a stop to it. Jaybird becomes common vernacular for Roy.

First Jason’s pretty sure Roy does it just to annoy him, especially when he realizes Jason wasn’t really serious about the whole trachea thing, delighting in every sharp glare that has less and less heat behind it every time Jason shoots one back.

From there it just sort of evolves, Jason stops glaring every time Roy says it and it becomes an everyday friendly nickname that as much as Jason is loath to admit it out loud he likes.

He’s Jaybird and well that’s fine.

***

Roy takes a running jump from the ledge of the building reaching out for the grappling hook and landing with a grace that sometimes still surprises Jason.

He doesn’t stop moving as he rolls to a stand and takes off, arrows knocked and aiming at the goons cornering them.

“Cover me Jaybird!” he shouts as he goes, expertly dodging gunfire while hitting three of the goon’s square in the chest with stun arrows. Jason curses under his breath already in motion guns at the ready. Beside him Dick chuckles.

“Jaybird?” he laughs and questions simultaneously as he stands and does a complicated flip jumping into the fray. Jason ignores him taking out the kneecaps of several of the guys while Dick kicks and punches his way through a pack of them, the blue of his Nightwing costume moving like a blur. Off to the side he hears the familiar thwip of a bow and thud of knocked out bodies.

Between the three of them they deal with the lackies easily, to the surprise of no one Black Mask doesn’t even bother showing his ugly, bony face. Jason’s tying up the last of the goons when he hears the sirens in the distance, Montoya most likely leading the charge. Jason stands to his full height about to shout over to Roy that at least he needs to get going, he’s not exactly on the best of terms with the GCPD just yet even if he’s been cleaning up his act.

Roy however beats him to it, “Jaybird!” he shouts from the other side of the roof where he and Dick have been chatting. “We better motor!”

Jason turns and shoots a thumb out to the direction of the next roof over so they can make their escape quickly before the cops show up not needing to say a word for Roy to know what he’s meaning. Roy nods in return before turning back to Dick, the two do some complicated bro handshake that ends with a loud high five before Roy immediately takes off in a run shooting another grappling hook for he and Jason to slide across.

“See you soon,” Dick shouts at Jason as Roy already makes his slide over to the next building. “Jaybird,” he emphasizes with a big doofy looking smile that Jason hates. He does not have time for his big brother teasing him about going soft or something by letting Roy call him a nickname.

“Hopefully not too soon, Dickie,” he shouts flipping his brother a playful middle finger as he takes off in a run following close behind Roy.

***

Dick isn’t the first, or the last to comment on the little nickname as more and more people hear it. Kory always gives Jason this look, this soft understanding look that he doesn’t understand every time he lets the nickname slide. Alfred drops on comms one evening to invite him over for tea and calls him Master Jaybird and Jason can hear his teasing smile in the words. One by one his family and Roy’s friends all start to just make little notices of it, like it’s some big deal.

Which it isn’t. It’s not like the words become more and more a term of endearment than a nickname, like lately Roy hasn’t taken to saying it a lot softer than he ever had before and started accompanying it with these lingering soft little touches. It’s not like Jason hasn’t found himself feeling something a little deeper than friendship of late when Roy says it, like he doesn’t absolutely melt when those little touches brush his skin. It’s just a silly name, that’s it.

“You good, Jaybird?” Roy asks his hand reaching out to turn Jason’s unmasked face to look at the cut along his cheek, all things considered it’s a minor injury.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jason says not making any move to stop Roy’s hand from lingering. That is until he catches sight of a small pack of Titans out of the corner of his eye. He clears his throat and steps back a bit a small grateful smile that he knows only Roy will notice on his lips. Roy just nods his head resting a hand a little too lightly to be considered some sort of bro slap on his shoulder before he steps away over to the little group.

Donna starts walking their way brushing Roy’s arm in a friendly manner as she goes, Jason’s stomach does a weird fluttering thing at the action. He’s not jealous, there’s no reason to be jealous. He and Roy are friends. Donna and Roy are friends. It’s as unmeaning as the nickname is.

“Jaybird, huh?” Donna says with a tittering laugh as she passes. They’ve just thwarted an apocalypse; Superman is somewhere on the metropolitan battlefield and that’s what she chooses to focus on. Roy just shrugs winking at her as he goes a look of some understanding passing between them that Jason can’t quite read.

Jason turns around bending down to pick up his helmet where it had been rudely knocked off of his head during a fight. Donna’s boots come into his eyeline, the amazon standing firmly beside him. He stands to his full height mirroring her stance with her arms crossed and hip cocked. She watches over where Roy, Dick, Gar and a few others have gathered checking in with each other.

“You better treat him right, Todd,” she says turning the full force of her warrior stance on him. Jason squints at her, the sky has turned back from its bright red to the sparkling night it should be, it makes the little constellations and stars on her outfit shine even brighter and makes her somehow more intimidating.

“That’s all,” she says before he can scramble to say it’s not like that with a wide fake smile, she reaches out her hand and places it on Jason’s shoulder like Roy just had, but with a much firmer grip, a grip that means business. It takes every bit of his Batman training not to wince.

She smiles more genuinely after a moment and steps away her eyes trained upwards when she spots Diana fly above.

Jason just watches her go expression unmoving realizing that maybe everyone keeps pointing out the nickname for a reason.

***

Jason’s not totally certain how he ended up at an arrow family dinner, except for the fact that he’s weak in the face of a bright-eyed pouting Roy Harper. So when he’d asked Jason to come as a buffer in case things between him and Ollie got intense his big green eyes bright in the morning sun with a pout on his face as he gave Jason a giant mug of coffee just the way he likes it, well he didn’t have it in him to say no.

Roy had been dodging the invitations for nearly a year, but when Dinah showed up in person and asked him to come there was no way he could say no.

Plus they’ve been spending more and more time in the warehouse in Star City than the loft in Gotham these days anyway, so really it was more a matter of convenience than anything.

So here they all are surrounding a big green table, which Jason thinks is a little on the nose, and everything has been shockingly pleasant so far. Dinah had practically burst into happy tears when she saw Roy on their doorstep and she’d even welcomed Jason in with open arms.

It’s clear the other arrow kids love Roy he’s oldest of them and they all look up to him and it pains Jason to see how surprised Roy is by that fact all the time. He’s not a screw up in their eyes, he’s their hero who overcame a lot to still be sitting at this table today.

Connor and Cissie are fairly indifferent to Jason which is just fine by him, except for Emiko who keeps asking exceedingly inappropriate questions about Batman that Damian always refused to answer. Jason doesn’t have any qualms about answering them however and he’s certain he’ll be getting a stern call from Bruce in no time about it. Mia is even shockingly polite, which considering their history is the most shocking thing about the whole evening.

Even more shocking though is Oliver Queen himself who is nothing but cordial and corny the whole night through. He’s clearly trying to maintain an easy-going environment and watching his words carefully so that he doesn’t test any boundary or limit that will lead to even one tense moment between he and Roy.

He doesn’t like Jason, but he’s never liked Jason so the simple fact he’s made not one negative remark about Jason’s presence is just enough for him. Everything about this night is clearly a win in Roy’s book judging from the smile that’s rarely left his face all night.

Dinner is perfectly pleasant and even makes Jason a little nostalgic for his Robin days when he was still innocent and family dinners weren’t just the occasional tea with Alfred. They’re lingering after dinner clearly each just waiting to see who will be the first one to break and say they need to leave and go on patrol.

It’s a waiting game Jason’s seen and always been the first to break at every gathering of his own brood, the only reason he’s not tonight is for Roy’s sake. He’s not even really paying attention anymore just lingering over the Tupperware of insanely good chili that Oliver had pushed his way moments ago letting the family just be together.

“Hey, Jaybird,” Roy says startling Jason out of his staring contest with the chili. He looks up and meets Roy’s eyes followed by the amused little smiles of everyone else and Ollie’s wide eyed, confusion maybe? Definitely surprise. “You ready to go bust up that fight club?”

Jason raises an eyebrow. The fight club in question has been on their radar for some time now, they’re 99% certain they’re using meta’s against their will and have been planning a little coup of their own over the weeks. Roy has about one and half feet in the door as a high roller, playing the role of spoiled rich boy looking to blow money even better than Jason does.

The next time he shows up he’s certain it’ll be the clubs last night in operation, he didn’t think tonight would be that night.

“You sure?” Jason questions searching Roy’s eyes for confirmation that this isn’t because he missed something going sour. Roy’s eyes look clear and certain and Jason knows he hasn’t missed a thing, Roy just wants to get the job they started done. He nods grabbing the Tupperware and the rest of the arrow kids take that as their cue each signaling their own farewells. Ollie never stops watching the two of them however, he looks like his mind has been running a mile a minute as he leans against the counter.

He finally moves when they all makes their way out the door, Dinah hugging each of the kids and even Jason as they file out. Roy and Dinah chat for a few more minutes while Jason safely secures the chili to his bike.

Roy looks so light and carefree and it makes Jason smile against his will. They walk over to the bike together Dinah hugging Roy one more time before he turns to Ollie and they do a weird bro hug style farewell that’s only a little bit awkward.

Ollie grips his bicep when they pull back. “You sure you two won’t need any backup with whatever you’re messing around with tonight?” he asks eyes briefly flitting over to where Jason leans against his bike.

“Nah, we’ll be good, Jaybird’s got my back,” Roy says. Ollie gets this amused look on his face as Roy steps away and takes the spare helmet Jason offers him. Jason gets on the bike first ignoring whatever is going on with Oliver.

“Jaybird,” Oliver mumbles under his breath before shaking his head. “Well if you change your mind, Pretty Bird,” he says looking Jason directly in the eyes as he pulls her close and places a lingering kiss on her head. Jason can’t ignore the implication of that comparison the way he’s managed to ignore everyone else’s glances and little comments. “And I are just a call away,” Ollie finishes with a chuckle.

Roy gives him a smile and a salute as he puts on his helmet and slips onto the bike behind Jason sitting a little closer and holding Jason’s waist a little tighter than necessary. Jason throws down his helmet visor to avoid the way Oliver’s still looking at him all meaningful and vaguely threatening before speeding away.

***

Tearing down the fight club is a hell of a lot easier than Jason expected it to be. They gear up at home then they’re in and out and sending vans full of free meta’s to safe havens set up around the city by the Black Canary herself in under two hours.

They’re both a little banged up when they make it back to the warehouse, but it’s nothing a few band-aids and a little Neosporin can’t handle.

Roy starts discarding pieces of the fancy burgundy suit he was sporting as soon as they’re in the door, Jason follows suit pulling weapon after weapon from his person in what they lovingly refer to as the discard box by the door. It’s their go to spot for all the weapons that need a good cleaning or maybe a good recycling down in Roy’s workshop.

By the time Jason’s down to just his pants and an under-armor shirt Roy’s settled down at the kitchen island rifling through the first aid kit with one hand and holding his other to a spot on the back of his head.

Jason walks up behind him picking his hand up from the spot he’s covering carefully.

“Did someone slice you on the back of the head?” he asks grabbing the rubbing alcohol from Roy’s hand.

“Yup, not sure how, but yup,” Roy grimaces when Jason takes a cotton ball to the slice.

“Told you not to cut your hair,” Jason says as he keeps cleaning the wound out. Last month Roy had finally parted with his scraggly red locks for a new cut short on the sides and back and just a little longer on the top. It looks good on him, but sometimes Jason misses the tresses of hair that would always slip their way out of his hats and blow around in the wind when they stood on rooftops. The hair not even fazing Roy from making a perfect shot when they’d fly in front of his eyes.

Roy snorts. “You just miss braiding my hair.”

“Yeah during all our pillow fights and sleepovers,” Jason huffs as he finishes cleaning up the slice and moves to open the Neosporin. He can’t exactly bandage this up so he’ll just have to badger Roy to remember to keep it clean.

Roy sighs. “If only you’d accept all my invitations to those, Jaybird,” he says seriously and there’s implications not even an emotionally constipated Jason Todd can’t catch onto under those words.

“You’re always calling me that,” Jason says as he slowly finishes up on the wound.

“Jaybird?” Roy asks slowly turning around to face Jason when he gives him a tap on the shoulder signifying he’s done.

Jason nods swallowing the lump in his throat realizing this conversation is happening there’s no jumping around it anymore.

“Well aside from your attempts early on, it was pretty clear you didn’t mind it all that much,” Roy says leaning back against the island. He reaches out brushing the bit of hair that’s fallen into Jason’s eyes, it’s the part that’s shock white a stark contrast to the rest of his dark hair. “So, yeah I call you that all the time.”

“You know Oliver calls Dinah Pretty Bird all the time,” he says tracking the movement of Roy’s hand as it falls slowly down the length of Jason’s arm.

“That he does,” Roy hums as he reaches Jason’s hand and tangles their fingers together.

“And you call me Jaybird,” Jason says looking up from their joined hands to Roy’s eyes.

“That has been established.”

“You know some people might make implications based on those similarities,” Jason says holding Roy’s eyes.

“Yeah they sure might,” Roy says pushing himself off the island. They’re practically nose to nose, eyes locked. “Damn do I wish the right person would realize those implications already.”

Jason swallows again a small smile forming on his lips. He never thought this would happen, that he’d work up the courage and finally acknowledge this ever-growing thing between them. That it would lead to a moment like this.

“Well I think he’s catching on,” he says. Roy smiles bright and lifts his other hand to gently cup Jason neck.

“About fucking time,” he says before leaning in finally breaching the space between them and connecting their lips. It’s a slow, sweet glide with so much passion and over a years’ worth of tension all seeping through when their lips move and their tongues meet. Jason’s not sure how much time passes, but eventually breathing becomes a necessity.

Roy doesn’t let him go far, keeping his hand on Jason’s neck and their fingers intertwined. He tilts their heads together while they both catch their breath.

“Well that works, huh, Jaybird,” he says stroking his thumb up and down the side of Jason’s neck.

“It sure does, Roy Toy,” Jason says with a chuckle hating the nickname even as it leaves his lips. Roy’s head throws back in a deep laugh he can’t seem to restrain.

“No way, nuh uh,” he says still chuckling. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, I’ll have to take up your trachea idea if you try to make that a thing.”

Jason snorts. “I’ll keep workshopping then,” he says before leaning back in and kissing the bright smile off of Roy’s lips.

#my fic #jayroy #jason todd #roy harper #the implications of ollie calling dinah pretty bird and roy calling jason jaybird are A LOT okay

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teenwolffan-with-nolife · 4 years ago

Text

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.49

Word Count: 2, 932

Characters: Derek Hale (brief), Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Kira Yukimura, Malia Tate, Araya, OC Characters, Kate Argent (mentioned), Reader

Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, TW: slight mentions of losing weight, small fluff, cliffhanger

A/N: ---

Masterlist Series Masterlist

You walked into the loft once again, throwing all your things onto the couch, before grabbing your first-aid kit and heading to the bathroom. After spending the last few days staking out yet another Calavera hideout in the states, it was clear to you that Derek wasn’t at any of them. You only had a few more Calavera bases left to check out to find Derek.

You poured rubbing alcohol over your wound, while you dug your nails into your palm before letting out a soft exhale. It had been almost one month since Derek went missing.

You hadn't seen Scott or Stiles, or any member of the pack within the last month, not wanting to worry them. You could do this on your own. They would end up figuring it out sooner or later. You told Sheriff Stilinski, who put out an APB on Derek to try and help find him.

You bit your lip gently, trying to hold in your inner feelings and emotions. It was no surprise that you were a wreck since Derek went missing, and you were gonna do everything you could to find him.

---

“No means no, Stiles,” you grabbed your duffel bag, loading it up once again.

“We’re trying to help you-” he started.

“I don’t need help, Stiles. All I need is for you to leave me the hell alone,” you sounded rude than you meant to come off, but you didn't care enough. You were exhausted.

Derek had been gone for two months now, and you've been doing everything you can to try and find him.

“Just, stop, (Y/N)! Stop denying our help! You need us!” he yelled.

“Stiles, I swear to god, you are the most annoying person I know. Is it that hard for you to comprehend what I mean when I say I don't need you?!” you yelled at him, taking him by surprise.

“I’m trying to help you. Do you really think none of us realize how much you've changed?” Stiles’ voice softened as you leaned on the table.

“Stiles…”

“We know for a fact that you’re not getting any sleep. You’re so tired, you look sick, like y-you’re dying. You’re not… when was the last time you ate something, (Y/N)? When was the last time you took care of yourself? Had something in your body that wasn't coffee? I am begging you, as a friend, as one of your closest friends, let us help you and please, take care of yourself,” you could feel your tears welling up in your eyes before you wiped them away.

“I need to find him, I-I…”

“I know, you love him. But you can't do that if you’re dead.”

You let out a shaky exhale before rubbing your face, nodding softly.

“What do you want to do?” you asked softly.

“Just take us with you. We have a break in three days. You finished checking all the Calavera hideouts and places in America, so we need to go to Mexico,” he asked.

You nodded softly. He wrapped his arms around you for a moment, while you shut your eyes tightly, taking deep breaths.

“Thank you, Stiles,” you whispered.

He gave you a small smile, before leaving the loft.

---

“Oh, this is by far one of the worst ideas you’ve ever had, Stiles,” you walked alongside him, as the two of you made your way to the closed door, with guards standing in front of them.

“It’s not that bad,” he replied.

“I agree with (Y/N). It’s dumb and we’re going to die,” Lydia said.

“Well, I’d like to save all ‘death talk’ to all banshee predictions,” Stiles replied.

“I still can't believe I let you guys come with me,” you muttered, before standing in front of the guards.

They scanned the three of you before blocking the doors.

“Estamos aquí para la fiesta?” you asked. (We’re here for the party)

The guards shook their heads once more, remaining silent.

Stiles held up a car, with a skull symbol on it. They both nodded their heads, moving aside to let the three of you in.

---

After entering, the three of you stuck together. You noticed Severo pulling out a walkie-talkie, most likely alerting Araya of your presence.

You took a deep step, walking forward into the crowd of dancing teens, before making your way to the bar. One step closer to finding Derek.

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders as you clenched your jaw.

“How about a drink, (Y/N)?” you heard Severo’s voice as you let out a small breath.

“Consider it a thank you gift for dumping me in the woods instead of killing me,” the bartender put a shot of vodka in front of you.

“I didn't come here to drink. Now, where’s Araya?” you took out a bullet from your purse, with the Calavera logo on it, before dropping it into the shot cup.

“Come with me,” you three followed him to a back room, sitting down on a table, a few seconds before Araya entered.

“(Y/N), it’s good to see you again,” Araya walked in front of the three of you.

“We want Derek back,” you said.

You put 50 thousand dollars onto the table, stacking them up.

“For Derek,” you crossed your arms, sitting back in the chair.

“It wasn’t smart for you three to come alone,” Araya smirked.

“Wait a minute,” Stiles interrupted.

“Who said we came alone?”

---

“I don’t think you’re aware of the poor timing! You’re familiar with the dark moon, aren't you, (Y/N)?” she walked around you three slowly, keeping you uncomfortable and on edge.

“The part of the lunar phase where the moon is least visible on the sky,” you answered.

“But do you know what it means?” she asked.

“Some people say it's a time of reflection, or grief,” Lydia replied.

“Grief and loss, Mija. I wonder why, after suffering so much pain and loss, why do you risk it again for someone like Derek Hale?” she asked.

“Maybe we’re done with losing,” you rested your head on your hand, leaning your elbow on the armrest.

You heard Severo’s walkie-talkie going off, saying all the exits and entrances were clear, except for one.

“North? Are you clear?” Severo asked again.

“(Y/N), you guys can take 10 off the table,” Stiles pulled 10,000 off the table, before crossing his arms.

“I’m not playing games, Araya. Give him to us, now,” you could see Stiles staring at you uncomfortably, while your eyes glew purple.

“You can’t do anything to hurt us, Mija. I believe you’re familiar with a special herb, Hawthorn,” you dug your nails into your palm, feeling a sharp pain in your arm.

You saw a needle sticking out of it, while you quickly pulled it out.

“What the hell was that?!” you yelled.

She aimed a gun at your leg, before shooting while you yelled out.

“(Y/N)!” Lydia yelled.

“Run! Both of you!” you fell to the ground, trying to push yourself up as you whimpered softly.

---

You slammed your fist against the door, yelling out in anger.

You could feel the rest of the pack giving you a look of concern, while you sat on the floor, with a ripped part of your shirt tied against your leg. You refused to let anyone heal you.

“Maybe we should…” Stiles started.

“Shut up, Stiles,” you spat.

“I was just trying to…” he started.

“Patentibus,” your eyes glew purple as you punched the door as hard as you could, only hurting yourself as it remained shut.

“As soon as we get out of here, you guys are going straight back to Beacon Hills,” you said.

“We’re not leaving you-”

“You kinda don’t have a choice,” you turned to face them.

“We should make a run for it,” Malia suggested.

“Well, we can’t leave Lydia,” Stiles said.

“Yeah, we can. We can leave (Y/N) too,” you looked slightly offended, raising an eyebrow.

“If you were still a coyote, is that what you’d do?” Kira asked her.

“(Y/N)'s injured. So yes, I would leave her. Lydia's probably gone by now too,” Malia replied.

Yeah, I can see the resemblance to Peter now

You heard the door open, as Severo pointed a gun at you.

“Come with us. You and the alpha,” he said, grabbing your arm before pulling you up harshly.

Scott obeyed, while he followed you out.

---

The restraints pulled at your wrists while you sat on the chair, your back to Scott’s.

“What are they gonna do to us?” Scott asked you.

“I don’t know yet. Just give me a minute to figure out how to get out of this,” you sighed, leaning your head back slightly.

“Can’t you use your magic?” Scott whispered.

“Don’t you think I already thought of that?”

“Well… can't you?”

“No, Scott, I can't. The bullet she shot at me was covered with Hawthorn ash, not enough to kill me but definitely enough to the point I can’t use magic. Can’t you use your alpha powers?” you asked.

“These handcuffs are metal,” he replied.

“This isn't how I like to be tied up,” you muttered softly.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you heard the door open, while Araya’s men pooled into the room, while Severo had his hand on Kira’s arm.

Lydia was bought in, sitting at the chair next to you and Scott.

“What the hell are you doing, Araya?” you raised your voice, in panic as you frowned.

“Just a small test, Mija. We’re asking you a few questions. You answer you’re safe, you don't, you get electrocuted,” she shrugged.

“I thought I could put it past you to hurt children, clearly not!” you yelled.

“Turn the dial up to one, Kira,” Araya turned to her.

“W-What? No,” Kira panicked, taking a step back before Severo held her hand against the dial.

“If you don’t, then we’ll electrocute Lydia,” Severo spat.

You knew Lydia wouldn't recover as fast as you and Scott.

“Don’t hurt Lydia,” you shook your head, looking at Kira.

Tears welled up in her eyes before she looked at Scott.

“I-It’s okay. Just do us,” Scott nodded his head softly.

You felt the electric current coursing through your skin as you clenched your teeth together, trying to save Araya from the satisfaction of hurting you. You could hear Scott yelling out in pain.

This was gonna be fun.

---

“Tell me! Who actually has Derek?! Who has a reason?! A vendetta against the Hales?!” Araya yelled.

“We don’t know!” you yelled out.

“You haven't figured it out yet! Who! Think, (Y/N), Scott! You know!” she yelled.

“Tres,” Kira turned up the dial, while you yelled out, feeling your sight go dizzy.

“Who turned?! A shapeshifter! Someone who could have turned without you knowing! By a scratch! Not a bite!” she yelled.

She put her hand on the dial, about to raise it again as you shut your eyes tightly.

The only people who were scratched were you and Kate. Jackson was a werewolf now, he didn't matter.

You let out a small gasp of realization. But it couldn't be Kate. She was dead, and had been for a while. Unless she healed.

She was scratched, (Y/N)

“Who is it?!” she yelled, turning the dial all the way up.

“Kate!” you yelled out, before you fell unconscious, leaning against Scott.

“(Y/N)!”

---

“Oh my god,” Scott helped you up, as you groaned, opening your eyes.

“Holy crap. A-Are you okay?” you asked him.

“I’m fine, I’m basically healed. You?” he asked.

“I feel like shit. But it doesn't matter, we know who has Derek now,” you limped, while Scott has his arm on your shoulder, walking out with you.

“She’s just letting us go?” you asked skeptically.

“Yes, I am,” she walked to the two of you.

“I sent four men to where Kate was rumored to be. None of them returned,” Araya explained.

“I have to… what’s your game? First, you torture us for some she-wolf, and then for Kate Argent. Now you’re just letting us go. Why?” you asked.

“Peter is the only one who knows who and where La Loba is, Mija. I want Kate dead as much as you do, and I knew you wouldn't believe me,” she explained.

You scoffed slightly, before grunting.

“I have a guide who will lead you and your friends to the place where Kate is,” Araya said.

The two of you walked away from her, heading to Stiles and the rest of the pack.

“Oh, look, we have matching scars,” you smirked slightly.

“Not funny,” Scott scoffed, hiding his smile.

Stiles wrapped his arms around you two.

“Did you wish you came alone now?” Stiles teased.

“Shut up, Stilinski,” you rolled your eyes.

“I see being tortured put you in a better mood,” Stiles said.

“Let’s just get Derek, okay?”

“Do you even know what you're gonna say to him?” Scott asked.

“What do you mean?” you frowned.

“Your big ‘I love you and I can’t breathe without you’ confession,” Stiles asked.

“I’ll punch you in the throat, right now,” you started.

“He’s joking. We’re closer to finding Derek and that's what matters,” your smile faded slightly, while worry took its place.

Kate was alive, and she had Derek. What was she doing to him?

You heard a motorcycle engine rev, before seeing a woman in leather taking off her helmet. Your jaw dropped in amazement, recognizing her.

“Nice to see you again, Braeden,” you said, walking over to her.

“(Y/N), you’re riding with me. We’re going to La Iglesia,” after the first time Araya captured you, Derek, and Peter, you were sure to always keep in touch with Braeden, keeping her especially close the past two months.

“Did you also know that Kate had Derek? And where they were?” she threw you a helmet as you walked to her.

“I got a job from Araya yesterday to take you. If I knew anything I would've told you,” she replied.

You nodded your head, getting on her motorcycle.

“Let’s go then.”

---

“Look at the sun, we don't have time for this,” Braeden pointed out.

Stiles’ jeep had decided to break down in the desert, on your way to La Iglesia. The sun was going down, and it was never safe to be out in the desert at night.

You paced around slightly, becoming more and more worried as you bit your nails.

“What are we supposed to do?” Scott asked.

“M-Maybe we should just split up,” you said.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked.

“Me and Braeden can go to La Iglesia and get Derek. The rest of you can stay here and try to fix the jeep,” you said.

“Are you crazy? No,” Stiles shook his head.

“Stiles, we are way too close t-to just give up,” you hadn't noticed your eyes water slightly.

“We’re not giving up,” Scott agreed.

“(Y/N), you’ve basically been suicidal these past few months! W-What if Kate does something to you? What if you don't come back?” Stiles’ voice lowered slightly.

“We’ll be fine, Stiles. I’m not stopping now,” you shook your head.

“Look, how about me, (Y/N), and Braeden go? Stiles, just stay here and fix the jeep, okay?” Scott said.

After a moment of argument between Stiles and Scott, then Scott and Kira, the three of you made your way to Braeden’s motorcycle.

“This is probably going to be one of the most uncomfortable rides of your life. Ready?” she asked.

The two of you nodded your head, holding onto each other.

---

After entering the church, you held a flashlight in your hands, trying to look around carefully as you made your step further in. You stayed alert, on the lookout for Kate or anyone else that would be there.

You felt a weird sense rush over you, as you frowned slightly.

“What is it?” Braeden asked.

“I don’t know. I-I… It feels like Derek, but it's not,” you said.

You heard footsteps behind you three, as you tensed.

“Run.”

You ran farther down into the church, following Braeden and Scott while you heard something growl behind you.

Braeden pushed you and Scott behind her, holding her shotgun as she fired at the creature. You could hear it growling, only getting madder.

“Ruina,” your eyes flashed purple, as the walls around you three collapsed onto the floor, blocking you off from the creature.

You turned around, seeing some sort of crypt with a logo on it.

“The Nagual jaguar god. I think we found Derek,” Braeden looked up at you.

You let out a shaky breath, before running your fingers through your hair. Tears began forming in your eyes as you placed your hand onto the crypt. You felt dead, scared of what you would see, whether or not Derek was there, whether or not he was okay.

“Intermissum,” you pushed on the crypt, while it broke open.

“Oh my god,” your eyes widened.

“That's not Derek,” Scott frowned.

“N-No… that's him,” you were in shock still, seeing Derek’s unconscious form laying inside.

Except he was 15 again.

“Derek?” you called out his name, getting no response.

You pulled him out of the crypt, while you and Braeden kept him standing up. His feet dragged in the ground, while you continued to look at him, shocked.

“He’s 15,” you said to Scott.

“What? How?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you shook your head.

“But I have a feeling we’ll be seeing Kate Argent again sooner than we want to.”

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