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aemondapologistfrfr · 4 months ago

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His Princess - Pt4

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Pt 1 Pt2 Pt 3

Summary: Vermithor accepts Ben as his rider and he takes to the skies with Silverwing. Y/n teaches him how to strengthen the bond and basic commands. A confession while Y/n gets into an argument with Baela and Jace.

Warnings: 18+ swearing, oral (m receiving), bathing, fingering, p in v, L word, very short snippet of Jace and Baela in Harrenhal

Authors Note: them riding the bonded dragons together is my roman empire rn, why shouldn’t riding bonded dragons cause a little bit of hot tension between these two?

Word Count: 5.6k

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

I study Ben’s features as I look at him in the early morning light. He’s sleeping so peacefully and I can’t help but think about what will happen shortly. He’s brave and fearless and absolutely fucking reckless and I’m hoping these traits will attract Vermithor. He’s been dwelling in the depths of the pits only emerging for food and Silverwing and just maybe he’ll come out for Ben. I straddle Ben and lean down to his neck.

“Wake up, Ben.” I whisper in his ear as my hair curtains around us. He slowly opens his eyes as they start to focus on me.

“Beautiful,” his voice gravely from sleep as he reaches up to kiss me while his hands travel up my legs on either side of him.

“Serve me,” I murmur softly as I kiss him once more.

“Serve me?” he pulls back breathing heavily.

“Very good, it means serve me.” I hum as I kiss him once more.

“Obey me,” I whisper against his lips.

“Obey me,” he moves his head up as I sit back looking down to him.

“Obey me,” his breath catches at my words.

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” his eyes lock to mine at the familiar greeting.

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” Ben’s voice is steady and strong.

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” I nod my head to him.

He slowly starts to sit up as a smile begins to form across his face. He pulls me down to his lips as I gasp getting lost in him. He releases me and pulls me out of bed quickly. I shake my head at his enthusiasm, but his high energy will serve him well this morning. As we begin to dress I can feel his adrenaline pouring off of him.

We walk out of the castle and pick out plump cows before we begin to walk to the pits on the sands. He goes over the commands with me once again as we walk. On approach I hear Silverwings song coming from the depths. She slowly begins to emerge into the light and walk to me and Ben chirping creating a small sandstorm. Ben walks to her with a smile on his face.

“Hello, my beautiful Silverwing.” he smiles up at her as she pushes against his chest.

A smile spreads across my face at how truly magnificent it is that her and Ben have that connection. I don’t know how I didn’t see the signs earlier and shake my head at my panic last night. The pits begin to thunder as Vermithor reaches his claws out.

“Daughter,” Rhaenyras voice raised in panic as she starts down the walkway with the dragon keepers close on her heel.

“Stay back.” I shake my head raising my hands to them. If this is truly going to work it needs to be just us. He needs to show Vermithor no fear and that he doesn’t need a team of people to help him. I always believed it was the bravery and determination that enticed Silverwing.

Vermithors maw reaches out into the sun as his teeth glisten in its rays. His full head reaches out at his eyes narrow on the cattle. I walk to Ben’s side and grab his hand in mine. Silverwing surrounds us with her legs as Vermithor starts to fully emerge, his claws digging into the sand.

“Daughter, please,” Rhaenyras choked words come across barely audible over Vermithor and Silverwings grumbles and chuffs.

He approaches and towers high above us looking down curiously. Silverwing rises to his height and pushes her snout to his. Vermithor chuffs and turns his head huffing his breath down on us. He backs up and lowers his head to study us as Silverwings jaws rest over him.

“Hello, my fearsome Vermithor.” Ben’s words are laced with wonder and awe as he looks to Vermithor who tilts his head ever so slightly.

“Serve me, obey me,” he turns as his hand slips out of mine as he extends his hands out to Vermithors snout. “And I shall serve and obey you.” he speaks in the common tongue and bows his head.

Vermithor breathes out deeply as he looks to Silverwing before looking back down to Ben and me. His head lowers and he pushes his snout to Ben’s outstretched hands with a low groan. My breath catches as Ben’s head snaps up to Vermithor.

“You honor me, Vermithor.” he breathes out wildly as a smile spreads across his face.

Vermithor shuts his eyes as Ben begins to bravely pat along his neck. I can hear him whispering soft words of how fearsome and handsome he is as he walks around him. Ben comes back around the other side of his body as I stand there in awe. Ben stands back and looks up to him.

“I’ve brought you something, give me a moment.” Ben’s voice laced with adrenaline as he makes his way back to the cattle.

He collects the lead the cattle are tied to as he brings them to Vermithor. He grumbles out as Ben and I step further back as he scorches them. Silverwing stomps around us to feast with him. Once they’re done we walk up to them at a loss for words, I still can’t believe the events unfolding before me.

“Shall we fly?” I look to Ben and then up at the dragons.

“Can we? My fearsome Vermithor?” his eyes light up with excitement.

Vermithor grunts and dips down for Ben to mount. I shake my head as a laugh bubbles out of me in pure amazement. I nod to him as I mount Silverwing. I watch Ben settle into the saddle and secure the clips to him. Ben leans down whispering something to Vermithor. He shakes out his spine as he starts into a run. I watch shocked as I see Vermithor take to the skies for the first time in years.

Silverwing shoots us into the sky after them as she sings a song to Vermithor. He replies with his own grumbles as I see Ben wildly laughing atop him. My heart soars as I see Vermithor push them further and twist around in the sea. Silverwing chases after them and dips us in the water.

They fly wing to wing on the breeze around the island until they land outside the pits and walk us inside. I dismount and turn to watch Ben do the same. He pats Vermithor who grumbles and turns to go rest with Silverwing. Once they’re deep in the pits he turns to me with wide eyes.

“My fearsome Ben.” I smile to him breathlessly as he runs to me.

He pulls me into a feverish kiss and his arms hold me tight. I drink in his adrenaline as we consume each other. Rhaenyra and Daemon clear their throats from the doorway as we pull apart.

“Congratulations,” Rhaenyra shakes her head in disbelief as she looks to both of us.

“You’re actually fucking mad.” Daemon chuckles nodding his head to Ben in approval.

“How was it? How do you feel?” I look to him with adoration holding his face and looking him over.

“It was amazing,” Ben shakes his head. “I feel,” he’s at a loss and I know exactly what’s going through his mind. The power and the connection are still so fresh and coursing through him.

“Go rest off the adrenaline. We can begin lessons later.” she smiles and looks relieved.

“Thank you, Rhaenyra.” Ben lowers his head as his hand grabs mine.

It feels as if there’s pure electricity flowing between us. I pull Ben back up to my chambers and seal the doors behind us. I walk to him as his hands pull me against him. I look up to him in absolute amazement as I offer him a blinding kiss. I pull away breathless before I drop to my knees before him.

“I am in awe of you,” my words barely a whisper as I look up to him. “Benjicot Blackwood. Rider of Vermithor.” adoration dripping off of my tongue as my hands travel up his legs.

“Y/n,” my name sounds like a prayer as he caresses the side of my jaw while he looks down to me with dark eyes.

I reach up and begin to unlace his trousers while blinking up to him. I see his chest rapidly rising and falling as my hand slips below and curls around him. As I free him of his trousers I take in his red, leaking tip. I lick around his tip as my fingers dance around his length. I pull back and slowly lick along the underside from his base back up while keeping eye contact with him.

“Fuck Y/n,” he pants with flushed cheeks.

I swirl my tongue around him and slowly sink my mouth down. Whatever I can’t fit in my mouth I pump with a tight fist. I hear his breath coming out in pants above me as I speed my movements. I bring my other hand up to his balls and his hand tangles itself in my hair.

“Y/n, I’m gunna-” his words are cut off with a groan as I hum around him while pushing him to the back of my throat.

I moan as his hand pulls my hair while his hips shutter and I accept everything he gives me. I slowly move my mouth off of him and offer licks to his over sensitive tip until he pulls me back by my hair. I look up to him blinking innocently while his breathing begins to settle.

I rise up to him and kiss him softly. He grunts as I help him back into his trousers and begin to lace them back up. He pulls back as our breath continues to mingle. He lets out a low chuckle and I tilt my head to him.

“Come, let me fix your hair, my Princess.” he smiles kissing the side of my head before leading me to my vanity.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

As we enter the library Rhaenyra is sitting at the table looking over old texts. A smile spreads across her face when she notices our approach. We claim seats around the circular table and wait for her word.

“I must admit I’m still in shock.” she shakes her head at a loss. “I would like explain to you what it truly means to be a dragon rider, especially during times of war.” her words become serious and we sit up straighter.

“I’m willing to do whatever is needed.” Ben nods his head.

“I know you are no stranger to battle, but with dragons it’s different. You’ve seen the advantage they offer when they’re on your side.” she nods to me. “But if you find yourself up against another dragon it will be one of the most petrifying moments of your life, if not the last.” her eyes look off as she tries to blink back tears.

My mind drifts to Luke at this line of talk. Arrax was just a baby and Luke just a boy. I understand Jaces motives, but in those first days I was thankful he was away in the North to escape my rage. My hand reaches out to hers and she offers me a sad smile before she solidifies herself and starts again.

“It will never be my want to send dragons to battle other dragons, but as of late it seems my wants are simply that: wants. Y/n will be able to assist you with learning how to control and channel emotions during high tense situations. Vermithor is very formidable and with him at Silverwings side,” she shakes her head. “You both may save us yet.” her eyes look between us.

“We will see you sit the throne.” I nod my head to her, my words a promise.

“I have had books pulled that I think will help offer assistance in learning High Valyrian. I’ve also had them bring out Visenyas old lessons in hopes that they can offer more insight. Y/n is very smart, use her knowledge to your advantage, learn everything you can from her.” she rises from the table and places her hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Thank you, Ben.” she nods her head to him and leaves us to studying.

“So you’re going to be my teacher?” he turns to me licking his lips.

“I hope you’re ready. My lessons are very rigorous.” I hum as I get up to reach across the table to grab a book.

“What do I get if I do well?” his voice low as his hands travel to my backside as I’m bent over the table.

“Benjicot Blackwood.” I scold grabbing his wrist roughly. “You will get nothing if you don’t stay focused.” I hiss as he smiles at my tinted cheeks.

“I feel like you could come up with a more creative punishment.” he whispers into my ear once I claim my seat once more.

I huff and glare at him with a fierce blush. I push a book into his lap and I leave the table to go find him more helpful books and parchments. As return I see that he has actually begun to read the book I gave him and I place more items at his side. I sit across from him and begin to look through what’s before me and begin to jot down important points.

He continues to read for an hour while I write down notes. I peek at him every once in a while as he looks through the scattered parchments around him. His eyes look up and lock with mine before I look away as I feel a blush creep up my neck.

“My love,” his low words caress my ears as my eyes shoot to his.

“My love,” my words barely a whisper.

“My love, when you blush like that it makes it hard for me not to tease you.” My cheeks heat even more to my distress. “Translate it, please.” he smirks to me.

“My love, when you blush like that it makes it hard for me not to tease you.” I look to him for him to repeat it. He doesn’t much to my frustration and I fume. “If you’re done torturing me, I have some notes I’d like to share with you.” I clear my throat as he leans back in his chair smiling to me.

“Of course, my Princess.” he looks over to me his focus attuned to my words and the knowledge I’m bestowing onto him.

“There are many commands that I would prefer to focus on before general speach. Vermithor can feel your intentions and feelings when you speak to him and pat him. I would rather you know what to say when flying than when you’re bringing our dragons food.” I look over my list of important commands and offer it to him.

“I can keep this?” he asks while scanning over the list.

“Yes, of course. Although, I should hope you would remember them and not pull out a piece of parchment mid flight.” A smirk plays on my lips.

“I shall study dutifully, but I can multitask if needed.” he folds the piece of paper slipping it into his pocket with a sly smile.

“Another important piece of information to keep in mind is that your emotions are deeply connected and not just when you’re flying together. Over time you’ll be able to feel it more intensely as you build trust and boundaries. A dragon is not a horse and will not tolerate being treated as one. Vermithor chose you and you must rise to the title he has appointed you.” I study him as he absorbs and listens to every word I speak.

“I shall be the rider he sees me as.” He nods his head and I can feel the confidence pouring off of him from across the table.

“You’ve become one of the most powerful men in the realm today.” I stroke his growing ego because the look suits him.

“I am yours first.” his words float around my heart.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Over the last fortnight Ben has learned an astonishing amount. He has his commands committed to memory and begun to focus on learning the language now. We take our dragons out flying everyday along the coasts and float on the breeze around the stoney island in the moonlight.

Tonight we flew for hours under the stars as our dragons sang to each other. As our boots touch the sand Ben twirls me into the moonlight. We dance together using the waves as our music. He holds me tightly as we continue to sway.

“You look the most divine in the moonlight.” Ben extends his arms so he can look me over.

We stroll into the castle he grabs my hand with his. I’ve been so happy and free lately that it’s hard for me to face the reality that Ben and I are going to be sent back to Harrenhal in the morning. Rhaenyra thinks it’ll be best to send us further from the Crownlands so they don’t see we’ve gained a new rider.

“Thank the Gods,” I sigh as I see my bath still streaming.

I begin stripping off my gear as Ben follows chuckling. He helps me remove the rest of my clothing before helping me dip into the bath. He pulls up a stool next to the tub to keep me company and offers me soaps and oils. He lathers soap into a cloth and offers it to me. I smile as I hold my arm and look to him.

He chuckles grabbing my arm and begins to clean me. His rough hands scrape against my skin as he tries to keep his touch light. He outstretches his hand for my other arm and I happily raise it for him. He moves around the bath and continues to clean. His hands dip into the bath to clean my legs as I look to him with heavy lids.

Every time he trails the cloth up my thigh his fingers trail along my slit. I try to control my breathing and he starts on my next leg. I spread my legs as he chuckles lowly. His fingers linger on my core before he pulls them away again.

“Ben,” I whine frustrated.

“Yes, my Princess?” I whimper at his High Valyrian and his teasing fingers that continue on my legs.

“I need you,” I look to him with pleading eyes.

“I’m right here.” he chuckles as he pulls the cloth out of the water discarding it.

“You know what I mean,” I roll my eyes at his smirk.

“Mm, enlighten me.” he licks his lips.

I push him back with a wet hand and he topples off of the stool to the ground in a fit of laughter. I rise from the bath and find a towel and begin to dry myself off as he continues to giggle from the ground. I wrap the towel around myself and look down to him before he pulls himself up to tower above me.

He kisses my furrowed brow as I continue to glare at him. He chuckles lowly as he begins to pepper kisses across my face trying to get a reaction out of me. One of his hands lands on my back and pulls me against him.

“How long are you going to pout at me?” He kisses the side of my mouth before he starts to kiss my neck while it takes all my strength not to melt into his touch.

His hand on my back scrunches the towel in his fist and pulls it from my body. I shiver at the breeze and lean into his warmth. I feel him smile against my neck as his tongue dances along my pulse. His other hand makes its way to my wetness and I bite down on my lip not wanting to give him the satisfaction. His fingers swirl around my clit causing me to shutter.

“How does that feel?” he slowly pumps a finger into me as a whimper falls from my lips as I internally groan. “Yeah, does it feel good?” he purrs as his thumb circles my clit.

My hands fly to his arms and dig in for support. I rest my forehead against his chest as he adds another finger. He continues to slowly pump them into me as I breathe heavily. A moan falls from my mouth as he curls his fingers. I focus on my breathing until he starts roughly pounding his fingers into me.

“Fuck Ben, please,” I sob into his chest giving in. Whimpers fall from my mouth as my nails dig into his arms as his fingers continue. My hips grind against his hand seeking pleasure.

“Ben,” his name slips from my mouth as my thighs squeeze around his hand as pleasure flows through me. My breathing settles as my thighs spread to release his hand.

I look up to him and his lips smother mine. His tongue pushes its way into my mouth to slide against mine. My hands begin pulling off his clothes and he brings his own hands to help speed along the process. He pushes me softly back onto the bed and settles between my legs. He grinds against my wetness before sliding in.

He slowly pulls out and looks down to my squirming body. He dips back into me pulling a whine from my lips. My legs hook around his waist hoping he’ll start moving. I start to jerk my hips trying to get my own friction.

“Gods look at you,” he growls as he watches me with dark eyes.

His movements are quick as he flips us while staying inside. He helps me adjust my position so my knees are on the bed and I begin to ride him. His fingers dig into my hips as I grind and bounce against him. I toss my head back as my hands fly to my breasts and tease my nipples.

“You’re perfect,” he groans before he attaches his thumb to my clit.

A moan rips through me as my hips grind into his faster as I use him for my pleasure. His thumb quickens its ministrations and I explode around him. My hips shutter as he removes his thumb and brings it back to my waist. I lean down and capture his lips with mine as he begins to thrust up into me. I whine against his mouth as I clench around him.

“You always feel so good, my Princess.” he murmurs against my lips as he begins to chase his own pleasure. I burry my head in his neck as my hips move to meet his as pleasure begins tearing through me again. His hips falter as he settles inside of me with my name on his lips.

I roll off of him and cuddle into his side. He turns his head and kisses me tenderly. I sigh into his mouth as I get caught up in him once more. He pulls back chuckling and pulls the blankets over us.

“Rest, we have an early morning.” he kisses my forehead as I close my eyes.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Harrenhal Pov:

The Lords get jittery as the end of the week approaches as their proper commanders are due to return with news. Jace and Baela have been able to work alongside these Lords and their men. The host works seamlessly together and had no issue integrating Baela and Jace into their everyday routine.

“How do you think Y/n will be when they arrive tomorrow?” Jace bites his lip looking to Baela.

“I think you’ll be lucky if she doesn’t pull her sword on you.” Baela chuckles as she continues to pack her bag.

“Well he lived so I don’t see what the big issue is.” Jace sighs as he claims a chair by the window.

“Oh she’ll tell you the big issue.” Baela shakes her head at him.

“I’m actually quite excited to see Vermithor in all his glory. He’s fucking mad for even attempting to claim a dragon.” Jace tries to think of the last time he’s even laid eyes upon Vermithor.

“I can see why Y/n chose him.” Baela hums tossing her bag by the door.

“Can you?” Jaces tone playful as he raises his eyebrow at her.

“You think our sister wouldn’t want the man who is known as Bloody Ben? Who is crazy enough to ride on Silverwing? The man who has now claimed Vermithor? I wouldn’t be surprised if they came back married.” she surmises before tucking her self into bed.

“Mother would never allow it without us there.” he carries himself to the bed and pulls Baela against him.

“You truly think they would ask mother?” Baela giggles resting her head on his chest.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n pov:

Silverwing glides along the clouds as I coast my fingers through them. Ben and Vermithor fly below us always watching out for potential hosts. We were lucky not to encounter anyone on the way back to Dragonstone and I’m hoping we have the same luck this early in the morning.

I sigh in relief as the towers of Harrenhal come into view. Silverwing lands by Moondancer and Vermax while Vermithor circles the castle offering a low song. The towers crumble at the reverberations and he dips and thuds on the ground next to Silverwing. I look over to Ben who gives me a wicked grin. We both dismount and lug our bags with us.

“How was the flight?” I walk up to him as Silverwing and Vermithor brush each other’s snouts affectionately.

“Thrilling.” he looks down to me and offers me a soft kiss.

“Y/n!” I hear Jaces voice behind me.

“You can come save him in one minute.” I whisper against Ben’s mouth as he looks at me curiously before I turn on my heel.

I walk up to Jace and punch him in his face. I bring my other fist up but before I can land my second blow Ben pulls me back. I glare at Jace who is now cupping his face and I look to Baela wounded.

“How dare you both?” my words laced with hurt. “You could so easily lie to my face? You can see how deeply I care for him and you would so quickly have me fly him into a dragons mouth?” I look to them waiting for their answer.

“We couldn’t risk you running away with him. Not when we need you, sister.” Baela words are soft as she looks to me.

“A warning would’ve been nice. Even a hint. Not just oh mother wants to know how the host is and she wants to meet Ben.” I narrow my eyes at her and Jace.

“Well he’s obviously fine,” Jace drawls wincing as he touches his nose.

“He’s fine!” I tilt my head back and laugh. Ben is still holding on to my arm firmly still not trusting my temper. “Let me not forget that mother told me this was your idea.” anger radiates off of me.

“Daemon suggested Ben.” Baela interrupts trying to alleviate some of my anger directed at Jace.

“Another piece of information I was denied,” I shake my head at a loss. “We are not pawns you can move about a board. Give us the respect we deserve. We raised this host. We have been holding this castle for mother.” my voice rising with each word.

“We do respect you and care for you deeply.” Baelas eyes search mine.

“Then show it. Do not keep things from me that could put the man I love within The Strangers grasp.” Ben’s hand tightens around my arm and pulls me around towards him.

“Do you mean that?” Ben looks down to me.

“Ben one min-“ I go to turn back to my siblings.

“No, no,” he turns me back to him pulling my chin to look at him. “Do you love me?” my eyes lock onto his as I finally realize my words.

“I do,” I whisper as my cheeks redden.

“Make up with your siblings and send them on their way.” the promise of what comes after is laced through his words that he whispers to me. I turn to look to Baela and Jace who are smiling at me.

“I will hear your apology. Make it quick.” I purse my lips and Ben’s hand squeezes mine at my tone.

“I’m sorry my perfect and amazing sister. I’m sorry I made the man you love claim one of the best dragons.” I roll my eyes at his words and turn to Baela.

“I’m sorry we’re still lingering when I can tell you two would like to get to,” she clears her throat. “more pressing matters.” Jaces chuckles with her.

“Apologies accepted.” I nod my head. “I saw no hosts or dragons on the way here so you both should have safe travels home.”

They smile to me and come hug me as I groan. Jace shakes Ben’s hand and congratulates him. They offer us waves as their dragons chuff before shooting them into the sky.

“So you love me?” Ben looks down to me smiling widely.

“Do you love me?” I look up to him.

“I don’t know, I mean, I thought we were pretty casual.” my nostrils flare at his taunting words as he continues to smile at me.

“Benjicot,” I warn through my teeth.

“I have loved you for a while now,” pulls me to him shushing me.

“Well say it then.” I look up to him expectantly.

“I love you.” his eyes search mine.

I grab his hand and pull him after me back into the gates. As we try to rush through the main hall the Lords stop us and welcome us back. The energy between us is crackling and I have no idea how the Lords can’t see or feel it.

“Why is there another dragon here?” one of the Lords towards the back asks.

“I’ve claimed him.” Ben says looking to all of the Lords.

“You?” hushed murmurs spread throughout the hall.

“Yes, now if you’ll excuse us. We’ve had a long flight and would like to rest. We will have a meeting later.” He dismisses the Lords and pulls us up the steps to our chambers.

He seals the doors and stalks over to me. We pull each other’s clothes off in a rush, backing up in hopes of landing on the bed. A loud groan cuts through me as he walks me back into a table.

“Ow,” I whine clutching on to him.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out kissing me once more.

He lifts me up into the lip of the table and thrusts into me a moment later. The table groans against his rough pace as I whimper clinging to him. His lips kiss and bite across my neck as I toss my head back.

“I don’t know what it is,” Ben grunts as his hips continue to snap into mine.

“What?” the word is followed by a loud moan.

“All I want to do is fuck you, it’s all I think about lately.” he pants as his fingers dig into my hips.

I come undone at his words as I cry out his name. He continues to pound into me as my back thuds against the table. He reaches down to pinch my nipples. My hands rest over his wrists as he continues to pull and twist. My legs begin to shake around him as I explode feeling him fill me.

“Ben,” I whine pulling him down to me. I keep him against me as our breathing settles. When we finally pull apart we walk back to the bed with flushed cheeks.

“I know what you mean about what you said earlier.” my voice hushed as he crawls into bed after me.

“What?” he looks to me curiously.

“I think of you all day, like more than normal.” I feel my cheeks flush.

“Mm, what is the normal amount of times to think about me between your thighs?” he smirks.

“I’m sure it’s not every time I’m around you. I feel like it could have something to do with our dragons being so closely bonded as we are. I should send word to my mother to see if she can send books,” I ramble as he begins to chuckle.

“And tell her what? That you think about me fucking you too much?” he shakes his head laughing as his hands slide against my thigh.

“Ben,” I warn but it comes out more breathy.

“Really? That fast?” he teases me, continuing to ghost his fingers on my bare leg.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌

when this was supposed to be a one shot and now i’m sad at the thought of even finishing this fic 🥲

Part 5

#ben blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood smut #benji blackwood #benjicot x reader #benjicot blackwood #benjicot blackwood x reader #fancast bloody ben #bloody ben hotd #bloody ben smut #bloody ben x reader #hotd x reader #x reader imagine #x reader smut #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #bloody ben fluff

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thewickedspinster · 7 months ago

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Of Eternity (Thranduil x Reader)

pairing: Thranduil x F!Reader

synopsis: Thranduil and Y/N know each other from what seems like a past life; one that both would rather forget. Once secret lovers, hidden from the prying eyes of the Elvenking's court, the two elves' disagreements became too much, their opinions too divided. Y/N departed for Rivendell and sought shelter with her friend, Elrond. But when the Elvenking of Mirkwood comes to parlay with the Lord of Rivendell, he once again meets Y/N, and someone else who looks awfully familiar...

warnings: afab!Reader, pregnancy, elf children, war

Tathrenion = son of one willow-made

requested by @starlight5cat

Of Eternity

In Rivendell, the seasons turned as flowers bloomed; with a sudden burst of color against the greys of winter. They came and went quickly for elvenkind, rising and eddying like the tide, and with them came new wonders and sounds, new flavors. Song.

Y/N could hardly remember a time when her life was not dictated by these rhythms, when time was so magnified as to hear her own heartbeat, to watch the sunlight catch upon a dewdrop. Though, it was not so long ago she was in a place where seasons hardly touched, where time stood still and light lingered in honeyed moments. Where her breath raced in her body, and youth stretched into eternity. Where naïveté was all too familiar.

Here, she had more responsibility. Here, she was unequivocally welcome. When she had fled the confines of her life before in Mirkwood, where she had been daughter of a Ñoldor house descended from Fingolfin, and gone westward into the Misty Mountains, she had only hoped her old friend, Elrond, would grant her sanctuary. He welcomed her with open arms. Here, she sat on his council of advisors. Here, life was warm and full of light once more.

For a short time of twenty-odd years, there was peace east of the Misty Mountains. Though her cousin Galadriel could not believe it, it had appeared the dark servant of Morgoth named Sauron had been vanquished. The grey elves lived in peace with the sons of Durin and helped the wayward man, but kept to their forests and their mountains. All had seemed well, and with the protection of the haven of Rivendell, the darkness of old seemed unable to touch her.

Such comforts cannot last. Not so long as Morgoth and his fell creations plagued Arda.

As soon as word reached Rivendell of a darkness fallen upon southern Mirkwood, Elrond sought Y/N's counsel.

"You know the eastern forests well," Elrond said softly, guiding them both down towards the river. Water fell in a gentle curtain of silver ahead, glinting in the moonlight. "What sort of evil could cause these things?"

The pair ducked behind the waterfall, and the sound of rushing water hushed their voices. There hidden was an alcove, large enough for a small group, with cushions surrounding the burnt-out embers of a fire. Elrond had come here often in the early days of ruling Rivendell, and when Y/N had arrived, had brought her here in her most vulnerable moments.

"The Elvenking's Halls are to the north, but in my many wanderings, I went south," she answered, settling on the floor alongside Elrond. "Mirkwood is vast and its creatures untold, but I have never seen anything that would produce this sort of rot."

Elrond hummed, deep in thought. Elven and human messengers alike had been passing along rumors of dark creatures in the southern Mirkwood, things that walked on more than four legs, with slavering maws and the stench of evil surrounding them. Elves who more often ventured south returned with harrowing stories of voices, of song coming from the dark trees. The canopies had grown so thick that sunlight hardly reached the ground. Some had even reported sightings of Orcs.

"You know what this means," Y/N said, interrupting Elrond's reverie. "Galadriel was right. She was always right. We cannot know that Sauron is vanquished. We burned no body. Isildur brought no head. Only the Silmaril."

"There are no credible rumors of Morgoth's creatures, Y/N."

"There are," she insisted. "They have started calling this force 'The Necromancer.' This is no coincidence, Elrond. All evil in these lands comes back to Sauron. To Morgoth. So long as their discord remains, none of the children of Eru are safe."

Beyond his red head, with his noble face, the silvered water fell in sheets, dulling to a gentle sheaving. Waiting. When he raised his gaze, he said, "What would you have me do?"

Galadriel would have them go to war. Though she had grown less brash since the last age, she had grown no less desperate for Sauron's defeat. But Rivendell was a haven, a place of peace for wandering elves. She could not see amassing forces and marching to Mirkwood unaided. Besides, it was not Elrond's territory to march on.

"You know exactly what you must do, my friend," she said at last.

"You do not like him."

"What of it?"

"He is the reason you fled your home."

It was true enough, though it still gave Y/N pause. Mirkwood had been a home for long centuries, it was true. But before that, she had known the lushness of Beleriand, and the glory of Númenor. She would always be a wanderer. But the Elvenking of Mirkwood brought with him memories too fresh to be painless.

"He is the lord of Mirkwood, and should you wish to do anything at all about this rising evil, you must first confer with him," she said firmly. "Invite him here. Invite his entire court. They will leave Prince Legolas to guard the north, but Thranduil will come."

"I would have you by my side upon his reception."

Y/N caught the glimmer of ancient mischief in Elrond's eyes, and offered him a faint smile in return. "It would be an honor."

~~~

Word came within a fortnight that the Elvenking's party would embark on the Elf-path by the full moon. This gave the people of Rivendell little time to prepare, but showed Elrond and his council how dire circumstances were in Mirkwood.

As Y/N stood at Elrond's side on the dais before the sweeping steps to the city, she knew that in this matter, as all others, that Thranduil would be stubborn, cunning, and seemingly omniscient. It was in his power as king to appear so to his people. But Y/N, he could not fool. She and Elrond would simply need maneuver with tact, to force Thranduil into showing his hand.

In the distance, the royal traveling party rounded a bend and came into view, the Elvenking in his raiment of grey and silver astride his great antlered steed. From here, Y/N could feel his piercing gaze upon them, focusing on her at the Lord of Rivendell's side. Robed in rich, dark green against Elrond's golden raiment, Y/N stood tall. A circlet of gold sat upon her brow, and in it, an opal enshrined. Befitting of her station, she stood to Elrond's left, his wife Celebrían to his right.

Y/N had known true fear in the face of evil, yet facing the Elvenking of Mirkwood after these twenty years turned her chest cold. She could never fear him - she knew him too well, but that was just the problem. They shared a deep past of friendship, of love, forbidden though it may have been. And pain, at the last. Since their parting, she had, for the first time, lived many secrets that she kept from him still.

The party finally arrived at the dais, the great reindeer's feet clapping against the stone as thunder. The Elvenking dismounted, stepped before Elrond, and inclined his head.

"Lord Elrond of Rivendell, you honor me with your great hospitality," he said formally, the Sindarin tongue rolling like quicksilver from his mouth. "And Lady Celebrían, thank you for welcoming my host into your household."

Elrond, Y/N, and the council assembled bowed to the king.

"We are pleased you answered our invitation," Elrond replied, his tone, as ever, one of deliberate lightness, as if he knew something no one else did. "How long shall you stay?"

"A week," Thranduil said shortly. Finally, finally, his silvered eyes shifted to Y/N. She breathed in deeply. "There are matters to attend to in Mirkwood."

"I do hope Prince Legolas is well," she said softly, smoothly.

Thranduil looked momentarily surprised she'd spoken, his eyebrows drawing together at the sound of her voice. "He is taking to his responsibilities well."

A moment of silence passed. The river roared below. Then, Celebrían was taking gesturing towards the king, leading him away into the great wood house of Rivendell.

Formal greetings complete, the rest of the crowd quickly dispersed, and elves moved swiftly in preparation for the feast prepared in the king's honor. Soon, only Elrond and Y/N remained. She watched the sun setting over the vale, eyes fixed on the rushing waters surrounding.

"Will you tell him?" Elrond asked, voice so quiet only she could hear.

"How could I?" Y/N whispered. She felt her fingers tremble.

"It is unfair to -"

"You shall not tell me what is fair or unfair, Elrond," Y/N whirled, suddenly furious. "You know not what it is to have my fears."

Elrond held up his hands. "I only wish to say that truths are better spoken. Deception is the chaos-sower."

"It will put him in danger."

"It will give him power."

"A curse," she hissed. "A bounty upon his head."

"Or a crown."

She stared at her friend, stunned. "You do not mean that."

Elrond only watched her in return.

With no words left between them, Y/N turned and disappeared into the house, bracing herself for the week to come.

~~~

It was the fourth day of the accursed sessions of counsel, and Thranduil had still not admitted there being any disturbance in Mirkwood. He spoke on matters of trade, of agriculture, of relations with Khazad-Dûn, but nothing of the murmurs from the Sutherlands.

Y/N was beginning to lose her patience.

Elrond, blessedly, had more of it to spare. Ever the diplomat, he listened to Thranduil's concerns and complaints of their relations, and constructed plans to fix them. Ever the master of compromise, he kept Rivendell's secrecy and best interests at heard. Ever the more patient of the two, he kept prodding the Elvenking towards revealing his secrets, to no avail.

Y/N sat, posture relaxed, around the dais at the center of Elrond's pubic chambers. The elves around her deliberated, debated, while she kept her mouth closed. As Elrond's chief advisor, her primary duty was to listen. She interjected when Elrond looked to her, and when someone said something entirely ludicrous. Elves tended to take a laboriously long time to come to any sort of agreement in politics, and were reasonable to the point of boredom. Y/N's engagement had thus far been minimal, though she heard all.

They had turned to the topic of weapons, and of Rivendell's protection. They were inching closer to the topic at hand, but she knew Thranduil had a deep well of patience, particularly when it came to dealing with elves. The high noon sun blazed down on the white marble.

"How have you fared in the training of your ranks?" Thranduil inquired, sipping at a goblet of honeywine.

"The archers excel, under the tutelage of Sindarin masters," Elrond said. "The swordsmen, under that of the Ñoldor. Khazad-Dûn has agreed to provide us with weapon designs, and with materials to forge them. Durin is all too happy to help an old friend."

Thranduil scoffed lightly into his cup. "Old friend, indeed."

Y/N sat up straighter at the tone, the scoff. She had heard it many times. "Prince Durin has provided us with an excellent relationship over the years. He is a close friend to Rivendell."

Thranduil looked at her, through her, in her. Before her mind's eye flashed his face, poised over her, abed. Soft candlelight shone from beyond his features, and his face was softened into the loveliest of smiles. Gone in an instant.

Just then, lithe footsteps from just inside, and bursting from behind the curtains came three elven children, small and laughing. A maid reached out, trying to snatch them by their tunics, but too late. They sprinted into the circle, and straight up to Elrond.

"Father, we would like to go the Gates," one boy panted. Elrohir.

"Apologies, Father," the other interjected, suddenly serious. Elladan, his twin. "I told him not to come."

"Our swordmaster is at the Gates, and asked us to join him," the third explained. Y/N sat forward, staring down at the boys.

"Tathrenion," she said severely, hiding the quake to her voice, "you know not to enter this chamber when Lord Elrond is taking counsel."

The third boy, unlike the other two, with (Y/HC) hair and striking grey eyes, paled, bowing to Y/N. Even when he straightened, he kept his eyes averted. "Forgive me, Mother. Elladan and Elrohir wished to go, and I wished to accompany them."

It was only then, as the boys turned to glance around at the present company, that Elrond spoke.

"You are in the presence of Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood."

Shuffling, with a soft gasp from Elrohir, the three boys bowed low to the king. Thranduil said nothing for a moment. Instead of on the children, his eyes were pinned on Y/N, wide with unbridled shock. When he finally did look at the boys, at the one called Tathrenion, he found his own eyes staring back, steady and calm.

Thranduil stood abruptly, setting down his goblet. He opened his mouth, closed it, then said, "We shall eat. Elrond, you shall decide what to do with your sons."

He swept off the dais, out of view, and Y/N was left staring at the spot he once occupied.

"Go after him," Elrond murmured to her, leaning close.

"Tathrenion-"

"Leave the child to me." And an unspoken promise to keep her son safe.

Y/N was up in an instant, following in Thranduil's wake as quickly as possible. But he was moving fast, and kept dodging out of sight, around corners that he did not know. Servants moved out of the way as Y/N passed through an adjoining kitchen at a sprint, intercepting Thranduil as he rounded the corner into the next room.

She caught him by his elbow as he tried to pull from her grasp, but she held firm.

"Thranduil," she said. "Stop. Just... Stop. And listen."

His rage made his jaw tight, his brows drawn low. "I will not stand here and listen to you when you have -"

"I had to leave," she interrupted, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "I could not be your concubine, Thranduil. I would not."

He scoffed, that same sound he made when he thought someone foolish. Beneath him. It hadn't started this way, but as they fell deeper into each other, he'd started scoffing at her the same way. It was part of what drove Y/N away from Mirkwood. "You were not a concubine, Y/N."

"Then tell me what I was to you."

Thranduil bent lower, so their faces were inches apart. "You know exactly what you were to me."

"I know that I was not your wife." And that was venom in her tone, sour and deadly.

A shadow passed over his features. "You were everything she was not."

"And that makes me whore to a king."

"You have never been a whore!" He shouted.

The surrounding house went quiet. Y/N trembled, fingertips numb.

"Tathrenion is your son," she said lowly, practically hissing into his mouth. "Your son, Thranduil. Our place in Rivendell is of your doing. You never recognized what it was to be in my place, with no guarantee of my safety in your court."

"I always would have protected the both of you."

Tears gathered in her eyes. "Our love felt increasingly fragile. I doubted that it even existed any longer. Had we been found out, I doubted you would protect me from exile."

Thranduil was quiet. The house had moved on from his sharp outburst, exhaling as his anger passed. Y/N's grip loosened on his tunic, her truth spoken. But her touch lingered.

"Did you know?" He murmured hoarsely.

"Not when I left your halls. Not until I reached the Misty Mountains."

"And all... went well? With the birth?"

Elven births were rare, and dangerous for mother and child. "Blessedly, Elrond's midwives and healers some of the most gifted, and I healed swiftly. He was born squalling."

He loosed a soft breath, and some of the tension left his features. He had always been beautiful, but it was when he was away from prying eyes that he truly became ethereal. Radiant. Himself.

"You should always have been in Mirkwood, with me." She just looked up at him. "I am sorry, my Y/N. I never meant to make you afraid."

"It is safer for both of us away from you and Legolas."

Thranduil snorted. "My son has proven impertinent. And lacking the character to succeed me."

"He will mature," she said softly. "He is young still."

"He will have to fight soon."

"Then this Necromancer..."

"Is a threat. Whatever darkness lurks in the south of my lands, it is dangerous and spreading."

"Tell Elrond," she urged. "He wishes to aid any fight against Morgoth's darkness in these lands."

"My forces are strong."

"They will be stronger with Rivendell's. Don't let your pride cloud your judgement."

At that, a small smile graced his mouth. "That has always been your advice for me."

"It will always stand. Unless you change."

"Would you come home?"

The question surprised her. "You would have us? So soon after the death of your wife?"

"I would have your company," he said. "And I would have my son raised by the both of us."

Y/N did not have an answer, and she was about to say as much when a smaller voice said, "I would like to go to Mirkwood."

Y/N whipped around, and found young Tathrenion standing behind them. She took a large step away from Thranduil, then lowered herself to her son's level, steeling herself.

"What did Lord Elrond tell you and the twins?" She asked.

"He said we may go to the Gates, but I decided to stay behind." Tathrenion peered past Y/N, to the Elvenking. "I wished to speak with you."

Thranduil could hardly stomach looking at his son's face, the very reflection of his own, untouched by age yet full of a strange wisdom. "Speak, child."

"I know little of why my mother left your kingdom, but I know she has done everything since for my sake. Please, do not ply her with false hopes. If you invite us to Mirkwood, you pledge to keep her safe."

"And you," Thranduil answered immediately. "I will protect you both, and welcome you into my household in places of honor."

Y/N was speechless, her throat swollen around pride for her young son.

"I know you not, Your Majesty, but I would like to," said Tathrenion simply.

Thranduil smiled.

Y/N sent him on his way, leaving her alone once again with the Elvenking. This time, he reached out to her, and against logic, she stepped into him, leaning into his fingers upon her cheek. She had longed for his touch, his kiss, his steadfastness ever since she left the forest. Leaving Mirkwood had been one of the hardest decisions of her long life.

"Let us think about this," she whispered. "And let these diplomatic matters be done first. Speak to Elrond in earnest."

"I will wait for your return to my side, Y/N," he murmured. "I have been waiting since the moment you left."

~~~

Dappled sunlight shone down upon the glade, lighting the page Y/N read. It was a letter, signed in Elrond's familiar hand, detailing the phalanxes marching towards Mirkwood. They would join Thranduil's army in patrolling for evil in the south, just as they had hoped.

Amongst the trees, a young boy laughed, and an older one hollered. Legolas was nearly fully mature, but had taken to playing with his younger half-brother in earnest. Together, they romped through the forest, and Tathrenion adored having someone elder to look up to and learn from. He excelled in archery, now, thanks to Legolas's tutelage.

A hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her backwards, and she fell upon Thranduil's chest. He was stretched upon the grass, feline at ease. She luxuriated in the feel of his body against hers, in his fingers in her unbound hair. In his mouth, pressed to her shoulder.

She had refused to take him to bed since her return, but she had begun to let him back into her heart. He had honored his word, and the loss of his wife had left him in need of comfort, in need of counsel and a tender hand.

Besides that, over honeywine in the candlelight one night in Rivendell, he had finally told her he loved her. Words were the playthings of elves, and though they meant little to some, they meant everything to Y/N. She opened up visions of the future that had ere been clouded.

"Of what do you think, my love?" Thranduil breathed against her skin.

She came back to the dampness of the grass beneath them, the golden green of the canopy above, the laughter of her son in the distance. The warmth of her king at her back.

She smiled. "Eternity."

#thranduil x reader #lotr #the hobbit #the silmarillion #fanfic #f!reader #please be kind this is my first fic

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

Note

Animangus reader x Remus where she is a cat and while he sits in the common room asleep on his lap while he readers and Sirius comes in and stops the cat immediately with a "what is that?" In disgust. When Remus responds "a cat?" Padfoot is immediately barking at her and she startals awake digging her nails into Remus before she jumps on top of a book shelf and transforms back and I stuck up there throwing a book at Sirius.

Sirius Black's voice is, perhaps, never melodic, but it's far more grating than usual today when the man stops dead in the doorway and demands to know, "What is that?"

Remus glances up at him, then down to his lap where Sirius's eyes are locked, finding only your little cat form curled up and dozing.

"A cat." Remus blinks, uninterested until he realizes that his explanation hadn't been enough to de-escalate Sirius. Apparently, he should have notified him that you are not just a cat, but that you are, in fact, his girlfriend. Sirius isn't aware of your animagus abilities yet, and before Remus can stop him, he's transforming into his own animal counterpart.

"Sirius, no-!" Remus tries, but it's too late. He finds that dogs' paws are far less gentle and comforting than cats' paws are, only when there are four of them jabbing into his thighs and torso as Sirius vaults into his lap. Fortunately, you'd escaped the dog's snapping maw, but you'd startled awake with a yelp and jumped onto the bookcase behind Remus's head, which means that you're now sleep-deprived, terrified, and stuck.

"Pads," Remus sighs despondently as the dog braces his front two paws on Remus's shoulder to bark up at you. Your back is arched and you're yowling down at Sirius, until you manage to scramble to the top of the bookshelf and find yourself on a steady surface. You have space to transform back now, and you do so while perched precariously atop the bookshelf, eyes just as sharp and unnerving as they were in your cat form when you glare at Sirius.

"You stupid mutt," You accuse, "I just wanted to nap!"

Now Remus has a lapful of Sirius, fur giving way to pale skin and messy black locks. He glares rather unimpressed at his best friend, but Sirius pays him no mind, gaping up at you where you balance on the top of the bookshelf.

"You're an animagus!" He realizes, and you scoff at his inspiring observational skills.

"Well done, Sirius" You sneer, "I didn't know becoming a dog animagus meant you'd retain the same intelligence level even as a human."

"Dogs are very smart," Sirius muses, unphased, "I didn't know you were an animagus!"

"That's because you were too busy collecting sticks beneath your bed," Remus grumbles, pushing at Sirius's chest, "Come on, Pads, off."

"Alright, alright," Sirius whines, pitching himself rather dramatically off of Remus's lap and offering a hand to you where you're still balanced on the bookshelf, "Here, Y/N, jump off this way."

"Absolutely not!" You vow, then with a whirl of limbs and fur, reside in a cat's body once more. Sirius watches as you bat a paw at his outstretched hand, then leap gracefully back into Remus's lap, hissing warningly at him before curling up once more to doze.

"Prissy," Sirius scoffs, and Remus juts out a gentle hand to stroke along your back when you look like you might leap at him. You're placated enough, for the time being, and Sirius stalks away to busy himself with something, hopefully homework but probably his aforementioned stick collection.

"Well I suppose the cat's out of the bag now," Remus muses, a sound between a laugh and a grunt managing to escape his lips when you dig your claws into his jeans at the poor joke, "Alright! Alright, sorry. But don't let him bother you, darling, okay?" Remus strokes a finger between your ears and grins when they twitch, "He's just a dumb dog."

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin one-shot #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin dialogue #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin headcanons #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin hc #remus lupin hcs #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you

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naffeclipse · 8 days ago

Text

Gifts

Reader x Mermaid!Eclipse

Commission Info

Thank you so much to @counterbalance for requesting a darling fic about Y/N and Mer Eclipse learning about gift-giving and then properly celebrating Christmas together! This was a delight to write and I'm always happy to return to Soul Bound to the Astral Sea AU <3

Content Warning: Light angst.

———

Tonight, for once, you find it difficult to drift off into dreams. It’s hardly been an issue before. In the night, while you rest, you visit your dear friend—a figment of him. A memory replaying the last tattered pieces of your home like a wind-torn sail.

The familiar ache in your heart does not rest. It is a machine, a relentless, chugging engine that does not know what time of day or energy you have to give, it goes on hurting, wondering about the little mer you held in your arms within the shelter of the cove. Where has he gone? Is he safe? Is he growing as big as you dream of?

You calm your breaths. Sliding your eyes close despite the lack of heaviness, excitement clings to your fingertips and toes.

You’re not a child. Not anymore, but you’re not grown enough to be seen as an adult. Vanessa looks and acts like an adult. The adults talk to her like she is one. She kind of is. You think she’s serious enough to be one, anyway.

A teenager. That’s what you are. Neither baby nor adult. It’s frustrating at times when you’re so furiously captured within a body that has begun puberty but you’re still inclined to have a joy in things the little kids enjoy as well.

Fighting your jumping anticipation, you shift once under the scratchy covers. Go to sleep. Go to sleep.

The mantra works over you, and draws you down, down, down into a dark depth with no sun, only stars.

The black space is as peaceful as a day with no wind. The stars glittering around you are distant and far, watching you with a cool awareness. You float with no power to propel yourself through the inky sea you float within, and you wait.

He does not leave you alone for long.

Brilliant orange light pierces the darkness. The glow engulfs you until you find his head rearing through the pitch-black like a solar flare across the surface of the sun.

A warmth spills into your chest. Caressing your heart gently, the echo of a song a child of the sea once sang to you returns.

Eclipse.

A leviathan—barely grown. His body easily dwarfs you with a long, scaled tail shimmering like pearls under moonlight, burning hot orange. Frills and fins wave through the black sea. His four limbs cut through the emptiness, propelling himself towards you until his two lower hands take you gently in his palms—like a person picking up a cat, you think.

He’s so much bigger now. A sort of growth spurt has taken him this last year, lifting him out of the tiny minnow you found trapped on the beach and into this vision of a great sea beast that tears down ships and conjures storms. The frills around his face have thickened and are beginning to spread wider upon the crown of his face. His arms are thin but quickly gaining with limber, corded muscle. His colors of brilliant orange, red, and black are beginning to deepen into sharper, mature hues.

There is still so much growing left for him to do if he is to become a true monster of the ocean, as all the stories go. But he is large and he is gentle with you in his hands.

His maw immediately splits into a great grin. He chirps a gentle sound in greeting. You stare at him, and the familiar ache returns at the impression of his claws handling you so gently.

What a beautiful, cruel dream.

“Hey, big guy,” you say softly. You softly tap the back of his hand cradling your torso. “Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.”

Eclipse grumbles low in displeasure. His wide eyes flare with a familiar concern before his expression picks up once more. His frills flick.

A pulse rings through your core. A question. The reason for your excitement—not anxiety—that almost kept you from another blissful vision in the night.

He draws you close to his chest. Reclining onto his back, Eclipse lays you upon his heart. You want to laugh. How long ago was it when you cradled the little mer in your arms like a baby? Now he’s holding you effortlessly upon his chest, and you have never been smaller despite your growth spurt. Unfortunately, this is where it ends for you.

The thought doesn’t scare you: being held in the palm of a giant mer. You knew then when you beheld his little face and his wide, scared eyes, that mers weren’t as bad as the people of the island thought.

A great, powerful heat rolls through your body in confirmation. Then, a little nudge.

“Right,” you murmur, “Tomorrow is Christmas.”

You concentrate on images of a tree decorated in tinsel and ornament, and little gifts wrapped up underneath. That’s what it looks like for other children when their parents are providing.

“It’s about gift-giving,” you study the pattern of his shining scales, “and being together with people you love.”

Immediately, your thoughts wander to the feast the island holds for everyone, including orphans like yourself. You’ll get a gift or two provided by the lady who works at the office in the center of town, paid for on behalf of the community, often generic and simple, like a good-smelling lotion or a tiny toy (though you’ve outgrown such desires). Other kids stare at you when you dare to linger far too long, and often loudly wonder if you’re the same one their parents say is strange and possibly dangerous. They know it’s due to a mer.

None of it matters to you. What you care for is the food, the rich smell of mashed potatoes, and the savory scent of a Christmas ham with honey glaze. Oh, you would give your left hand to devour an entire coconut cream pie.

Eclipse trills a curious sound.

“Vanessa will help me steal a pie,” you say, then laugh quietly while you outline a scale on Eclipse’s chest. Sometimes, when he has damaged or worn scales, you try to pick at them but your phantom hands seem to have no effect. “It’s not much, but it’s nice.”

Once, a few years ago, when you had woken up on Christmas day, Vanessa noticed the tears on your cheeks. Another dream of Eclipse left you with a deeper ache than usual. She didn’t even open any of her gifts; she simply slipped a coconut cream pie off of the dessert table they were setting up, and she took you down to the beach. It was cool, but not cold enough for snow. Vanessa told you to dig in. The two of you ate like toddlers, eating with your hands and smearing whipped cream on your chins.

You looked out to the ocean, a dark gray-blue, and wondered if Eclipse would have eaten pie with you.

A flash of bittersweetness burns through you. Eclipse rests his hand gently on your back and strokes his thumb down your hair.

Eclipse rumbles as you lie on his chest, causing you to still. A terrible coolness floods your middle. You press your palm over his heart. It is not a content sound he often makes or a curious grumble. No, it is a moan of sorrow, something deep swirling within the pit of his stomach.

Again, you feel a sting of salt upon an old wound. Your heart ripples with his anguish.

“Eclipse?” You can’t lift your head from underneath his soothing motions. “What’s wrong?”

He continues to hold you with desperation as if trying to catch the moon by scooping up the reflection of lunar light upon a still, watery surface.

The strength of this dream of your little mer bears down upon you, and you long to close your eyes. Instead, you turn your head and kiss the firm bone of his sternum.

“Don’t be sad,” you whisper, “It’s okay. It’s alright.”

You’re not very good at easing him. His presence is still downtrodden, but a tinge of frustration burns around it, like fire eaten away at the edges of old newspapers.

Another pulse rises through you, stronger than the rest. Then images begin to emerge in your mind. Ghostly memories of beautiful large seashells, pieces of lost treasure, and even a brass clock spring into the front of your awareness.

It perplexes you all the same, the levels of your dreams. Sometimes they’re sweet and simple, and Eclipse only holds you while the two of you drift away. Others are like this. It makes the ache deeper, widening like a chasm until it’s nothing more than a trench where no light reaches.

“That’s a lot of gifts,” you chuckle, then add, “If you were here, I’d give you fish. So much fish that you couldn’t even eat it all. Would you like that?”

A soft rumble quakes underneath you. The impression of hunger storms through you as he provides a comically violent rendition of how he would tear apart and indulge in such a feast.

But he falls quiet, and you have little more to say.

You smile as his hand gently surrounds you in the form of a squeezing hug. You lay your head heavy on his chest and watch the starlight drift by. The constant heat in your chest is gentle and comforting, but underneath it is a salty sorrow.

He won’t be here to give fish to, and you will go to town with Vanessa tomorrow, and steal a pie.

When you wake, you feel the warmth of the dream fades. It’s Christmas.

The sea is calm on a Christmas day. Last year, it was tormented with storms and raging seas after the harsh season of the sea leviathan attacks. You try to not remember the sickly yellow scales of the monster from the depths, nor its teeth, nor its stomach you were trapped inside.

Now, you guide the Rustbucket II slowly, aware of the heavy catch dragging along its side. The silver fish struggle within the net. Your old fishing ship might have buckled such a load. Eagerly, you sail deeper into the sea while everyone on the island enjoys a feast, even Vanessa.

You promised you would see her later. She threatened you with eating all of the coconut cream pies if you didn’t keep your word.

You turn your sights to the horizon. A bright sun shines down despite the cool temperatures. Your thick sweater combats the chill in the air, and you watch the fog of your breath heat up before your red-touched nose. Fixing a strap of your overalls, you search outwards with your heart.

Eclipse?

A resounding ripple in your heart answers back. Slowing down the length of the boat, you step out of the cabin to reach the railing on the deck. The beautiful water settles around you and your small vessel. You search the deep blue. Warmth climbs into your bone marrow. The presence of a great leviathan swirls the surface before gently, he breaks through with a gentle rise of his massive form.

Dripping above you, Eclipse grins, his maw open wide and revealing sharp layers of teeth. None of the jagged fangs frightened you. Instead, leaning your arms over the railing, you gaze back with a smile on your face.

“Hey, big guy.” You incline with your head towards the netting straining with the wriggling weight of your catch. “Merry Christmas.”

His eyes sweep slowly away from you and to the fish. His eyes widen, the pupils dilating in a predator’s hunger. His tongue, shadowy and sinuous, swipes his mouth.

For me?

He lifts a claw to his chest and taps once. The bright glow within his gaze becomes candle-soft.

You nod. “For you.”

His massive form sends ripples against your boat, rocking it in the slightest, but you flow with the bobbing effortlessly. Lowering himself to you, he presents his face close to the edge of your boat. You lean over, as far as you can without losing your footing, and press your face against his cheek.

A gentle, musical sound leaves him, a sigh and a purr, rumbling into one pleased sound. His eyes close. With the gentle touch of sea foam, he nuzzles you softly before you pull back. You rub your gloved hands together.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Dig in!” You gesture at the net. Eclipse trills. Rising again, his massive claws work the riggings of the net just as you have shown him before, and with delicacy, freeing the netting from your boat.

The catch of fish is akin to a bag of marbles in his hand. The little creatures struggle and flop about. Eclipse licks his chops once more. Opening the netting, he upends your gift and dumps it entirely into his maw. You make a slight face as he chews and a few slip away from his maws, falling into the sea and escaping.

You wait. A growing anticipation buzzes through your chest, not of your desire, but from Eclipse. He’s already eating his gift. What more could he be excited about?

A twinge of apprehension moves through you. He doesn’t think you have more fish waiting for him, does he?

Thoroughly rushing through his meal, he chews and takes a heaping swallow.

You watch his expression closely. “How was it? Did you like your snack?”

He trills in answer, humming a song that sends musical notes washing against you. A cheer like a great splash from his massive, lower hands follows. His tail whips excitedly down below. The ocean begins to stir before he calms himself and again, lowers himself down to you.

You laugh. His excitement is infectious, and you soon shake away any concern. He likes his gift. This year you had something you were excited to give. Your dear friend gets to participate in a holiday humans celebrate, and you’re not only looking forward to pie this year.

Eclipse finishes with a thick swallow. With a satisfied swipe of his tongue, he grins at you. You arch an eyebrow back.

A pulse of energy, eager and excited, touches your heart.

“What? What is it, big guy?” You narrow your eyes in exaggerated suspicion when the leviathan tilts his head. A mischief glints in his eyes like a shimmer of stars.

Slowly, he lowers himself to you and gingerly lifts a claw to the top of your head to stroke your hair once.

Wait. Stay.

You dip your chin before Eclipse snaps his tail, and with thick ripples, bordering on crashing waves, he disappears down below. You watch his massive figure before the deep blue swallows up his bright red and orange colors.

What is he planning? Giving you another seashell? You adore the one in your home, sitting close to your bed on top of your dresser. He finds the most lovely things to bring you.

Get ready.

An image flows into your thoughts as the words enter your mind. A knife, like the one you keep in the cabin for cutting through nets. Slowly, you straighten from leaning idly against the railing. What is he going to give you that requires you to have a knife on hand?

Still, you do as he asks. You step away from the waters at last settling from his submergence and locate the little knife. It’s a touch blunt, you need to get it sharpened. Hopefully, it will do the trick.

Venturing back to the railing, you gaze down. A bubbling begins in your chest, clashing now with nervousness amid the anticipation.

You furrow your brow. There are very few times in your life you have ever felt Eclipse nervous.

An urge to call out to him almost overtakes you, but in synchrony with your thoughts, the colossal mer arises back from the depths. He stops at his shoulder, floating in the ocean and keeping his gaze level with you before he draws out his hand.

A small bag, netted and knotted, sits on the water-dripping center of his palm. You peer closer as he offers it up. His frills flick around his head, sitting back slightly while his wide eyes watch you.

For you.

You glance at him before gingerly reaching out and taking the netted bag. You stare down at it, finding a few dozen oysters tied up within.

You lift your head. Eclipse drops his hand back into the water and presses closer to your boat. He looms in the slightest. You get the impression that if he were anywhere close to your size, he would be watching over your shoulder and checking your expression every other second.

“Okay,” you say softly. You use the knife to cut the netting and carefully set the bag down on the deck before you pluck one oyster.

It’s dark. The meat might taste good, though you’ll admit, you’ve never dined on oysters before. Clams, yes, but not this.

Open them.

The urge returns. A swirling vortex of enthusiasm follows, and you glance up at Eclipse for a split second of confusion before you remember what oysters are also known for.

You turn the oyster over. Examining in your hand, you carefully angle the blade and break open the shell. A gray flesh collects within, and several lumps sit underneath the flesh.

Lowering the knife, you stare in silent awe. Your lips part soundlessly. Carefully, using your fingertips, you begin to push on the bumps, coaxing the little treasures out of the oyster and into your palm.

Several pale and shimmering pearls, some round, some less so, fall into your palm.

Saltwater pearls.

“Oh, Eclipse.” You lift your head. “These are beautiful. How did you…?”

A hot breath leaves his mouth—as if he were holding it all the while. He dips his head. Impressions fly through your thoughts. He spoke with Vanessa (as best as he could when she cannot hear him the way you can) and she suggested a pearl necklace for a Christmas gift. Eclipse has found no such treasure in his years of collecting, but he knew what made pearls.

Another thought enters your mind. Eclipse longed to crack open the oysters himself but his claws were far too big for such little pearls.

But a gentle warmth fills your body.

Then you feel his thoughts center on you.

Except you.

You make a sound caught somewhere between a sigh and a sob. You shake your head slightly, blinking back the slight wetness threatening to plunge your face. Clutching the pearls, you look up at him.

“Thank you. No one has ever given me something so precious.” You beam and gingerly roll the priceless pearls between your fingers.

He bobs his head, and settles against the side of your boat, carefully to not put any pressure onto its frame, and settles in as you crack open the neck oyster. A warmth radiates from him, filled to the brim with relief and content.

Once you’ve gathered a priceless hoard of pearls, you get to your feet and kiss Eclipse on his sea-slick cheek. A gesture done in gratitude and as a gift.

#naff's writing commissions #mer eclipse had so many gifts waiting for y/n #and now he can give so much to them!!#and of course y/n can finally give their big guy more fish <333 #in deep dreams between the waves #mermaid!eclipse #naff writing

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 14 days ago

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Chapter 14: Don't Be A Bundt Cake

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy, Miscommunication Trope

Word Count: 13.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), Swearing, Mentions of Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Talks of Death, DENIAL, Idiots in Love, Pining by the Reader (and SB, but he won't admit it) Depressing Thoughts, Mentions of sexual assault/rape (not detailed at all, really just in passing) Talks about weed, Sexist comments, Ben makes derogatory comments, Threatening Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N: I am so sorry this one took me a bit longer. The writers block was fighting me the whole way, but we are very closely nearing the end of this series and the moment the reader and Ben stop being so stinkin' stubborn.

Reader POV

You lean your forehead against the cool window, watching the world flash by in a flurry of color. The wooded forests had vanished hours ago and all that was left were the yellowed sprawling fields of corn and grain and family farms that were laid sporadically along the interstate. Each one a little world that caught the flecks of golden sunlight as the sun began to peak above the horizon.

The bus rolled smooth and steady over the weathered pavement towards it's destination and was filled with an odd assortment of people young and old. There was man with a brightly colored parrot that had been singing "It's A Small World After All" since you left NYC, a woman with a little boy playing with an iPad and who refused to turn down the volume no matter how many times his mother asked him to, a group of teenagers a few seats up that continued to pass around a flask, and due to how far back you were sitting on the bus an uncomfortable smell emanated from the bathroom each time the door was opened.

But you didn't notice any of it.

The only thing on your mind were the events that happened almost twenty hours ago. They continued to circle your mind, playing over and over again like a perverted cassette tape making you sink further into the worn cloth covered seat at the back of the bus. The images were haunting, some new and some old, but all the more still horrible to re-live.

The song "Nights In White Satin" floating into the backseat of your family's car, the flash of unnatural light you knew was never lightning, the caskets at your parent's funeral covered in flowers that were much to pretty to lay on something so morbid, Elijah's body succumbing to the poppies that ripped him apart, the proud sneer on your brother's face when he admitted to killing your parents, Darren's broken and bloodied body strewn in pieces over the street with the creature standing over him with a dripping red maw, the ruined building that housed "Please Don't Die" reduced to nothing more than rubble, and the look on Ben's face when you turned your back on him and fled the scene.

For some reason that particular image seemed to cling on to you and refused to fade. You'd never seen him look that way, almost… helpless and a little fearful. In all the time you'd known him, Ben had never looked at you that way. Sure you'd seen him proud, angry, cocky, lustful, mischievous, but never fearful. And you were sure that it wasn't an emotion that he was used to feeling, but that begged the question… why?

Why was he looking at me like that? Why wouldn't he let me go? And what was he afraid of?

The creature curled in your lap snorts something in it's sleep, turning it’s head further into the cradle of your elbow to shut out the brilliant early morning sunlight. It was now the size of a toaster and had warranted several odd looks whenever you got off to change buses, but you didn't care.

You weren't sure about anything anymore. Everything your brother confessed to you made you feel like you were living a lie and the revelation of exactly what your powers could do- take life from plants to heal yourself, create whatever the hell it was on your lap, and speak to plants… it scared you.

You thought for so long that you knew everything about your powers, that you were in control, but now you weren't sure.

You felt different, as if something had unlocked deep down that you couldn't shut up again.

You'd felt different after you killed Elijah, but this was more alive, weaving and twisting in the pit of your stomach. You felt more connected to the earth, to the world outside the bus even though you were divided by glass and metal. You could feel the energy that thrummed through the body of the creature on your lap, bending to your will, the life force of the plants it was formed from molding with you, becoming a part of you.

You felt so different than the person you had been before Darren entered the shop, so uncertain, and there was only one place you wanted to be when you felt like this… home. You couldn't wait to run up the worn front steps of your grandmother's house and into her arms. She always knew what to say in times like this.

And you desperately needed the comfort of her embrace.

The phone in your pocket buzzes again and you flip the screen to see the ridiculous selfie Annie and you had taken on Halloween last year. The one that you'd both spent dressed up as the two brothers from your favorite paranormal tv show. It wasn't the first time she'd called. Annie had called and texted you more times than you could count over the past twenty hours but you didn't answer her. You didn’t want to.

It was the first time that you didn't want to talk to her, but talking to her meant that you'd have to re-live all of it again and you were clawing at the last shred of sanity you had left to keep it together.

The overwhelming waves of emotion kept pummeling you, dragging you deeper beneath the white surf. Each one brought the memories of what happened surging over you and were followed by everything that Darren said to you. Years of taking care of Darren and doing whatever he wished were tearing at your soul, years of giving up little things in your life to make him happy, and years of taking care of a man who you thought cared about you, but hated you enough to kill your parents and try to kill you too.

It made your skin crawl. Each time your brother told you that he loved you was an even bigger lie and now that you knew the truth and saw him for what he was, it felt like you were drowning. The darkness that ebbed just on the edge was begging you to leap into the abyss, but you were resisting the best you could.

The tears had stopped falling miles ago, but you couldn't stop the memories or the emotion that formed a cold ball in the pit of your stomach.

A sigh works it's way up and you pull your legs on the seat underneath you, jostling the creature on your lap that raises it's head for a moment to blink it's black eyes at you sleepily.

It was surprisingly docile right now, especially considering that twenty hours ago it had ripped your brother to shreds. In fact it seemed to understand how upset you were and had spent the better part of the last twenty hours rubbing it's head against your arm as if trying to bring you some comfort. It was settled on your lap, the weight of it a comfort, almost like a weighted plushy that gave you something to focus on.

"It's alright buddy." You whisper, scratching him under his chin. "We're almost home."

The phone in your jacket pocket buzzes again, but when you pull it out to turn it off, you catch a glimpse of the screen, and you hesitate. Because this time it's not Annie who's calling, it’s Ben.

The picture that flashes on the screen under the contact name "Gramps" is the picture of Mr. Fredrickson from Up. It always made you smile whenever he called you and you saw the picture because Ben did often remind you of him. He was certainly just as grumpy as Mr. Fredrickson and just as out of touch, but you thought it was cute.

Your thumb hovers over the answer button and you think about talking to him.

But what would I say?

You weren't sure what to say to him, or why you wanted to speak to him so badly, why you wanted him to be sitting here on the bus with you as you went home, and why you wanted him to hold you against his chest while you allowed yourself to break, but you did. You wanted to feel his awkward shoulder pat and his awkward version of hand holding and you wanted to hear him try to tell you to "buck up" or whatever he thought that a comforting word should be.

He's really not the best at that.

You smile to yourself at the memory of how he tried to comfort you back at the hospital, but the longer you sit there and look down at the picture on the screen the worse you feel.

Maybe that scared you more than your newfound powers, how much you were realizing that you needed him, how much you depended on him when things got too much for you to bear. The memory of him appearing as soon as you needed him back at the shop, another of him grabbing Darren and throwing him into the street as soon as Darren insulted you comes in a flash, and finally followed by the memory of Ben carrying you out of Elijah's office while you curled into his chest. You couldn't remember too much from that moment, in fact you'd thought that Ben had kissed you on top of your head, but you ascribed that to the haze of pain you'd been in from your broken arm.

What you did remember was how wonderfully warm he was after you'd been trapped in that damn freezer and how nice it felt to be in his arms. Another memory of Ben sleeping on the couch at the hospital bubbles up and you feel something in your chest begin to crack open. And you try your best to tell yourself the same thing that you always do when you feel like Ben might care more about you that he was letting on.

Ben doesn't want that. He's made it perfectly clear. He doesn't want a relationship. He's only wants one night, that's why he goes out with all those women-

You hesitate, thumb still hovering over the answer button as you do, the memory of the week you'd spent at the apartment with him flickering in the back of your mind. The week where he refused to leave you alone in the apartment, where he refused to do any jobs for Butcher, where he took care of you the best way he could, when he sat with you on the couch and made you laugh with his ridiculous movies, and the week where he hadn't had one date.

Your finger itched to answer the phone, but you couldn't, because you didn't want to feel this way about Ben, not when he'd told you countless times that you kept romanticizing him, not when he told you that he didn't want a relationship, and not when you could feel yourself beginning to fall for someone you thought was the wrong man.

For just a moment you tried to pretend that it was different, that he was different, but you didn't want to. It only made it hurt more.

The phone stops ringing, but the pit in your stomach still gapes open at you and for the first time in twenty hours you feel tears begin to fall. You didn't know why you were crying about this, why the thought of not picking up Ben's phone call seemed to hurt more than everything that had happened, but something made it hurt.

The bus driver announces over the overhead that you're reaching your final destination as he takes the exit for your hometown. The familiar buildings that line the streets are sheathed in a honeyed glow from the sun, the long shadow of the bus darkening them momentarily as it rumbles down the small streets to the bus station.

When it rumbles to a stop at the bus station you wait for everyone else to get off, trying to summon the strength to stand, and swipe the back of your hand across your face to rid yourself of the remaining tears.

The bus station was about a thirty minute walk from your grandmother's house, and you still hadn't called her. You didn't know what to say, didn't know how to tell her that Darren was dead and that he was the reason why your parents were dead.

The creature crawls up your body to drape it's warm body over the back of your neck as you stand. It wasn't bothering to hide, besides the people in your hometown already thought that you were odd because you were a supe and you'd always welcomed it. You give him a scratch on top of his head and his warm tongue flicks on the bottom of your earlobe as if thanking you before it curls further into the side of your neck, seeking warmth.

The first few steps on solid ground are shaky, but you find the strength while taking in a deep cleansing breath of the outside world, letting the gentle warmth of the sun and the tickle of the autumn breeze pull at your coat. You hadn't stopped at your apartment before coming here, instead you had stumbled your way to the bus station covered in dust, flecked in blood, and demanded the first ticket back to Illinois. It was lucky that the next bus was leaving immediately, because you didn’t want to spend another second in NYC, not when all you wanted was to be home.

Plus you were worried that someone had recorded what exactly happened outside the plant shop and you didn't want to get arrested.

It was self defense anyway. Maybe Jake would represent me in court.

The thought of Jake makes you twinge. You hadn't checked to see if he was alright before you ran from the scene. Not to mention you'd destroyed the shop he'd put all his life savings into after he stopped being a lawyer.

Oh fuck, what if he sues me? He can't exactly sue Darren…

You hear someone call your name and you open your eyes.

Your grandmother is standing in front of the same baby blue pickup truck that she'd had longer than you've been alive, wearing a long multicolored skirt and a pressed white blouse tucked elegantly into it. Her silver hair is loose and long, curling over her shoulders in gentle waves. She looks the same way she looked one week ago when she left, and you've never seen anything so beautiful in your life.

You're running before you can stop yourself, crumbling into her warm embrace, with more tears streaking down your face, but she doesn't mind.

"Shh. It's alright honey." She whispers, rubbing her hand over your back, her embrace steady and surprisingly strong. "Let's go home."

Her home is the same as it's always been. A two story Victorian house painted in a happy yellow shade, with a white wrap around porch and two white rocking chairs sitting empty on the front porch. You'd spent more nights than you could count rocking silently beside her with a crochet project in your lap listening to the rain fall and soak the world outside, while the plants sang praises with every gentle bend beneath the heavy droplets.

You could barely remember the home you spent in your early years with your parents, not when you'd spent most of your childhood spending the night here and after your parents died living here permanently. There was still a large oak tree were a wooden swing swung in the slight breeze on the left side of the yard, a gardenia bush that stretched as high as the second story on the right side of the house and brushed it's soft leaves against the sunshine colored outer walls, a garden filled with both flowering plants and herbs that perked up on both sides of the front yard as you walked up the path, and a cobblestone path that Annie and you had spent hours of your shared childhood covering in chalk art.

Neither of you were good, but when the rain would fall and smudge the clean lines, you'd jump in the puddles that pooled along the walkway singing the lyrics to ABBA's "Cassandra" not quite understanding what it meant.

Standing here outside your house made you miss Annie and feel worse about not calling or texting her back, but you didn't feel like talking about what happened and you were sure that Butcher filled her in. The only thing that you wanted was to collapse in your bedroom upstairs and curl under the comforters.

Despite everything the house was a welcome sight, but at the same time it was different. You could feel the plants calling out to you, asking for you, bending towards you just to touch your shoes as you walked by. You'd never felt so connected with them before, not even when you were in your apartment or working at the shop. It was overwhelming.

And although a part of you was frightened by it, another part of you rejoiced in it. You didn't feel alone, didn't feel weak, and you knew that you never would ever again.

The creature nuzzled into the side of your neck with a sigh, soaking up the sun's healing rays as you walked up the front steps with your grandmother following behind you silently. She hadn't spoken since she picked you up at the bus station and you hadn't supplied anything in the ten minute car ride back to her house.

You didn't know where to start and you were still trying to process everything yourself.

The inside of her house was just as cozy and warm as it was the day you moved out. There were photos of your parents and you covering the walls (Darren's had been placed in the closet long ago), half-finished knitting projects sorted in different baskets on both the dining room table and the living room coffee table, spools of yarn were strewn over the couch sorted by color, and the fresh smell of gardenia wafted through the open windows on the breeze.

It was home. This was what you'd been missing the moment everything began to crash over you, but as you stood there in the familiar living room it felt like something was missing. Something tugged at the back of your mind, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

There was something or rather someone that should be here, but you didn't know what or who. And your mind supplied Annie, but you weren't sure that's who you meant.

"Let's have some tea." Your grandmother says from behind you and you feel her soft hands come down on your shoulders to steer you through the familiar creative chaos and into the large kitchen at the back of the house.

The kitchen isn't spared from the madness, it rarely was. There are boxes upon boxes of cookies in different stages of being packaged all over the counter, dirty bowls and a measuring cup stacked in the sink, and a large opened bag of chocolate chips spilling over the flour covered kitchen island.

It wasn't unusual to find the kitchen or the house in a state of chaos, your grandmother always said that a house should look lived in and that the mess was part of the fun of any major project as long as you were responsible enough to clean it up.

"Bake sale?" You ask as you sit down in the breakfast nook, uttering the first words that you'd said to another human being in twenty hours.

The next breath that you inhale was supposed to be cleansing, but you can still feel a weight pressing down on your chest, the same one that settled in the moment everything happened with Darren.

You contemplate again how you're going to tell her that Darren is dead and was the reason why your parents died.

Damn it Darren.

"Mhmm." She hums, filling the well used red kettle. "Annie's mother practically cornered me in the supermarket yesterday and begged me to make cookies. I love Annie, but her mother needs someone to pull that stick out of her ass. It's been up there for so long that I'm sure it's rotten."

The creature crawls down from your shoulders and down your arm to sniff at one of the chocolate chip cookies nearest you. It hadn't eaten since…

Darren.

You wince slightly at the thought and hope that you hadn't created something that needed and craved human flesh. The last thing you wanted to unleash on the world was Audry two especially in the wake of Homelander.

Truthfully you were waiting for the guilt at killing your brother to come, but it never had and you wondered if it ever would.

Probably not. He deserved that, he killed our parents, he tried to kill me, he tried to kill Ben.

The thought of Ben again makes a lump form in the back of your throat. You didn't know what was happening to you only that you felt guilty for leaving him like that, for yelling at him to let you go, and just vanishing on him when he probably thought that you were going back to the apartment.

He doesn't know where I am. Maybe that's why he tried to call, because he got back to the apartment and couldn't find me there and he was worried. You press your lips together. Yeah. Worried. Right.

"Honey?" Your grandmother says in a soothing voice

You look up from the box of chocolate chip cookies that you didn't remember picking up. Even the creature is looking at you with an expression that you can only explain as worry.

"Yeah?" Your voice shakes slightly.

She's leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over her chest, head tilted slightly to the side, her beautiful grayed hair pulled up in an elegant bun, but in her eyes you can see genuine concern. "Fuck." She sighs after a minute.

You blink in surprise. It was the first time that you'd ever heard her say that word in your entire life.

"I shouldn't have left." She breathes. "I told Ben to look out for you. I told him, that little bastard was bound to show up again and what did he do? He left you at that plant shop alone with no protection!"

You'd only seen her really angry a handful of times in your lifetime. Like you, your grandmother often had a gentle disposition and didn't get angry unless the situation called for it.

I mean, Darren admitted to killing our parents and then got fucking ripped apart. But how does she know about any of that? I haven't told her…

"How did you know that he left me there? Did Ben call you?" You ask putting down the box of cookies.

An odd expression crosses her face, as if she's contemplating something. "No." She hesitates again. "I saw it."

"No." Your grandmother hesitates. "I saw it."

"You saw it?" You repeat, confused.

What's going on?

"Too late of course, but I'm a little rusty. I was able to warn Ben that Darren was coming back. That's how he got there so quickly or rather-" She shrugs sheepishly. "He got there in time to make sure that Darren didn't get you to forgive him. Which you shouldn't have at all, but I know he's always had a talent for manipulating you."

"What?"

Is she saying what I think she's saying?

Instead of explaining further your grandmother walks out of the kitchen, leaving the kettle behind on the stove and you in a state of utter confusion.

Is she saying that she can see the future? Because that would mean that she's a supe and there's only one supe in history that I know of that can do that. A supe that no one has seen in over forty years.

You can hear her open the door to the closet under the stairs and the sound of her sifting through all the junk that the two of you had shoved in there over the years instead of finding the right place to put it.

When she comes back into the kitchen, she's holding a giant cardboard file box that you'd never paid attention to each time you opened the closet to find something. Your eyes shift from the box to her still not comprehending exactly what she was saying.

"I probably should have told you this a while ago, but…" She trails off and nods her head at the box before turning back to the kettle on the stove that has begun to scream. "I kept putting it off."

The box is old, worn at the edges, and theres a musty black fabric beneath a collection of yellowed photographs. You pull out the one on top to examine it.

Ben is standing there in his full Soldier Boy regalia outside of Vought tower and the woman standing next to him is Soothsayer. The outfit she wore was familiar, a black-skin tight suit with a blind fold tied over her eyes.

Soothsayer was a supe who could see the future and who was apart of Payback, a supe that had vanished a year before the mission in Nicaragua and no one knew where she went. There were rumors that she'd died and that she'd been a Russian spy, but you'd never believed them. You'd heard Butcher talk about how he tried to find her when he was trying to figure out what happened to Soldier Boy, but he never had. Said that the trail went cold.

But now you knew where she went, because she was standing directly in front of you.

She's Soothsayer? Holy fuck that's why Ben kept accusing her of cheating in the poker game because he knew that she could see the future.

"You were Soothsayer?" You gasp. "But why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell me?"

She continues to measure the tea leaves. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Grandpa didn't know? But he was alive when you were a supe?"

Your grandfather had never spoken about a history with supes that you remember.

"No." She turns to look at you, a hurt expression crossing over her face for a minute. "Well, I know that I said I was going to have tea, but if we're going to talk about this I'm going to need something a little bit stronger."

Your grandmother opens a cabinet under the stove an pulls out an enormous bottle of scotch. Truth be told you'd never seen her drink more than just a glass of wine, to see her like this was about as shocking as seeing a polar bear sunning itself on a Florida beach.

"Do you still want the blueberry tea or do you need something a little stronger?" She looks back over her shoulder at you as she pulls down a glass for herself.

"I think I need something stronger." You answer honestly.

Learning about everything Darren had done was one thing, but finding out that your grandmother used to be a famous supe and that she never told you about it was another thing. It was like looking at another person. You'd always loved your grandmother's gentle way, her care for her community and her family soft, but now you weren't sure you really knew who she was.

She sits down across from you and hands you a glass of the amber colored liquid. There's a heavy silence that hangs between the two of you as she tries to find a way to start. The photo of her and Ben is laying on top of what you realize is her uniform inside the box and she smiles down at the photo, just a little twitch at the corner of her lips.

"I met Ben when I was twenty three years old." She begins taking a sip from the glass. "Legend 'discovered' me. I had the injection of Compound V maybe two years before that, not when I was born, but I hadn't gotten popular. Other powers were much more flashy and by then there were so many heroes coming out of the woodwork that someone with the ability to see the future didn't seem as marketable."

There's something reflected in her blue eyes, the same eyes your father had, that you can't place. "I had just moved to New York, I had no money, and the way I was getting it was by pretending to be a fortune teller and betting on some sports events on the side. It wasn't hard to prove that I could see the future, the past was more difficult, but Legend somehow stumbled into my shop and figured out that I was a supe. And he didn't think I was too bad looking so he helped me get big."

"You pretended to be a fortune teller?"

She snorts into her glass. "Mhmm. People really will believe anything if they're desperate enough and back then there was so much turmoil going on with Russia that people were scared and wanted to feel comforted. My job provided some of that."

"But why did you walk away from it if you were such a big hero." You ask. "Everyone knew your name, you were-"

Your grandmother raises an eyebrow at you and you fall silent so she can continue. "When I got onto Payback that's when everything exploded for me, the films, the commercials, the ridiculous ads." She sighs. "That's also when I met Ben."

You take a sip from the glass in front of you, sputtering slightly. It was stronger than you were expecting. "And you two were-"

Please don't say dating, please don't say dating, please don't say…

"Friends. Just friends." Diana sits back against the back of the breakfast nook, sinking into the navy blue pillows. "But he is almost as charming now as he was then."

You cringe at the thought of Ben coming on to a younger version of your grandmother.

She taps her glass with her index finger deep in thought. "But I think that I was the only person that Ben actually talked to, the only person that he was comfortable being around."

"What do you mean?" You ask confused. "Didn't he talk to Countess and to Legend?"

Her expression hardens at the mention of Countess's name. "He didn't talk to her the way he talked to me. Ben is difficult, he always has been and I think that most of the people he meet him write him off as this asshole with a chauvinistic look on the world, but he's not. At least, not all the time. There are so many people that he's met that are never willing to take a chance on him. To trust that there is really something beneath all of that bravado."

It was what you had been thinking for the past week, that there was more to Ben than he was willing to let people see, but you were slowly realizing that Ben was letting you see those parts. In the quiet moments at your shared apartment when he sat with you while you read or made you laugh or walked you to and from work you saw another side of Ben that you never saw when he was around anyone else. The guilt rises again when you think of how you ran from him, how you turned your back and left him standing there to clean up your mess.

I shouldn’t have done that, but it was all just so overwhelming and I didn't want to talk to anyone.

"I think that Ben is the most loyal friend I ever had. No one ever seems to believe me when I say that. That we were just friends, but nothing happened between us."

"You didn't date? Or sleep together?" You ask cautiously. It was difficult to imagine Ben being friends with a woman and not having a sexual relationship with her.

Well. We're friends, but that's different.

The last thing you wanted to think about was Ben and your grandmother having sex.

I would need so much therapy after that. You sigh. Yeah, because after all the shit I've been through and found out about my life in the last twenty hours, the knowledge that Ben fucked my grandmother is what's going to push me over the edge.

"No." She shakes her head with a small smile. "About a week after I met Ben, I was running late to a movie shoot and I stepped off the crosswalk without looking. There was a car coming and I didn't see it. Ironic isn't it?" She laughs at herself. "I can see the future and I didn't see a car coming, but your grandfather did and he grabbed the back of my jacket and yanked me onto the sidewalk, saved my life. And the second my eyes locked with his I saw our future. I saw our wedding, our first house, I saw our son take his first steps and I saw how much I would love him and how much he would love me." She clears her throat for a minute, her fingers tighten on the glass, and her gaze drops to the wedding ring on her left hand. “The future is never set in stone, it’s fluid. It morphs and shapes with your decisions, but in the future I saw, I was so happy. And I didn’t want to lose that.”

Your grandfather had passed a few years ago, but you knew it weighed on her everyday. She had spent the week after he died in her room not saying anything to anyone. And sometimes she'd look out the window into the backyard with an odd expression, but you knew that meant she was thinking of him.

Growing up you'd seen how in love the two of them were, more so than your parents. Seen the flowers your grandfather always brought home just because he was thinking of her, watched him do little things around the house without being asked, saw how they never walked away angry from one another, and seen the soppy expression he'd get when he watched your grandmother move around the kitchen baking with a grace that you'd never possessed.

You reach across the table to touch her hand and she takes it gratefully.

"I didn't want to tell him that I was a supe, and at the beginning I thought I could balance it all, but then Ben started dating Countess." She takes another sip from her glass. "She hated me."

"What? Why?" You ask. The creature crawls across the table to sniff at the glass in front of you, before it snorts and falls into your lap, curling into a ball.

"Countess was a bitch." Your grandmother says mirthlessly, her expression hardening. "She wanted to possess Ben completely. Only loved how famous he was, how popular it made her, and he threw himself at her feet, in his own way, not understanding that love didn’t look that way. He’s never had a good example of it in his life. And she never understood that Ben and I were just friends. By then I had been dating your grandfather for a few months and things were getting serious. It was about a year before everything that happened in Nicaragua."

She presses her lips together as if remembering what happened to Ben there. "She was jealous, possessive, and she came to me one night. Ben was out of town for a film so she knew we wouldn’t be interrupted. She threatened to tell your grandfather who I really was and threatened to kill him.” Her jaw sets. “My powers were never really as offensive as hers were. And she said that Ben wouldn’t ever protect me over her because he loved her and would do anything to make her happy. So I left and I never looked back.”

And here I thought I couldn't hate Countess any more than I did for what she did to Ben.

“You didn’t talk to him ever again?” You wonder out loud.

She left without telling him goodbye?

“There was the occasional phone call. Sometimes Ben would ask me to see who was going to win a ball game or something so he could make a few bucks. He stopped by to say hi a few times because he was in the neighborhood. One time he brought your father a baseball glove that was way too big for a one year old.” She snorts, the memory flashing in her eyes. “I always thought Ben would be a good dad some day. But I think seeing your father was when Ben realized how much he wanted to have kids. And I think seeing the way your grandfather treated me made him start to feel conflicted about Countess. But he respected that I walked away, he saw that I was happy.”

“But what about Nicaragua?"

A dark look crosses her face followed by something that looks suspiciously like guilt. “I saw what they were going to do to him.”

“What? But why didn't you tell him what they were planning? Why didn't you-"

"I tried." She snaps, shoulders tense, but then they drop. "I called Ben, but Stan answered. By then your father was turning two, your grandfather had opened up his practice, and Stan threatened me, he knew where we were and knew everything about us. So I kept my mouth shut and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

You could feel your heart breaking for her.

Ben was her best friend and she had to sit by and watch them do that to him. She saw what they were going to do and they were going to kill her for it, kill my family for it.

The anger that surges in your chest makes the creature in your lap stir and grow a few inches, but you tamp it down before it gets bigger than a small dog.

“Does Ben know?” You ask her to distract yourself.

You didn't want Ben to hate your grandmother for this, didn't want him to hate her for something that wasn't her fault.

She nods. “Yes. I told him everything.”

“When?”

“The moment I saw him in your hospital room. I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I wasn't expecting him to be there, but it all poured out of me. I was so surprised to see him there. I hadn't seen a future where he came back."

“Was he mad?”

I mean… he didn't seem mad when I woke up, not to mention he was upset when she left to come back to Illinois.

“Not at me.” She shakes her head. “He knew how much I wanted a normal life and how much I loved your grandfather. He doesn’t blame me for any of it.”

“Good. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

The glass in front of you is still more than half-full but you don't want to risk another sip of what you're sure is gasoline packaged to look like Scotch. Your grandmother reaches to pour herself another glass.

“I didn’t want to until you were ready.”

“And when would that be?”

Your grandmother shrugs. “Maybe on my deathbed.”

You weren't angry for her not telling you, more surprised, but now that you knew everything about her it was hard to see her the same way you had.

You snort. “And no one knew?”

“Your dad figured it out.”

“How? When?”

“The moment you made that strawberry plant grow from your high chair.” She shakes her head with a smile. “It skipped a generation. Don’t know why, but you got it all somehow.”

“I was never injected?”

“No. That was a lie your father created. He knew that your grandfather didn't know and he knew that I didn't want your grandfather to know."

“Darren thought I was.”

“I know.”

At the mention of your brother's name, you watch her expression harden and she takes another swig from the glass in front of her, not flinching as the liquid goes down her throat.

“Did you see everything that happened?” You ask in a small voice.

You still weren't 100% sure how it was her powers worked, but you figured that she was able to see some of what Darren did and what he said.

“Yes.”

“You heard everything Darren said?"

“Yes.”

You chew the inside of your cheek for a minute hoping that she didn't take it as hard as you did. “Did you know that he killed them?”

“No.” She breathes, rolling the glass between her hands for a moment. “The night they died, I got a vision a few minutes before the car ran off the road. I was the one who called the police and who told them where to look, but I never saw that it was Darren or that it was anyone causing the accident. All I saw was the three of you in the car. I should have known.” Her voice breaks.

“It’s not your fault.” You squeeze her hand.

“And it’s not yours either.” She squeezes your hand back.

The memories are beginning to float up from the recesses of your mind and your teeth clench together as you try to keep them at bay.

“I know.” You breathe. The memory of the ruined shop flashes through your head. “I didn’t know that I could do something like that.” You gently touch your healed right arm and glance at the creature that is nibbling on the edge of the cardboard box with its sharp splinter-like teeth. “I feel so different and I don’t know how to go back to the way I was.”

“I don’t think you ever will.”

"Really?"

The thought was unwelcome. You were hoping that all of this was going to blow over, but you knew it wouldn't. Your powers had changed. There was an energy that thrummed in your veins now, stretching out of the house to the plants that grew in the garden. You could feel them all if you concentrated.

She frowns. “When you told me that you were working for Butcher I was worried about you getting involved in the supe world. I didn’t want that life for you, didn’t want you to suffer the way I did-“

“Was it really that bad?"

“Not all the time, just at the end. But I think that’s why I loved your grandfather so much. Because he was different than all the supes. He was down to earth, not just normal but-“ She shrugs. “I think Compound V does something to our minds, makes them more susceptible and when you’re surrounded by people using their powers and thinking that they’re gods it’s easy to lose who you are. I was glad I left when I did."

“Great." You huff, thinking about how your powers had grown exponentially since you killed your brother. It was scaring you to think that you would reach a point where you acted like Homelander, where you saw yourself as a god and killed anyone who stood in your way.

As tired as the stereotype of you only being able to make the flowers grow, you liked doing that. You liked healing plants, tending to them, and helping them grow. For you it had never been about using your powers the way that you had to kill Elijah and your brother and had always been about spreading a little more joy and love like your grandmother did with her kindness in her community.

Your mind flashes back to the first night that Ben stayed with you in your apartment and he'd asked you why you worked for Butcher and told you that he thought you "didn't fit."

Before you hadn't. You knew that. You weren't intimidating to look at or fueled by revenge or had a bone to pick with supes. You'd joined because you thought it was the right thing to do and because you wanted to be closer with Annie. She had been so involved in the supe world and you'd felt like you were losing your best friend. When in reality being at "Please Don't Die" was the only thing that felt natural for you.

You could feel yourself changing and you weren't sure that you wanted to and you weren't sure if you were changing for the better. Deep down you still felt like you, despite everything Darren had revealed, but your powers were greater than you'd thought they could be.

“No.” She squeezes your hand pulling you out of your head. “I don’t see you losing yourself in this.”

“You’ve seen-“ Your eyes widen.

“The future yeah.” Her lips twitch up at the ends in a smile. “It is what I do.”

“That’s so weird.”

You hadn't meant to say it, but you really didn't want to know too much about your future.

Well, not all that much. Maybe just a little.

“You of all people have no right to judge what’s weird. Not with Godzilla sitting in your lap.”

"Godzilla" yawns, flashing a mouthful of his pointy teeth, before settling back down on your thighs.

You smile for the first time in twenty hours, but then it drops. “I don’t like losing control. I thought I knew who I was but now I don’t-“ The emotions were bubbling up again, chest tightening, and lungs beginning to gasp for air. “I don’t know who I am anymore or what I am or what I can do and-“

“There’s nothing wrong with not being in control.”

“But what if I hurt someone? What if I kill-“ You body shakes as you think about all the important people in your life, Annie, Hughie, Butcher, Kimiko, MM, Frenchie- and then your mind stutters on Ben.

“Your powers are growing and there’s nothing to be afraid of or ashamed of. If you’re afraid of them it won’t get easier for you. You have to embrace the fear to see the lights that line the path through it.”

"I killed Darren, I killed Elijah-"

"Not because you lost control. You did it because you were protecting yourself and protecting your friends."

"But-"

"Who is it that you're scared of hurting? Annie?" Her expression turns sympathetic. "Annie is a supe and understands what it's like to lose control. None of us are in control all the time and it's ridiculous to believe that you won't lose control at least once."

Your throat clenches tightly, because when she asked the question you didn't see Annie's face, you saw Ben's. You knew that it was probably ridiculous to worry about hurting a guy with a nuclear reactor stuffed in his chest or a guy who'd been through every torture known to man, but you were. And you weren't entirely sure if you meant hurting him with just your powers.

Tears crest and fall down your cheeks as you sit there, throat thickening. "I don't want to hurt Ben."

"He's a little more indestructible than us sweetie." She cracks a smile, but you can't smile back and you don't answer because you're unsure how to.

She sits back against the breakfast nook and sighs, examining your face and slowly realizes what you mean. "Ben is complicated. He always has been. I like to think that most of it, is his father's fault. Has he told you anything about him?"

You shake your head.

"He was a dick. Made Ben think that he was a disappointment his whole life. I don't think that Ben has had someone love him unconditionally since his mother died. And loving Countess only made it worse for him. Her love was jealous, possessive, and I don't think that he's really come to terms with what real love should look like." She lets out a breath, tapping her index finger against the glass. "I never saw him as more than a friend, but I do love him. It's not a crime to love him."

"I don't love him." You say it immediately.

"Why not?"

"What?" You sputter. "I don't know what you're-"

"Tell me why you don't love him." Your grandma says methodically, as if she's trying to talk you through it.

"Because I-" The pressure was back in the back of your throat and you couldn't quite meet her eye. "Because-" You scramble for the answer, trying your darndest to keep your heart from clenching in your chest. "I want what you and grandpa had, what Annie and Hughie have, and what my parents had. A strong relationship with someone who sees all my flaws, the little parts, and the darkness and still choses to fall in love with me anyway. I don't want just one night I want every night. I want something real and Ben has said countless times that he-"

"So you've talked about it with Ben?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Only because he kept trying to sleep with me and I told him that I didn't want to have sex with him." You reply exasperated.

"You don't?"

"Gran!"

"What? He's attractive."

"It doesn't matter. None of it does. Because Ben has said that he doesn't have relationships, that he doesn't care about feelings, or emotions." Saying the words that Ben had told you countless times made something inside begin to shrivel up and die. "And I do. And I don't want to manipulate him into being something he's not or force him into a relationship that's doomed from the beginning. Ben is Ben. He's not changing or-"

"He has." She interrupts.

"What?"

"The Ben I saw in your hospital room is not the one I knew." She says it so matter of fact that makes it hard to breathe. "And neither was the one that I saw in your apartment when I stayed with you. I mean he is in essence Ben, but-"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"He is changing. Not completely, but he's acting differently than when he was with Countess. I mean, I saw all the things he did for her. The way he was around her."

"Why does that matter?"

"Because he loved her."

The words make your heart seize in your chest. "Ben doesn't love me. He's my roommate and my friend-" It was the same thing that you kept telling yourself on repeat to beat back the other feelings that you hadn't quite identified yet. "And he's told me that he doesn't want a relationship and that I should try to meet other people."

That last part was a lie, but you honestly didn't know where she was going with this conversation or why it was getting so hard to breathe.

"Have you thought that maybe Ben doesn't want to love you because he's scared?"

"He doesn't love me and Ben isn't afraid of anything."

"He is. It might not look the same way on him as it does on everyone else, but if you pay close enough attention you can catch it." She hesitates. "And I think if you pay attention to you, you'll see what it is that you're afraid of too."

What does she mean? What the hell am I afraid of? Ben isn't afraid of anything, he's practically shouted that from the mountaintops like Julie Andrews.

"I already told you what I'm afraid of."

"I'm not talking about you hurting someone honey. There's something else that you refuse to admit to yourself because you're scared." She smiles sadly at you. "You should though, because when you embrace it, what comes after is really beautiful." There's a far off look in her eyes and you realize that she'd seen something further ahead that she wasn't letting on.

"And it's all I want for you. To be happy." Your grandmother stands from the other side of the booth "I think you need some rest. You drove all night long and I doubt you got any sleep. And I have to package all of these before Annie's mother calls down the four horsemen of the Apocalypse on me."

"Wait-"

"Please sweetie." She lays her hand down on your arm. "I think you'll feel a little better about all of this when you've had some rest." Her fingers raise to push back some of the hair that's fallen forward into your eyes. "Hmm?"

You didn't want to rest, you wanted to talk about this, but you knew better than to argue with her. Not to mention she was right, you hadn't slept.

"And when you wake up I'll make your favorite for dinner, alright?" She smiles, but there's something behind it that you can't place.

"Okay."

And this time you don't argue with her. You go up the worn staircase that you have your entire life and collapse onto your bed, wondering exactly what it was she saw your future hold, and what it is that you won't admit to yourself.

Soldier Boy POV

There was no light in the apartment save from the burning red tip of Ben's blunt and the bluish glow emanating from the tv that caught the dips and sharp edges of his face. But it was nothing more than background noise.

His hand absentmindedly stroked along Bean's back, his eyes focused on the ceiling above the couch. He hadn't moved in hours. It had been over twenty four hours since everything that happened at the plant shop, since you'd summoned a creature from the depths of the store, since Darren had thrown Ben through the plate glass windows of the bakery, and since Ben had last seen you.

He didn't understand why you hadn't let him take you back to the apartment and why it was that you had to leave. Ben hadn't liked the feeling that stabbed him in the chest when you turned your back on him and ran away. He'd felt the urge to comfort you the way he'd watched Hughie do for Annie in the car a week ago, but you hadn't let him.

Instead all he'd done is stood there and watched you run, still covered in dust, rubble, and blood. Worse was you hadn't let him check you for injuries and Ben hated the thought that you were hurt somewhere and he didn't know where you were.

You were so much more fragile than he was. He was realizing that more every day, was acutely aware of it after everything that happened with Elijah. Honestly, sitting there in the hospital with you laying there asleep with nothing that he could do, but wait for you to wake up had been agony. Not to mention that looking at the bruises around your throat, over your eye, and the bright green cast only made him feel worse. He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life and he hated it. Because Ben wasn't some helpless damsel in distress, he was a man and a man shouldn't wait on anyone or feel out of control, or at least, that's what he told himself.

Ben hears someone walk down the hallway outside the apartment and he perks up to listen, hoping that it's you finally coming home. Ben's mind stutters on the word "home." He'd lived many places in his life, apartments that felt more like way-stations, and the drafty cold mansion back in Philadelphia where he grew up, but neither felt like home. And although he hated how small your apartment was, it was the first place that Ben liked living in. He was starting to understand the word home.

But the feet keep moving past the apartment and Ben sinks into the couch cushions. Even Bean seems to be disappointed. "It's alright buddy." Ben mutters. "She'll come back."

But he wasn't sure.

Ben also wasn't used to feeling this way. It was close to the way that he felt when he went to Boston and was sitting in that damn hotel room waiting for something to happen and he still didn't understand what it meant. He didn't understand why he couldn't stand it that you weren't back yet. It made him feel like a woman waiting for her husband to get home from work when he told her that he was "running late." He'd tried to distract himself by looking at some possible prospects on Tinder, but just like the week after you'd come home from the hospital and just like the date he had in Boston, no one held any appeal.

His mind was awake and roaming around, pacing back and forth. The blunt was supposed to help, but it hadn't.

His phone chirps and Ben picks it up to look at the screen, but it's not you, it's Jake.

Jake: I know that I'm not your favorite person, but thank you for what you did.

Ben huffs and turns his phone face down on the couch once more. "What a fucking pussy."

When you left Ben had realized that Jake was still inside the building and as much as he wanted race after you, he understood that you'd be even more upset if you'd killed Jake. So Ben had tromped back through the building and found him trapped beneath some rubble. Jake was okay, just unconscious, but Ben had carried him out and put him on the sidewalk before he high tailed it out of there. The last thing that he wanted was to be caught with a shredded body outside a ruined building.

I didn't do it for him. I did it for her. Ben thinks to himself, looking down at the text message.

As much as he hated the thought of saving your future boyfriend, he didn't want to see what it did to you if you found out that you killed Jake, so he'd done it to avoid watching you cry again.

Ben didn't understand why he hated watching you cry.

Women cry. They're damn emotional all the time. He tries to reason with himself taking a puff from the blunt pinched between his thumb and forefinger. And she fucking cries way too much.

The image of you crying outside of the shop in the wake of everything that happened pricks something under his ribcage. Fuck.

Ben didn't feel remorse for what happened, well, the only thing he regretted was not getting there sooner and getting to fuck Darren up himself. When Diana had called him to tell him that Darren was coming, Ben had practically ripped the apartment door off in his haste to get back to you. He hadn’t wanted to leave you at the plant shop, but Butcher had told Ben, that he had a possible location for Darren, but it came up empty and Ben had been at Butcher's apartment chewing him out for sending him on a fucking wild goose chase.

It only made Ben more angry to allow Darren to speak to you, but he was trying to let you handle it even though he wanted to handle him. But it had brought him an unholy amount of joy to throw Darren in front of that minivan and to watch that creature tear him apart while the final whitish blue pulses of electricity jumped and crackled down the street making the streetlights shower sparks everywhere.

But Ben was more upset that Darren had been able to land a few hits on you before you killed him.

Ben remembered the giant lizard that crawled out of what was left of "Please Don't Die" and felt his lips quirk up into a smile. As much as he hated the entire situation, Ben couldn't help but feel a little surge of pride at what you'd done to your brother. He'd never seen you look so powerful standing there in the street, your eyes glowing a brilliant green, arms outstretched, and the ground trembling around you as the world begged to be unleashed.

Of course he'd been just as surprised as you were at the fact that you'd healed your broken arm. He wasn't sure if you'd noticed it yet, but you looked different too. There weren't as many lines on your face and your hair was more springy, the few silver hairs that Ben had noticed in passing were no longer there.

He wasn't sure what that meant, but there was something that felt suspiciously like hope tingling in his stomach, hope that you weren't as fragile anymore and hope that it meant you wouldn't die.

When Diana had told Ben that her husband had died, he saw the pain in her eyes when she said it, saw her relieving the memory, and for some reason as soon as she said that he was dead, the first thing Ben thought about was you. Ben hadn't considered his inability to age as much in the past, hadn't cared about outliving anyone before. Seeing Countess as an older woman had made him more aware of it. Looking at the woman who he once thought he loved, had showed him what that was like. Not that he had a problem with daring older women, Ben always thought that women really did get better with age, but it was what came next that Ben wasn't fond of.

And for some reason thinking that one day he'd wake up and see the marks of age on your face or one day he'd wake up and he wouldn't be able to annoy you or hear you yell at him made his chest tight.

Ben takes another hit of his blunt. The longer he sat there the more then unnatural feeling stirred in the pit of his stomach, thrumming through his veins, the feeling that he was trying to avoid. He thought that the joint would calm him down, but he found himself jumping at every creak and footstep in the apartment building, perking up each time and hoping that it was you coming home.

He didn't know where you were. You hadn't answered any of his texts or calls and Ben was ashamed at how many times that he had tried to call you.

Get a fucking grip. He'd thought to himself when he typed out another text message to send you, stopping himself from sending it.

But he'd been so desperate to hear from you that he'd actually gone to talk to Annie who seemed upset that she couldn't get ahold of you either. When Hughie and Annie had seen how upset Ben had been, Hughie had laid his hand on Ben's arm and told him not to worry. Ben had yelled at him that he "wasn't fucking worried and to mind his own business" and had shaken off Hughie's comforting hand before stomping out of the shared apartment.

No one else seemed to be as concerned about finding you. Butcher, MM, and Frenchie were all deeply involved in trying to figure out the cover-up for what happened outside the plant shop. By some miracle no one had caught a picture of your face, but there was little they could do about Darren's body that had been strewn across the street. Annie was having to deal with the repercussions at work, trying to handle what the news was calling a "super villain threat."

Personally, Ben thought that since they froze Homelander, the Seven looked weak and Ben believed that the superhero team that represented America shouldn't look weak. Of course before Ben had also thought that they looked like a bunch of pussies and again felt himself sink deeper into the couch when he thought about what his supposed son had become.

He shakes off the feelings he has about it and his thoughts turn back inevitably to you.

Ben wasn't used to thinking about someone as much as he thought of you, but each time he settled back into the apartment and you weren't there he was hyperaware of how quiet it was.

Maybe I should call Diana. She might know where she is.

As soon as Ben thinks that, his phone begins to ring, but Ben doesn't bother to look at who it is before he answers it.

"Hello?" Ben huffs out a breath of smoke that hangs in the air in front of his face, catching in the bluish light coming from the television.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The voice on the other side of the line yells at him.

"Di?"

"Yes it's me. Who did you think it was? Santa Clause?" Your grandmother snarks.

"Why are you calling me and why the fuck are you so mad? What did I do?" Ben answers slightly annoyed.

As much as you got under his skin, your grandmother had been the same way. He actually thought that it was amusing that even before he figured out that she was your grandmother that he had often compared you to her in his mind. You had the same mannerisms, the same defiant and stubborn attitude that drove Ben up the wall, and you were just as beautiful as she was.

Ben was okay with admitting that he was attracted to you. To him that felt normal, it was the other feelings that he was conflicted about, the ones that he'd never felt before stirring in his chest that made him feel "too emotional" and "woman-like."

Truthfully, Ben was sure that if your grandmother had given him a shot that maybe he would have felt that way about her too. She was the only person that Ben actually trusted in the 80's, the only person that was brave enough to call him out on all his shit. You did that now. But he liked her husband also, so Ben was content with letting her go. He liked how happy that Henry, your grandfather, had made her. He knew that she wasn't happy as a supe and seeing her so happy and in love made Ben feel something that was close to happiness.

And it was seeing the way the two of them were together made Ben wonder if what he had with Countess was the same thing. Because he did have feelings about her that were different, but each time he went to visit Diana and saw your father playing on her lap he felt that there was something missing in his life.

It was the same way that he thought something was missing when you weren't in the apartment, but Ben hadn't realized that yet.

"Because I don't understand what the hell you're doing!" Diana replies and Ben honestly doesn't know why she's angry with him.

"About what?"

"My granddaughter."

Ben sits up the blunt in his fingertips forgotten. "Is she there with you?"

"Yes." Her voice softens for a moment.

Ben relaxes and leans back onto the couch, sighing in relief. "Good. That's good." Relief swelled in his chest when he thought about you staying with her, safe.

That's what she meant when she said that she wanted to go home. Home is with her grandmother. Ben stopped the next thought before he could go there.

The thought that home wasn't with him.

Ben was trying not to think about that or think about you hating him. He didn't think you did, well, didn't think you did anymore. At first it really was touch and go, but now he was almost eighty percent sure after you'd told him more than once that you weren't afraid of him and didn’t hate him that you sometimes wanted him around.

"No, not good."

"What do you mean? Is she okay?" Ben's grip on the phone tightens so hard that he's sure that he hears the screen cracking.

"No."

"What happened?" Ben's voice is a growl, the feelings of relief evaporating as soon as they had begun to bloom in his chest. He mentally calculated how long it would take him to get to you.

"Her entire life fucking fell apart and where are you? Not here!"

Oh. Ben relaxed a little bit.

"I don't need to be there." He says on an exhale of smoke.

"Yes you do!" Diana presses.

"No, I don't. She a big girl she doesn't need me there, she's-" Ben takes a puff from the joint.

“If you were any denser you’d be a Bundt cake Benjamin!” She says exasperated.

"What the fuck are you talking about doll? I am not-"

“Let me guess." She interrupts and Ben can imagine her tapping her foot. He hated when she did that. "You’re moping around smoking a blunt on the couch probably with a glass of something that you're hoping to numb whatever the hell it is you're feeling."

Ben's eyes shift to the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table that he hadn't touched in a few minutes.

“I’m not fucking moping and stop spying on me!” He snaps back at Diana.

He hated how well she knew him. She was his best friend in the 80's through all the shit, she had seen him at his worst and at his best too many times to count.

“I don’t have to use my powers to know what you’re doing. I know you Ben.”

"Sorry to disappoint you sweetheart.” Ben grits his teeth, temper flaring hot. “But if you know me as well as you fucking say you do then you then you know that this is-“

“You avoiding your feelings by acting aloof and brooding like a fucked up version of Mr. Darcy.” She interrupts.

She certainly hasn't changed.

“I am not avoiding-“

“She needs you here Ben.” Diana stamps her foot, the same way you do when Ben pisses you off, and Ben can hear it.

“She doesn’t need me! She said that she wanted to go home, that she didn’t want to be here with me! I tried to-“ Ben shouts back standing up. It was the exact thing that he'd been thinking for the past twenty four hours, that you didn’t need him and that you didn't want to be any where near him.

That last thought made an uncomfortable sensation prickle in his gut when he thought it, because all it did was remind him of how you acted when the two of you first met, when you didn't want him to live with you and tried your darndest to make him go away.

He didn’t want to and he wasn't sure why that was.

“Try harder.” Diana interrupts him again and frankly it was pissing him off.

Ben clenches his jaw. “I think that you’ve confused me with someone else baby.”

“Don’t you 'baby' me Benjamin! We both know that you’re doing what you always do when things get hard for you.”

“And what’s that?”

“You pretend not to care and shut out everyone who tries to care for you. Not to mention you drown yourself in drugs, booze, and women.”

“She doesn’t care about me!” He spits.

“She does!” Diana snaps back. “And believe it or not she needs you here and she wants you here.”

"But-"

"Ben please." It was the first time that he'd heard Diana sound softer and almost pleading since the conversation started. "Don't do this to her. She's worth more than Countess and all those other women you've fallen into bed with."

"Do you really think I don't know that?" He roars. The answer surprises himself. "Do you think I don't know that she's different?"

Wait what?

"If you know that, then why aren't you here?"

He hesitates.

Everything you said to him the night of the party comes roaring back. You looking beautiful in a dress that made his throat tight, and you telling him that you just wanted to be friends and that you understood that he wasn't the type of guy to have relationships. He didn't understand why it stung a bit when you said that, but it had.

Ben thinks about the week that the two of you spent together after Diana went home, when he tried his best to take care of you, distract you from everything that happened with his movies, and would sit with you and try to make you laugh. He'd never wanted to take care of someone before.

Not to mention he kind of liked the way you laughed. He wouldn’t admit that to anyone, but each time you did, it made him want to laugh too. That had never happened to him before. But he wanted to make you laugh to forget everything that happened with Elijah. His fist clenches when he thinks of exactly what Elijah tried to do to you and it makes him feel so mad that he feels close to spontaneously combusting. Ben might not be the best role model when it came to women, but he couldn’t imagine the type of man who would force himself on someone else.

It had made him angry when he thought that you were suggesting that he would try something when he first moved in, because he wasn't that type of man.

Ben was trying to be better for you. He wasn't admitting that, but he really was trying to be better. He didn't understand why. You'd told him countless times that you didn’t want to be with him, that you wanted to be with someone else like Jake.

Ben frowns when he thinks about the man he'd pulled from the rubble of the shop. And again thinks to himself that you should be with someone different, someone who was a supe and could understand you. Ben had seen how difficult it was for Diana when she was keeping her supe life a secret from your grandfather and he didn't want you to have to do that with someone.

"Because I'm not-" Ben begins to say, but he holds his tongue. It was too honest, too raw, too unlike him to admit this to anyone.

Because I'm not this guy. Because I'm not the one she wants. Because I'm not some knight on a white horse. Because she's everything right with the world and I'm just a fucking asshole who sleeps on her couch.

"Ben." Diana breathes and he can practically hear her pinching the bridge of her nose. "In all the years I've known you, you've never done what you did for her with anyone else. You carried her out of that warehouse, you stayed with her in the hospital even after she woke up, you took care of her when she came home, you protected her from Darren. You can't ignore all those things."

"I'm not ignoring them. She's my friend." The word sours in his mouth as he says it. "And she would have done the same thing for me." He knew it was true.

She's a good person and she wouldn't let me chase her away if any of that shit happened to me and I told her to leave me alone.

"Yes she would. Because she cares about you." Diana sighs.

"She doesn't."

"Why don't you believe me?"

"Because she's told me what she wants!" Ben shouts so loudly he can feel the room shaking. "She wants to be friends-“

"Because she doesn't think that you want a relationship you nitwit!"

"I don't." Ben spits the words before he can stop them, but as he does something tightens at the base of his throat.

"How is it that it's been forty fucking years and you're still able to dance on the grave of my last nerve?"

Ben chuckles. "I missed you too sweetheart."

She sighs into the phone again making it crackle in Ben's ear. "She needs you.” Diana repeats. “And I think you need her too.”

His temper was flaring again, the thoughts that his father pressed into him surging up before he can stop the words. “I don’t need anyone. I’m Sol-“

“If you say that you’re Soldier Boy, I’m going to reach through this phone and slap you silly.” She snaps. “And you do need her, but you’re still just too stubborn to admit it.”

“I-“

“Ben I know that everything that happened with Countess was fucked up, but my granddaughter she-“ Diana pauses before she changes the thought. “You say that you know she’s different, but right now you’re treating her the same way you treat all those other women.”

“I’m not-“

“My granddaughter has decided you’re important to her and once that’s happened it’s hard to make her let go. You saw the way she was with Darren and that guy was a manipulative asshole. Imagine what she thinks of you.”

“I-“

“Stop making excuses!”

“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!” Ben shouts.

“And I don’t need to! Think what you want Ben but if you’d stop acting so stubborn and so ridiculously blind to what’s right in front of you. I promise that what comes next is worth the risk.”

“Don’t go all fucking mystical on me doll.”

“And don’t go all macho- no feelings asshole on me! So stop being so damn stubborn, get on a plane and get your ass here.” She retorts. “Don’t fuck this up Benjamin because if you do I’ll fuck you up.”

The line goes dead.

Ben sat there for a minute in the silence still holding the phone up to his ear, listening to what your grandmother said to him ring around in his head for a second.

No one ever spoke to him that way. In fact, Ben had never allowed anyone to speak to him the way that she did, well, not until you came along. You reminded him so much of her that it was astounding and he wasn't going to admit that maybe it's why he liked being around you so much.

Ben frowns at what Diana said, thinking about the unusual feelings that were swirling in the pit of his stomach. He felt wrong and the feelings were odd for him. He hadn't felt anything remotely like this ever in his life, not even for Countess.

And although Ben refused to be afraid of anything, the feelings he was having scared him. He didn’t understand and he wasn't sure that he wanted to. He wasn't sure that he wanted to see where this ended up. He felt like he was in too deep.

As much as he wanted to go to you like Diana ordered him to, he wasn't sure that he should. Something was holding him back, digging it's heels in and refusing to budge.

But why do I feel like-

His phone rings and he doesn't look at the caller ID when he picks up, expecting it to be Diana again, yelling at him.

"Di I-"

But it's not Diana.

"Hello Ben. It's nice to hear your voice again." The familiar voice says, sounding calm and collected.

"What the fuck do you want?" Ben snarls.

"I thought it was time the two of us had a chat.”

A/N: At this point Diana is really just trying to give both Ben and the reader the kick in the pants they need. And yes I know another cliffhanger, but you know you love it. 🤭😉 We are quickly reaching the end of this series, but that means the confession scene is coming and I am so excited about it!!

As always thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated. I love hearing what y'all think! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know. 😊

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 5 months ago

Text

❝ His heart is beating just for me (I can hardly breathe). ❞

warnings: omegaverse content, knotting, mentions of prostitution (Toji), disassociation, talks of s*x work, mentions of mpreg, established D/S dynamics, safeword used, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, use of cunt, pussy, hole),

masterlist:

authors note: save me softdom!toji...save me...(just wanna say, rough sex is great but in the context of this fic Toji has some feelings about it (more so sex work) and that’s it. I’m not policing you on how you wanna get freaky, if you want rough sex my other fics have them ;3 ) * song on repeat: Every Inch by Barlow & Bear (Abigail Barlow & Emily Bear)

“Are you okay?” he smooths a hand down your sides, watching the rise and fall of your chest with rapt interest as you dig the heels of your palm in your eyes. The sensation of his callouses stroking your skin causes your breath to stutter. He tilts his head and places his palm across your sternum, spreading his touch until his thumb rubs against the pebbled surface of your nipple.

“Sweetcheeks,” he sings, grinning slightly as you spread your thighs when he readjusts his weight to lean over you. Toji is patient as you drop your arms onto the bed, those heavy-lidded eyes so hazy as they peer up at him from beneath those pretty lashes. The alpha in him sings his praises to you; pride manifesting itself through the steady rumbling within Toji’s chest and travelling to his throat.

The purr makes you smile, returning it brokenly with your own as you reach for him.

“‘Atta boy,” Toji relishes your embrace. He steadies you as he holds you to his chest and rests your thighs over his hips. The sounds the both of you make ooze contentment in a way that makes Toji chuckle. When he rests a hand on your nape you sigh, melting further into his shoulder as you place lazy kisses up his neck.

The scar of your mating bite makes his scent more biting — a sharp, spicy, aroma that wafts up your nose as he moves his hips. The gasp that leaves your lips simply egg him on. Cunt squeezing him tightly as he fucks up into you.

“Toji,” you squeak out. He says your name in return. The rumble in his chest making his already deep voice go an octave lower as his voice rumbles. It sends shivers up your spine as you lock your ankles behind him.

Flesh spills between Toji’s fingers. He bounces you with his strength. It was a marvel how easily he could. Those years of training had given him such a sturdy build. Those broad shoulders and shapely waist — not to mention, his delectable thighs that are constantly marked up from your own doing.

Toji is obsessed with his strength just as you are. It makes it easier to protect you, to prove to himself that his violence can be used for more than just money and rage.

“Fuh - Fuck, Toji!”

Hearing you moan like that is an added bonus.

He presses his lips to your jugular. Feels it pulse against his teeth when he curls his lips. You toss your head back, digging your nails into his muscly back, and Toji presses your body closer. His dick is splitting you open, the sound of slick and skin slapping skin resonating through the room as you rest down on his knot. It’s teasing you. Nearly getting in yet the angle wasn’t right and he was too big to simply slip in.

It drives him insane how easily you submit to him. As if you’re unaware of how dangerous his mouth is. A mouth full of teeth belonging to a man — and alpha — like him did not deserve such a willing and soft throat.

He’s used this maw as a weapon, a final resort — flashes of memory filter through his open eyes and Toji pulls his head away to kiss you instead. You taste sweet and you moan desperately into his mouth as he closes his eyes.

Your nails are making his shoulders twitch — he focuses on your wet cunt and the way your cock is twitching and peeking from beneath the hood. When you gasp out his name again, Toji snarls and pushes you onto the bed again. You yelped, grasping onto the bedsheets as he crawled on top of you.

He slipped out from the sudden change in position. You’re looking up at him like before, but this time he feels disgusted. So trusting, so open, and pliant.

Weak.

Toji’s brows twitch, a shadow crossing over his expression as he grabs your wrist and brings it to his nose. Your scent is strong here, and he tries his hardest to drown in it.

It shouldn’t be hard. Here he is, in your nest, and between your legs where he can feel how warm you are. Yet. His brain won’t shut off.

The bed turns to cracked stone floors and his mouth is full of blood while his lips sag from how bruised it is and the cut isn’t helping. That day, everything shifted for him; he became a proper unfeeling Ze’Nin despite his hatred for them.

You’re watching as he guides his cock inside of you. Slipping inside and grunting as his knot is flushed against you instead of inside of you. His bangs are swaying a bit, dark locks turning darker with sweat as he braces himself on his palms. But he’s not looking at you. Toji is looking through you as he starts thrusting.

The action causes you to mewl but your forehead wrinkles with worry. You try to pull your hands away from his grip but he tightened it, snarling once again which makes you freeze.

“Toji?”

Your eyes widen as he adjusts his knees, bucking his hips and pushing his knot in. Mouth opening, you moan wantonly, slick gushing out as your hips jerk.

“Shit, shit, shit – Toji!”

He huffs and pants above you, catching one of your curled fingers between his teeth as the knot begins to catch. Your cunt is twitching around it, confused between taking it in and pushing it out. But eventually, with enough pressure, Toji’s cock hits home and you whine in pleasure. There it is, the thing your hindbrain has been practically screaming for these past few days.

It’s weight inside of you, the way it stretches and plugs you up as Toji’s cockhead insistently presses right against that sweet spot within you. It makes your toes curl, overwhelmed with pleasure as your hips raise and buck. He doesn’t even move, because you fuck yourself on his dick well enough. Ass lifting off the bed, desperate rutting and bucking, Toji lets go of your wrist and you instantly bring your hands to jerk off your dick.

He grunts from the vigorous movements, raising a brow when you almost pull his knot out and sink back down with a series of pornographic noises. You do it again. Relishing in the stretch from the middle of his knot, your cunt trying so hard to keep him in and Toji finds it humorous enough to huff out a laugh.

You were a weird omega. Fucking yourself on his knot, chewing on your lip and pleading that it’s too much all while he simply watches because you’re doing so well.

He feels guilty for calling you weak. Pathetic, sure, but only in a sexual setting and only for him. But weak?

No, that was just him.

Him and his own issues.

“Alpha,” you call out. Toji snaps back in, pressing down his larger frame onto you and rendering you immobile as he does so. His chest against yours — Toji looks at you and you feel relief in the recognition in those eyes. The bitter scent that was muddling his signature bergamot one fading away as it mixes with yours.

“Yeah, babe?” his nose bumps into your chin, teeth teasingly nipping on it, before he plants gentle kisses across your face. You wrap your arms around him, syncing your breathing with his own as you liplock.

When he pulls away, you say; “Strawberries.”

Toji does not ask for a second time. His eyes widen for a moment but once it registers, he peels away. You try not to make a noise as he attempts to pull his knot out but a strangled groan slips through, so Toji offers your calf an apologetic squeeze. His knot was not happy, but thankfully, neither of you had cum from his dick just yet so it wasn’t too snug.

You push to sit, watching him as he finds some washcloths to wipe his junk down with and thanking him when he gives you one as well.

“I’ll get us some water,” you nod at him. Your legs were pretty useless at this point anyways. Leaning against your headboard, you try your hardest to recompose yourself enough.

When he returns with two glasses of cold water, you both sit in comfortable silence as you take sips. He waits for you to talk first, patient as you find the words while you swallow down the mouthful of liquid.

“Are you okay?”

“I should be the one askin’ you that, babe.”

You place the glass down on the floor, making your way to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. You’re on your knees, which makes him tilt his head up as he gazes at you.

“You said our safeword,” he continues, “was I too rough?”

There were moments were his strength was incredibly helpful in your bed. But it isn’t exactly something he enjoys abusing when it wasn’t needed.

When he was younger and in need of cash, he used sex as a means to earn some.

It was stupid, dangerous, humiliating in a way he had never quite felt before. He was the alpha, he was the one on top, and he was the service they paid for. Toji never worked corners, he simply offered when he sensed interest — which makes this humiliation feel inane.

If he asked for it, offered it, took the money; what guilt should the other party feel?

It was...complicated. He’s happy he no longer prostitutes himself just to gamble the money away anymore, he’s happy he doesn’t have to let his mind wander while the woman below him begs for him to be rough. While she’s mewling and begging and crying — and all he feels is disgust at himself when she seems so happy at being choked, slapped, shoved around.

It’s all consensual, she told him.

Barely, he bit out.

But to her, to everyone, that was just Toji being Toji. Saying outlandish things in that blunt tone and barely there grin.

His whole life has been rough. Blood and gore and abuse.

So he enjoys this; sex with you. Where he simply needs to nose the top of your head and ask if he could touch. Where you guide his hands to where you ache for him, and his hands that have killed so many, is suddenly a healing salve. He was a dominant man, but he wasn’t violent. He doesn’t want to be.

There were moments where he could be rough, of course, but he just prefers this.

“No, baby, not at all.” His shoulders loosens and you offer a grin. “Okay,” he curls a hand around your waist and tugs you closer.

“...You spaced out,” you tucked his hair behind his ear, reaching to comb his hair back as he hid his face under your jaw. “We can talk about it if you want.”

“Not really,” he mumbles. You’re not pressed about his answer. Simply threading your fingers through his hair with a hum.

“You wanna talk about you fucking yourself on my knot?” You laugh at him, you can feel his smile on your neck. That scar on his lip tracing your skin.

“Hmm, why? Ya’ didn’t like it?”

“Oh, I fuckin’ loved it. Didn’t think omegas liked that shit. Thought it hurt.”

You have some decency to blush. Happy that Toji’s face isn’t looking at yours so he can’t see you —

“You blushin’?”

Damn it.

“Doesn’t hurt when my cock is rock hard,” you reply. “My cunt was soaked too.” Toji snorts, pulling away to lean on his hand, taking another sip of his water.

“Like a damn slip and slide,” he mumbles. You laugh again, shaking your head and kissing the trail of water away from his chin. He chases your lips and you allow him to claim a kiss.

He groans into it, relishing in your softness as you cup his face and begin to climb his lap again. He’s still at full mast and so are you. You place your forehead over his. Taking in his handsome face, tracing the scar on his lip. He kisses your thumb, holding you securely with one arm while he holds his glass in the other.

“You okay, Toji?”

He smiles. He never told you this, but he enjoys this position the most. Looking up at you like this. Adoring you. Worshipping you. Loving you. It feels so natural.

“Always am when I’m with you, sweetcheeks.”

The crinkle in your nose before you laugh. Toji wants to imprint that within his brain. If he ever died and if those sick fucks decided to cut him open, he’s certain that when they sliced his brain into onion-thin slices they would find you there.

Because he doesn’t want it any other way. His life made no sense before you. It won’t make sense ever again if you ever leave him.

He abandons his empty glass and places it vicariously on the bedding so he can hold you properly.

“Can I make you cum around my dick now?” he asks.

“Think you can before Tsumiki and Megumi come back from school?” you challenge.

He huffs, an upside-down grin appearing as he grips onto your ass.

“I think I could even give them another sibling actually.”

“Toji!”

#s3thwrit3sstuff #male reader #reader insert #male reader insert #gay reader #male!reader #fushiguro toji x male reader #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji x you

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n0tamused · 5 months ago

Note

Hi! Could I request Jiyan, who didn't realise he was in love with his best friend!reader until he almost lost them. The moment he held them unconscious in his arms everything just clicked.

Angst with a happy ending, please.

A/n: sorry this took some time to write! I initially planned to write this as some short drabble/scenario but as you can see, things went out of control lol I do hope you enjoy this :) Also a small note - I initially wrote this with you/yours stuff, but I wanted to experiment this method, so I do apologize if there is some mistakes left here regarding that. Do tell me which one you guys prefer more? You/yours or they/them/she/her.

Contents: Jiyan x GN!Reader, they/them pronouns, blood and injuries, angst but turns to bittersweet at the end, fluff? They both live at the end so we can count it as a happy ending.

Words: 3867

'I can't do this without you'

Holding the weight of a body in his arms never felt heavier before. The gradual added weight on his heart and lungs kept getting heavier and heavier by the moment, he was sure it would make his ribs burst from the pressure. And he wouldn’t be surprised if the next time he looked down he saw his own heart beating outside his very body. (Y/n) was pale, bleeding and giving no response to any action he took. “Please..” His lips muttered, but to what extent his plea stretched out, no one could tell.

His dragon came crashing through the waves of TDs like a storm, breaking apart their limbs and turning them to ash before he himself emerged from its glowing maw, jumping in front of (Y/n) with spear in hand. Jiyan’s face twisted in a fierce scowl, his sharp eyes hooded beneath his knit brows as he plunged into the remaining monsters that lurked around. But not even after he dealt with them did he achieve the quiet that usually followed a concluded battle. The buzzing in his ears did not stop. His heart beat still thundered between his ears, and the sound only multiplied once his golden eyes landed on the falling body of his dearest companion.

There was no time, he told himself, gathering all the courage and patience he found within himself, gathering them in his arms and fleeing from the charred fields as if fire was threatening to lick up his heel. The buzzing sound was deafening, so akin to silence yet it was everything but. He heard nothing else, but he heard it all. As he pushed his way past the soldiers at the front, eyes wide and staring into the void, trusting only his feet to find the path for him. He needs nothing else but to hurry and scold himself for not being able to go faster.

He carried them into the first medical tent his eyes landed on, the flap of the tent slapping out of place and before his form and before he could process the light slap the material did to his cheek, he was placing them down onto one rolled out mat in the corner. He saw the lips of the medical staff move, but no words reached his ears, and for all he knew he could’ve been barking or whispering at them to do something - to help them. He joined in the efforts, plucking out the gauze and the antiseptics from the corners of the tent and gathering them next to the mat as one healer already began to cut away their dirty clothes to gain better access to the wound.

The bare skin glistened with blood, the only shade of theirs that could make Jiyan feel sick to the stomach. Other healers in the tent looked at him in bewilderment as his breathing was yet to calm down, labored and ragged, but his hands held utmost care and precision as he started on the gauze, already keeping steps ahead and waiting until the healer next to him peeled the clothes away. Each layer unfolded like a wet petal, revealing the yawning gash underneath. Jiyan’s golden eyes turned a shade darker under the pressure and the light in the tent, turning a shade of olive instead, sick with worry. Were they gone already? He looks at their face, glimpsing their peaceful expression, dotted with splatters of blood and grime. They’re still bleeding, he notes as his fingers become slick with blood whilst he worked on their wound, there was still a beating heart inside of them, and that meant life. His mind spun prayers on repeat, prayers he thought he had long since forgotten the words of, favoring battle chants over putting his hope into something he couldn’t see or touch. How long till (Y/n) wakes?

Long time has passed until his mind has reeled back around to the present. He was alone now, aside from (Y/n), huddled on a small wooden chair in the opposite corner from which he could see them, patched up and under the light. His hands, once so calm and steady, had begun to shake as realization settled within him. How he could have so easily lost them, with so many words yet to be spoken, hurt more than any wound he sustained. Blood caked on his fingers, falling off into dust as he flexed them into a fist before releasing again. All the worry made him angry, and anger never suited him. It made him think badly, irrationally, and in the silence that followed the medical emergency of their state, all thoughts took root deep within his mind and soul, festering like a neglected cut. (Y/n) shouldn’t have been allowed on the front lines, he should have set them back, or even better - he should have misused his position and sent them home, risking to humiliate them for being sent home for seemingly nothing, other than his selfish need to keep them safe on all accounts.

Sighing, Jiyan shuddered at his own mind’s skilled ways of wearing him down. It played out his image and character in ways he knew he’d never act. He’d never do those things, but in such a state as he was in, he nearly believed it all. Pressing his forehead into the clean heels of his palms he stared at his own boots until the silence became a soft comforting buzz. Sleep had tried to pull himself down his eyelids, but each time he refused it, eventually finding himself sitting at their side again, instead of the faraway corner. Long hours had passed, and Jiyan felt the camp go to bed with the night settling in the corners of the world. But he couldn’t, it would be a disservice to you if he left you alone, but his duty called - and he internally begged for forgiveness as he stepped out of the tent to check up on all the others, cleaning his hands while he was at it.

There was blood on his hands.

And it was theirs.

And he’d never be able to wash it away, no matter how hard he scrubbed, or how many times he washed his hands.

Morning came chill and misty, but Jiyan’s body felt none of it. The cold clung onto him like a second coat, greeting him like an old friend and embracing him as the same. He only hoped the cold did not embrace them too. The night was sleepless for Jiyan, and after he had ensured the safety of others and checked in with his Captains, he had found his way back to the medical tent he left (Y/n) in.

“There’s a lot for me to say, my dear…friend..” Jiyan’s pale lips formed the last word hesitantly, treating it as an impostor instead of the usual warming endearment in which fashion he used it years ago. The word had long since become strange to him, yet he wished not to risk disrespecting them in this state, heavily considering the fact they may not even share in his sentiments. “Yet you seem so eager to cut your life short.. “ he sneered lightly, not at them, but rather at himself, blame always within reach to be pulled towards himself by his very hand.

“What would I do without you..? Who would I be without you?” The world around him seemed to quiet down in silent sympathy. “You mean so much more than you believe, more than you know.. I’ve wished to tell you, but all you force me to do is scold you and weep over you like some child… like when we were kids…”

A twitch, and then the fingers of (Y/n)’s hand grasped into a fist, making his eyes widen at the sight he barely glimpsed with his head hanging low, staring at the ground. His golden eyes snapped to their face, seeing the corners of their lips curl downward into a pain filled scowl.

“(Y/n)!-” he beamed with all the softness his surprise would allow him as he kneeled beside them in one swift swoop. His hand came over their eyes to shield it from the light once he saw how their nose scrunched and brows knit together. Relief filled their eyes as the intrusive light no longer tried to pry them open so cruelly. Dizziness was still huge, feeling as if it split their blood apart, making it as light as clouds, and making them float on top of the mat.

“What’re you.. rambling about…?” (Y/n) muttered, throat dry and voice coarse and wincing, their face once more ended up in a painful twist. Jiyan didn’t need all his medical knowledge to see they were still out of it, his frown deepening, but his heart raced up to climb into his throat.

“I was saying how reckless you can be..” he whispered, blinking away the nervousness from his eyes. His other hand hovered over them, refusing to touch them in fear of hurting them. But his eyes drank in everything, looking for any anomalies that he may have not noticed before, although the chance he missed something was astronomically low with how keenly his eyes kept vigil over you throughout the night. “Are you in pain? Tell me, I’ll help make it better” he told them, shuffling as he loomed over their body.

(Y/n)’s eyes still refused to open after they fluttered shut, their throat bobbing, but swallowing nothing with how parched it felt. “Water..” They croaked, and suddenly light was kissing their eyelids again as Jiyan moved away in haste to fetch a bottle of water.

He returned as quickly as he left, swift as the wind and helping them drink with one hand stabilizing their head and the other holding the bottle to their chapped lips, watching them carefully as they languidly took sips to drink. The gloved iron claw on his finger faintly scratched against their scalp, tangled between their hairs. Letting out a small sigh, thirst finally quenched, they finally opened their eyes to see just how disheveled and worried Jiyan looked.

“Jiyan..” (Y/n) called him, watching as his face both hardened and mellowed at the drop of his name in that worn out tone. Their face looked confused to see him like this, not that they ever doubted he’d worry if they got injured, but the tension within this space felt like a maw of a beast, ready to snap its jaws shut. Something was amiss, something they couldn’t quite place. The aching throb in their side didn’t subside, but they were able to somewhat ignore it for now, worry poisoning them into thinking of the worst - whatever could be worse than their own life nearly being taken away. The question remained unsaid, but it appeared as if Jiyan didn’t need the verbal communication to respond.

“Nothing- don’t worry about it.. Please, lay down and tell me how you feel” He urged as he placed his palm onto their sweaty forehead, pushing it back onto the small pillow below. (Y/n) blinked, confused and scared and exhausted as he pawed gently at their skin, only pulling away after he ensured there was no rising heat.

“I’m.. aching.. that’s all.. and sore all over”

“I believe that to be an understatement, this isn’t some small scratch.. You nearly..” Jiyan looks at the bandages, splotches of red already having bloomed through like little poppies in a faraway field. “I’ll get you something for the pain now… Don’t move.” It was a command, that last part, and left no room for any question or rebuttal as he lifted himself away, painfully severing the moment in favor of searching the place for painkillers and herbs. If there was a way to remain glued to their side and heal them in that way, he wouldn’t have ever left, and that option would have done his heart many favors.

“When will you start listening to orders?” he asked as he walked back to the mat, his hand grasping the gorge shaped pill box his mother gave him, his tone now heralding the lesson he was about to drop on them. His eyes refused to meet theirs as he crouched down again, popping the lid of the gorge open and letting two pills fall into his open palm.

“Whenever you... decide to be less dense..” (Y/n) responded with a small cough that rippled the pain from their wound, and wincing they forced themselves to stay still. He did not take sweetly to the jest, his eyes focusing on them like a target, a beloved one at that.

“You should have called out.. I was there, I could have helped you out. You didn’t need to get hurt, and all because of your faulty sense of independence” Jiyan kept going, urgency for them to understand his side coloring his voice. He helped them sit slowly, apologizing for making them move in a husky and quiet tone, apologizing for making them sit and be here and be in pain, swallowing the big tasteless pills.

Keeping their silence, (Y/n) looks down, guilt seeping through their veins and weary body which seemed to know no rest now.

Sore and worried and dizzy and ever forgetful in this half slumbering state they could only grasp at the thin strings of consciousness as Jiyan loomed over them like a hawk, restless in his pursuit to help, yet he remained in the dark as to how else to do so. What else could he do except think of healing magic he had no possession of. His teeth grinded together, golden eyes flickering over them and then up to their face, meeting their bleary gaze.

“I’m sorry…”

(Y/n) whispered, one hand over their chest as they took breaths in, slow and weak, but good - they were not the shallow breaths you took when he was racing back to the medics and other healers with them in his arms. This was better.

Jiyan’s heart stuttered at the low tone that broke under the pressure he had placed upon them, unwilling yet it was no less necessary if he wished to have them understand. Too many times he had sat down with them, told them to be careful, to follow protocol and all the talked about strategies, to value the teammates at their sides, yet it all seemed for naught. What did those conversations mean, they could not heal you now and make you whole again.

A shaky sigh drops from Jiyan, pulling all the weight from his shoulders and making him sag in his spot, head hanging low and heavy. What was he supposed to say? He had words too many to share.

“It’s… fine.. What’s done is done, and we can’t change what happened.. It’s alright..”

“You’re mad at me..”

Of course he is. Grief has never bitten him so hard as in the moment he saw them stagger in the field, it made his stomach churn and his sides tickle as if wind passed through the hollows between his ribs. And he grieved as if he lost them while patching you up, so much so it poisoned him and made him mad, angry.

“I.. I am not mad at you.. ” ‘I love you, why can’t you see?’ - a part of him wanted to say.

Blinking at him, tears bubbled up to their lash line, listening to him huff, unknowing of the inner turmoil he struggled through, the answer to close yet so far, holding you in suspense. Like a word about to be spoken.

“Why can’t you just listen to orders.. You throw yourself into danger as if you have lives to spare” Jiyan began, finding their eyes in a stern glare which mellowed out quickly. “You are not valued only as a soldier to be thrown across the board but as a human, someone’s companion.. (Y/n)..”

There’s a plea in his tone, and another in his eyes, and his fingers itch with the need to hold onto them, to let the venom of his grief seep into them too, to make them see, understand. It’s like a beast he’s hardly keeping at bay. When was the last time he felt so strongly about someone? Anyone? And to the point he’s shedding his general persona to give way to a man desperate to keep the few people he holds dear alive. Jiyan couldn’t name anyone.

“I understand that, but Jiyan.. how many nights have we spent talking about the day of peace? When there’s going to be no wars to fight? I know-” A cough interrupts them, but Jiyan does not jump at that opportunity to cut them off and scold them - he waits. “..I know it’s a childish dream, a hope, but peace is achievable. And if it means getting battered and bruised and hurt along the way, then so be it - the road to peace is not paved in a bed of flowers..” (Y/n) frowns, nearly pouting, and in some absentminded state, their hand flails in the air in search of his, a purchase he gladly grants without a thought.

Shaky fingers curl around his gloved ones, a tinge smaller, and more fragile than his own with the state now. They lack the grip they usually possess, yet they grasp and hold and he holds back, squeezing a bit tighter. God knows, he shares their view, their childish hope, but he can’t agree with it, not now. “(Y/n).. Peace will mean little if you’re dead to see it..” It’s a whisper, as fragile as the wings of a hatchling, and as soft as the summer breeze.

“That all will mean nothing to me either, it won’t be peace if you’re not with me to see it..” he added, his other hand grasping over their own, thumbing at their soft skin. He swallows thickly, hoping to wish away the tears that threaten to come up to his eyes. “I lo-... I love …you…”

Realization is slow to settle, but he sees it in their face, their eyes that fail to blink as they take him in, deciphering his words one by one, failing, at first, to understand their weight from the usual affections they shared before. Parting their lips, they fail to respond, their eyes flickering to the surroundings before they return to him, and it was as if all air had been knocked out of their lungs. The meaning is written all over him, communicated through all ways but verbal and it was enough. They were children together, growing up and exploring the world, plucking strange berries from nature and sharing them together, they grew up together.

Now they are grown, and (Y/n) focuses on the thought that has appeared in their mind countless times before - growing old together. It was just out of reach, and it was not guaranteed and their actions on the battlefield nearly made it certain that the future would not embrace them together. Trying to blink the tears away, they look at Jiyan, apologetic and ashamed, but where they wished to seek forgiveness was unneeded, as Jiyan had already forgiven it, no matter the hurt.

“I love you too-” The words were accompanied by a stray tear wetting their cheek.

Hushed breaths and shuffling of clothes flutter, and in a blur, Jiyan had pulled himself ever closer, sitting at their side and ever so carefully drawing them to his chest. His movements are slow and calculated even in the face of such strong emotion, too fearful to hurt them.

He lets them rest their face into the crook of his neck, eyes fluttering closed as they both simply hold onto one another, and it was in that moment he felt them squeeze him back, full of blooming life and energy. His fingertips itched for a stronger embrace but he controlled himself.

“I love you..” he repeated, even more quiet and directly beside their ear. “Please.. listen to me.. I only wish to keep you safe.. alive most of all.. Understand me..” They nod their head against him, their fingers clawing at his back with a little more strength, holding on as if he was a ghost ready to vanish. “You’re my candlelight leading me through the darkness.. I can’t do it without you..”

“Oh, Jiyan..” They crack their voice over his name, eyes seeing a mosaic of colors through tears ready to be shed. “I only wish to help you.. Under all this armor and uniform, I can see you struggling too.. How can I not become a little desperate when I see all my other attempts to help you have failed?” They sigh, their breath tickling the skin underneath this chin and he shudders to think of this mutual tug-of-war. They can’t win, neither can.

“You leave my struggles to me.. I do not withhold them for no reason, but I see that has done me, us, more harm than good..” He says but fails to make another sentence, knowing he’d rather not burden them with his own worries, and he’d much rather hear of their own.

“Just.. promise me this” he begins, pulling away and making them face to face. “You will not jump to take any more blows for me, in no amounts at all. I’m the one that should guard you, and not the other way around” He is firm in his case, and even if (Y/n) had the strength to argue, they wouldn’t. This was final.

Closing your eyes and giving a little bow of their head, they profess their agreement to his words without a word of their own. And sinking back into his embrace felt like sinking into a bed of feathers, soft, warm and welcoming. “Fine..”

“We’ll talk more about this once you’ve healed..” Jiyan muttered, his lips ghosting their brow and feeling them nod against him again. His hand rubs up and down their back, and his lips land on their cheek, lingering there in a gentle expression of his love that knew no bounds.

The flickering light and the sudden silence made his mind wander, and his body began to rock back and forth slowly, hoping to ease you into slumber. He wondered how it would feel to hold them again, when they were healed and not even a scar remained of their injury; how it would feel to kiss their brow and hold their cheek in his palm, to see those lights stare back at him from within their eyes, full of mirth and devoid of pain; he thinks how comforting it would feel to feel you flush against him each morning, holding your warm body close and tucking them under the covers when they shift in their sleep… So many images run through his mind, and he prays he gets to see them materialize in reality.

For now he was fine with holding them, serving their needs until war reeled its ugly head again, and he had to leave once more. For his people and (Y/n) he’d grow great miles to achieve peace, even if it meant losing his own peace.

#-dragon.treasure #-better an arrow than you #Jiyan #Jiyan x reader #Jiyan x you #Jiyan x gn reader #Jiyan imagine #jiyan angst #jiyan x y/n #wuthering waves jiyan #wuwa jiyan #jiyan wuthering waves #angst to fluff #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves x gn reader #wuwa x reader #wuwa x you

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nouearth · 11 months ago

Text

once upon an eggnog.

clark kent x male reader.

summary: there's nothing better than physical touch to sober reader up after a christmas party.

wc: 1.1k. warnings: fluff, holiday!season, drunk!reader, maws!clark, worried!clark, co-worker!au, reader doesn't know clark is superman, non-descriptive mention of reader throwing up, clark has very warm hands and is a simp because he wants to make reader happy.

The groan you let out was feeble. Your shadow trailed behind your sluggish steps as you foraged through neighboring street lights, gravel and pavement, for a stake of its emanating warmth.

“Hey—“ A voice called out from behind you, the blanket of snowflakes and cold dulling the panic in the man’s voice. You rested your body against the lamppost, finding the warmth to be exemplary over your frosted cheeks, but unbearable for your insides.

You let out a deep sigh. The longer you stood under the light, sweat droplets began to frame your face, followed by an overwhelming urge to cleanse your body from the inside out.

“I don’t feel…” You slurred in your speech, holding your stomach as you craned over until you slid onto your bottom, head exposed to the light as you faced the comforting snow.

“Wait up!” He called out to you several more times in midst of his trudge, his panting audibly close.

You began grumbling incoherent sounds in response as you clumsily whipped off your coat. Your mind was frosted like the windows on the cars lined down the street as you drew in the cold air with a greed to pacify the strange feeling in your stomach.

“(M/N), keep that on!”

“What are you…?! My mom—“ The constant shifting and turning of your body, all in an attempt to strip yourself of the restrictive wool of your vest and reindeer sweater, churned the bottom of your stomach until it was mush.

Absolute.

Mush.

It was funny how the human body worked because even in your drunken state, your natural instinct to find the nearest public trash can surfed through the flood of eggnog and booze, and you immediately emptied the toxins out of your body with several strong hurls.

“Geez, I told you not to run off…” A messenger bag and a familiar coat dropped near your foot, and the man did not spare a single second to come to your aid. “And also not to drink that much...” He rubbed your back in slow and soothing circles, then in vertical swipes as you coughed out the remaining poison. The strong bass pulsating into his palm as a special way of saying ‘thank you.’

“Clark, it was just a sip—“

“You had six cups….” Clark confessed and your immediate frown was telling in whether you were an innocent bystander, or the reason why the office was running low on drinks. Rummaging through his pockets, he then offered a handful of crumbled napkins that he took from the party.

“The last two didn’t count.” You slurred again, slowly regaining your strength as you stabilized yourself over the rim of the garbage can before wiping your mouth with the napkin. “I needed a drink with my food—“

“You barely touched your plate—“ He cut himself off as soon as he caught you staring at him, the eggnog stupefying you into a dazed state in which crickets and holiday festivities replaced coherent thoughts.

“We gotta get you home. It’s freezing.” He said, and you swayed in place as if you were a palm tree basking in the summer breeze. Or maybe like a giant marshmallow floating yet sinking in the warmth of hot cocoa.

Clark tried his best to fight the smile that was creeping upon him as he tidied your outerwear for the fourth time tonight, shielding you from the dusting of cold when he layered you with your coat.

His jaw clenched while he chewed back an adoration for your nearly frost-bitten visage, stalling the fixing of your reindeer headband to be closer to you a little while longer.

Though he couldn’t tell whether the deep flush of your skin was caused by the weather or the booze, it didn’t matter in the end because the winter of your skin magnetized a bravery in Clark that stilled you in place. Warmth sprouted over your cheeks like an approaching spring, and you closed your eyes peacefully.

Clark had put his bare hands over your cheeks, cupping them like a delicate bowl of snowflakes until they melted into his skin, until all he could feel was you and your equally delicate skin.

“Better?” Hesitantly, his thumbs followed the trail of your dark circles. It was something you’d always complain about yet ironically, your evident lack of sleep ranked high on his ‘favorite things about you’ list.

“Mhm. If only your hands were a little warmer.” You sighed again, the snowing melting into your hair and skin battling Clark’s warmth.

“Hm…” Clark held your cheeks closer, deepening his palms into you, and he closed his eyes, silently channeling his energy into his affectionate hold over you.

Maybe it was the booze playing tricks on you, or perhaps it was your body shutting down for the night, but you physically felt his hands heat up, warmer than his previous offer. Nonetheless, you gave him a nod of approval, and despite drowsiness approaching, your eyes opened bright to thank him with a smile.

“I’m guessing that’s why you don’t wear gloves?”

“Uh…” Clark laughed, an anxiousness you could point out, but you couldn’t exactly trust your judgement in your current state. “I guess you could say that’s why.”

“Well,” You said before a yawn slurred your speech even more, feeling the muscles in your body losing its strength by the second. “Remind me when you’re nearby so I can use you as a…”

“As a..?” There was a slight push to his palms, a strange sudden heaviness before Clark realized you were gradually leaning forward. “(M/N)—“

Gravity pulled your eyelids down, then your body forward, a striking contrast to the graceful dance of snow that dusted the ground. “As…”

And you completely slumped into Clark’s arms. Thankfully, his reflexes were quick to catch you before you could even feel the slightest breeze.

“Let’s get you home…” He smile mirrored the gentle frame of your body as you sunk into him.

And he held you close, accompanying your deep slumber with a warmth that surrounded and protected your body like a string of Christmas lights weaved through pine needles and tree branches.

A warmth that campaigned against the icier gale, the ego of a higher altitude, during Clark’s flight to take you back home.

And a warmth that was victorious when Clark tucked you into bed, a measly makeshift of comfort and peace you thought during your stir of sleep.

Because Clark’s warmth was a newfound establishment from this night onwards.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#clark kent x reader #clark kent x male reader #clark kent x you #clark kent fanfic #clark kent x y/n #nou.fics

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year ago

Note

hii there is a lack of maws clark fics imo so im here asking if you could write something like waking up with him and he tries to cook breakfast but his clumsiness takes over him? anw i love your writing sm,, have a gr8 dayyy

Upon waking up to an empty, semi-cold bed that of which Clark usually occupies, followed by a series of noises coming from the kitchen, you were soon enough lured out of bed and dressed in one of Clark’s shirts and some sweats before trudging down the hallway that felt to have continuously stretched out before you and unto eternity for your poor foggy brain.

That was until you had found yourself stood at the entrance to the kitchen, where you were facing down Clark’s broad back as he threw himself headfirst into partaking in the ever so serious task everyone had to face after waking up; making breakfast. It’s cute watching Clark as he cautiously attempts to crack eggs into a pan without getting any shell remnants in the yolk, you didn’t need to get a look at his face, because you could already envision the furrow in his brows and the look of absolute concentration that would’ve been evident within his beautiful blue eyes; Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if the tip of his tongue was absentmindedly sticking out from the corner of his mouth!

You’ve told Clark time and time again that he needn’t worry about breakfast and that you’ll make it or get something while you were out, but you happen to find that Clark is a persistent man when it comes to help making life a bit easier for you, even when you didn’t necessarily need him to. You didn’t believe yourself worthy of Clark’s golden heart but yet he was the one who gifted it to you, with nothing but the sweetest smile upon his face, speckled with the crumbs of the sweets he had prior as he asks for your permission in keeping your heart safe; In regards as to where you were now, it was obvious that you responded to his confession in kind.

‘What’s cooking, handsome?’ You said, your voice cutting through the silence.

‘Ah!’ Clark exclaimed, taken aback by your suddenness but as he jolted, the egg in his careful hand was soon crushed into of bits regarding shell, egg and yolk, whereas the handle to the pan he was once holding so steadily was now easily snapped off from the rest of it; leaving the eggs that were already in the pan to cook on the hot stove without a means of getting it off safely. Clark looked like the spitting image of an upset puppy dog upon seeing how quickly his perfect breakfast suddenly become…imperfect. He just wanted to treat you for everything you’ve done for him but with his powers, even the most minuscule task was a difficultly when having to actively make an attempt in not breaking things. However he was still coming to terms with his powers, but slowly but surly he will one day have a firmer understanding over them to the point where breaking appliances and the like will become less commonplace.

‘I am…well…was in the process of making you breakfast until…well…you know.’ Clark sighed, gesturing with an arm to pathetic attempt at breakfast, his head hung low against his chest. You smiled sympathetically. ‘Hey big guy.’ You started as you walked over to him, holding his face up by the cheeks, stroking your thumbs across the skin there reassuringly, ‘no need to go beating yourself up about these things. For all things considered, it smelt so delicious that it had me getting up out of our warm bed. Which is already a feet worth celebrating.’ Clark chuckled as he burrows his face into your hands as his own took to bringing you closer to him.

‘I guess, but still I wanted to do something nice for you.’ He utters and you couldn’t help but huff. ‘You do enough for me already, Clark. We’re a team, let me help you and do my share of the heavy lifting now and then.’ You tell him, pressing a kiss to his nose, ‘but firstly we should probably clean this up.’ You pull away to gesture to the broken pan still on the stove, alongside the countertops that were a mess with empty egg cartons from Clark’s previous attempts at cracking eggs and possible pancake batter.

Clark’s embarrassed chuckle filled your ears as he was coming to terms that maybe being in the kitchen wasn’t his strong suit to begin with. ‘Yeah. I second that idea.’

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sleepinthrumyalarms · 2 years ago

Text

— the hunter or the prey

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader

warnings: smut, lesbian sex, face-sitting, roughness, mentions of blood, beastial behavior, all characters are aged-up

summary: your bloody hunt comes to an end, and you return to wednesday in the middle of the night — but a true hunter never rests

word count: 1.3k

a/n: in case you aren't familiar with my oni!reader series: every full blood moon (y/n) gains her true demonic form and runs wild in the woods next to nevermore

When you come back from your hunt, the image is always as beastly as it gets — pupils wide, teeth bare, blood staining almost every inch of your body. You're hazed, mind running wild, and it feels like coming down from a euphoric high, hot lava is boiling in your veins, the adrenaline pumping so vigorously you can taste it on your tongue.

It's the image of a perfect predator having satisfied her needs — one of them, at least, because the most animal, most primal one is yet to be.

The lights are off when you step into the room, slitted eyes shining in the darkness, and Wednesday turns her head to take a look at her late night guest. The ravenette isn't put off by your slouched gait, by the way the sharp claws on your hand dig into the wood of the doorframe as you come inside, trying to steady yourself — uninvited, but not unwelcomed — by the way your breath comes in small clouds of vapor — languid and heavy, leaving your mouth and nose as if you breathe fire and spit flames.

There was another feature that tied you to something akin to a wild dragon — your appetite could never be satisfied.

“(Y/n).”

You turn your head at the sound of your name, gaze landing on the small girl where she sits on the bed, wearing nothing but a dark oversized shirt – your shirt – and you feel saliva gather in your mouth. Her hair is undone from its usual braids, a bit messy, and if your mind wasn’t clouded you’d feel bad for waking her up.

“How was the hunt?” She asks, voice laced with sleepiness. She's tired but always wide awake for your arrival.

You don’t reply. Taking a few heavy steps closer to the ravenette, you bury your face into the crook of her neck, hands moving to rest on her thighs. Wednesday smells delicious, milky osmanthus mixed with something woodsy, the aftermath of a bath she must’ve taken before going to bed – you take a deep breath and feel the light traces of your own scent above hers.

“Need you,” you mutter lowly, your breath grazing Wednesday's skin and making her shiver, “Need you right now.”

Even in your half – unadequate state, you don’t push the girl. She doesn't deny you though — thin hands rest on your shoulders, and her breath hitches when you lift her up to switch places, letting her sit on your lap as you find your place on the bed.

Your shoulders rise and fall with every intake of air you do, and Wednesday's eyes trail down to the rest of your half - clothed frame — your haori is draped over your top, a pathetic attempt of seeking some decency of a human despite never ever being close to one, though it indeed does good work at covering you up. But she can still see it — the plain between your breasts, where the bones of your ribs are almost visible — her favorite place to touch, to kiss, and now that it's covered in blood, she'd love to lick it, up and closer to your neck, where you'd growl like a threatened animal when the ravenette would press her lips to your jugular, feeling your racing pulse.

Wednesday makes the right choice when she leaves the biting completely to you, because your maw is so huge it closes around her whole neck, and she knows that you could snap it in half like a twig if you wished to, the danger an incredible turn on. You nip at the soft flesh there, and her grip on your shoulders tightens before the ravenette pushes you down on your back. Your head hits the soft pillow encased in silky black linen, and the girl above you moves to rest on your middle, palm on your bicep to support herself. A small gasp leaves her mouth when your clawed hands wrap around her thighs, pulling her closer to your face with ease.

"No need for impatience, (Y/n). I'm all yours to have." She scolds softly, fingers grasping onto the bedframe to steady herself.

The words spur you on even more — tightening your hold, you press her closer and right onto your eager mouth.

The electric shock of pleasure is so sudden, running from her core up to her spine — Wednesday throws her head back, a silent moan on her dark lips, and her fingers tangle themselves in your disheveled hair. The feeling of your mouth on her heat is heavenly, almost too much, making her bite at her plump lip to keep the quiet whines in.

You’re surrounded by Wednesday – her scent, her taste, the way she feels under your hold, but you still can’t get enough of her — you growl into her wetness, the sound sending pleasurable tingles up the ravenette’s body, your claws digging into the milky flesh of her thighs to press her impossibility close to you.

"Good girl... Just like that..." She murmurs the praise, looking down at where you're practically buried in her warmth, and brushes some stray hairs from your face. You open your mouth to welcome her slick, tusks catching at her throbbing clit, long hot tongue sliding in, and Wednesday shudders and sighs, her walls fluttering around the rough muscle, the feeling of your teeth against her cunt so incredibly erotic.

The ravenette isn't really into riding your face in her exhausted state — she lets you do all the work, and you gladly oblige, slurping at her pretty pussy and practically gulping her down, and she closes her eyes, relishing in the feeling. And you — you're relishing in the taste of Wednesday on your tongue, sliding your tongue between her puffy folds to lick at her like a woman starved.

"You'd think a whole night spent hunting would satisfy you, but... there's hunger in you only I can sate."

And she's right — you're hungry for her, hungry like you've never been, ready to devour the small ravenette whole like she is your last meal before your head rolls down off a guillotine.

The ravenette’s breathing becomes labored, her thighs clenching around your head, and her hand moves to grab at the hem of her shirt, raising the cloth to her mouth and muffling her whimpers. You don’t let the new area of exposed skin go to waste – your claws rake up Wednesday’s thighs to her hips, right where she’s extremely sensitive, the touch leaving goosebumps in its wake, and hold her there, palms pressing into the pale plush of the girl’s body.

“Oh, (Y/n),” she moans into the fabric when your tongue slides over her clit, lips wrapping around it to suck gently, and her grip on your hair turns rough, back arching prettily. Her syrupy arousal drips down your chin, and you lap at her hungrily, helping her ride the orgasm out.

Wednesday pulls away, scooching back a bit to sit on your chest, letting you breathe, but you growl as she does so, and she tuts at you queitly.

“Patience. You take what I give you, cara mia,” her hand slides up to your maw, thumb reaching to lift your top lip over your canine, “Or do you want me to put a muzzle on that greedy mouth of yours?”

The tusk is almost twice the size of her finger, but you won’t ever dare bite the ravenette – your tongue moves against her palm instead, long muscle sliding over her pale skin, and Wednesday smiles.

She’ll gladly give you seconds – all in good time, of course.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday x reader #wednesday 2022 #netflix wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday x you #wednesday imagine #wednesday the series #wednesday addams x y/n #wednesday x fem!reader #wednesday x female reader #wednesday smut #smut #wlw smut #wednesday addams smut #wednesday x reader smut #wednesday addams x reader smut

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sparrowritings · 3 months ago

Text

seven days to confess

pairing: geto suguru x gn!reader

summary: shoko and satoru give suguru an ultimatum to confess to you by the end of the week

tags: jealousy, not actually unrequited love

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i know this is a suguru x reader but there’s lowk more satoru and shoko x reader LMAO

Shoko has had enough. Enough of the needless pining that she somehow always finds herself in the middle of.

She was the first to notice, before Satoru even suspected a thing. Lingering gazes and touch, Suguru is always a gentleman around you, opening doors, bringing you food when you are busy with missions all day, and giving you shoulder massages whenever you are stressed from writing reports. He didn’t treat Shoko or Satoru like that, so for Shoko, it was obvious that you were special to him.

When she brought it up to Satoru, he only made the case more damning.

Shoko and Satoru sat under a tree, avoiding the harsh afternoon sun. A few dozen yards away, you and Suguru were sparring, curses clashing with the multiple light-constructed weapons you had summoned with your cursed technique.

“Satoru, do you know if Suguru like, has a thing for (Y/N)?”

“A thing? He hasn’t told me anything if he does.”

“Really? I feel like Suguru’s so lovesick I feel nauseous just watching them when they’re together.”

The two of you had stopped sparring, and instead, you were playing with Rainbow Dragon, as if it was a big dog. You created a large ball of light and tossed it into the air, and Rainbow Dragon launched itself off the ground, fetching the ball in its maw and returning it to you, dropping the ball at your feet. You pet the curse’s head, and it bounds around you, playfully nudging you and licking your face.

“Ew. I’ve never seen Rainbow Dragon do that in all the three years that I’ve known it.” Satoru pointed out, placing his hand on his chin as if pondering deeply.

“Speaking of which, I ran into Suguru yesterday in the common room at ass o’clock making ramen. I asked if he was making a midnight snack, and he told me he was making it for (Y/N) because they were hungry.” He recounted, “He’s never made anything for me, no matter what I say and no matter how many puppy dog eyes I throw at him.”

“We should ask him about it later.” Shoko spoke, amused.

Satoru shrugs, still watching you play fetch with Rainbow Dragon.

“Sure, it’ll be fun.” He replies.

The chance comes when the four of you are hanging out in Suguru’s room, a week from winter break. A cheesy romcom plays on the portable DVD player set on the table. You and Suguru are sitting on the bed, while Satoru is sitting against the bed on the floor, and Shoko is plopped down on the bean bag next to him.

Halfway into the movie, Shoko nudges Satoru. He clears his voice.

“Uh, (Y/N), I left one of my mission reports in your room after we were working on reports the other day, do you mind grabbing them for me?”

“Your mission report? The last time we worked on reports was weeks ago.”

“U-Uh yeah, I-I was, uh, looking through my reports… and I realized I was missing one.”

“Huh.” You raised an eyebrow in suspicion and confusion, before getting up to look for Satoru’s mission report, “I’ll be right back.”

The door closes with a click after you leave the room.

“What was that about?” Suguru questions, suspicious.

“Sooooo, Suguru,” Satoru starts with a mischievous grin on his face, “Christmas is coming up.”

“Right, like it does every other year.” He answers cautiously.

“What Satoru is trying to say, is that you should ask (Y/N) to go out because we are sick and tired of your pining.” Shoko continues.

“What? Where did you guys get that idea from?” Suguru deflects.

“We have eyes, Suguru. You guys make heart eyes at each other every time you are within a ten foot radius. You should just ask them out and spare all of our suffering.”

“Okay…? But I’m pretty sure they don’t like me like that. We’re just really good friends.”

“The only person you’re convincing is yourself, Suguru.”

The room is plunged into a tense silence.

“Fine. I admit it. I like (Y/N) as more than just friends, but there is no way they feel the same way.”

“So you’re not going to tell them?” Satoru asks.

“No way, especially not now.”

“Fine then, I’ll just tell them for you since you don’t have the balls to.” Shoko deadpans.

“No.” Suguru answers immediately.

“I propose a deal.” Shoko says, smirking.

“I don’t like the sound of that but go on.”

“You tell (Y/N) that you like them within the next seven days, I won’t tell them anything. But if you don’t, Satoru or I will help you, and we’ll make it very embarrassing for you.” Shoko states.

“Doesn’t really seem like I have a choice in the matter.”

“Nope! So what do you say?” Satoru says with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Seen as I don’t have a choice, I’ll have to agree.” Suguru says.

“Great! Then we wish you to best of luck for the upcoming week.” Satoru says as he slaps Suguru in the back.

You return the same moment, pushing the door open.

“Satoru I couldn’t find your mission report.”

“Now that I think about it, I think I didn’t leave it in your room.” You frown, giving him a confused look.

“Okay,” You drag out the word, not fully believing the white haired man, “Let me know when you find it.” Satoru shoots you a double thumbs up.

Of course, Shoko and Satoru did not intend to let the week pass by easily.

“Here’s the plan,” Shoko says, pointing at a crudely drawn diagram on the whiteboard next to her. They were hidden away in the morgue, far away from wherever Suguru and you were. She points to the stick figure which represented you.

“First, we have to take (Y/N) out on ‘dates’. They can’t be too forward, so that (Y/N) doesn’t suspect anything, but they also have to be believable enough that Suguru gets jealous.” Satoru nods in agreement. Shoko then points to a stick figure drawn with a singular bang over its forehead.

“Then, we make sure Suguru knows about these ‘dates’. He gets jealous, then BOOM-” Shoko points to two stick figures holding hands, “we get them together.”

“Alright, sounds good to me,” Satoru says, grinning.

On Monday, Satoru asks you to grab dessert with him. You say yes since it was a regular occurrence, but normally Suguru would also tag along. When you met up with him and Suguru was nowhere to be seen, you were surprised.

“Is Suguru not coming?”

“He said he had to work on a mission report so he won’t be coming.”

“Oh, okay. Let’s go then.”

The two of you visit a desert place in the nearest town.

“Same old?” The owner of the store asks.

“Yes please!” Satoru answers enthusiastically. You take a seat at one of the booths near the window. The owner arrives at your table, placing down a slice of strawberry cake for Satoru and sakura mochi for you. You dig in immediately, and Satoru sneakily takes a photo of you enjoying your favourite dessert.

“We should take a photo.”

“Sure? What for?”

“To send to the group to show the other two what they’re missing out on.” You shuffle to the other side of the booth, and Satoru wraps a hand around your shoulder. Satoru had always been surprisingly physically affectionate with friends, so you thought nothing of it.

He takes the photo with his free hand, and as he snaps a few consecutive photos, he smears some of the leftover cream from his strawberry cake onto your face. You retaliate immediately, getting some of the cream from the plate and flicking it at him. Satoru continued taking photos, but at that point, both of you were laughing so hard that you could barely sit up straight.

Satoru sends the photos into the group chat once you agree on a truce to stop assaulting each other with cream. It is a series of ten photos. The first few were normal selfies, you and Satoru smiling at the camera. Then the photos devolved into blurry messes of cream and smiles, as they captured the food fight frame by frame, first showing how Satoru started the fight, then how you got back at him.

They were cute photos, you had to admit. You responded to the photos with a growing heart emoji and “:P”, before making your way back onto campus with Satoru.

On Tuesday, Shoko invites you to self-care night. You knew that Shoko often had self-care nights with Satoru. You were invited sometimes, but oftentimes you chose to hang out with Suguru and they stopped inviting you after you turned them down a few times.

Suguru was still out with Satoru on a mission, so you had taken Shoko up on her offer.

Shoko had set her room up for peak comfort. She had her DVD player on her table along with a collection of different DVDs to pick from. The rest of the table space was taken up with a variety of skincare products to choose from. She put a movie on in the background, and she began guiding you through her ten-step skincare routine.

You followed her instructions and put a green clay mask on your face. When your face was fully covered in green, you laughed and pulled out your phone, taking a selfie with Shoko, who pouted at the camera.

As the mask was drying, you let her do your nails, coating them in a layer of baby blue nail polish. As the night came to an end, you both sheet masks on, sitting on Shoko’s fuzzy throw blanket on her bed.

“What do you think of Suguru, (Y/N)?” Shoko asks.

“What do I think of him? Well…I think he’s kind, talented, and a really hard worker. I think he’s convinced that he’s not good enough, but he’s the only person who doesn’t see how amazing he is. He’s one of the best friends I have along with you and Satoru.”

“So what would you say if Suguru asked you out?”

“Huh?” Your mind went blank as blood rushed to your face, “Why would you say that? He doesn’t even like me like that!”

“So you would reject him if he did ask?” You pause.

“I would say yes, but also he would never ask me out.” You answer cautiously.

“Okay.” Shoko didn’t say anything else related to the matter for the rest of the night, and by the time you left her room, you had forgotten about the exchange.

When you were back in your own room, you received the photos that you had taken that night, sent into the group chat with the rest of your co-years.

Like the ones you had taken with Satoru, they were cute photos. You replied with a simple “<3” and turned in for the night.

On Wednesday, you were pleasantly surprised to find out that you had no missions or classes. You were also much more surprised to find out that Satoru was inviting you out to dinner, and at a very fancy restaurant at that. He had invited you to a high-end Western restaurant in Shinjuku and had said it was his treat for putting up with him for so long. You had known Satoru to pull weird stunts here and there, but this seemed like a nice gesture so you had agreed.

Wear something nice ;)

He had texted you that morning. In the end, you chose a going-out outfit that was classy but still showed some skin. You had done your hair as well and wore your favourite makeup look for going out. When you met up with Satoru before the dinner, even he seemed surprised at how good you looked.

“You look good, (Y/N),” Satoru wanted to add on “Suguru would lose his shit if he saw you right now,” but decided against it before the words slipped out.

You held onto him, and a moment later, you were at the entrance of the restaurant. Satoru had already arranged what foods were going to be served ahead of time, so the two of you waited patiently for the food to arrive.

The lighting of the restaurant was dim, but the candles set on the tables along with lanterns hanging from the ceiling cast a warm glow over your faces. The floor-to-ceiling windows you sat next to provide a front-row view of Shinjuku, countless billboards and signs flashing in a sea of lights. The entire mood of the restaurant was intimate, welcoming, and cozy, and it was almost romantic-

“Satoru is this a date?” You ask suddenly, the gears in your head spinning and clicking into place.

“What." Satoru replies, startled.

“Satoru, I really appreciate you doing all of this, but I have feelings for someone else-”

“I know that you like Suguru.” He blurted.

“What- did Shoko tell you? I swear when I get back she’s-” Satoru cut you off with a sigh, taking his shades off and placing them on the table, rubbing the bridge of his nose. There was no lying out of this one.

“Look. Shoko and I came up with a plan to get Suguru to confess to you by the end of this week. Tonight is part of that.”

“And you intend to get him to ask me out by going out with me and doing it for him?” You ask incredulously.

“No, jeez. The plan is to show Suguru that you’re going on-” He makes air quotes with both hands, “-dates with us, which would make him jealous and push him to confess to you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out.

“You know he doesn’t like me like that right? I’ve tried telling Shoko but I don’t think she took me seriously.”

“For the record, I don’t like you like that; I like that we’re friends, and I’d like to keep it that way. Let’s just enjoy this dinner and trust me and Shoko to work our magic. I also wasn’t kidding when I said that this was to thank you for putting up with me. I just have to treat Shoko and Suguru to something similar as well after this.” Satoru offers, holding a hand out as if offering a truce.

You ponder for a moment, before taking his hand.

“Deal.”

The rest of the night goes smoothly once the tension between you two diffuses. You had the best steak you have ever had in your entire existence, followed by the best tiramisu that you had ever put into your mouth.

As you are walking out of the restaurant, you realize that Satoru is no longer beside you. Looking behind you, you realize that he was taking a photo. He jogs to catch up with you, showing you a candid photo of yourself. The photo caught you mid-turn and smiling at the camera, the dim yet warm lighting making your features slightly blurry, making the entire scene look dreamy.

“I’ll put it in the group chat so you can have it,” Satoru says as he taps away on his phone. He also sends another photo he took earlier when you were still at the table, smiling in front of a steak the size of your face. You didn’t reply with a message but reacted to the image with the double heart emoji.

On Thursday, Shoko invites everyone to her room to hang out. Currently, Satoru and Suguru are playing an intense game of Mario Kart, you and Shoko watching from the side.

“You should let me do your eyeliner.” Shoko suddenly says, “I saw this look in this magazine the other day and I think it’ll fit you.”

“Sure,” You nod, leaning back on the bed. Shoko digs around her drawers for her makeup and sits in front of you. She cups your face with one hand, holding her liquid eyeliner to your eye with the other, resting the heel of her palm on your cheek to stabilize her hand.

Before the eyeliner touches your skin, you hear the loud rustle of someone standing up from the bed.

It was Suguru. The game controller lay on the bed, the current round of Mario Kart forgotten.

“I can’t take this anymore.” He says, shooting Shoko an accusatory glare.

You and Shoko both freeze, looking over at Suguru.

“You, you’re guilty too.” He points at Satoru, who has also abandoned Mario Kart and is looking up at Suguru from where he is sitting on the bed.

“First, you take (Y/N) out on a dessert run without me. Then, you-” He points at Shoko, “Whisks (Y/N) to self-care night coincidentally when Satoru and I are out. Then-” He looks back at Satoru, “You take (Y/N) out to one of the fanciest restaurants in Shinjuku on a date. And now this?!” He gestures with both hands to Shoko, who was still frozen in the previous position, both hands on your face.

“I don’t know what the fuck you guys have been planning, but seen as you obviously can’t keep your hands off (Y/N), you guys obviously don’t care that I have feelings for them so maybe you guys should date them instead?” He throws both arms up in frustration before leaving the room. The door closes with a slam. The room is plunged into silence.

“I’m going to go after him.” You speak, rushing out of the room. You made a detour to your own room to put on and pick up an extra coat and scarf. You thought for a while where Suguru would be, then quickly decided to go to the lake. He told you about this spot that he frequented when he needed to clear his mind; you went once with him and agreed that it was a great spot when you wanted peace and quiet.

When you jogged out of the vicinity of campus, gentle snow began to fall, muffling all the noises around you.

As you arrive at the clearing next to the lake, you see Suguru, who is sitting on a flat rock right next to the water, back faced to you. The lake had yet to completely freeze over, and gentle waves lapped at the shore. The soft gurgling of the water was the only thing you could hear through the snowfall, along with your heavy breathing and the crunching of the pebbles underfoot. Puffs of smoke dissipated into the air above him as he smoked a cigarette.

You know he hears you, but he makes no effort to look away from the lake. Silently, you wrap the extra coat around his shoulders, and you sit down on the rock next to him. You turn your head, tracing the sharp slopes and curves of his profile with your gaze.

Suguru took a drag of his cigarette, breathing out another breath of smoke. Still looking over the lake, he hands the cigarette to you. You take it, also taking a drag of the cigarette. This continues in silence for a few minutes, before you inhale, taking a full breath of the crisp, cold air, which burns the back of your throat.

“I…like you too, by the way. You could’ve just asked if you wanted to date.”

“How long have you liked me?”

“Since the first year. I didn’t want to ruin the friendship. I didn’t think you liked me like that.” You chuckled at your own blindness in hindsight.

“I didn’t want to ruin the friendship either.”

The quiet murmur of the water against the shore and your own breathing were the only sounds you could hear.

You inhaled, ready to speak, but hesitated at the last moment.

“Sorry, by the way, for last week.” You pause, “Apparently, Shoko and Satoru came up with a plan to get you jealous. I found out yesterday when I was out in Shinjuku with Satoru.”

“You what.”

“I played into it ‘cause I thought it wouldn’t affect you. I was convinced you didn’t like me like that.”

“Well, it did affect me.” Suguru finally turned to look at you, his mouth twisted into a pout.

“I know that now, that’s why I’m apologizing.”

Silence enveloped you both once again, like the soft blanket of freshly fallen snow on the treetops.

“Shoko and Satoru found out I liked you last week” It’s Suguru who breaks the silence this time, “She said something about not being able to handle all this pining and threatened to tell you if I didn’t confess by the end of the week.”

“Sounds like a Shoko thing to say.” You giggle, “Well? We’re not at the end of the week yet.”

Suguru takes your hands in his, his hands surprisingly warmer despite being outside longer.

“(Y/N), I’ve liked you since we were in first year. Just didn’t want to admit it because I was scared.”

“Well, there’s nothing to be scared about ‘cause I like you too.” Suguru moves a hand to caress your cheek, and you lean into it.

“I know that now.”

Suguru leans in and kisses you gently. You feel the butterflies flutter their delicate wings in your stomach as your heart beats against your ribcage. You part for air briefly before Suguru presses your lips together again, this time more confident and hungry, as if making up for lost time. He tangles his hand in your hair, pushing you towards him and deepening the kiss. A warm buzz filled your head as all you could think about was Suguru.

When you part once again, you are out of breath. You could see the quick puffs of condensed breath against the cold air. Suguru cups your face with both hands and pecks you on the lips again before getting up.

“We should go back before they think we’re dead.” You stand too, intertwining your fingers with his, and return to campus, hand in hand.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x gn!reader #gn reader #jjk x male reader #jjk x female reader #jjk suguru #suguru #geto suguru #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #suguru geto #suguru x reader #suguru x you #suguru x y/n #geto x you

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