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erimeows · 3 years ago

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For You (NSFW)

Optimus Prime wasn’t good at confrontation; physical, verbal, emotional- none of it. So, as he stood with his digit hovering over your doorbell, he could feel his spark beating in his throat. His anxiety was killing him, and the part of him that was so anxious was tempted to just turn around and walk away.

He could save it for another night, couldn’t he? ...No, he couldn’t. He’d been telling himself another night, just one more night, next week, later for months now. It was time.

Now or never.

Three, two, one-

With a sharp inhale, Optimus rung your doorbell and wrung his servos together in front of him. He could feel his faceplates burning red with a heavy blush as he waited for you to open the door, but thankfully, he didn’t have to wait for too long.

The door slowly came open, revealing you behind it. You wore a (f/c) robe that was loosely tied, revealing part of the white teddy you wore underneath. It took everything in Optimus to tear his optics away from the beginnings of the chest that he so desperately wanted to bury his faceplates in, but when said optics landed on your face, graced with a sultry smirk and lustful (e/c) eyes, it didn’t help.

You grabbed his servo with one hand and pulled him far enough inside to shut the door behind him before pushing his back against it- and, of course, he let you. The second you went to lean up and kiss him, though, Optimus shook his head and pulled away.

“We can’t keep doing this.”

“You say that every time,” You rebutted and rested your hands on his hips, gently massaging circles into the metal plating with your thumbs.

It was true, and he knew that. Every time after the first time you two had met up like this, he’d argued against it, but you always pulled him right back in with your charm.

“No, I mean it this time,” Optimus stopped you, a bit awkward as he placed a servo on your shoulder and backed himself further up against your door to put some distance between the two of you. He wasn’t ready to do this. He wanted to keep you forever, but it wasn’t fair to you. You deserved better and he needed to tell you the truth. “We need to talk.”

You seemed to know what was coming, so you pulled away and crossed your arms with a huff. Your eyebrows furrowed.

Honestly? The situation was uncomfortable. Optimus could see the candles lit in your house, smell the perfume of yours flooding into his olfactory sensors, and the lingerie under your robe... You’d assumed he was coming over to interface with you like usual, and as much as he wanted to, he used all of his willpower to resist the urge in favor of watching you storm over to the living room couch. You plopped down onto the corner seat in a dramatic fashion with your arms still crossed.

“At least come in and sit down here if you’re going to do this to me tonight, Optimus. I’d rather you not do it in my doorway.”

You knew, and he knew. Shaky in his movements, the Autobot locked your front door and walked over to your couch so he could sit next to you.

Your relationship had always been complicated, to say the least.

It started when him and his team had started battling the Decepticons on earth. With all of the news coverage they received, they were well-known amongst politicians, media outlets, law enforcement, and citizens in Detroit, and the Autobots had not only captured their interests, but yours as well. You were a scientist interested in doing studies on Cybertronian creatures to figure out what they were and how you could apply them and their technology to life on earth. There were plenty in the scientific community who were interested in them, of course, but you were the only one who had written a heartfelt letter about the matter, promising not to do anything too inhumane- the occasional metal sample, recharge studies, strength tests, and so on.

Then again... You’d included a picture of yourself in your first letter to the base, and that may or may not have been what captured Optimus’s attention initially. But then he met you and allowed you to conduct your experiments with Ratchet as your assistant on base, and not only were you gorgeous, but you were smart, creative, kind, easygoing, loving... You were everything Optimus Prime wished he was. So, even when the experiments stopped and you moved onto your next project, you still came around the base and Optimus still came around your house behind his teammates’ backs.

‘Why is she still here, Prime? Her study’s over.’

‘Yes, I know, Ratchet. She’s just... Helping me with some things.’

Ratchet commented on it the most, skeptical as always. Bumblebee always asked where he disappeared to in the middle of the night. Prowl was starting to get concerned by how tired Optimus seemed, and Bulkhead was the one who constantly snapped him out of his lovestruck dazes when he got caught up thinking about you.

The first time Optimus Prime made love to you was still a blur. He had developed feelings rather quickly, but it wasn’t until months of building up the courage to make a move that he’d finally done something; shown up to your house in the middle of the night and taken you into his arms the second you opened the door. It had escalated from there with you wrapping your arms back around him and pushing your lips against his, slamming the door shut behind the two of you and tumbling in a pile of warmth and metal onto your living room floor without any regard to how sore you’d be the next morning.

It had turned into a regular occurrence after that. Optimus showed up to your house, showered you in kisses and praise, and the two of you would interface, no matter how hard he tried to resist. And trust me, he tried to resist because he knew in his spark that it wasn’t right.

You’d shared your hopes and dreams and body with him, and he didn’t want to let all of that go, but how could he love what he didn’t deserve in the first place?

He was putting you in danger by being with you, anyway. Being with you was selfish, especially considering that neither of you had dared to say the ‘L’ word or put any sort of label on it. It was just the two of you spending an increasing amount of time together, talking, making love, falling in love when there was a good chance of it failing in the end. And both of you knew.

“It’s hard for me to come out and say this,” Optimus started. “But I love you, and I know you feel the same way.”

Your reaction was surprisingly restrained. No denying, no deflecting, nothing except for a small nod. You allowed your (e/c) eyes to fall shut and took a deep breath before speaking.

“I do.”

“It’s remained unspoken for far too long, but part of the reason I haven’t addressed it is because you deserve better,” Optimus reached over and set a servo on your thigh, offering a comforting squeeze, though that seemed to do nothing. You flinched, not even able to look at him for a moment. “I know it hurts, but you’re worth more than this... (y/n), darling-”

“No, you don’t get to tell me that after everything we’ve been through, Optimus,” You hissed, finally gathering the courage to look right at him, (e/c) burning into aquamarine. “Why do we do this to ourselves?”

“I don’t know,” He confessed with a half-hearted shrug. The simple answer was because the two of you loved each other and didn’t want to let go, but the complicated answer was... Well, complicated. “But what I do know is that I don’t want this for you.”

“Then what do you want?” You snapped.

Optimus understood. He had no right to dictate your life, your romantic interest, or anything else about you; you were a strong, intelligent woman with your own hopes and dreams, and unfortunately, he somehow fit into all of that for you. Still, he answered your question honestly.

“I want you to go live a normal life; meet a human, start a family or get married, stay single if you want, even. I don’t want you to get too attached to me and regret it when you start thinking about the little things later down the line... If you stay with me, you’ll always be in danger, we won’t be able to have sparklings of our own, and I could leave you here on earth or die any day now. Is that what you want, (y/n)? You can still leave me-”

“Are you stupid?” You asked, which made him blink.

The Prime hadn’t expected for you to be happy about this, but he hadn’t expected for you to outright insult him either, let alone call him stupid.

“What?”

“Do you think I would’ve done all of this with you without considering the consequences!?” You raised your voice and jerked away from him, holding a hand to cover your chest, offended. Optimus took the hint and pulled his servo away from your thigh to avoid angering you further.

He crossed his arms in frustration.

“You know what? Yeah, I do,” He answered. “Because you care about me too much to realize how big of a mistake this is going to be if we go through with it. Let’s say you’ve fully thought this through and don’t care about anything I’ve brought up- even if that’s the case, I’m not good enough for you, (y/n). I’m so large compared to you that I’m afraid I’ll hurt you one of these days, I’m selfish, I’m inconsiderate, I mess everything up at every turn, and Primus, I’m so unattractive-”

“Is that where all of this is coming from?” You asked, suddenly a lot more quiet, and Optimus winced at your tone. “I knew something was up, too; you’ve been keeping the lights off when we have sex and most of the time it feels like you can’t look at me anymore, but I... I thought I’d done something wrong, why couldn’t you have told me earlier that you were feeling like this?”

You were giving him the look; (e/c) eyes peering up at him, full of love and passion and so much more that was burning into his processor to make sure he wouldn’t ever forget it.

“Because I knew you were going to react like this- I knew you were going to look at me like that and tell me I’m wrong about myself, and it’s making it ten times harder to break it off with you, but what I said is final. Being with me is dangerous, you deserve to live a normal life, and I’m not good enough for you-”

Optimus’s self-deprecating rambling was cut off by you throwing yourself into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding on as tight as you possibly could. He uncrossed his own, unsure of what to do with them- he didn’t want to hug you back and give you the wrong idea, but he so desperately wanted to feel your warmth on his digits and palms.

“Shut up! Have you ever thought that facing our problems head on would be better than giving up everything we have?” You argued, pleaded, voice cracking as your tears fell onto his shoulders. “You think that being with me is selfish, but what’s really selfish is you not giving me a chance to make this work! You’re wrong, Optimus-”

“Leave me, (y/n),” Optimus reached forward and caressed your cheek with a servo. The amount of tears he found himself wiping away with his thumb made him frown- was this really for the best? Was he in the wrong here? No, this was exactly why he had to go through with it; whatever hurt came from this point on would be much, much worse if he allowed your relationship to continue. “I know you’re hurting right now, but you’ll thank me later. Cut your losses and leave. Go live a happy life, fall in love again- with a human- and focus on your work.”

“I can’t do it, I’m sorry,” You apologized, only making things worse. The fiery anger that you had expressed initially was fading into something much more melancholy as you hung onto him tighter and buried your face into his neck. “I love you too much. If you really mean everything you said, and you don’t want to be with me, push me away; I’ll leave, and we’ll never talk about it again... If that’s what you really want. Push me away, Optimus.”

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be, (y/n), I...” He stopped when he heard you sob into his shoulder, the sound muffled by his metal plating. Part of him knew that if he had to leave earth in the near future, the impact would be more severe on you than this, but he couldn’t see and hear you cry and push you away like you had asked him to. He couldn’t leave you, couldn’t let you go, no matter how much he hated himself for it. “Oh, to hell with it, I can’t do this anymore- So what if it’s selfish?” Before Optimus could stop himself, he found himself moving his servo from your tear-stained cheek to the back of your head, wounding his digits in your (h/l) (h/c) hair and dragging you into him for a heated kiss. You hummed and leaned into it without hesitation. Optimus sighed through his nose when he felt the tension leave both of your bodies, your hands resting on the side of his neck, his spare servo resting on the small of your back to support you and hold you close to him. Your much smaller lips molded into his the best they could, tasting of sugar and a human spice called cinnamon as you swiped your tongue across his bottom lip plate. His servo in your hair ran through the locks and wrapped them around his digits to yank at them- heat consumed his body to the point that his cooling fans were already turning on with the feeling of his spike pushing against the constraints of his interface plating. After what felt like forever yet not nearly long enough, you pulled away from Optimus and looked up at him, lips swollen from the intensity of your kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” You responded, a little rushed.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” You choked out, sniffling and clearing up the remainder of your tears before shedding your robe and kissing his neck, cautious and soft yet needy and desperate. The white teddy contoured your body perfectly, hugging your plump ass and highlighting the shape of your breasts as your nipples perked up against the lacy fabric. Your sides were exposed by the slits cut into the outfit. Optimus found himself drawn to the exposed (s/c) skin instantly, so he rested his servos on your hips and took a deep breath in. You were so small compared to him, too; both of his servos covered the entirety of your waist, back, and stomach when he had them like that, and oh Primus, he could already imagine how you’d look splayed out underneath him with his spike buried in your core. He was sure that if he didn’t open his interface panel in the next few minutes, he was going to burst. “I need this, need you... Optimus.”

The next few minutes were wordless, with Optimus picking you up and carrying you to your bedroom. There were candles lit there, too, and while he was sure that was a fire hazard, he appreciated your attempt to set the atmosphere- even if it had been temporarily squandered by his earlier spiel. So, he shut and locked the door behind him and followed that with gently setting you on the edge of the bed.

When he kneeled on the floor in front of you, you blinked your (e/c) eyes, (s/c) cheeks lit aflame when he took your hand in one of his and pressed a kiss against your knuckles. And, as he looked up at you, he realized something; maybe he didn’t think he deserved you, but you deserved him if that’s what he wanted, and instead of shoving his own self-deprecating sentiments down your throat, he wanted to try to be more thankful that he had you, wanted to stop worrying about what was ahead and enjoy what he had in the moment.

“(y/n), I want to tell you everything tonight, I...” Optimus cleared his throat and continued to hold your hand as he leaned up and nuzzled your neck. “I’ve never loved anybot or anyone like I’ve loved you. I don’t think I could live without you; without the mornings I wake up with you and bury my face in your hair, without the feeling of your skin on mine, without seeing how the sunlight pours through the windows and onto your skin when the sun rises and how your lashes flutter against your cheekbones when you wake up-”

“Make love to me,” You cut him off, looking up at him, and oh, how he could see the utter love and adoration in your eyes. He wondered how such a small being was capable of holding so much love for him, but he didn’t dare question it, doing as you’d told him and reaching up to unlace the front of your teddy, the ribbon that kept the two halves of the front together coming untied underneath his nimble fingers within seconds. It fell off of the upper half of your body, revealing rounded shoulders and supple breasts, a soft tummy and feminine hips. You didn’t hesitate to lift yourself off of the bed just enough to pull the rest of the lingerie down your body and kick it across the room. Now, all of you was exposed from head to toe. This was the point at which Optimus would usually get on the bed and pick you up by your waist, pull you over so you could sit on his faceplates, but he was so emotional and pent up at this point that he knew he couldn’t wait that long to be inside you. “Hurry up, please? I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

The Autobot gave you a nod and stood up, so you laid down with your back on the bed and watched him open his interface panels. He couldn’t help but watch your face as he released his spike, already fully pressurized- because no matter how many times the two of you had done this, you always seemed to be taken aback by the sheer size of it, your cheeks glowing red and eyes blown wide with lust in a manner that flattered him.

You didn’t speak, only gulping and squeezing your thighs together in anticipation. Optimus Prime crawled over you on top of your mattress with his knees on either side of your hips to cage you underneath him. The slit of his spike was already wet with prefluid and lubricant, and he wanted to fuck you so bad, but he knew he had to wait until you were ready.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, before you’d probably even thought of him in such a way, he’d done his own research on human mating rituals to prepare himself for you; enough research to know that human women needed thorough foreplay and preparation to take a human’s spike, let alone a Cybertronian’s, which was usually larger. Due to that, he was always very careful with you, giving you plenty of time and prep before you ever had sex.

So, as he balanced himself on his knees and pinned your wrists above your head with one servo, he circled two of the digits on his free servo with his glossa to lubricate them and get them ready for you. You spread your shaky legs and moved your hips up, almost as if to tell him to get on with it. Your impatience was evident in the way your body moved, your breaths heavy and a pout of frustration taking over your face.

Unable to help himself, Optimus chuckled at the feeling of you trying to move your hands out of his grip to no avail. It was nice to know that despite what had happened earlier, nothing bad had happened to your usual dynamic- and the sound of you bashfully giggling in return made his spark swell with the love he had for you.

Having had enough with making you wait, the Prime prodded his pointer digit at your entrance and slowly pushed it in. He followed with his middle digit and waited for you to adjust, the both of you letting out a sigh. You were so different than any Cybertronian he’d ever done anything with; piping hot, wet, velvety, and sensitive, he couldn’t help how his spike throbbed at the feeling of you moving your hips to fuck yourself on his fingers as you hummed. With him holding your wrists, you couldn’t move your arms down, but you managed to grip one of the digits that was assisting in holding you down.

You’d adjusted quickly enough to his fingers, so Optimus began a steady rhythm of pulling them most of the way out before pushing them back in, over and over and over again, getting progressively faster with each push. You rewarded him with your sweet moans in return and tilted your head back with your mouth agape in the depths of your pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” Prime praised you without hesitation and dipped in until he was knuckle deep. That made you say his name especially loud, so he continued doing it, wanting to hear that sound again. “So gorgeous with your face red and eyes half-lidded. I love how you always squeeze one of my fingers during it because your hands are too tiny to fully hold mine; you’re so small I fear breaking you sometimes, but the fact that you still trust me when I’m big enough to crush you like this makes me feel so good.”

“I think your eyes are beautiful,” Surprisingly enough, you praised him back, looking him straight in the optics. “I love it when you look at me when we do it; the face you make is what sends me over the edge, and the noises you make in my ear drive me wild. The way you have so much physical power over me just makes it even more exciting than it already is. It’s like you could do whatever you want to me, any time you want, and I’d let you.”

Your words were rushed but confident, though as soon as you finished, you hid your face in the pillow your head was currently on to stifle a moan at a particularly rough crook of his fingers.

“Ah, you’re embarrassing me now,” The Autobot murmured, able to feel his normally cool-colored faceplates drowning in a heavy pink blush. You seemed ready enough and he was growing just as impatient as you had been earlier, so Optimus slowly withdrew and positioned himself between your legs with the head of his spike at your entrance. He bit his lower lip and rubbed his tip against your slick folds before teasing your clit, which made you emit a cracked moan. “You’re ready, yes?” You gave a hurried nod and moved to rest your cheek on the cold pillow. “I need to hear it, baby. Use your words.”

“I’m ready, please-” Optimus didn’t wait any longer after that, wanton and revved up, the Autobot sheathed his spike in you in one deep stroke and reveled in the debauched cry of yours that followed. Your pussy enveloped him completely, taut and scorching and slick, so much so that his hips stuttered with the willpower it took him to let you adjust instead of fucking you raw like an animal the way he wanted to.

“(y/n), my dearest love,” Optimus groaned and pulled back about half away, then pushed back in, only for your heat to pulse and twitch around him. You moved your hips up to meet his and grinded them in a circular motion in what must’ve been an attempt to urge him to get on with it. “Oh, Primus, if you know what’s good for you, you’re going to stop that. Tonight is not the night to test my patience, because you feel absolutely delectable right now and it’s taking everything in me not to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to walk or sit down without feeling my spike in you for weeks.”

“Yeah?” You taunted, voice breathy as you dared to test him by wiggling your hips even more and purposefully clenching down around him. The thread that was the last of his patience snapped at that, so he gripped your wrists even tighter in his servo and used the other to balance himself over you so he wouldn’t crush your body. You only continued your teasing.

“Yeah,” Optimus finally responded to you, his lips pulling into a tight smile to keep himself from making any noises that were too embarrassing. When he regained his composure, he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “This is going to get a bit rougher than usual, so don’t say I didn’t try to warn you earlier. You earned this.”

With that, the red and blue bot withdrew until it was just his tip inside you, and then thrusted all the way back in- so hard and deep that he could feel the back of your inner walls. You cried out to him again, your legs trembling as you clenched them together around his hips. Optimus could only smirk- for as teasing and impatient as you’d been earlier, your cocky demeanor was certainly washing away with every rough thrust of his spike, replaced with desperation and heat.

“Optimus,” Your back arched off the bed as you were split open by his spike, but as much as you tried to move, all you could do was lay there and take it with your arms pinned by Optimus’s servo and your lower body trapped in place by his legs between yours and his spike deep inside of you. “Optimus!”

You looked at him, (e/c) eyes clouded over and rosy lips parted in heavy moans and pants that drove him wild. Just to see how you would look, Optimus pushed his hips into yours particularly hard, feeling his spike twitch at the sight of your eyes rolling back and your lips trembling at the sensation of your upcoming orgasm.

“Say my name, darling,” Optimus leaned forward and nipped at your shoulder as he adjusted his angle so he could slam the head of his blunt, thick spike into your sweet spot and pick up his pace. Your eyes went wide before you squeezed them shut again and yelled out at the sudden change, a sliver of drool falling from in between your lips. “I want to be all you remember for the rest of the night, so say all of it...!”

“Optimus,” You practically sobbed as the Autobot made love to you like there was no tomorrow in store. The sounds of his metal hips slamming against you and your broken moans echoed in the room and drove him closer and closer to the edge. He was already inside you, but he found that he still wanted to be closer, so he found himself making out with you yet again. “Optimus Prime,” His name fell from your tongue and onto his lips in between your passionate kisses with every thrust of his spike into your wet heat in a way that made him shudder. The arm that was holding him over you shook with the strength of his upcoming overload, the hand that was holding your wrists above your head on your pillows squeezing just tight enough to leave red marks on your skin in the shape of his large digits.

“That’s it, sweetspark, overload for me, won’t you? I can hear you’re getting close, so why don’t you be a good girl and finish for me? You look so beautiful like this, can’t wait to see you cum around my spike, princess,” Optimus egged you on as he felt your pussy flutter around his spike, quickly bringing him closer and closer to his own climax. Thrusting into your soft, small body was so addicting that he didn’t want it to end, but when you gave a broken moan of his name and tensed so hard that he was sure your fingers digging into his fingers left dents in the metal, he couldn’t help it. You came hard around him, squeezing down to keep his spike deep inside of you in a way that triggered his overload. Optimus Prime gave a soft groan when he finally finished, the electricity in his abdomen and spike exploding and making his entire body go numb as he spilled into you. “Fuck, (y/n)-” Optimus slammed his lips into yours one more time, filling you up with his transfluid and giving you a few more weak thrusts. You kissed back, albeit sloppily due to your current blissed out state. Your tongue lazily intermingled with his. The grip on his shoulders loosened, and you pulled away when you felt him depressurize so he could pull out, close his interace panel, and sit next to where you laid on the side of the bed.

When the afterglow faded and you laid down with your back facing him, Optimus usually laid next to you the best he could considering his size and wrapped an arm around you. However, as he remained sitting up, staring at your back and the (h/c) locks that were splayed out upon your pillow, he found tears of lubricant welling up in his eyes- it had never happened to him before, and though he knew Cybertronians were fully capable of it, crying was primarily an organic behavior. The warm light of the candles in your room bringing out the hues of your (s/c) skin and the scent of your shampoo and soap flooding into his olfactory sensors seemed to bring out all of the emotions at once; fear, relief, love, regret, guilt, and everything else that came with loving you. And, as much as he tried to conceal it, the way his voice cracked when he tried to clear his throat gave it away.

“Optimus? What’s wrong?” You asked, clearly panicked as you turned to face him.

“Nothing, I just-” Optimus stopped and took a deep breath. He didn’t want to cry in front of you, but he figured it was part of learning to be vulnerable, and he was done hiding himself from you. “I love you a lot.”

“I love you, too.”

“Don’t leave me,” Optimus pleaded, letting his guard down for the first time in a long time as he moved to sit on his knees on the floor. You sat on the edge of the bed with your feet planted on the floor, just close enough for him to be able to move between your legs and rest his head on one of your thighs. “Don’t ever leave me, (y/n). I’m so scared I’ll mess this up somehow. What if I hurt you? What if there comes a day that you can’t stand to look at me anymore?”

“You just have to trust yourself,” You murmured.

“I don’t yet,” The Prime admitted as he sat up again and leaned forward to rest his forehead against the middle of your chest. “But I’ll try to learn how to... For you, (y/n).”

“Do it for you, too, Optimus. You deserve to have a good relationship with yourself.”

You looked down at him, the smile on your face laced with your concern and exhaustion. You softly ran a hand over the top of his head in a clear attempt at comforting him. Though Optimus was hopeful for what was to come despite his earlier worries, he felt guilty that you had to deal with him like this; anxious and soft and unsure of himself.

The Autobot let out a gentle sigh and pressed a kiss against your collarbone. You smelled like vanilla, jasmine, and something uniquely you; all mixed with his own scent, evidence of the entanglement of your two bodies that would remain until you showered in the morning. Your arms still lingered around his neck as you stared down at him.

It was peaceful, and the second you leaned down to peck his forehead with your kiss-bruised lips, Optimus decided that he’d try his hardest to make it work; for you.

#tfa #transformers #transformers animated #optimus prime #tfa optimus prime #tfa optimus prime x reader #they didnt really cover too much of anything like this in tfa but #i feel like op has an inferiority complex #not necessarily ab his appearance but more his abilities #specifically his ability to keep those close to him safe #and he has a habit of trying to give up his own happiness and sacrificing himself instead of working through his problems #because he hates self reflection/evaluation #the end #fem reader #optimus x reader

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alvfr · 4 years ago

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Bittersweet Hotch

Gif by the lovely @dudeitiskarev

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+, minors DNI Words: 3.9K (look at me writing something shorter than 15k, huh?) Warning: Semi-public sex. Anal play (fem receiving). Love. Description: A short version of Hotch's POV from Chapter 1 of Bittersweet ("Accidents" Part 5). Link to the full series in my masterlist - will probably make most sense if you’ve read those first 💕

(Warning: Very NSFW below the cut! 18+)

Bittersweet Hotch

There were a lot of reasons why Aaron loved you.

The bigger things, of course, such as your intelligence, your sharp humor, and your heart. Your unbridled compassion for the whole world, however undeserving at times, where Aaron occasionally filed himself in the latter category. Just occasionally though, not all the time anymore. Not after you had made it so blatantly clear how good you thought he was and he found himself striving to live up to those expectations. Surprisingly, it worked.

So yes, the bigger things were almost self-explanatory for why he loved you. Why anyone would love you, really, if they got the chance. Then there were all the little things. Small drops accumulating all the time, like water on a mountainside patiently eroding the seemingly impenetrable rock. One drop after the other until the dam broke and Aaron finally realized he loved you, even if he had done it for some time already. How you hummed to yourself if you thought no one was around, how you always stretched right after waking up, and how you lit up at the sight of him without noticing it yourself.

It was subtle, of course, especially when you were at work. But after Morgan had deftly pointed it out to Aaron — who had asked how the infamous bet started — it was impossible to ignore. He could see how other people on the team had picked up on it. It sometimes made it unbearable to maintain the rigid professionalism you had agreed on at work because now Aaron noticed it all the time. Whenever you walked into a room, you would seek him out first. A small glance, maybe a split second at most, but always there. At home, in more relaxed surroundings, you dropped your guard down further and he could see how your pupils dilated when you caught his eye. And lately, you got that small smile on your lips too, a smile that had Aaron convinced he would do absolutely anything for you.

It was that smile of yours that had made him bold enough to say those three words for the first time back at his kitchen. After that unsub clocked you with a two-by-four and Aaron had to physically restrain himself from beating up a local SWAT officer. Your reaction to those three words had not been as he hoped for, at least not at first, but it had improved quickly. He had come to realize that although you were — like him — keenly intelligent and —also like him — profiled people for a living, you were just as stupid as he was when it came to love. Just as human and vulnerable. There was something incredibly reassuring about that and in all honesty, it just made him love you more.

It meant he had to work harder though, to make you realize how serious he was about this. About this relationship, about you. This promotion they offered you, the one that forced him to squash down his selfish desires to keep you close at all times, was a good thing. It was good for you, and where he had let Haley play the second fiddle in favor of his career and his goals, he was not going to subject you to the same. He could be supportive — he wanted to be supportive — and if that meant sacrifices on his part, so be it. Hopefully, you’d realize he was serious about both this relationship, but also that he took you seriously. As a person, a partner, and a profiler.

The forced hierarchy from your jobs should not and would not seep into any other areas of your lives together.

All of these things had been clear in his mind when you stormed into his office earlier, kicking the door shut, and demanding answers. He loved that about you too. How brazen you could be and that you were comfortable enough around him now to be brazen, even here. Time had gone by quickly, but he could recall just like yesterday when he had held an impromptu performance review here in his office. When he had tried — in vain — to lay down some boundaries, but still found himself unable to say outright that this couldn’t happen. You and him? Impossible for so many reasons. The age difference, your jobs, his son — so many obstacles that had been swept away by those steady drops of water. Things he eventually forgot were obstacles at all unless someone pointed it out for him.

And as he watched you chew your bottom lip raw — so obviously conflicted about this offer and so obviously looking for some kind of permission from him to take it — he realized he would do anything for you. Maybe that was why it had happened? He certainly hadn’t planned it, but seeing your wet eyes after he asked you to move in — again, not the reaction he planned for — he had acted on instinct. Anything to turn that confusion into something simpler.

It started as a kiss. Just a simple gesture of affection and a physical distraction. And perhaps your boldness had rubbed off on him or all those whispered confessions how you fantasized about being bent over his desk played a part, but the next thing he knew, he had pushed his hand up the skirt of your dress. By then it was too late to back down. The way your breath hitched when his fingers brushed against the silken part of your inner thigh skipped through both ears and brain and lodged straight into his libido. And then that perfect mouth of yours had dropped open when he ran his finger against the thin material of your underwear. Using his trigger finger to carve out that well-defined slit marking the entrance to something downright holy — he couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to, and despite your half-hearted pleas, you didn’t want him to stop either.

You hadn’t been wet to start with, but it took seconds before he felt the fabric dampen. Blood rushing to swell your lips and that tight bundle of nerves he loved to rub, suck, and bite when the occasion called for it. He thought he could tell the difference with each of your heartbeats and he’ll admit he got lost in the moment.

A calculated risk on many levels, but when you shuddered and tightened around his fingers — two of them pumping into you with sloppy wet sounds — he knew he would have come in his pants if he’d been twenty years younger. Sometimes he hated that he was noticeably older than you, other times he silently thought it gave him the opportunity to show you the sexual experiences you deserved. He had another kind of patience now than when he was young, another kind of appreciation for giving as well as receiving pleasure, and let’s face it, another kind of stamina. Not necessarily better, but different.

The sight of you fully dressed, knees knocking against his where he caged you in the chair, and with a glow to your cheeks would forever be burned into his retina. He’d never able to see anyone sit in that chair again without remembering this moment and he was unable to decide whether or not that was a good thing.

It was at least part of the reason why he stayed hard — rock hard, so uncomfortably strained against the stretchy materials of his boxers — even while driving to the city. Trying and wanting to make good on his offer for lunch. And he could smell the faintest wafts of your juices on his fingers and that didn’t help one bit. For a second he had been tempted to let you help him as you had offered — unzip and lean back as far as possible in the seat, pushing your head down and feeling the rasp of your teeth when he pushed too hard at one point. No. He had tried, he told himself, to make this about you. All about you.

There was still a limit to his willpower.

“Aaron,” you had said when the car was parked, the forest empty besides the two of you. As if nothing really existed outside the two of you. Your lips were swollen from his kiss where you leaned halfway over the console. Your eyes were heavy-lidded and focused on him, pinning him in place with your unbridled sincerity. “You just need to decide if you want me to suck your dick or not before you fuck me.”

It took less than a minute before he was shoving his dick into your wet and open cunt where you laid splayed over the passenger seat in the SUV. The door stood wide open to allow him access to you, with the chill of the Virginia forest whispering across the bare skin of his thighs and yours alike. Outdoors, in the middle of the day, when you both were supposed to be at work and not fucking like two teenagers at the end of a forest road. You with that fancy dress rucked up to your midriff, and him with his pants and boxers nestled around his ankles. He didn’t even bother stepping out of them, working with what he had and shoving himself into you through the car door.

The agent and the lawyer in him mumbled something vague about indecent exposure, but drowned out at the sight of you throwing your head back when he snapped his hips forward, your wet open lips pressed against and around him. You weren’t even worried. Another part he loved about you. Spontaneous, risk-taker, daredevil — call it whatever the hell you wanted, but he loved it. It. You. He loved you.

It always felt like the first time when he pushed into you, that heated way you almost sucked him in, squeezing around his dick like a tight fist. Pure velvet fire consuming his dick, and his fingers scrambled for hold, searching for those soft parts of your body that yielded to his grip. He could feel your insides tighten whenever he hit a particularly good point and he kept the pace brutal because you asked him to. At least he thought you did — you at least swore incessantly and it was hard to tell the fuck me’s from the ordinary fuck’s. You always swore like this when you didn’t have to be quiet — and sometimes even then — and it was all breathless and beautiful and he strived to give you everything you wanted. Everything he had.

He loved the way he could see your breasts bounce even under that tight dress he had all but tricked you into wearing today. And when you had to turn around, he loved the way your ass jiggled every time he thrust into you. He loved the way his fingers fit on your body, how pliant it was, somehow always making room for him — be it his fingers, his dick, or his tongue.

You made a spectacular sight and he didn’t know where to focus. On the faint reflection in the window on the other side where he could see your eyes tightly closed and mouth hanging open. On the curve of your waist, flaring up to your hips where his hands held you. On the ripple passing through your thighs and ass cheeks every time he went all in so his balls smacked against your undoubtedly swollen clit. Or on your puffy wet lips gripping around his dick in rhythm to his hips snapping forward, a clear mirror of how your other lips looked like when they locked around his cock.

His mind felt blank and he was aware he was saying something. Trying and failing to put his thoughts into words, mostly groaning your name and saying how beautiful you were over and over again. Because you were. Jesus Christ, you were. It was partially as a distraction for himself when he reached around to find your clit — two fingers, pulling the hood back a fraction so he could move better around it — because he wanted to fill you up now.

He wanted to pump you so full of his cum you’d feel it for the rest of the day. It was a little caveman-ish, but he was done trying to deny he loved seeing his white spend pool out of your hole. A claim, a mark, an undeniable sign of where he’d been. Of what you’d done together and how you’d let him use your pussy. The only thing that could compare was seeing it in your mouth, a small pearly shimmer of something that was his gliding over your tongue.

This distraction wasn’t working. Fuck. Aaron felt the drops of sweat run down his back — despite all his cardio, his dress shirts were tight and warm now with the brutal pace he’d set. God, you were exquisite. Knees spread wide on the seat, bottom of your ass resting on your ankles on either side of his thighs. Wide-open and fucking gorgeous. He wanted to make you come around his dick again. He needed to make you come around his dick again. To feel what only his fingers felt earlier, how you’d squeeze and pulsate and buck your hips to get deeper and more. Fuck.

His tie hung loosely over your back and occasionally censored you from his view. Breathing hard, Aaron flung it away and — acting on some kind of instinct or just pure debauchery — he pooled spit in his mouth and let it drop down so it hit that perfect little asshole of yours. You obviously felt it — he heard both a gasp and had to increase his grip so you wouldn’t fly right off his dick, but most of all he saw how you tightened and that little asshole became momentarily smaller. Fucking exquisite. He checked your reflection in the window, saw the full-on mask of pleasure, and more blood left his head to pump into his dick so he wondered if you would feel it thump inside of you.

He could debate how good of a distraction it was, but at least the sight of his spit running between your cheeks kept his focus from how his dick felt in your pussy. Aaron knew he was good at multi-tasking, but this was almost too much. Remembering to keep fingering your clit — aided by how you squirmed against his hand — and trying to keep a steady pace with his dick — again aided by how you also pushed back to meet his thrusts — and wetting his thumb thoroughly before gliding it over your asshole.

Worth it, he thought vaguely, based on those positively angelic sounds you made. Even with how you swore, it sounded like gospel. He barely remembered to ask if it was okay —if it was good, if this was accepted —so mesmerized at the sight. He had done this before — always carefully, always asking for permission — not really for any other reason that in some positions, it felt like your body offered it to him. And you liked it and where Aaron hadn’t had any particular fantasies about it before, it struck that caveman-gene in him again that this was another hole to fill with his cum. Another part of you to claim in the most depraved way possible.

Maybe down the line, but so far you had never gone further than what he did right now. Rubbing a slick finger around that tight little ring he couldn’t imagine fitting even his pinky inside. It took some willpower to let his hand follow the rhythm of your body — sometimes you pushed back against his dick so hard his finger would have poked into you whether you wanted it to or not — but he wanted this to be good for you. Needed this to be good for you.

But when you told him to fuck you, and rub your clit, and don’t stop, he wasn’t going to question it.

He groaned, mostly because of how you squeezed your pussy around his dick — again like a tight fist that you might as well have sucker-punched him with — as he pushed the very tip of his thumb into your ass. Tight. Hot. Only wet because of his spit, but based on your sounds, not exactly painful. He rubbed your clit harder, hoping to ease any discomfort there was or at least distract from it, and worked his thumb gently around. A vision of his thumb buried down to the hilt floated across his mind. Another way to grip you, using your ass as a balance hole to pull you back onto his dick, and he closed his eyes while involuntarily working your clit harder as if he could transfer some of his quickly approaching climax into you.

Another time, he reminded himself and tried to focus on your words. That didn’t help. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Aaron, please don’t stop. And in the same breath, you told him to come inside you — to fill you up — and that you were moving in with him and you wanted him to keep going and he couldn’t.

On your instructions, his thumb was inside to the first knuckle and he could feel himself now, could feel his dick where he was balls-deep inside of you. The further his thumb went in, the easier it got too, almost like you were sucking him in and he tried to remember to wiggle it around, loosening you up some, wanting this to feel good for you. But you were so tight and wet and you weren’t happy with how he’d slowed his pace on anything because you obviously wanted more.

He kept rubbing your wet little clit, almost on auto-pilot, but had to stop thrusting before he came before you. Did you have any idea of how good you felt? On his dick like this? Gushing wet and spread open and still so fucking tight? The slick sounds of his fingers on your clit drowned in your breathy pleas for him to keep going.

The words made it through the haze in Aaron’s mind, where all he could see was where the two of you were joined. Yes, he could do the fucking laundry. Yes, in his apartment. Yes, you were moving in. Yes, you were close to coming and you sounded so desperate he had to try. His wrist burned from circling your clit at the awkward angle, but he’d wear a wrist brace for the rest of the week if that meant feeling you lose yourself to a climax around him.

But he was so close. His balls tight and throbbing, bursting with cum he wanted to shoot inside of you. Wanted to watch it ooze out of your swollen glistening cunt afterward, use his fingers to push it back in, and then let you lick them clean. He wanted to do all of that. But not before you came first.

Almost holding his breath, he pulled his dick out with a lewd squelch, fighting to keep the rhythm on your clit even though you were squirming and swaying all over the place. Both of you were so close and you shoved your hips back to meet his next thrust, and your tight, tight asshole swallowed the rest of his thumb, and thank god that made you almost scream as you came because Aaron only lasted two — three — four more thrusts into your tight, tight pussy before he followed. He felt it in his whole body, the way the dam burst, and his nerve-endings exploded as he came.

The quiet forest engulfed his loud groan, the sound of your name in his chest, and your thin whimpers of unbridled pleasure. He desperately grabbed onto your hips to steady himself, keeping you from pulling away, wanting everything pumped into you. He halfway pulled back and buried himself all the way in again and grunted your name like he had traveled ten thousand years to the past and reduced to nothing but animal instincts. His balls pulsated, shooting string after string of cum into you, more than he would have expected. Hopefully enough. Filling you up to the brim, just like you’d fucking asked for, and enough to eventually run out of you to coat that expensive lace he’d bought today.

He clutched your hips like a lifeline — like you’d clutched that folder earlier today in his office — like your pussy clutched and milked his dick. He still twitched inside of you, still on the cusp of the orgasm, and he breathed hard to counteract the light-headedness. You were so perfect for him in every way, just so tight that he could feel his own cum coat around his dick in the limited space.

I love you, he thought and memorized every curve and line of your back, not enough breath in his lungs to say it just yet. Slowly coming down, he massaged your hips where he had left his marks yet again. Fingerprints dug into your skin in slight bruisings, ones you seemed to appreciate. You breathed equally hard as him, but looked at him over your shoulder, so flushed and gorgeous and deserving of the world.

I love you.

It was in your eyes, your smile, and often coming out your mouth too. Not right now as you only panted slightly, but you looked at him in a way that stole his breath away all over again.

I love you.

You had looked at him like that so many times before you said it for the first time, and Aaron knew you had held back. Patience. Trust. Understanding. It was in your every move and conversation with him. He didn’t know if he had earned it, but he hadn’t lied before of how grateful he was for it. Now it was his turn, he realized, to show you the same. To adapt to your schedule and your needs like you had done for him.

Like you were doing right now when the sound of his ring tone cut through the foggy aftermath of your orgasms. Not even hesitating, you reached out for his phone — Aaron swallowed a grunt when the movement pulled his dick from your gushing hole — and handed him both phone and some wet wipes. You had never tried to compete with either the job or Jack, and Aaron loved you for that too. Even if he deep-down knew he should have prioritized differently at times, you had made it so he didn’t have to. You had made everything so easy. Always, so easy, because apparently you felt he was worth it.

Try as he might, he couldn’t find anything but satisfaction in your eyes now either as you watched him try to listen to Garcia. If you kept this up, he might start to think he was worth it too.

He wanted to be worth it, he realized, watching the wicked glint in your eye when you sucked his fingers clean after the call ended. Wanted to have you and this and everything forever.

There were many reasons why Aaron loved you, but most of all because you had made him believe he could love again at all.

A/N: First time writing this "you"-style from Hotch's POV and looking for feedback. If it's confusing or if it’s unclear who’s POV it is. Also first time writing smut from a guy’s perspective and accepting feedback on that as well 🥰

As always, I strive to be inclusive of my reader-inserts, so please let me know if any descriptions or phrases needs changing.

Remember to reblog if you liked it! And that comments feed my creativity just as much as caffeine 💕

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #accidents #criminal minds fanfiction #tumblr exclusive

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sailors-diary-for-elise · 3 years ago

Text

Reaching Out

SEE! SOMETHING OTHER THAN SMUT. Also this one is old and a bit dusty, sooooo warnings are gonna be to the best of my ability. ALSO. THIS IS ANGST AND HAS TRIGGERING THEMES. PLEASE SCROLL PAST IF THE WARNINGS ARE DISTRESSING TO YOU. I wrote this during a really difficult day and was just word vomiting tbh. I am also gonna state that this is a work of fiction and I am in no way a therapist or anything, so if something here bothers you I’m sorry this is just something I wrote mostly for myself.

Warnings: god this is painful but here we go. Reader is depressed and has anxiety, mentions of self-inflicted injuries (she punches a mirror...repeatedly-), blood, panic attacks, it takes a few of the members to restrain the reader so if you’re uncomfortable with that please don’t read this, this is honestly just a hard read imo so please read with care. Also, the reader hates herself and just doesn’t really think highly of herself at all sooooo yeah-

It was the fourth time this month. The fourth argument that could’ve and should’ve ended differently.

You’d come out of your room to find San off at practice or on some work related schedule, spend the entire day outside trying to break a horrible cycle in your mind, just to disappear again once he returned home. It was frustrating you both and causing a serious strain in your relationship.

On San’s side, he couldn’t understand why it was that you would fight against him trying to get you to come out of your room when you spent the entire day alone. Then there was his frustration when you would complain about never seeing him and yet would disappear and avoid him when he was available. To San, it didn’t make any sense. All he wanted to do was spend time with you and support you, but it seemed as though you were determined to shut him out. He watches you storm off to your bedroom, running a hand through his hair as he tries to recall the last time he’d come back from a schedule and had a nice quiet evening that didn’t end in you both screaming at each other. When he can’t, San grabs his jacket and walks out of the apartment with his phone and keys, planning on spending the night at the dorms so that you can have some space to cool off. Once he gets in his car, he quickly dials Hongjoong’s number, pulling out of the parking garage of your complex and letting out all of his frustrations and concerns.

As he drove, San had no way of knowing how much you hated yourself for what was happening between you both.

What San didn’t know was that your depression and anxiety had been spiraling lately due to the pressure that had been placed on your shoulders from not only your work but from being the girlfriend of an idol that had become so famous. He didn’t know that every day you were terrified that, now that his future was so bright and secure, he’d no longer want you. That he’d leave you just like so many before had done, and that he’d realize you were no longer something of use to him. And finally, how you criticize every minute of your life, finding ways that you are failing even when you’ve done nothing but your best. It came to the point that waking up from dreams was physically painful, because you could control a dream and guarantee the people you love never turned their backs on you. San didn’t, or rather, couldn’t know this. Because to know this would mean you would have to tell him. And no one should have to bear this burden but you, and there was always that small part of you that was terrified of having your feelings invalidated.

Your whole life people have toyed with you, accepting your depression only when it was convenient to them and berating you once the curtains fall. Some even went as far as to weaponize your emotions, tearing you down in an argument with something that was the equivalent to the beating heart in your chest. Yes they would apologize and you would eventually forgive them because people make mistakes. But the thing about words is that once they leave someone’s mouth, the damage is already done and there’s no amount of remorse or forgiveness that can repair it. That’s where you are now.

You slam the door shut, leaving all the lights in your room turned off, your head pounding after the screaming match you and San had just finished (rather, you ran out on and barricaded the door so he wouldn’t see you cry) and your face stained with tears. Not a sound left you as you curled up on the bed, biting your fist as a punishment for your body's betrayal of emotions. All it would take was one minute of silence and the entire apartment would be able to hear how you were feeling. In all honesty, you didn’t want San to see you cry. Because in your mind, you didn’t deserve to cry. You were the one who picked a fight. You're the one who made unfair accusations, using his career and passions as weapons against him. You were the one that hurt him in the same ways that had been done to you, falsely claiming that it was to “beat him to it and strike first.”

The front door slams shut, and you work quickly. You unbarricade the door and peek out, making sure no one is there. Dashing across the living space, you reach the spare bedroom and lock the door, not seeing the need for such extreme measures as earlier. You then sit with your back to the door, listening for the sign of San’s safe return from the store. Your butt has just about gone numb when this occurs, the front door shutting softly alerting you instantly. You rise from your position, albeit a little slowly due to your cramped muscles, and shuffle to the bed. A knock sounds, and a decision has to be made.

“Y/N? I know you’re awake. Can you come to bed? You and I both know that neither of us can sleep alone anymore.” San mumbles through the door. You hear shuffling, and you hold your breath thinking he might unlock the door. You’re not sure though, whether you’re holding your breath in hope or fear. But all you hear is a thud, indicating San sitting down. “Look, we don’t have to talk. You don’t even need to look at me, it just feels better for both of us if I’m holding you through the night, because at the end of the day, we still love each other, right?”

San’s cheeks are marked with tear streaks, eyes red and puffy as he waits for any sign of confirmation from you. He loves you more than anything else, so much so that he’d give up everything for you, and needed to hear that you still loved him as well. He holds his breath, hands covering his face while he waits for you to show him a sign that you’re even listening. That you’re even there.

You tip-toe over to the door, gently crouching down in front of it and rest your fingertips lightly on the wood, near where his shoulder is supposed to be. It’s cold and unyielding, but this is the bravest you’ll ever be. You hear a sigh on the other side, almost as if he can sense your presence.

“You know, you don’t have to keep it all in. From the first moment I saw you, I knew that there was so much going on in your life that it’d take time to get you to trust me. And I still want that. I want to know what’s going on in your life again. I want to hold you as you're crying again. And I want to repay you for all the times you’ve helped me.” San whispers, his voice showing how much of a toll this has taken on him. “I know a lot has changed, I travel a lot, and it’s harder for us to go anywhere without me being recognized. But I promise you that my feelings for you, the amount of love I feel for you, it’s all still there. If anything, I love you even more now than before. I don’t want to lose you Y/N. I want to keep fighting for us and I just need you to reach out to me, show me you want this too. Open the door, even if it’s just a crack, and let me help heal those open wounds. Yes there will be scars and yes it will take time, but I’m willing to wait.”

At this point you have tears streaming down your face as you withdraw your hand. You don’t move though, despite your broken mind willing you to do so, you stay rooted in your spot. Sniffles break through the other side, showing how much San is hurting. You feel as though there’s a war going on inside of you, your heart begging you to open the door and stop this madness, but your mind resolute on keeping this wall up.

“I. Can’t.” you croak out, bringing your trembling hand to your lips and nibbling your thumbnail as you rise slowly. “They were right, I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you.”

“What? Who told you that?” San questions, confusion swirling in his head as he struggles to better understand where this was coming from. Standing, San presses his hands to the door, trying to open it only to find it locked. “Love, talk to me.”

“All I’ve been doing is hurting you, and I’m sorry. ” You whimper, your mind screaming at you to shut-up and not give away anything while your heart, your very being, is begging to be set free and allow him back in. “I, I love you, San.” And with that you rise, walking towards the bathroom attached to the room. You close the door, locking it and turning to the mirror to see your disheveled state. Tears stain your cheeks, your eyes have bags under them, and your hair is greasy and a mess from the lack of effort on your part to take care of yourself.

Thoughts swirl and distort your reflection, harsh words clouding your mind. Some of the words surface from your past, some are from deep within you stemming from your lack of forgiveness for yourself. You don’t deserve forgiveness or a second chance. You don’t deserve him caring for you. You’re toxic. You do nothing but hurt him. Toxic. Toxic.

You start screaming, starting in your gut and ripping out through your mouth, scaring the shit out of San who begins pounding on the door. You hear him calling out to you, but it’s muffled in your head as you continue to sob and scream at your reflection, running your hands through your hair before tugging on it out of frustration. The longer you look at yourself, the worse the feeling in your gut gets as the harsh words continue to tear you apart, worsening with each passing moment. With one last scream you pull your arm back and punch the mirror, desperate to feel something other than the all consuming self-hatred. And it works.

There’s a crack on the mirror with droplets of blood in the center. You bring your trembling hand into view, noticing your knuckles slightly bloodied and cut. The pain replaces all of the noise in your head, if only for a moment, and you become entranced by it. Raising your fist again, you punch the mirror once, twice, three more times before stopping to look at your handy work. The crack has grown and your hand is bleeding steadily, a couple of pieces of glass stuck in your knuckles. You’re ashamed of what and who you’ve become and raise your fist again when the door breaks down.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” San shouts, restraining your flailing and screaming form as tears stream down your face. Four pairs of hands are pulling you out of the bathroom, with San’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he pulls you on the bed. He immediately starts shushing you, whispering into your hair as he wraps his legs around you as well, restricting you so the others can clean you up and call an ambulance if need be. At this point though, he doesn’t need to as you’ve gone completely limp, sobbing into his neck loudly as the emotions you’ve kept hidden flood out in a wave that swallows you whole. “Shh baby, it’s okay. We’re here now and we’re not leaving you. I’ve got you, we’ve got you. It’s okay, it’s okay.” His voice is trembling, absolutely terrified by what he’s just experienced. It’s lucky that Hongjoong, Yunho, and Seonghwa arrived when they did or he might have been too late, having planned on coming to help San piece back together your relationship. It took Yunho and Seonghwa to break down the doors, and all four of them carried you out of the bathroom so you wouldn’t hurt yourself or them.

Soon, you run out of energy and are left whimpering and quivering in San’s hold, slowly coming to your senses as you hear running water, hushed murmurs, and the cabinet mirror (or what’s left of it) being opened in search of something. When the realization sets in that San, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho have seen you at your worst, your chest tightens and your breathing becomes irregular which are the first signs of a panic attack. Something San was familiar with but hadn’t seen happen in some time.

“No no no no.” San repeats, noticing the changes in your behavior and looking towards the bathroom. “Hongjoong! It’s getting worse!”

Immediately, footsteps can be heard heading in your direction, and a gentle face appears in the corner of your eye. Hongjoong slowly reaches forward, grasping the hand that had begun curling in on itself to the point of almost drawing blood and pulling it away from your chest.

“Sweetie, grab my hand and squeeze that instead. You won’t hurt me, I swear.” Hongjoong whispers, slowly working his nimble fingers between your clenched ones. It comes as a surprise to him when, instead of resisting, your hand flies open into a rigid position. “Shh… it’s okay sweet-heart. How about this. Follow this.”

Your hand is placed on a firm and warm chest, a slight bump hitting your palm and drawing your attention to the pattern. It’s his heartbeat. Hongjoong’s pulse creates a rhythm in your head, distracting you from your fears and disdain towards yourself momentarily while Seonghwa and Yunho both return to the room, one holding medical supplies and the other holding a bowl with warm water and a towel. Crouching in front of you, Seonghwa notices the hand on Hongjoong’s chest is the one that’s injured, glancing at San who is fighting back tears as he strokes your hair.

“Y/n-ah. We have to clean your hand. Put your hand on San’s chest, follow his heartbeat.” Seonghwa says in a firm yet kind tone. At this point, you’ve lost almost all self-awareness, too exhausted to fight anyone as you nod partially, removing your hand from Hongjoong’s chest to place on San’s. “No sweetie. The other hand.” Seonghwa instructs, a heartbroken smile crossing his face at the sight of you behaving like a toddler who skipped their nap. You look confused, bringing your hand to your face to inspect it, finding the streaks of blood and bits of glass as a few tears trickle down your face.

You’re not sure how long it takes for Seonghwa to properly clean your hands, or when you got changed into one of San’s shirts that fits like a dress, but as you’re lied down on the bed with San, who’s watching you intently to make sure any slight changes on your face are caught immediately, you find yourself in an almost numbed mind-frame. Too exhausted and confused to comprehend anything around you.

Your eyes slowly close, the occasional tear slipping out only to be swiped gently away by San. San, the last thing you see before you fall into a dreamless sleep. And you are blissfully unaware of what’s to come in the morning.

As you snore softly in San’s grasp, your chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, Yunho leaves the room to clean up the mess that has been left behind with Seonghwa following closely behind, most likely to comfort the younger boy. Hongjoong reaches forward to brush hair out your eyes and slowly strokes your cheek. Who knew such a small body could take this much pain? he wonders to himself, not even beginning to understand what caused you to struggle so much and break down so devastatingly. And that’s the only way to describe your attack. Devastating.

Like a tsunami, you receded from social outings and even your true love San, and once they realized what was happening and why you’d “changed” the wave had already hit. But his main question was voiced by San.

“Hyung.” San rasps out, looking up at Hongjoong with tears streaming down his face. “Why-or how did this happen? What caused this? What are we-what am I supposed to do?”

San’s breathing becomes labored, almost as if the weight of the situation has sat fully on his chest. He chokes on a sob, looking at you in your angelic state while pressing a gentle and wet kiss to the top of your head while crying. He clutches you to his chest, rocking slightly and burying his face in your head. Hongjoong panics, thinking he’ll wake you but settles once realizing how exhausted you must be. “Why would she keep this from me?”

“San-ah, I honestly don’t have the answer to that.” Hongjoong mumbles, holding his own tears back with a few deep breaths before looking at the pair of you. He honestly considered Ateez his family, and you became his little sister that he felt he needed to protect from the world. If only he’d realized sooner how much damage the world had already done to you. “But I do know one thing. Now more than ever, she needs us.”

San looks at his hyung and leader, absolutely wrecked from the storm of emotions that flowed between you two. “How?” he croaks out.

“I’m not sure. But what I do know is that the storm hasn’t gone and that this is only the beginning of our journey.” Hongjoong places a hand on your cheek and his other on San’s hand, squeezing slightly in hopes of reassuring the younger boy. “I see how much you need her San. And how much she needs you. She’s scared San. More so than any of us right now. Which is why we have to stay with her no matter what. No matter what she might say or do to scare us off, we have to fight through it all and show her we are here for her. Because if we don’t.” Hongjoong’s voice cracks, revealing his true emotions and the toll this whole ordeal has taken on him. “We might lose her forever.”

San sits quietly, shaking slightly from the silent tears that are being shed and pulling you closer to his chest if that was even possible, crying himself into a slumber much like you did moments prior. Hongjoong rises, tucking both of you in like he would an upset child, and walking into the bathroom. The scene that awaits him is what finally breaks his own dam of tears, collapsing next to Seonghwa and Yunho who are both crouched down. They’ve hunched over, scrubbing the white tiles of your blood and throwing glass shards away in a paper bag. Upon noticing Hongjoong, Yunho drops what’s in his hands, embracing his leader and best friend. His tears fall as well, the sight of someone as strong as Hongjoong breaking down terrifying him.

Seonghwa wipes the few stray tears before rising, quickly finishing the task of cleaning before ushering the two broken boys out of the room. He sits Hongjoon and Yunho down, pulling out a paper and pen and titling it “Y/n’s Healing.”

“We’ll make a plan, and take this journey one step at a time. Until Y/n’s finally healed.” Seonghwa states, immediately writing steps and plans he’s already come up with in his head. And so the journey begins.

#ateez angst #san angst #choi san angst #san x reader #hongjoong angst #kim hongjoong angst #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa angst #park seonghwa angst #seonghwa x reader #yunho angst #jeong yunho angst #yunho x reader #ateez x reader #tw: depression #tw: self harm

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minniepetals · 5 years ago

Text

Rose & Thorns: 08

— summary: a lone rose, a little broken, until Jungkook came along and the two of you saved each other. and in doing so, Jungkook showed you a world where he shared with his six other mates.

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: slight angst / fluff / poly!au / fantasy!au / dragon!au

— word count: 8.9k

— warnings: yoongi becomes feral for a moment, hurt and comfort

╰ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10

"Yoongi, w-we have to go."

He saw you, he found you, he met your eyes.

But you wanted nothing to do with him so you ran away towards the only safe haven that was with you at the moment and when Yoongi woke up to find you running towards him at a fast speed, tears waiting to fall from your eyes, he grew angry.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Sleepiness thrown to the side, he inspected you. The basket you had held onto was gone and now the only thing you were holding onto was the cape wrapped behind your back, clutching it as if your life depended on it. You didn't look physically hurt anywhere but you were shaking with fear.

And someone was going to pay for making you that way.

"It's Jinyoung," you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut and allowing the tears to fall but you quickly wiped them away. "I saw him," you said, "he saw me."

Jinyoung.

He couldn't ever forget that name, not when that was the same human that had hurt his precious maknae when they had been out on a night patrol, the same human that captured him and took him away, locking him up in their dungeon.

Jinyoung.

That cursed name.

Jungkook told them about him, at least the short version of it. He liked you.

Liked you.

No one deserved you.

There was something strange about the way Yoongi's silver eyes turning dark and dangerous and it almost scared you a bit.

"Y/N!"

But that fear was nothing compared to how you felt when you heard Jinyoung calling your name and that was what made you jump, quick to hide behind Yoongi's big self who instinctively went on to sheild you.

He growled at Jinyoung the second he came in sight and the man jumped back a bit at the sight, only to smirk in wonder a split second later.

"Well," he began just as the rest of his soldiers walked up from behind, "I see you've found yourself another dragon, Y/N."

Oh no, you gasped and emerged from Yoongi's shadow to glare at Jinyoung. "Don't come any closer, Jinyoung, he isn't someone you can just take."

Yet despite you saying that, Jinyoung only smiled at the sight of you. "Well hello, Y/N, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

When he took a step forward, Yoongi stepped up again to try and conceal you with a deadly gaze that warned him to not get any closer to you if he even dared to. A once peaceful beginning you were living in and yet you were being tested again. Perhaps fate was and would never be on your side so maybe you should not have been surprised.

One moment you were happy, the next you were forced into the submission of fear all over again.

"Y/N," Yoongi turned back to you and the once dark eyes returned to a soft gaze just for you. "Step back," he told you, voice quiet yet tense, his anger barely restrained at Jinyoung's presence and when your eyes gazed into his with worry and fright, he let out a small sigh. "It'll be alright," he vowed softly as he gently nuzzled against your face as if trying to comfort you in easing the pain away.

"No, Y/N," Jinyoung quickly interjected, disgusted at the sight of the dragon being so close to you. "Y/N, come back to me."

Yoongi's head snapped back to the man who dared to say such a thing. The other soldiers had their swords and spears out, ready to strike anytime if Yoongi made one wrong move, yet it didn't faze the mighty dragon one bit.

But Jinyoung ignored the glare directed to him and instead held his hand out for you. "Come back home to the village, don't you miss it?"

You shook your head. "You'll hurt me," you said, "you'll punish me."

"No we won't." You knew he was lying. Everyone knew he was lying. "Everyone misses you."

Yoongi scoffed while you shook your head again, knowing he could never be telling the truth. He wasn't ever that soft to you and had never once cared for you like a man should have. He only wanted to use you, they all did, him and the soldiers, the chiefs and the villagers.

"Why would they miss me, Jinyoung?" You challenged.

"Why?" He laughed aloud as if he couldn't believe he had to explain such a thing. "You tamed a dragon, Y/N, and now you've tamed another. Who knows how many other dragons you've tamed and that's all coming from a little girl who was once a worthless nobody."

A worthless nobody.

When you were about to fall back down into those dark thoughts, it was Yoongi who growled so hard it sounded like a low roar in the back of his throat. His eyes were like the dark side of the moon as he looked Jinyoung dead in the eyes and like a feral animal, Yoongi was ready to pounce.

The soldiers shouted in battle cries but it was nothing compared to the dark and dangerous warrior side to Yoongi whose single swing of his tail was more than enough to have them all flying back and hitting the trees and ground with hard thuds.

But for Jinyoung, he saved his sharpened claws for him. Jinyoung was on edge, prepared to defend and fight back but even as captain of the soldiers, he was nothing compared to a dragon. Sure he had beat one before but that was only because Jungkook wasn't on full guard. So when Jinyoung ran towards Yoongi with a challenge, Yoongi simply scoffed, letting out an angry roar before he swiped his claws straight upon Jinyoung's face and the man's scream echoed loud through the forest.

"Let's go," was all Yoongi had to say as he turned back to you to have you instantly climb onto his back.

His wings flapped a few time, sending Jinyoung one last glare of warning before flying into the sky, towards the clouds that kept him away from the views of the soldiers so that they wouldn't know which direction he was heading towards in the case that any of them wanted to follow the two of you home.

When you returned, the sky had already dimmed, telling you that the patrols were already back and you were sure they were all probably wondering where the two of you had gone especially when you had no basket of herbs with you in hand.

The looks of concern that filled the clan made you feel anxious but at the same time, it felt a little relieving to know they were beginning to care and worry.

You held your cape close to you while hugging yourself as the both of you ignored the questioning stares and Yoongi flew past them all, landing himself on the grounds of the castle where you slid off of him and he returned to his human form.

"What happened?" Namjoon asked as Jungkook ran up to you, his hands on your shoulders, concern displayed in his eyes while you refused to meet his gaze and instead hung your head low.

"Y/N?" He softly called upon your name, head angling down to try and take a look at you. Luckily you weren't actually visibly hurt anywhere so that was something he didn't need to worry about. "What's wrong, little one?" Still, it didn't make him any less concerned.

You let out a small sniffle and their hearts almost shattered at just the sound alone. Jungkook almost froze in spot but when you laid your head against his chest, he took that cue to hold you against him, feeling so protective in that moment, and gave Yoongi the questioning gaze.

The older dragon hesitated for a moment, watching you carefully before letting out a small sigh. "We met Jinyoung and a few other soldiers," he informed them and that alone was enough to anger the rest of them, especially Jungkook.

"Y/N-"

But you cut him off as you stepped back from the youngest prince, wiping away your tears as you shook your head. "I want to be alone," you told him.

"Y/N.." He watched you with a conflicted gaze. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I don't care, I-"

"Hey." Taehyung walked up and grabbed ahold of your hand, eyes trying to search into yours yet you refused to give in.

You couldn't understand your feelings. You felt angry but sad. What Jinyoung said was wrong and you were tired of it all. Tired of being used by those villagers, tired of them not ever seeing your worth even when you've already left them, and tired of the fact that they had the audacity to try and take you back only for the reason of them using you against the dragons.

You didn't want to deal with it anymore. You just wanted to be left alone and have the world stop putting you under so much when you gave it your everything. One moment everything was so close to perfect but now there you were made a fool once again.

You wanted to be loved, to be cherished, to know how it felt to be taken care of by someone who loved you but how were the chances ever going to happen when all your life you've had to prove your worth to everyone?

You were tired.

"I'm tired, Taehyung," you stressed the words, voice shaking as the tears formed against your waterline, quick to fall before you could even try to blink it away. "I'm so tired."

"Hey, don't say that," Taehyung consoled in a gentle voice, "Jinyoung's gone, he isn't here anymore. Everything will be alright."

"You say that yet when has anything ever been alright?" You asked him and it crushed them all to see you that way. You were losing hope in the world. "What if Jinyoung comes back? What if the next time I see him, he sends me back to the village and I have to pay the price for saving Jungkook? They won't it let me go that easily."

"And we won't give you up that easily."

You turned at the sound of Seokjin's voice. "Why not?" You queried.

"You're one of us now, Y/N," he told you, "you belong to the clan."

Maybe a part of you felt good to hear that, the fact that you were accepted into the clan, yet another part of you wanted something more. You didn't know what, you just wanted...more.

"What if I was still thinking of leaving?"

You hadn't ever been so blunt, voice so flat they couldn't tell what you were thinking. The question itself made Jungkook feel something drop in his stomach and the silence that followed made you feel as if you were expecting too much, that the hope you had held onto from the moment you woke up after returning with Namjoon was a hope you should have never had.

You were feelings things.

Feeling things for them. Seven dragon princes well respected in their clan, the ones that had once regarded you as an enemy due to you being a human. What was wrong with you? They already had each other and yet here you were, feeling things that should not have been allowed.

"Even if you are still thinking of leaving," Hoseok began, his voice soft and low as if he was keeping his true emotions hidden, "we still wouldn't let that Jinyoung try and take you away."

"You saved my life." Jungkook took ahold of both your hands with a light squeeze and a tight smile that looked too fake for him to conceal his disappointment because his eyes were filled with tears waiting to fall. "I'm not going to let anyone try and destroy the one pure gift that should have been given the whole world from the moment she was born."

"I don't care about it anymore," you said, two drops of tears falling, "I don't care about having the world, I just...I just want it all to stop."

You sounded pathetic to your own self but to them, they wanted nothing more than to make it all better for you. You may have looked pretty in tears but it was breaking their hearts.

"We'll make it stop," Jungkook vowed.

"Jinyoung, he-"

"He won't be back, we'll make sure of it," Namjoon stated.

"What makes you so sure?"

"I've hurt him once but that was just a warning," Yoongi stepped up from where he stood and you turned around, meeting his protective gaze. "The next time he ever dares to show his pathetic face in front of you, you wouldn't want to know what I'll do."

Your lips pressed together as you sniffled. "Thank you," you told him but he shook his head.

"Between you and us, there are no sorrys and thank yous."

"We'll make it better, Y/N." Jimin grabbed your attention to stand in front of you, holding your face in his large hands as he gently wiped the tears on your face. "We'll make it better," he whispered again.

Your brows furrowed slightly. "How?"

He looked up at his mates, sending them a lopsided smile before returning to you. "Trust me, Y/N," he said, "when it comes to being taken care of, as long as you are in a room with people who cares about you and who wants to make it alright again, you will feel better in no time." When you look at him with a confused gaze, Jimin's heart almost fell because you really had no idea what it meant to be on the receiving end. "Come here." He grabbed your hand and dragged you away with the others following just behind.

Jimin sat you down on one of the large sofas where he grabbed a soft blanket to wrap yourself in. The others settled around with soft smiles of their own.

Jimin sat beside you. "First," he said and went on to brush away the remaining traces of tears on your face. "Next." It puzzled you a little at how the first step had been just that and when Jimin opened his arms for you, you blinked and instinctively found yourself silently asking permission towards the others.

But the other princes were all too familiar with Jimin's steps to comforting and making someone feel better. The second step, however, had only been reserved for them or the little dragons. And now you, someone who became special to them without your knowledge just yet.

They beckoned their heads, nodding, smiling, encouraging you to go on.

You hesitated for a moment, gulping quietly, then moved in and had Jimin hold you.

"Y/N."

"Hm?"

"It's okay," he told you, "make yourself comfortable."

It felt strange but the second you laid your head to rest against Jimin's chest, your emotions began to breakthrough as if that was what you needed the most.

To be held, to be told that it was okay, that you wouldn't make him or someone else feel strange or have them back away. You sought for his warmth more than the blanket. His soft scent, strong arms that held you close to him, the comforting rubs that circled your back.

It was enough to make you feel some type of way.

"Jimin?" You called his name and he hummed in reply. "I think I might cry," you confessed, warning him beforehand so that he could take that opportunity to let you go.

Yet Jimin didn't let you go. He only held you tighter.

"Go on," he said. "Cry."

And you did.

Because no one had ever told you that. Back in that village, whenever the people teased you or bullied you and whenever you wanted to cry, they'd laugh some more or just simply tell you that you shouldn't be crying, that crying made you weak and that nobody wanted to deal with your tears.

You've always wanted to fall into someone's arms and have them be the shoulder to cry on yet there was no one. You were always left to yourself and a thin blanket that barely kept you warm through the nights. Your blanket was the only one that held you when you needed someone.

You had no idea how many times you have cried but it was more than you could count. As you grew up, however, the tears eventually became braver and faded away. Sometimes it'd be too much to bear, however, and you'd return to your blanket and cry there.

Silently.

Away from them all.

When you first cried in front of Jungkook, back when he was still imprisoned, when he told you that he liked your voice, you had been relieved for a short moment, only to crawl back in fear and wipe the tears away because you were afraid he'd make fun of you if you cried longer.

He never shoved you away though, and what was what you were thankful for the most. Because Jungkook had been the first to accept you for who you were.

And now that his mates have started to grow fond of you, you could only let the tears fall some more.

"You're beautiful, you know," Jimin said in his soft, gentle, voice. "You're smart and sweet, kinder than anyone in this world, the most selfless person I have ever met. You've given up so much of yourself for others even when they hated you and that is what we regret the most in our life."

"You saved my life when we fell down that cliff. You were exhausted and hurting but still carried me with all that you had, staying up nights just to make sure I was alright."

"The little dragons all love you because you are kind and gentle."

"Your smile alone can make someone's day. It's made my day."

"Not only that but you're always so considerate of others."

"You make sure everyone is alright before your own self which can become slightly concerning too."

"You need to take care of your own self too, Y/N. Your health, both physical and emotional, are very important."

"But we'll take care of it," Jimin said. "In the moment when you are weak and have forgotten to take care of yourself, we'll take care of you in your stead."

He was right. As long as you were in a room with people who cared about you and who wanted to make it alright again, you would feel better in no time.

"Y/N unnie! Look!"

You gasped at the sight in front of you, almost dropping the trays of food in your hand if it wasn't for a young dragon to come and help you steady it. You let them take care of it to place it on the table.

"Haeun, is that you?" Your smile was so bright and wide when you saw the little dragoness now turned a pretty little girl.

"Yes!" She giggled as she ran to fall into your arms. "I'm pretty aren't I?" She asked when you picked her up.

"So, so pretty," you nodded with enthusiasm and she turned to the others who still had yet to learn how to shift into a human. With a smirk on her face, she boasted "Y/N unnie called me pretty!"

Choruses of complaints and envy were quick to echo into the nest.

"Not fair, Haeun!"

"I wanna be called pretty!"

"I wanna become a human too!"

They were all too cute for your heart to take and you giggled as you let Haeun back down. Just then, a small dragon had tugged onto the hem of your dress. "What is it, little one?"

"Where's prince Taehyung?" The little dragoness asked.

"He's running an errand for prince Seokjin," you told him, smile slightly falling because the herbs you had tried to collect the day before all went to waste when you and Yoongi came in conflict with Jinyoung and the other soldiers.

So Taehyung took up the job to get the herbs in your stead. A part of you felt bad and you had voiced it out but the princes wouldn't let you feel that way, deeming that you shouldn't be leaving the mountain for at least two more days just in case Jinyoung was still around the area.

You agreed. You had to. For one, you were in fear of seeing Jinyoung again. And two, the guys weren't going to let you even if you refused.

They were cute in that way, their stubborn protective selves who wouldn't let anything else happen to you.

"Aw, I wanted him to see me," Haeun pouted.

"It's okay, he'll be back," you promised.

"Y/N noona, will you be around more often now?" Another dragon asked. "You're helping out both prince Seokjin and prince Taehyung, right?"

"Oh, by the way, did something happen last night?"

"Yeah, I heard the warriors talking about how you didn't look so good and prince Yoongi looked upset."

"What happened?"

You smiled softly at their concerns and picked up the last one that had spoken. "Come here, come up my shoulder," you asked another one.

"But your shoulder.." he trailed off with worry. "Prince Taehyung said to be careful."

"It's alright," you promised, "I'm all healed."

Upon hearing that, he smiled brightly and almost instantly flew up to perch onto your shoulder. Haeun held out her hand and you took it to hold onto her hand. The rest of them followed along at your sides as you walked towards the entrance of the roost, staring out towards the dragon clan before you.

"All you have to know is that everything is better now," you said, "I'm alright."

"So, does that mean we'll be seeing more of you from now on? Has prince Namjoon said it was alright for you to take up two jobs?"

Yet before that, that meant you staying in the clan for good, didn't it?

As you looked out at the sight before you, the wonderful clan that had become a place you never thought you'd call a home, you felt as if things were finally beginning to fall into place. It wasn't all going to be always great, you knew that, but you also knew that if you were to stay, it would be better than to search for another place where you'd have to try and find another place where you could belong in.

So maybe you would indeed stay in the clan.

"I want to stay."

It had taken a few days for you to finally get the opportunity to bring it up but there you were, in the castle and telling them your wish as the sun began to set.

"If you'll let me."

"If we'll let you?" Namjoon laughed. "You were already one of us, Y/N. We were just waiting for you to make your final decision." He smiled when Jungkook tried to hide his bright smile but couldn't possibly do so.

"But I am no dragon," you pointed out.

"You don't need to be a dragon to be one of us," Seokjin said. "We've already accepted you."

"And besides," Namjoon stepped up from where he sat to walk over towards you. His tall height almost made him intimidating but it was nothing compared to when you had first met. Namjoon's eyes were kinder, softer, more gentle. Especially his hold, gentle when he took your hand into his. "Any human that can tame a prince, needless to say seven," you chuckled a little though slightly confused at where he was going, "they are the keeper of the dragon."

"Keeper?" You repeated the word and blinked at how strange it sounded on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes met Jungkook's and the two of you shared knowing smiles. "I am Y/N," you said, "keeper of the dragon."

The two of you burst out laughing, making the hyungs confused.

"What is it?" Hoseok asked.

"It was what I first told Jungkook when I first met."

"Yup," Jungkook snapped his finger, smirking. "The villagers made her keeper of the dragon," he looked at them, "aka me, because she was the only one who volunteered to keep guard of a dragon, the only one brave enough," he walked towards you, eyes never straying away from your sight, "courageous, and kind enough to befriend a mighty dragon."

Upon hearing that, the older dragons smiled knowingly.

"Indeed those are true," Taehyung nodded. "You walked into a clan of dragons and made them all like you."

"It took a while," you pouted slightly.

Jungkook took your chin upon his fingers. "But you did it." His voice was low and soft and you stared at one another for a moment but then you realized how close the two of you were and cleared your throat as you backed away, almost tripping but catching your balance again.

"W-well, um.." You turned back to Namjoon, face flustered and they smirked at the sight but you chose to ignore it for your sake. "So that's it?" You asked. "I'm automatically a member?"

"No," Namjoon shook his head, "we'll hold a ceremony tomorrow."

Your heart stopped. "Wait, what?"

"A ceremony," Yoongi repeated. "You know, the formal and public occasion celebrating an event."

"I know what a ceremony is," you gave him a small glare, "but why?"

"We always hold a ceremony when accepting someone into our clan," Jimin informed. "It's tradition, just like holding a ceremony for when the whelps become apprentices, and those apprentices become warriors and receive their assigned clan roles and any other ceremonies we've held."

"I..." you frowned, lips formed into a cute pout they found so adorable. "I don't want a ceremony."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to be in the center of attention, Hoseok."

"Well then how else will the clan know you've become a member?"

"Um? Announcing it?"

"Exactly," Seokjin laughed. "That's what the ceremony is for."

"But-"

"Don't worry, everyone here loves you."

"That's not what I'm worried about," you whined and they almost melted into puddles because you were so cute.

The ceremonies were always held in the ceremony hall. It was a large cleared space above the ground just like any other nests, but with ancient pillars that represented the previous leaders of the Clan. If Namjoon was ever to be gone, which wasn't soon, another pillar would be made in his honor.

You went to the ceremonies before, the last one being when a whelp was made into an apprentice. The one who was honored always wore something nice and looked presentable and that was what you came to fear the most besides the attention. After all, dressing up meant the attention being on you.

You tried to back out of it but Jimin and Taehyung wouldn't let you so you had to reluctantly allow the apprentices to help you out. They always helped out the ones who would be the reason to the ceremony being held and now there you were, not ever thinking you'd be one of them with a ceremony held for you.

The moment you came riding one of the apprentice's mentor, a warrior of the clan, the commotion died down as they all awaited for your presence.

You fell from the dragon with elegance and the room grew silent as their eyes widened at the sight of you. You thanked the warrior and turned to the two young apprentices who began to guide you through but everything became deaf to the prince's ears, visions blinded except from the sight of you.

You wore a beautiful dress with the top being white and the skirt a pretty light purple. Two flower embroiders fell at your shoulders where the laced cape both met and ended. The cape flowed behind you as you walked, falling to meet the ground, trailing along the same length as your dress. Your hair was down with a pretty flower crown made of authentic jasmines and pink roses. And your face, your face held onto one of the prettiest smiles they had ever seen and just for that alone, Namjoon found himself asking why he still hadn't asked his mates about what they thought of you yet.

You as their mate.

"Thank you," you whispered softly to the two apprentices once you got close to the hall and they bid you goodbye with little giggles, telling you that you looked pretty one last time.

When you walked on again, finally, you stood in front of Namjoon who was still left frozen in place until your nervous smile greeted him.

He chuckled knowingly when you gave him the look and smiled at you to ease your nerves.

You bowed before him and Namjoon began the ceremony. You had a hand clutched against your chest, still nervous of the whole formal occasion. You've seen the ceremonies before and the ones that bowed before Namjoon were always a little bit nervous but you thought of yourself as a little worse than them. After all, you were a human, possibly the first human to ever have a ceremony held for her as she was being accepted into a clan made of dragons.

"I, Kim Namjoon, leader of the Dragon Clan that protects the East Sky and Mountains, call upon my warrior ancestors to look upon us today as we accept a new member into our clan." The words were old and formal, a new one you hadn't heard of yet because no ceremony of a new clan member had been held yet when you were around. Hoseok told you that he and a few others had joined the clan as outsiders as well so it wasn't the first time they've held a ceremony such as yours. He went through the same thing so he understood your nerves to an extent.

Namjoon called upon your first and last name. "Do you promise to uphold the Dragon Code, to protect and defend the Clan, to remain loyal to me and the princes and all of the current members of this clan?"

"I do," you answered.

He stood tall and proud. "From now on, whatever clan you've served before, whatever village, town, chief, commander, leader you had lived under, your old life is no more. I welcome you as a new member. As Y/N, Keeper of the Dragons."

The cheers and welcoming proceeded immediately afterwards and you looked up to meet the eyes of the seven princes.

Keeper of the Dragons.

It was a little different, a little special for your case. After all, you were a human becoming a clan member to the dragons. Possibly the first human to have been able to not tame a dragon, but to befriend one.

Two.

Seven.

And many more.

"Y/N, come here!"

Before you could even process what was happening to you, the excitement in Hoseok's voice had already dragged you away and the next thing you knew, you were running away with him.

"Hoseok-" He quickly picked you up and you squealed as the man jumped off the ceremony hall, holding onto him tightly, only for the two of you to land right onto the back of Namjoon's. You pouted and hit Hoseok on his chest. "Don't scare me like that!"

The man laughed. "You really think I would let you fall?"

"What are we even doing?" You looked back at Namjoon whose eyes were just as beautifully golden as Jungkook, Hoseok, and Taehyung and then you realized, you also hadn't taken a chance to see Jimin's eyes with him as a dragon so you turned around and met a beautiful pair of silver eyes that glowed of the moon.

He smiled at you in response of your pretty smile and you giggled a little.

"We're going back to the castle," Namjoon said and flew on towards their home with the others closely behind.

They led you into the castle, past the living room and in between the two spiraling staircases. You took a left then a right and came upon a beautiful stained glass arched door before you. The colors crystalized in shades of blue and green combined with white, with two large roses on the bottom corners, vines spiraling upwards as smaller roses followed it.

"Whoa," you gasped in awe, "I've never seen this room before."

They shared gentle smiles before Jungkook went on to open the doors.

Your eyes widened even more as you stepped into the room, greeted by an enchanted greenhouse filled with greens and pretty flowers everywhere. A pathway began from the entrance, following in straight until it reached the center of the greenhouse and diverged into two paths leading around the center where a magnificent tree laid, and creating other paths as it circled the greenhouse.

The tree stood tall, its trunks split in two as it spiraled against one another in a twisted way, meeting at the top where the branches made way for the flowering vines to hand from the sky.

A beautiful wisteria in shades of the moonlight. Blue, purple, and pink.

"This greenhouse only allows the princes to walk in," Seokjin said and you turned around with perplexed thoughts.

"But...I'm not a prince," you pointed out. "Nor am I a dragon. How am I allowed in here?"

"Anyone high and important can also be allowed in," Hoseok said.

"But I'm not high or important."

Namjoon chuckled. "I granted you the title as Keeper of the Dragons, Y/N, so that makes you a very important figure."

"Wait," you blinked, "I'm special now?"

"You really thought being Keeper of the Dragons was just a random title?"

"Well...yeah?"

Yoongi laughed as he walked over to your side and gave you two little pats on your head. "Being a keeper is a grand job. You serve the clan you have uphold your promises upon with great loyalty and protection. You're a guardian. No one can hurt you now, not if they ever want to. They wouldn't dare to. Not the dragons, not even the other humans who may try to hurt you."

"How did..." you trailed off, even more bewildered and confused. "I don't understand."

"There has only ever been a keeper once is the past history," Jimin explained. "A keeper can only be a human with a pure heart with no intention of hurting a dragon or turning against the clans. The first keeper happened when our clan first came to be, when our very first leader reigned supreme about a hundred years ago. He was the only human our clan could ever trust."

"And now you're here," Hoseok smiled. "When Namjoon began the ceremony and asked for our ancestors to look upon us, the ancestors looked at you and your virtues, they looked into your heart because you are a human, the second one to ever become a member of a dragon clan in dragon history. And being that you are allowed in here, they've accepted you, Y/N."

"Wow."

It was a lot to take in in one day. You hadn't ever expected you'd become an actual keeper after announcing yourself as a keeper to Jungkook when you had first met. And now that you had become one, you could only think back on the times when things were the roughest.

Meeting Jungkook, telling him your endless stories despite him remaining silent, and making your first friend with a dragon that had been taken in as prisoner of your village. You stole blankets, food, and medicine for him. You stole the keys from the village chief for him. And when you had asked him to leave on his own, he insisted you coming to his clan with him.

You were shot by an arrow and the dragon carried you back to his clan where everyone doubted your loyalty and trust. All but Jungkook.

So because of the misunderstood information and doubtful trust, you were sent to live as a prisoner yourself. Prisoner of the dragons where Jimin himself grew out of his cold aura to try and make things a little easier for you.

You grew sick and Seokjin took care of you and through that, you fell off his back and went toppling down a cliff with Namjoon where you and him grew closer trying to get back to the clan.

It was then when things started to look better.

If the leader himself had put faith in a simple human girl, then the rest of the clan, trusting the leader with all their hearts, would try to understand you as well.

You grew so close to the princes and the clan throughout the many months of you staying in the clan, hoping to heal and leave them be once you've fully recovered.

Only to realize that perhaps a home with the dragons was the place where you belonged.

And you guessed you did, looking at the seven princes that stood before you, sharing a soft smile your way and welcoming you in their home with open arms.

You were now a keeper, a true Keeper of the Dragons.

The bridges were built by the builders of the Clan as Yoongi had once suggested, connecting from a nest to another and another and another, creating a much more convenient and efficient way for you to travel around.

It made you feel more independent in that sense, not having to rely on others or take the long way around trying to go from the medicine nests to the roosts or the other way around. And your tasks between being the caretaker of the whelps and Seokjin's apprentice was easier to balance.

"Y/N?"

You turned around at the call of your name with a small whelp in your arms. "Hoseok?" The visit was quite unexpected and you wonder why. "What in the world happened?" You gasped the moment you saw the large gash grazed upon his arm, a cut so deep, running down in a long line from his upper arm to his forearm. You quickly gave the little whelp to Haeun to run over to him, tears already beginning to brim because seeing any of them in pain had hurt.

Hoseok clenched his teeth regrettably for the fact that he came here but what other choice did he have when Seokjin wasn't in the medicine nest and Taehyung wasn't anywhere to be found? He couldn't fix his self up by himself because he had no clue what to do so you were the only option left.

But now, seeing that he's caused you to look this distressed, he wished he had just fix his own self up instead.

"Where's Seokjin?" You asked him, holding out to touch his hand but Hoseok flinched away instead.

"I was just about to ask you that, actually," he chuckled nervously.

You frowned. "Taehyung went out with Yoongi for something important but Seokjin should have been in the medicine nests. Something must have dragged him away for a moment." You turned back around. "Haeun-"

"I can handle the whelps, unnie! No need to worry!" She quickly declared with a cute salute and you smile softly to show that you were proud of her before turning back to Hoseok and grabbing the hand that wasn't injured, dragging him out of the roost and towards the medicine nests.

Hoseok stared back for a brief moment to find Haeun giving him a playful wink.

That cute little dragoness.

"What happened?" You had him sit on the bed as you went on to grab the many supplies needed to treat him. "Was Jungkook with you?"

"No," Hoseok shook his head. "He's with the hunting patrol that went North. I was on the West side."

"You didn't encounter a few dragons outside of our clan, did you?" You worried.

"Of course not." He said it so casually you didn't know whether to believe him or not. "Also, did you hear yourself?" You looked up at him, tilting your head in confusion. "You said our clan, not my clan and I think that's pretty sweet, don't you think?"

You frowned a little as you take his hand. "Focus," you said, sighing as you take a look at the gash. Seeing that look on your face Hoseok couldn't help but to reach over and place his thumb right in between your two brows, rubbing it for a few second. "Hoseok-"

"Don't frown, little one, it's better when you smile." He moved on to trail down your face where he held you there. "Close your eyes," he told you and though confused, the heat of his hand was enough to trust him so you do it without protest. In doing so, the little tears escaped yet Hoseok was there to brush them away. "You don't have to worry so much, you know, it's just me."

"It's not just you," you said. "You're a prince, Hoseok."

He frowned slightly. "That's it?" He asked almost quietly. "Just because I'm a prince?"

You gave him a small sweet smile that made his heart flutter. "You know you are so much more than just a prince, Hoseok. You're my friend and I care about you."

"Friend..." he whispered, "right."

Yet why had that simple word made the two of you feel some type of way you couldn't quite describe?

"Unnie, are you ever going to look for a mate?"

"I..-" You froze in place at the question Haeun had asked and looked up at Taehyung who looked back at you with a stare you couldn't quite read. "W-what?" You and Taehyung were making the beds of the little ones with Haeun who had grew to know how to shift into a human. You were sure she'd become an apprentice sooner or later and a ceremony would be made in her honor.

"Unnie, you're so pretty, why don't you have a mate yet?" She asked, her pout clear on her face as if she herself was disappointed you hadn't gotten a mate of your own. "Are the dragons just not your taste? Do you not want a dragon mate? Is that why?"

Her bombardment of questions made you flustered.

"I-I don't..-" you cleared your throat as you went on to fold another blanket, eyes now avoiding Taehyung's as he remained silent. "I'm shy, Haeun," you told her. "Someone would have to approach me if anything."

"So you wouldn't mind the dragons?"

You shrugged. "No, why would I?"

You didn't see it but her smile widened as she cast a mischievous look Taehyung's way who, in response, ruffled her head playfully.

"Ooh, then can I be your mate?" A dragon asked as he ran over to your side with glowing eyes. "Noona, when I can shift into a human, I know you will definitely like me!"

Haeun sucked her teeth. "Minho, you're way too young for her."

Yet he refused to back down. "I can surpass the age limit!" He took your hands, stopping you from folding the blanket you had. "When I become an adult and have become a warrior, I'll ask to be your mate again!"

"By then unnie will already have a mate," Haeun said as she poked his forehead, causing the little one to almost topple backwards.

"Not fair!" Minho pouted. "Noona, you have to wait for me."

"No way! You're not strong enough to protect her! I'll be noona's mate!" Another one came running over and the next thing you knew, they've created a whole argument about who would be the one who deserved you the most. You looked at Haeun, shaking your head playfully to remind her that she was the one who started the whole mess and now you would have to go in and stop the little ones from arguing.

"Hey, calm down now," you ordered gently with a giggle leaving your lips.

Taehyung couldn't help but to just stare at you as you went on to get in between the whelps, trying your best to calm them down. It didn't take much effort for you though. After all, the whelps all had a soft spot for their favorite person and although he found himself a little jealous, he couldn't blame them.

You were too pretty and soft for your own good, who wouldn't want to be your mate?

"Hey," Haeun whispered to him as she lightly poked him on the side, gifting him a smirk of her own. "Shouldn't you confess before it's too late? I'm sure the little ones aren't the only ones having a crush on unnie."

"Confess what?" Taehyung rolled his eyes as he sighed, acting oblivious but Haeun only giggled in response.

Who knew little kids knew so much.

But then again, the little girl was right. It was only a matter of minutes before he could truly lose you in the midst of the line of admirers that'd keep growing for you. So when the princes got together later that afternoon, he decided to bring it up.

"The whelps decided to confess their undying love to Y/N this morning," he announced first thing as he settled himself onto the sofa, grabbing a cushion and resting his face against it.

"Don't they always confess their love for Y/N?" Seokjin pointed out with a small chuckle.

"This time was different," he told them, pouting. "Little Haeun decided to ask Y/N when she'd get a mate so the little ones took that as the right time to propose, stating how age didn't matter and that when they grew older, they'd ask her to be their mate and then they went on to debate about who would be more deserving of her. It isn't right, you know," he said, huffing, "How are little kids more brave than the same seven princes whom everyone admires and claim we're the most courageous and brave yet we can't do a simple thing like confessing our undying love?"

The last sentence that came out of Taehyung was what made his other mates freeze in place as if they had been caught. But he wasn't done, not yet. "We all knew Jungkookie had a thing for her the second they came back from her old village but why can't we admit it?"

Jungkook scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously.

"You hadn't admit it either," Jimin pointed out though his eyes avoided the others.

"That's what I'm saying," Taehyung acknowledged, "but I'm admitting it now. I like her. I like Y/N."

The older ones simply smiled at the fact as they began to grow lost in their own thoughts thinking about it all. Taehyung was right, why hadn't they admit it sooner? They were mates and mates told each other everything, sharing thoughts and ambitions. Even falling in love with the same human girl.

"So we agree?" Namjoon asked, looking around at each one of them. "We want Y/N to be our mate?" There wasn't an open response but he knew how they felt by their expressions alone. Thank goodness no one looked like they had opposed to the proposal.

"But what if..." Jungkook began hesitantly. "What if she doesn't want it?"

"Well..." It certainly would hurt that was for sure. But Namjoon wasn't going to let the feeling be left unspoken for any longer. That wasn't how he was. "We'll find out today, won't we?"

They found you in the greenhouse when they opened the closed doors.

You were sat in front of the wisteria tree, back facing them while your hand reached out, gently stroking one of the vines that hung from the branches. It was a beautiful sight they could get used to until the end of time. You looked ethereal under the tree even though it was only your back that they could see.

Pretty flowers laid against your hair from the whelps that had decided to decorate your hair with flowers, saying how you looked so pretty when you had your ceremony and they wanted to create the look.

Taehyung remembered how they all failed at making the flower crowns so they settled with placing the flowers all over your hair instead.

You still looked pretty despite their armature skills, nothing could ever make you look anything less.

"Y/N?" Yoongi was the one who called your name and you turned around, a smile adoring your face as you caught sight of them all.

"Mother told me that the wisteria tree holds memories," you told them as you looked up at the vines again. "That it symbolizes nostalgia, love and bliss, patience and endurance, and longevity."

Seokjin smiled as they took their time making their way to you. "That is the very reason our ancestors decided to grow this tree," he said, taking a seat beside you. "It holds so many meanings and has grown so rare in our time."

"Mother always wanted to see one but she left too soon before she got to see how beautiful the stories always said it would be. It's even more enchanting and divine in person. It's almost a little..magical."

"Well then count yourself lucky because this is one of the last wisteria out of three that's still alive today."

You gasped at Hoseok's words, eyes widened at the fact. "Where are the other two?"

He shrugged, unsure. "Maybe with another clan?"

"What happened?" You asked. "Were they destroyed?" Jimin nodded. "Why?"

Namjoon let out a small sigh. "Human's greed," he said. "They saw something so beautiful they decided to take it for themselves and before you know it, close to all were destroyed simply because they couldn't stand the fact that something so beautiful existed, wanting it for themselves alone."

"You can't really blame them though."

You frowned at Jungkook's words. "Why not?"

His eyes fell at yours, a small smile curling at his lips. "I once did," he told you as he began walking closer to you. "I once thought, why couldn't they just share it with the world? Why keep it to themselves and inevitably destroy it?" You wondered the same thing, eyes never straying from his because of how mesmerizing his eyes were. "But then again, if I were to ever come across something so beautiful, I'd want to keep it for myself as well. For me and my hyungs. So that no one else can have it if they ever sought for it."

His hand touched your chin, tilting it upwards so that he could see you better, afraid for a moment that that would be the last time he could see you like that before the friendship could go into ruins.

"What I'm saying is..." You didn't know why but your heart was pounding hard against your chest, feeling a burst of butterflies fluttering in your tummy as you anticipated his shy, hesitant words. The hyungs held their breaths, even more scared themselves.

"You're beautiful, Y/N," Jungkook breathed, "and I just...I know it'll sound selfish, even greedy, but...I wouldn't want anyone else to have you. I wouldn't want them touching you, hurting you, and loving you. Because I..." He backed away, taking two slow steps backwards with soft smiles on their faces.

Yet the soft smiles alone was enough to have tears falling against your cheeks before you could even stop them and that had them gasping, quick to rush to your side.

"Y/N?" Jungkook called, holding your face to brush away the tears.

You took a moment to hold his hand, laughing a little at your obnoxious self. "Say it," you whispered and he tilted his head. "I want to hear it," you told him.

He looked up at the rest and they smiled. "I like you, Y/N," he simply said, eyes returning to rest on yours. "I love you."

"We all do," Namjoon nodded. Jungkook backed away just slightly as Namjoon took your hands into his, eyes staring straight into yours with a gentle gaze. "We love you but I know words aren't enough to say it. There are so many moments I've regretted back then, treating you horribly because I was so scared to let a human in. Jungkook knew it all along, and I'm sorry it had to take you risking your own health for me to finally open my eyes."

"Namjoon," you whispered his name in a soft tone, "I told you, didn't I? That you're worth all the pain?" You reminded him. "Plus," you said, squeezing his hands gently, giving Yoongi a brief glance before looking back at him, "between us, there are no sorrys and thank yous. There are only I love you," you pressed your forehead against his, closing your eyes and letting the tears fall again, "and I love you too."

"One day, my love, I'll give you the world." He leaned back, held your head to lay a kiss on your forehead, and smiled as he looked at you with the rest sharing the same thoughts and wishes. "But for now, may I ask you, formally, to become our mates?"

You returned the soft smile. "Being your mates would mean that you've already given me the world and there is nothing more I would like than this."

A soft, soft word whispered into the air. Something only shared for the eight of you alone.

"I love you."

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barbecuebabybackribs · 5 years ago

Text

Being in a Poly relationship with Emmett and Rosalie would include:

(Gender Neutral Pronouns

I hope you guys enjoy this! It just popped into my head so I decided to write it out for all of y’all. Also this is super long!! Just a heads up, Enjoy and stay safe guys:) )

To say you surprised them would be a big understatement

They’d both be really conflicted- neither of them wanted to admit they wanted to pursue you

Edward would take pity on them

“Emmett, Rosalie, you both want to be with Y/N- the other won’t be upset if you admit it.”

“...”

Emmett is absolutely pumped- having one mate? Amazing, fabulous. But having two? ABSOLUTE HEAVEN

Rosalie is a bit more conflicted- you’re a human, so fragile and vulnerable. Being around her would mean you’re constantly at risk, not to mention the fact that you becoming a vampire at one point or another shakes her to her very core.

Emmett agree’s to not ask you out until Rosalie is comfortable with it, IF, she agrees to befriend you in the meantime

The next time your in the cafeteria- sitting alone picking at the cheap school lunch, when two people sit at the table with you

When you look up you realize Emmett is on your left and Rosalie is on your right- your surrounded by the schools power couple- the schools very attractive power couple

“Um, Hello?” you say nervously due to the fact they never interact with others outside of there family- let alone you.

“Hello, I’m Rosalie, your Y/N, Right?”

“Yeah, and I know you, You’re Rosalie Hale, and That’s Emmett Cullen, your basically the talk of the school.”

“Oh really? So what have they been saying about us?” Emmett would laugh- knowing some of the rumors going around town were a bit wild.

You’d talk for the rest of the lunch period, telling them about yourself and all the rumors about them- some as simple as Rosalie being a bleached blonde, some being that Emmett ran a satanic sex cult and Rosalie flirts with people to lure them in- that one had Emmett and Rosalie nearly rolling on the floor with laughter

For the next week they’d always sit with you at lunch and you started to consider them friends

The next week they showed up after your last class and walked you to your car

The next week at lunch they started telling you about how they were heading up to Seattle during the weekend

“Hey you know what? You should go with us!”

“Oh? I would hate to impose and be a third wheel.”

“Come on, we’d love to have you there.” Emmett would smile and wrap and arm around you.

You’d look to Rosalie to see if she was okay with it, She had a smile on her face so you assumed she was down

“Yeah, it does sound like fun.”

They’d pick you up from your house the next day in their Jeep

Emmett was blaring music which caused you neighbors to give you a dirty look

Emmett insists you see the “Gum Wall” Which was both interesting a gross

Rosalie takes you to the top of the Space Needle

Rosalie almost has a heart attack- if that were possible- when you stand up to fast and get light headed

Emmett forces you to sit back down and tries to keep Rosalie from calling Carlisle

“I’m sorry guys, I just got light-headed since I haven’t eaten yet today.”

They both forgot you had human needs and Rosalie sits with you scolding you for not telling them you were hungry earlier while Emmett finds food for you

Comes back essentially holding enough food to feed 20 people

“UM! That’d a lot!”

“Well I didn’t know what you wanted so I got one of everything.”

You awkwardly eat as much as you can- offering a lot of it to them and being a tad confused when they decline

You end up giving the leftovers to homeless people

You end up having an amazing day, they take you and bid you farewell- saying you had to do it more often

Watching them drive away you realize you’d fallen for them

You low key feel guilty and the next time the sit with you, you can’t get the thought of you being a horrible person and homewrecker out of your head- I mean they’re in love with each other, who are you to think you even stand a chance?

They both realize something’s off with you and ask Edward later that day if he noticed anything in your thoughts- even though Rosalie told him to stay out of your head.

He tells them what you had been conflicted about

They’re conflicted

Emmett’s pumped you officially like them- and both of them, part of him was worried about you only falling for one of them

Rosalie was happy you shared there feelings but the fact you thought negatively of yourself because of them ate her up.

Rosalie tells Emmett it’s time to consider asking you out,

It still takes them a few weeks to officially ask but suddenly your receiving presents from them and being invited to all kinds of outings

You make them string friendship bracelets and they think it’s the cutest thing in the world- they both wear them 24/7

Movie “Outings”

Hiking “Outings”

Port Angela’s “Outings”

Going to lunch wear only you eat

Getting ice cream where only you eat.

Basically any human thing they can do, you’re right there next to them

Emmett takes you to play football and only laughs at how bad you are

You’re jaw drops to the floor when you see Emmett throw the ball out of the field

“How the hell?!?”

“Oops, to much power in that one.”

Rosalie takes you on a self pamper day

Hair- Check . Nails- Check. skin Care- Check. Gossip- Check.

You go home that day having dirt on everyone in the town

One day your surprised to see they aren’t waiting for you after class, you stick around for a few minutes to see if they’re late- but they never show

Eventually you head to your car and see them waiting for you there and they finally officially ask you out

Rosalie starts to say it but hesitates and Emmett says it for her

“Y/N, We wanna go out with you.”

“... Like... to the movies?”

“No, we mean, we want to date you.” Rosalie says, tightening her grip on Emmett’s hand

Your silent for a few seconds and they’re worried you’’re going to say no

Pleasantly surprised when you break out in a big smile and say “Yes!”

“Awesome.” Emmett says pulling you into long bear hug- which he squeezes a little to tight but you just savor the moment

Rosalie is standing next to the both of you, absolutely shocked and excited, gets a big smile on her face when she see’s you and Emmett’s smile and hears how fast your heart is beating

You all enjoy your evening together- your smiles never leaving your faces

They drive you home and Rosalie gives you a hug goodbye- which turns into a group hug when Emmett joins

They never tell you but they heard you call your friend practically squealing in excitement as you told them you’d just got back on a date with “Rosalie AND EMMETT”

They both went home down right giddy- they got cornered by Alice, with Jasper and Edward both in the corner snickering

After you officially start dating Emmett and Rosalie don’t hold back

Emmett has picked you up and carried you around school multiple times

Rosalie had to be physically restrained when someone had the audacity to grope your ass

She still gave them a piece of her mind tho- and it’s rumored they never laid a hand on another person again

They help you study and do your homework- they do have lot’s of experience after all

When your parents aren’t home you all stay up late in the living room watching movies- Rosalie finds your mom baby photo album of you and gushes over tiny you

You end up falling asleep on Emmett’s shoulder- Rosalie takes a photo of you two

Dates with each other but also dates where its just you and Rosalie, you and Emmett, or just the two of them

Emmett kisses you first- takes you surprise and kisses you after he dropped you off at home, then drove away with the biggest cheeky grin in the world

Rosalie is low-key jealous they kissed you first

Next time you see Rosalie? She dips you over and gives you a big ole kiss

Smugly smiles when she see’s you have the biggest blush on your face known to man

After the initial kiss it’s just part of the daily norm

A kiss when you first see each-other, when you say goodbye, a random smooch or two threw out the day

You get all kinds of envious glares from others

Also people who just think you’re sickingly cute

Rosalie decides it’s time for you to know about vampires when you start asking why they never eat on your guy’s dates and there eye’s always change colors

Take you on a long hike so there’s no one around to hear, also encase you feel the need to scream in confusion/fear

You think they’re joking at first

That is until Emmett picks up a boulder and throws it like it’s a baseball across the field

You sit down on a log to process for a second

“Y/N... Are you okay?”

“I made out with a vampire... I made out with two vampires... I’m DATING TWO VAMPIRES!”

You have a million questions and they answer them all

You ask Emmett to pick you up with one hand- he does and laughs at how surprised you are

“You’re like the hulk!”

You dramatically lean against a tree and tell Rosalie she’ll need to carry you back since your just soo tired- you mean it mainly as a joke

To your surprise she carries you bridal style all the way home- laughing at how giddy you are over such a simple thing

They don’t have fully have sex with you while your human but they are willing to do a lot of other things

They forgot how much humans blush at simple things and it makes no-beating hearts ache

Introduction to the family is a bit awkward but pleasant

Esme absolutely adores you and loves cooking you complex dishes

Carlisle is so happy to see you making his “Kids” happy and also is happy that you’re such a lovely person in general

Edward and Alice basically already know everything about you

Alice gets a little to excited and talks about how good of friends you’ll be and how she’s already planning your new wardrobe

Rosalie pry’s her away from you

Edward doesn’t say much to you but is nice, a little moody but nice

Bella makes sure you feel welcome and tells her if your’re ever struggling to come to her because she’s been in the same situation and knows what it’s like

After meeting them it basically becomes your second home

They get a bed put in there room so you can spend the night

They love cuddling with you while you sleep, adoring how you’ll softly mumble random words

Cute little picnic dates

You watch Rosalie work on cars and attempt to help her

She ends up teaching you the basics

Sometimes you read to her while she works on cars, or you simply keep her company

Emmett and you wrestle a lot- although he obviously always wins besides the few times he lets you win

You’ve randomly leaped onto his back to many time to count- he loves it

You all go on vacation together during the summer

You go to some private beach and gush over how there skin sparkles so beautifully

Rosalie and Emmett nearly die on the spot when they see you get hit by a car

Rosalie holds you while Emmett calls 911

They realize the cops won’t get there in time- but they don’t want to “doom” you to the life of a vampire

“It’s okay guys, you don’t have to do it.” You would smile weakly at them

“Don’t say that, you’ll be fine.”

It was a lie and you all knew it

When your heart beats starts to slow down and you’re eyes flicker closed they silently agree they have to do it

Emmett is the one who bites you- a lump forming in his throat as you groan in pain as the venom starts to take affect

Rosalie cradles you softly as you start your transition- they end up moving you when they hear the ambulance coming close

They calls the rest of the cullens and let them know- Alice had already seen it but she was to late to call and warn them

They all come to you but all silently agree to only let Rosalie and Emmett in the room your in until you’re ready- most newborns want to be alone

When you wake up and your blood red eyes flicker around the room, you jump up so fast you break the bed frame

All previously dull colors are now vibrant and almost headache inducing, you can hear everything in a room that was previously silent, and the smells- the smells were the worst part, everything was so overwhelming

Not to mention the almost unbearable burning in the back of your throat

“Y/N, are you alright?”

You look over to see a very stressed looking Emmett and Rosalie

“Uhm” You rasp out before clearing your throat, “I.. think so?”

Rosalie offers you a cup of blood Edward had caught for you

You hesitantly take it and ask “What... What does it take like.”

“Take a sip and find out!” Emmett slaps your back and then rubs it supportingly

You take a small sip, surprised at how much it lessens the burning in your throat “It’s.. okay.” You say not wanting to admit it was really good to you- although you do finish the glass

Alice proceeds to carry a whole mirror into the room so you can see yourself- you stare awkwardly at your reflection that now seems foreign

Vampire lessons by everyone

Jasper and Emmett teach you to fight

Carlisle teaches you restraints

Edward and Bella teach you the whole cover story

Rosalie and Alice teach you “How to act human 101″

Emmett and Rosalie both find you one day obviously upset when you realize you’ll have to leave behind your friends and family

They help you learn to cope and let you know it’s completely normal to feel what you feel

Emmett cheers you up by throwing you fifty feet in the air- which was a unique method that worked wonders

Emmett sneak attacks you and you flinch so hard you put a hole in the wall

You get him back by tackling him to the ground- which only works for a second before he’s rolled on top of you and hungrily looking at you lips

You end up making out in the middle of the woods

When the rest of the cullens go back home you decide to stay at the beach for another week

During that week you all agree to take the next step- multiple times

It’s a good thing jasper is out of there because you are full of lust for literal days

You all go home and Edward immediately cringes at Emmett’s thoughts

You home to reveal all your previous rooms stuff had been moved to Rosalie and Emmett’s room- Well now Rosalie, Emmett’s, and Your room

You all are cuddle bugs

Resting your head on Rosalie’s chest is your favorite thing

Well, Clinging to Emmett’s back while he makes his way threw daily life is also up there

You all go hunting together and are one powerful gang

In Rosalie’s eyes your all damned but at least you’re damned together

You all spend the rest of your very long lives protecting and loving each other- even threw the roughest of times nothing could break you apart

You all love each other and that’s enough

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jetsam-kisa · 3 years ago

Text

Michiko vs Jetsam

Whew! This is done! I got carried away so I am very sorry for the length :’D

Michiko’s mod and I had some fun talking about our characters and especially the gear Michi is developing!

Unfortunately they were very busy this week, but I was more than happy to write the fight results :D

CW: emetophobia // there is a brief scene describing vomit semi-graphically

The roar of the crowd echoed through the stadium as Jetsam Kisa and Michiko Watanabe entered the battle arena. Both of the students walked to their side of the arena with a sense of purpose, even if they were nervous wrecks on the inside. Once they took their proper starting positions, the two contestants smiled weakly at each other as the announcer called out their names and the people in the crowd cheered for the next fight.

‘I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out,’ Jetsam thought as he gnawed on his lips in anticipation, ‘That or throw up. Oh god I hope I don’t throw up in the middle of the match. Everyone here is watching. God, my parents are watching,’ Thick, heavy plums of smoke rolled out of his mouth the more frantic his thoughts became, until they nearly completely cloaked his figure, ‘I think I saw Best Jeanist in the stands too! He’s not going to want to associate with the kid who threw up during his first match. What am I doing here? What am I even going to do-?”

Jetsam was snapped out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts by movement in his periphery; Michiko gently waved her hands at him and gave him a broader smile, despite clearly being nervous herself (if the crease in her brow was any clue to her emotional state).

“Let’s both do our best during this fight, Kisa-kun!” Michiko called out from her side of the arena, before her gaze hardened with a resolve she often reserved for studying the most complex of quirks, “Although, I hope you know that I will not be taking it easy on you. I need to see how far I can go, and to learn about the extent of my current abilities.”

Seeing Michiko’s determination and hearing her will to succeed was like a salve to Jetsam’s shot nerves. He took a deep breath, then released the pent up smog. The smoke surrounding his body partially dissipated too. It was almost a shame how well Michiko’s words calmed him down; he would be better off easily producing the pollutants that came with high stress. Jetsam briefly wondered if her kindness was double-edged in a way; was it a strategic way to prevent him from building up his quirk before the match? He shook the thought out of his head before yelling back to her:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Miss Michi!”

He could only hope that his grin masked the nerves that were still rolling in his stomach. He knew Michiko; knew her quirk. It could only be activated by physical contact, so as long as he kept his distance he should be okay.

‘Although,’ Jetsam thought as he gazed at the chain-like device at Michiko’s hip, ‘that capture chain she’s been developing could be difficult to beat. I’ve never seen what it actually does before.’

All too quickly, the announcer began their countdown: “3...2...1...BEGIN!”

---------

As soon as the bell rang, Michiko shot forward, arm extended, with a single-minded determination to do one thing and one thing only: get to Jetsam before he could gain control of the battlefield with his quirk. If she could grab a hold onto him before his smogs and tars and other (frankly, gross) expellents became too overwhelming, then she could nullify his quirk with her own, and use her capture device to prevent him from continuing the fight.

Jetsam must have realized her plans, and had just enough time to dodge out of her range, smog spewing out of his mouth now that his adrenaline was no doubt pumping again. Not to be deterred, Michiko quickly shifted her balance and dove after him again, careful not to let him hide behind the pillars of smoke he was creating.

‘He’s not going to make this easy for me, but I have been preparing for this occasion for too long to let this game of tag keep me from winning!’ She thought to herself, resolve growing with every inch closer she got to Jetsam, ‘He can’t avoid me forever, and I have a secret weapon I’ve been dying to beta test!’

After a few more moments of chasing after Jetsam, Michiko took a gamble and let him escape to the sanctuary of smog he created across the arena. She knew she had to be quick, but some risks had to be taken to assure victory! She knew that she had the power within her to win.

He wouldn’t be able to outrun her prototype, after all!

--------

‘Phew, I think I finally managed to shake her,’ Jetsam sighed with relief, dark smog still escaping his mouth and obscuring his figure to the crowd (and hopefully Michiko as well). ‘Now I have a moment to breathe. Hah, figuratively, at least.’

He made sure to keep his eye on the clear silhouette of Michiko he could make out through his smog, never before more grateful for his mom’s sight-related quirk partially making its way to him. She seemed to be standing still, perhaps strategizing her own plan to catch him and throw him out of the arena? He hoped the smoke wasn’t making her feel too sick. He had to be quick.

‘I can probably end the battle if I cover her in tar and stop her movement. It might be unpleasant but it’d be safer than trying to beat her in hand-to-hand or some other physical contest. I haven’t been training with Tsumi for too long, after all. Yeah okay, that’s the plan!’

Just as he was about to produce the sticky tars necessary to carry out his plan, a thin silhouette darted out from Michi’s figure, slithering across the arena at a speed too quick for Jetsam to react to.

As a cold, thin figure coiled itself tightly around him, the only thought sparking across Jetsam’s brain was:

“Michiko brought a snake?”

-----

‘Bingo!’ Michiko exclaimed to herself as Jetsam’s no-doubt unconscious shout revealed not only his location, but the fact that her capture device had worked perfectly as intended.

While it still had quite a few bugs to sort out, one of the most recently added features was a heat-seeking tracker that would allow the machine to chase after targets even under adverse visible conditions.

She cocked her head towards the direction of Jetsam’s quick yell of distress; she couldn’t get complacent. The capture device was only half the battle! She had to guarantee that Jetsam couldn’t continue the fight in order to assure her victory!

She couldn’t just blindly run through the smokescreen either; who knows what kinds of traps he could have placed while she set up her capture device. No. She had to be methodical, and safely make her way to Jetsam’s location while he was encumbered.

The smog was thick, but now she had her goal within sight: grapple Jetsam and nullify his quirk, thus ending the match.

-----

Okay, so it wasn’t a snake, but it was still bad news! Jetsam’s arms were completely pinned by the robotic device wrapped around his torso. So this was the work of the capture device that Michiko had worked so hard on? Jetsam had to admit that it was effective. He couldn’t fight with his limbs restrained like this, and that shout he gave out completely alerted Michiko to his location.

‘So this is it. The fight’s over, and I spent the whole time running away and cowering in the corner. Everyone is watching. Everyone saw. Everyone will know I’m just a big failure who doesn’t deserve to be here. Oh god what if Sato-sensei kicks me out of the hero course? What if they kick me out of the school?? What if everyone laughs and ignores me and hates me OH GOD-’

As the panicked thoughts swirled in Jetsam’s mind a pit formed in his stomach. A pit that rapidly expanded into a big, black ball of anxiety and nerves. He could almost picture it in his mind’s eye: an ugly, bloated orb dripping with heat and stress and bile. The more he envisioned it the more it grew until he could almost feel it spilling out of his mouth like a slick oil spill across his lips and---oh wait.

It wasn’t in his mind’s eye.

Jetsam groaned to himself as gushing rivets of slippery, rubbery oil spewed from his mouth all down the front of his body.

“Well this is perfect!” Jetsam exclaimed to himself, although it was muffled by the sheer volume of oil that expelled out of him as he spoke. He really did throw up. God, could this fight be any more of a disaster?

First he gets captured by Michi’s device, then he literally vomits gross oil from the stress. Fantastic. He shifted uncomfortably, as the oils soaked into his jersey under the capture device and--wait a moment. Oil. Disgusting, smelly, beautifully SLIPPERY oil! That was slicking up his torso and arms even now!

Jetsam pulled his arms upwards experimentally and YES! They were sliding out, he wasn’t restrained anymore! Maybe he could hide again and strategize-

The victorious thought was cut off by a hand shooting out from the pillars of smog, reaching for his newly freed arms.

-----

“I finally found you, Kisa-kun!” Michiko called out, jumping from out of the smokescreen with a triumphant smile.

Her eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of Jetsam freed from his restraints, but she simply chalked it up to a prototyping failure; she could ask him about the specifics of how he escaped once the match was over, anyways.

This time Jetsam couldn’t dodge her oncoming attack, and Michiko grappled him to the ground, pinning his arms above his head. Now was her chance to nullify his quirk! She had been practicing in hand-to-hand combat, she could still push herself to her limits and come out on top!

Michiko began to focus her energy on her quirk, as Jetsam struggled underneath her. As soon as her quirk began its nullification, she saw the startled look in his dark eyes, and winced slightly in sympathy. She had been told that her quirk was a bit unpleasant to the target; with the process feeling not unlike having your blood drawn through your whole body.

As her quirk took effect, the copious amount of smoke around them began to disappear, once again fully revealing them to the crowd of spectators around the stadium. As her own vision began to clear she was startled to find them lying at the edge of the arena; if they had tussled a bit further out they would have been out of bounds.

Jetsam followed her gaze to the boundary line, and his jaw tightened as his face flushed a dull purple. Was it anger at his predicament?

“I’m very sorry about this, Miss Michi,” he gurgled apologetically, as the last of his quirk bubbled from his mouth into a viscous oil that was spat out onto Michiko’s face.

With a shout of surprise, Michiko’s grip loosened enough for the slick oils still coating Jetsam’s arms to allow him to escape her grasp. Vision impared by the pollution covering her forehead and dripping into her eyes and nose, Michiko was unable to dodge the hefty push against her chest as Jetsam scrambled away from her touch, getting onto his feet. It was only for a moment, but it was enough for his quirk to return in full force.

“Again, words cannot express how sorry I am for doing that.” Jetsam called out to her, although his speech was hard to make out with the thick pollutants leaking from his mouth.

Michiko shot up from the floor, furiously wiping at her face to clear it of the oil. Once her vision returned, she turned to face Jetsam. The two ran at each other, trading blows and each trying to grapple the other into submission. The build-up of tar and oils worked as a double edged sword; Jetsam easily slipped from Michi’s grasp, but she also used that to her advantage to slide out of the way of his attacks.

Then, there it was: that single, gleaming moment where Michiko could see the exhaustion, see Jetsam’s attention waning as the fight dragged on for just a bit too long. Right there! He was right by the boundary line, and had miscalculated a move that left him off-balance and vulnerable.

‘Sorry Jetsam,’ Michiko thought as she built momentum for her final blow, ‘but I am grateful for this amazing fight!’

Just as her victorious punch was about to make contact with Jetsam’s awaiting back, she felt herself freeze, involuntarily. Her arm was stuck in position, unable to move. She tried shifting her feet, but to no avail. Her whole body was frozen in place, like some sort of statue!

After a brief moment of panic, Michiko quickly realized what was happening. The tar. The tar Jetsam had been producing. He had mixed it with all the other pollutants as they fought, and as she was coated throughout the battle, the tar was turning thicker and thicker, until it encased her whole body into a stiff, immovable statue.

She struggled, trying to thrash her way out of the viscous black coffin, but to no avail. She could no longer continue fighting. She had lost.

The crowd burst into cheers and jeers as they realized that the match had been settled, the announcer calling out “AND THE WINNER IS, JETSAM KISA!”

As soon as the decision was announced, Michiko felt the tar slide off her body, like showering off a thick coating of muck, until only black stains remained on her body and clothing.

Jetsam sheepishly looked over at her, hand anxiously scratching at the back of his neck.

“So… that was really, really gross. I’m so sorry. But you were incredible! You almost had me so many times!!” Jetsam babbled out, getting more and more flustered as he continued. “I understand if you’re upset, but we promised we wouldn’t hold back and-”

“That was a great match! I had such a good time, and you really tested out my limits!” Michiko interrupted, smiled brightly at him as she held out her hand for him to shake. “But I’m warning you, next time I’ll be the one to come out on top!”

Jetsam smiled softly as he took her hand and reciprocated the shake.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#this was the first time i have ever written a fight scene!!#i hope it turned out well... again sorry for the length lmaooo #michiko #jetsam #bnha oc comeback #sports event

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 3 years ago

Text

Fic: So Close Yet So Far Away

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Frankie Morales x Jay 'Lady' Ray

Warnings: Language, talk of sex, throwback to sex, Pope is a crude asshole. Yearnnniinnngggg.

Summary: Lady and Pope get into an argument and Frankie sorts her out. Cue some elite level yearning.

A/N: HAHAHA I wasn't even meant to write this today but I woke up with this on my mind and I just had to because they're my BABIES. This is an instalment in the Frankie x Lady series and takes place back when Lady was in Frankie's squad, before they were an item.

Jay should have known better than to ask about everyone’s weekend. She just wanted to make small talk while they got prepped for a field exercise. She wasn’t ready to hear about their night out on Saturday, how Santi, Frankie, and Benny all scored some willing chicks, Will only missing out because he had a girlfriend, not because he didn’t pull.

All the while Jay was stuck with her family, listening to her mother go on about how she was too good for the army, she should leave while she was still alive, get a normal job, marry, have kids… She could have been out with the guys, maybe get lucky herself and if not, at least have a fun night. Get drunk instead of sad.

And now she finds herself listening to Santi talk about his one night stand, not giving Benny a chance to talk about his, while Frankie, quite characteristically, clammed up about personal stuff.

“Nutted her so fucking hard and all she did was beg for more,” Santi brags, “best fuck I had in ages…”

Jay’s been in the military since she was 18. She knows how soldiers talk, she’s heard it all, she’s participated in the crude joking, she’s not put off by it. But on this Monday morning, while the squad is assembling their equipment, she doesn’t want to hear it.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Pope, do you fucking have to talk like that?” she barks, unable to hear one more word about his sexual conquests. The rest of them cease their activities in wait for Pope’s reply. Working so closely together, sometimes spending weeks cramped up on assignments builds close bonds but also breeds discord. It’s normal to be at each other’s throats from time to time but it’s rarely Jay who flies off the handle.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, My Lady,” Santi replies with a smirk, his voice at its most velvety. “I meant I made passionate love to her all night – “

“You are so fucking disgusting, you know that?” Jay hisses. “Just shut the fuck up about the whole thing, nobody wants to hear about it.”

“Clearly not you,” Pope drawls, quick to anger. In the corner of her eye, Jay notices Will shake his head at him. Don’t engage, bro, just drop it. But Santiago Garcia is someone who doesn’t let things slide when he’s in gear.

“When was the last time you got laid, Ray? You need to get those pipes cleared out. Get some d.”

When was the last time? Too long ago. She does have an itch but last time she scratched it, it just didn’t feel right. She had the same feeling of detachment as she experienced just now when she heard about last Saturday night, particularly the fact that Frankie got laid.

It’s not that she’s jealous. She’s just more comfortable with the idea that Frankie doesn’t sleep around with anyone.

“A dick isn’t going to solve my problems, Santi, unless it’s a big one up your sorry ass,” she snaps, a rude laugh from Benny telling her she scored a point. Staring hard at Pope, whose ridiculously handsome features show an obnoxious amount of amusement, she knows that he won’t budge until he’s drawn metaphorical blood.

“Just name the time and the place, Ray, I’ll be there. Will you?”

“Okay, knock it off.” It’s Frankie, of course. The voice of reason. “Redfly’s gonna be here any minute and I don’t want to do extra laps just because you two can’t play nice.”

Frankie always has that calming effect on her, even now when she’s inexplicably mad at him for having fooled around with some random girl he picked up at their usual dive. Is there a possibility of her being there again in the future? Jay doesn’t want to think about it. Right now, she focuses on the sense that Frankie’s words make. It’s not worth it. Santi’s not worth it.

“Just stay away from me, asshole,” she warns Santi before going back to her kit. The tension in the room eases and Benny, who’s closest to Jay, gives her a brief pat on the back and a nod that says Good call. She hears Frankie murmur something to Santi behind her back, then Santi’s mutter: “She on the rag or something?”

That does it. Jay throws down her backpack and spins around.

“You say that to my face, you piece of shit,” she growls, taking a step forward. Her body is quivering with pent up rage in need of an outlet and knocking Pope on his ass would serve as an adequate one.

“Jay, he’s not worth it,” Benny tries to placate her but she barely hears him. Her whole focus is directed at Pope and his shit-eating grin. He says one more thing…

“Got your panties in a twist?”

She lunges forward but doesn’t make it to Pope as several hands grab her and hold her back.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

“Calm the fuck down, Ray!”

“Crazy bitch – “

“You’re on really thin ice, too, Pope! Shut that motherfucking mouth of yours!”

Benny is physically restraining her as she practically vibrates with desire to beat the crap out of Santi, who’s held back by Frankie.

“Ray, he’s not worth it,” Benny tells her. “Take a walk. Smoke. Calm down. He’s an asshole.”

He’s right and Jay knows it. Mustering up all of her willpower, Jay rolls back onto her heels, straightens her back, and squares her shoulders. Without looking at anyone, she turns around and stomps out.

Frankie finds her by the vehicles, in the backseat of a Humvee. Her fore and middle fingers are rubbing against her thumb: she’s quit smoking but is clearly wishing she had a cigarette right now. Frankie climbs into the backseat from the other side and pulls up a pack from his pocket, offering it to her without words. Jay hesitates but eventually takes one and leans closer to him when he flicks open his lighter. Frankie can smell the anger on her, a sweaty tightness that radiates from her muscles. She sits back, inhaling deeply before exhaling in a frustrated puff of smoke.

“Fuck,” she mutters, “I don’t wanna die because of these.”

“I thought you quit?”

“I did.” She throws him a glance and a grimace before flicking the cigarette out through the open door. “I thought you quit as well?”

“I keep them around for emergencies like this,” he shrugs. Jay looks pointedly at him.

“Then you haven’t truly quit, have you?”

He loves it how she puts him on the spot like this, provokes him, forces him to reconsider, change his way of thinking. She always does it with such ease, sometimes with a teasing glint in her eye. She just makes him want to be a better person.

“I guess not.” He throws her a small smile that goes unreciprocated. She stares into the back of the seat in front of her, lips tight. Frankie would love to just sit here in silence and let her lead, let her open up in due time, but he knows that if they don’t join the others soon, Tom is going to make a scene.

“Pope’s an asshole,” he states. Jay scoffs but says nothing. “But what’s up with you? You usually don’t let shit like that get to you.”

Her nostrils flare and he sees the muscles of her throat flex. Eventually, she parts her lips to speak, her voice strained.

“I spent the weekend with my dear mother, my brother, and his family. And you know what mom’s like.”

Frankie nods. Yes, he’s heard about Jay’s mother and the dislike the woman has for her daughter’s career choice. The older brother is married with one kid and another on the way and he, of course, is a saint, a pinnacle of human achievement, his children the very essence of what makes a successful life, his wife the perfect picture of Woman.

Jay suddenly twitches, then kicks at the seat in front of her.

“Fuck!I hate this fucking shit!”

Frankie refrains from putting a hand on her shoulder, no matter how much he would like to. He might end up with a broken nose.

“I cut her off,” Jay says tonelessly. “Completely.”

“About fucking time, Jay.” He’s been waiting for this to happen and he wants to tell her that he’s proud of her but it’s not his prerogative, no matter how much he would like it to be.

“Yeah,” she agrees, still not looking at him. “I kept hoping that she’d get her shit together but…” Her voice trails off and she swallows hard. “Fuck. I miss my dad.”

“He’d be proud of you,” Frankie assures her, biting off the endearment that threatened to escape him. Mi amor. Querida. He wants to be able to call her that, wants to be the one she’d come to with her sadness. Wants to be the one to call her mother and tell her to go suck an egg.

“You should’ve called,” he tells her but she only shakes her head. Stubborn as a mule.

“You were out. I didn’t want to ruin your night.”

It had been ruined the moment Santi laid eyes on the company of three young women by the bar. He had zoned in on the curvy brunette and Benny had picked the fiery redhead, leaving Frankie with the blonde. He didn’t want her, didn’t want any of the others, but he had fallen for the peer pressure and for every drink, he figured it could be a good idea to get laid. The girl was pretty, funny, nice. She had a hot body and was clearly willing. They had gone to her place and he had treated her like he would treat every woman he slept with: he ate her out, giving her several orgasms with his tongue before even thinking about putting his dick in her.

She had insisted on riding him. Frankie didn’t mind but as she bounced on his cock, her round, heavy tits jiggling in front of him, he didn’t see her face anymore. No, it was Jay all along, Jay’s long, lean body on top of him, Jay sinking down on him, her slick, hot pussy swallowing his cock while he swallowed her moan. The fantasy had become so real that he had to wrangle the woman off of him and take her from behind instead.

He left in silence once she was asleep, crept out like an asshole, a coward. He usually asked a woman if she wanted him to stay, he had once upon a time enjoyed having breakfast the next morning, sharing kisses when he finally left. But now, it all felt like cheating.

“You wouldn’t have ruined the night,” he tells her quietly. “It wasn’t that good.”

“The night or the sex?”

“The latter.” His ears are burning and he refuses to look at her.

“Too much to drink?” There it is: that sweet, amiable little taunt she saves for him only – or at least he hopes she does. He’s never heard her speak like that to any of the other guys.

“Wrong girl.”

Jay turns her head and looks at him. The distance between them in the backseat seems to shrink and grow at the same time when he returns her gaze. The hairs at the nape of his neck rise when he loses himself in the fathomless ocean-blue of her eyes.

He has to kiss her. He mustn’t kiss her.

“Are you two done with your fucking therapy session?”

Both of them startle when Tom shows up by the open door on Frankie’s side.

“I have an exercise op to run and I don’t have time to wait for you to feel quite ready, Ray,” he adds before slapping his hand to the roof of the Humvee. “Get your asses in gear.”

He leaves without having noticed anything. Frankie wonders how it’s even possible. Didn’t Tom feel the air crackle with electricity? Didn’t he hear how hard his heart was beating?

Jay gets out of the vehicle and slams the door shut, and Frankie follows suit. As they walk back, keeping a distance of two feet between them, Jay murmurs a Thank you, Morales to him.

“Sure,” he replies easily, forcing himself to sound neutral. “I got you, Ray.”

#my fic #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #francisco frankie morales #frankie morales x ofc #frankie morales x lady

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

lavender latte: v

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 6 ||

word count: ~4k

coming to terms now, are we?

warnings: descriptions of medical settings, discussion of surgery and injury but nothing graphic, god fluff, nasty big fluff

——

wow. halfway through y’all. thank you to each and every ONE of you who have given this story a chance. enjoy some fluff and get ready for next week 👀 once again, beta-ed by the wuv @keiqos !!

||||||||||||||||||

Exhaustion had long since clawed a hole in your skull.

It was one of the many forms of malefactum that came from your fucking quirk, damn it to hell. The days following any sort of intense overstimulation episode of yours were always hellish. Constant fatigue, burning migraines, dry eyes, and confusion always waited for you by the time you rolled out whatever pushed you over the edge.

The villain attack was probably the worst episode you’d had, ever.

The entire trip to the hospital had been sort of a nightmare. There were so many people that needed treatment after the attack, so many of them worse off than yourself. You were lucky enough to get into a dark hospital room fairly quickly, allowing some of your symptoms to dull.

You were just coherent and aware enough to deal with everyone you needed to, paperwork and legalities of your visit sorted. You even managed to send a few texts to your parents and work groupchat to confirm that you were safe.

After a myriad of late-night tests and exams, it was confirmed that the next morning, you’d have a procedure to mend your leg.

...

Fixing the internal damage to your leg caused by the tearing of the glass was a fairly quick affair, according to your kind-smiled surgeon.

“I know it seemed abrupt, to do it so quickly,” The surgeon stuffed her hands in the pocket of her scrubs. “But, we’ve flown in extra medical personnel to help deal with injuries from the attack and well, you’re an easy fix.”

You smiled, the best you could, groggy with the anesthetic, “I’m glad it isn’t too bad.”

“Nope! Not at all,” She laughed, far too pleasant for all the chaos just outside your dimly lit hospital room. “We’ll keep you here tonight, and you should be able to go home tomorrow afternoon. You’ll need to keep weight off of that leg for about three weeks. We’ll have a follow-up appointment then, and make sure you’re healing alright. Sound good?”

You nodded, some tension releasing from your chest.

The procedure left you with a heavy plastic boot, clasped up to your knee. Not to mention your body ached with fatigue.

Most of the rest of that day was spent spinning in and out of sleep, only waking for basic checks and a delivery of flowers you received from the teashop’s owners complete with a passive-aggressive reminder that ‘this had nothing to do with us, you can’t sue <3.’

Your constant company was Hawks’s scarlet feather. As you moved through the bends of your quirk and post-surgical recovery, you held onto it like a lifeline. With each stroke of the soft filaments, your heart rate monitor would beep slower and slower towards a relaxed rhythm.

It made you think of him, and how he felt with your quirk activated.

Despite how shitty the circumstances were, really feeling Keigo with your quirk was heavenly. Feeling him in general, physically was a fucking blessing. You spent a lot of time that night and first day at the hospital fantasizing about how the beat of his heart felt like amber drops on your tongue and orange-bound warmth in your chest.

You wanted more of it.

Keigo stayed around to help deal with the mess, for once in his career. It was weird for him to spend the following day after the attack helping out on the scene. It was even weirder for the other Pros around that were aware of his reputation of simply not doing that.

It was out of character for him.

But, then again, Keigo hadn’t ever spent as much time at someplace he enjoyed like the teashop. Hell, the whole street. He’d patrolled plenty of areas for long stretches of time, but he’d never grown attached.

You were, obviously, a big part of that.

Seeing you hurt left him frazzled and fucked, and staying behind to help pick up the mess and provide aid made him feel a hell of a lot better. Sure, it was different, having local Pros look to him for guidance when he had to purely rely on his training from the Commission as opposed to his professional experience. He did well, he knew, especially based on the way the scene calmed even when he simply flew around.

Keigo had the power to bring people ease, even if he struggled with it himself.

The idea made him think back to you, undoubtedly still in pain, but more than likely entirely fine. He ignored the urge to text you anxiously as he was still parsing over the very sweet interaction the two of you had, even if it was in such a bad circumstance.

Your sweetness at the end was his constant reminder that you would be okay.

The implication and Keigo’s knowledge post- ‘the miel incident,’ as he was calling it, was obvious, and god, he wanted to fucking drown in it. The thought of having you so close that he could hear your heartbeat and feel the drum of your voice against your chest made him weak.

He was so fucking weak for you.

It was distracting, as it always was. It seemed fairly unavoidable especially as anxiety chewed at him. The one thing that lulled him was the far off feeling of the feather he had tucked in your hand. It had to be close to you still, the beat of your heart sending him shudders if he focused on it hard enough.

It became too much, thinking of you.

As his feathers swept piles of rubble, he pulled out his phone, the sun beginning to sink in the evening sky.

You had spent most of your recovery time in and out of consciousness, enjoying the time to rest and sleep.

A short buzz from your phone forced you into a half-wakeful state. You reached to the table next to the hospital bed, grappling for your phone.

[birdboy]: hey r u alive,

[birdboy]: how r u feeling

[birdboy]: speak 2 me

You cracked a sleepy smile.

[you]: alive, tired, surgery-ied.

You took a quick snap of your booted, propped up foot.

[you]: getting discharged tomorrow babyyyy

[birdboy]: oh fuck what happened?

[birdboy]: u sure ur good

The feather against your collarbone twitched, filaments waving. You thought little of it.

[you]: i tore some shit in my leg

[you]: and yes, just tired as fuck and want to be home

[you]: hospitals SUCK

[birdboy]: true, true

[birdboy]: would u...

[birdboy]: like a visit perhaps?

[you]: u sure??

[you]: i know ur busy and i dont wanna use up ur freetime

There was a pause in Keigo’s nearly instant responses.

[birdboy]: dove.

Your breath stuttered in your chest. That was newer; you only remembered it vaguely from the . It felt far more intimate than just ‘angel,’ and it made you shiver as you read it.

[birdboy]: busy schedule??

[birdboy]: i’ll make the time angel

[birdboy]: i’d love to come visit u

You couldn’t help the smitten expression that burst across your face.

[you]: and i’d love to see you

You wished you could’ve continued the conversation, but your night nurse knocked to offer you pain medication and sedatives and you couldn’t say no to more rest. Your mind and body needed it.

As quickly as it was administered, you were out again.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

You were exhausted. Still.

When you heard voices just outside of your door, you couldn’t help cracking open your dry eyes. It seemed far too early for them to collect your vitals. The room was still dark, large windows only showing a trace of the dawn’s light stretching from the east.

Your sleep-addled mind stretched to listen:

“Thank you so much for the autograph! My son is such a huge fan of yours.”

“Oh, really! Tell him I say hi! I really adore my fans.”

Giggling.

“Is she a fan?”

“Sort of, more of a friend of mine.”

He... said it again.

A shaft of light sprayed into the room, your quirk firing at the sudden intrusion. You groan, pawing at your eye with your fist, the feather held between your fingers blocking some of the light.

Even with your diminished vision and tired mind, you still caught it when he laughed at your reaction, stepping into the room.

Honey, softness, cream and heat that made your chest thrum like embers.

“H-Hawks?” Your voice was still itchy with sleep.

“That’s me.” His laugh rolled over you as your quirk receded, palms thrumming with the silkenness of his voice, “It’s good to see you, dove.”

“S’nice to see you too,” Your chest thrummed with his words and you couldn’t restrain the smile that spread across your face, “‘Ya know, you woke me up, just now.”

Hawks gave you a little chuckle, moseying his way to a chair nearby the bed and window, “Sorry about that. I had to sneak in here before official visiting hours so I didn’t cause a ‘scene’.”

You snorted.

“You, causing a scene?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him, “Hawks? Never. Not once.”

He stifled a laugh, dragging the thinly-padded chair closer to the bed and leaning back into it, “Glad to see you’re in good spirits, considering you’re still here and all.”

“From what I can tell, it could be a lot worse, especially compared to other people that were there,” The end of your sentence turned sullen, your expression darkening.

Hawks let out a little sigh, “It wasn’t pretty, that’s for sure. But, you’re safe, and most folks are safe. Bright side.”

“Bright side.” You repeated, softer, looking up from the plain sheets to meet his gaze.

You took him in, quickly.

He looked a bit worse for wear, the exhaustion from the days before still visible on his features. The dark circles under his eyes almost looked worse, perhaps uncovered and deeper since the attack. His wings weren’t even visible from your angle, plucked too short and sparse to be of much use.

But, Hawks was, undoubtedly, still stunning.

It was almost distracting, how unavoidable mentally eating him up was. You’d felt what he was like during the attack and that had apparently broken some mental dam for you. Holding back just how much you liked him seemed futile, at least mentally.

You would let yourself be honest, at least with yourself, as a treat.

What probably also pushed you over the edge was the fact that he wasn’t in his hero uniform, for once. You’d only ever seen him in his tan and black get up before. Seeing him casually dressed was shocking and very hot.

Hawks wore a simple black long sleeve with a long, wool jacket over it, black jeans, nothing seemingly extravagant except for the nicer looking chunky sneakers he wore and the fat gold watch on his wrist. It was all designer, knowing his paycheck. Without all of his normal regalia, you could better see that his pierced ears carried some light yellow stones that played off his eyes.

His feathery golden waves were messy, falling over his forehead and temples. The curves and angles of his jaw looked accented by the rising dawn light that was just beginning to filter into the room. There was the smallest quirk in his plump lips, but it hardly detracted from how stunning he was.

He was remarkably gorgeous, naturally, and you let yourself think about it freely.

Keigo felt a bit bad, seeing you in your state.

He tried to be subtle, looking you up and down, heart-thumping his chest as the feather in your hand-picked up your own pulse. It had sped up when he entered the room, even more so when you started to beam at him despite your state.

You looked like a bit of a mess, and with anyone else, Keigo might’ve indulged himself in being a little bit of sarcastic shit about it, but he didn’t with you. It didn’t seem right.

Your booted foot was propped up, a hospital gown askew over your collarbones under some thin blankets you were nested underneath. Your dark circles could’ve been worse, but your eyes were shining and alert, all directed on him it made him ache all over in the best way.

The feather twitched in your hand, your gaze darting to it. Heat spread across your cheeks.

“Oh, uh, shit,” You stretched your arm to pass the feather back to him. “Here’s this back. Sorry, I’ve kinda been holding on to it... a lot.”

“It’s alright, that’s why I gave it to you,” Hawks assured you, the feather whisking from your hand on its own and back to the downy stubs that Hawks had left. “Just a little reminder that good ol’ Number Two is looking out for you.”

You hardly needed a reminder. Thoughts of Hawks had been filling your head since it had stopped from swirling from your quirk. The thought of him leaving a bit of him with you only warmed your insides.

“How could I ever forget?” You leaned back into your pillows, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “Thank you, Hawks.”

Hawks blinked at you, reaching down to rustle something down by his feet, “For?”

“You know, saving my ass.”

“That’s my job, angel.”

“Still. You thank me every time I make you your drinks, right?” You shrugged at his wide-eyed expression. “Same principle. Except, your life isn’t on the line when I make you lattes.”

“Oh, angel,” Hawks drawled and deflected. “That is a false statement. I rely on those. They’re my lifeblood.”

A little realization dawned on you.

You gave him a sad little smile, rubbing your own knuckles for some semblance of comfort, “It’s gonna be a while until I can provide anything life-giving, then.”

The teashop was destroyed and who knew how long I’d be until they reopened. Not to mention that your leg was post opt and you couldn’t exactly work on it.

Practicality aside, what saddened you most was that Hawks didn’t have much of a reason to see you without the shop.

As much as you had feared it at the beginning of your friendship, you had gotten comfortable with Hawks’s presence in the shop and in your life.

Too comfortable, and now it was biting you in the ass.

Thorns stabbed in your chest.

Keigo noticed your slow-falling expression and frowned, “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s nothing, just, uh...” You shook your head, blinking up at him,

Your voice cut off as your gaze refused to settle on him, Keigo clearly seeing your discomfort.

“Without the teashop, you know...” Then, with that honesty that scared him, you finally met his eyes, gripping the sheets of your hospital bed, “I’m gonna miss seeing you.”

The principle made Keigo’s mind swirl.

You missing him.

His thoughts slipped back to ‘the miel incident’, and your mutual feelings that you very obviously didn’t fucking know about. If you did, he was sure you’d know that he would be missing you a lot without your normal interactions.

This certainly wasn’t the setting to tell you, you were still stuck with an IV and probably somewhat traumatized by the event, even if you seemed in good spirits.

But, he could help assuage your fears. Subtly. Let himself use his honed arts to comfort rather than connive.

“Dove, it’s alright,” He gave the softest smile he could, shreds of real vulnerability in it coaxed out by you without you even being aware of it. “Just because the teashop isn’t around right now doesn’t mean I don’t want to see you.”

The stunned expression on your face would’ve been cute if it didn’t make Keigo’s heart stutter painfully in his chest.

“You... You do?” Your voice was so soft, you surprised yourself.

Hawks was a busy, busy man. Why the fuck would he bother with you? There was no cute coffee shop aesthetic in your foreseeable future. Maybe some decent drinks, but you wouldn’t be very mobile. You had some supplies and gear to make teas and some drinks at your apartment, but nothing as expansive as was destroyed at the shop. If it was flirty banter keeping him near, there were certainly other people he could go to for some natural chemistry, right?

He doesn’t need you.

Why the fuck would he bother with you, outside of what you could offer him?

“Dove,” Hawks’s voice shook you from your thoughts. “I’m here right now, aren’t I?”

“Uh,” You stuttered, mind catching up to the very obvious conclusion that, yes, Hawks does like having you around. “I guess, yeah.”

He frowned, leaning back in his chair as one of his smaller feathers whisked to your forehead, patting it a few times, “(Y/N), I like spending time with you. I care about you.”

Oh.

That was a little more vulnerability and truth than either of you expected.

Your eyes darted up to meet his, seeing a hint of unbearable fear before it was wiped away.

You didn’t know it, but it was just you that pushed that fear off Keigo’s face.

He forced his shaking hands to be still, mouth drying after saying words that he wasn’t sure he was ready to say yet. God, they were true, but were they okay? For him, or you?

And then you gave him the gooiest, biggest smile you’d ever graced him with, “I care about you too, Hawks. Thank you.”

It made both of your guts turn to mush.

In a stunned moment of silence, both of your breaths stuck in each of your throats. Neither of you could tear your gazes away from each other.

You both tightened your grip on your respective fabrics, your heart rate monitor beeping faster as you swallowed.

Hawks opened his mouth, inhaling, but he was quickly interrupted by a knock on the door. A head poked in, the same nurse as before.

“Hey, sweetheart, we need to take your vitals quick,” She came in, waving to Hawks gleefully.

Hawks’s softened eyes were gone, you realized. Torn away from the moment and now speaking comfortably with the nurse as she checked what she needed to.

Your hands shook.

Keigo noticed it, too, his own trembling as well.

The idle chat between Hawks and the nurse fell on your ears, though you didn’t process any of it. You were far too busy mentally coming to terms with the fact that Hawks cared about you. And, based on his tone and that familiar (but usually hidden) adoration in his eyes, it was a bit deeper than you expected and knew how to swallow.

You took a slow breath as the nurse left, Hawks waving with a wide smile plastered on his face.

When the door shut once more, there was a lull of silence that settled over the room. More early morning sunlight was beginning to slant into the room, throwing gold over the otherwise drab and lifeless greys and whites of the room.

The intense mood had been thoroughly interrupted by the nurse, but perhaps it was a hidden blessing.

Both of you were terrified, but so deeply yearning. You both were a bit too raw.

Maybe it would be better to let the fear fade, just a bit more.

“Oh, shit, I nearly forgot,” Hawks reached down next to him, pulling out a bag you hadn’t realized he had brought him. He set it on the edge of the bed. “I got you something.”

“Hawks.” You groaned, shaking your head and running your hands down your face. “You need to stop being so nice.”

“Can’t do that, (Y/N). I’ll be as nice as I want,” You could see that his grin was shit-eating through the space between your fingers. “Besides, you haven’t even looked at it yet.”

You took the bag into your lap, noticing the ruffles of tissue paper that puffed from the top.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” You told him, albeit still pulling the paper from the top to reveal a small, wrapped, fluffy object.

Hawks hummed, leaning forward to set his elbows on his knees, “You’re right. I didn’t have to. But, I wanted to.”

As carefully as you could, somewhat suspicious, you peeled back to the paper.

Your eyes widened.

It was a plushie, round and soft with a filling that made it feel like a marshmallow in your arms. The design was familiar, a character from one of your favorite cartoons, but you’d never talked about it with Hawks.

“I figured you could use a little pick me up after all this,” Hawks tilted his head and winked. “Did I get the character right?”

Your mouth fell open, blinking, “How did you... know? That I liked this one?”

“The little pins on your apron,” Hawks tapped his chest. “I figured you must be pretty fond of this one, since you had a couple of buttons for them, right?”

You wanted to give you a coherent, thankful statement to Hawks. Really, you did. Instead, you stared down at the doughy, round-eyed plushie. Maybe a few overwhelmed tears gathered in your eyes, which you promptly sucked down and shook your head.

“Thank you, really,” You rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hand. “But, fuck, Hawks—”

For a moment, Keigo thought you were upset with him. Based on the slight contorting of your face, and the wetness in your eyes, his heart seized up. His fingers twitched from where they cupped his chin, wanting to shoot out and comfort you somehow.

However, Keigo stayed put as you turned back towards him, plushie carefully gathered in your arms and hugged snugly and perfectly to your chest.

“You gotta stop being so fucking nice,” You sighed, pressing your face into the soft fabric of the gift. Your words were muffled, but Keigo heard each one perfectly. “I’m gonna start getting ideas, you know.”

Sure, Keigo could’ve pushed some of your buttons and fluffed himself up for some fun, flirty banter that would be undoubtedly lovely, but it wasn’t the time. You’d had a very long and tiring few days, and Keigo could see and imagine that you were in all sorts of disrepair.

Keigo stood slowly, moving just next to your bed where you turned your head upwards to look at him. Carefully, he placed a worn hand on your shoulder, feeling the small bit of bare skin exposed by the thin gown.

“Don’t worry about that right now, dove, okay?” Keigo let his voice go soft, quiet, and gentle as he could make it. Without thinking, he squeezed your shoulder, rubbing his thumb just under your collarbone.

It was too much, maybe. But neither of you would complain.

Keigo could see and feel the way you relaxed, eyes going half-lidded and leaning into his touch, even putting the slightest amount of your weight into it.

It was probably the most precious and sweet gesture he’d ever experienced.

He made it his goal to make more like it.

(Anything to see you so instantly mushy.)

“I saw a coffee machine when I was coming in,” Hawks voice was a hum, hand on your shoulder not moving. You didn’t want it to. The heat pressing against your skin made you melt. “Want me to grab us some? I know I need it.”

You managed to giggle, craning your neck to fully look up at Hawks. You swore you could see the slightest quiver in his bottom lip.

“I’d love some.”

“You sure you can stomach shitty coffee?” The thumb rubbed over your collarbone, Keigo’s pretty eyes searching your face, portraying far more than your words. “That’s my territory, angel.”

“I guess I’ll stoop to your taste,” You gave him a smirk like sweet lightning and tentatively, carefully, reached your hand up to wrap around his own, squeezing. “I take my coffee black.”

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taglist: @thepandapopo @sinclairsamess

#lavender latte #salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo x you #takami keigo x y/n #hawks fluff #hawks fanfiction #this is a transition chapter shhh y'all are getting spoiled the next few chapters #enjoy a lil preview of the sweetness :'^)#hawks mha #takami keigo

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dadsbongos · 4 years ago

Note

*bows down to you* I would like to know your despair arc headcanons for antag reader! Literally love antag reader so much 😳

ahhhhhh nonny please let me treat you to my adoration, i can’t thank you enough for asking me about my despair arc hcs for antag reader

Request for: Fuck it, not even Hajime anymore it’s just antag reader. Girlboss moment Warnings: fuckin despair arc tings lmao there’s a lot to deal with, face cutting, abuse (emotional, mental, physical) cuz hi junko enoshima, manipulation cuz hi junko enoshima, self mutilation/harm, mikan/junko toxicity, gore, vomiting ~~~

Headcanons:

🐇Okay so I’ve said it before but!! 🐇She was in that toxic relationship between Mikan and Junko 🐇Junko would make her and Mikan compete for any and all affections just to cause them both despair (which even if “won”, was still denied) 🐇And then anytime she could, Junko would just absolutely berate (Y/n)’s looks and talent, calling the Ultimate Copycat a “fake talent” and “just stealing” 🐇So after Junko died, (Y/n) found her body and cut off portions of her face and replaced them with patches of Junko to “be more like her Despair” 🐇She would find people who wanted to fight for hope and take them in, insisting that she was on their side and would lead them to her house for “safety” 🐇Then she’d just restrain them with Mikan so they could perform experiments and surgeries on them together 🐇Definitely helps Kazuichi build his bigger machines, using the more intelligence she has to make better plans for what they’ll do with them 🐇I imagine that as a copycat antag, she’s got a shitload of charisma so she prolly just gets a load of followers 🐇I’m not saying it’s a cult… but 🐇Probably was the influencer for Nagito’s decision to become Servant 🐇Since he was already serving her all the time pre-despair he decided to join the WOH as their servant 🐇As for when she got captured by the Future Foundation… 🐇Was probably one of the harder ones to capture like Nekomaru and Gundham since she could be the Ultimate at almost anything she wanted 🐇When being interrogated by the Future Foundation she was probably smug and cocky af 🐇A solid match for Byakuya, no joke 🐇Maybe worse, like at least he sort of mellowed out with responsibility 🐇Keeps her mouth tightly shut until they mention anything about her face or Mikan 🐇Because as much as she doesn’t truly romantically love Mikan, she’s not even sure she loved Junko, she does care about the nurse very deeply 🐇So it’s when they mention having captured her that they get any sign of emotion other than cockiness 🐇When they say they have Nagito, that also gets them some words from her 🐇But if they say anything about her face, she has a little breakdown and throws a fit about how she’s better than everyone else in the room and she could kill them all if she wanted and she’s more beautiful than any of them could ever dream to be 🐇Didn’t get the chance to help Izuru release Junko into the Neoworld Program, but definitely would have if she could

Stories:

“Would you kill for me?” Junko murmured, bringing a hand up to caress (Y/n)’s cheek, rubbing her thumb over the bone, “Would you die for me?”

“I would!” she cried hysterically, tears already streaming down her face, “Please, say it! Please, just say it! I would do anything for you, please, just love me… I love you! I love you! Just love me, please…”

Her brows furrowed, bringing her gentle touch back to whip the copycat in the face with a backhand slap, “You’re so ugly, a little piggy ripe for the slaughter.”

Sobs pulled at (Y/n)’s convulsing body as she heaved on the ground. Her throat closed and dried up, chest burning and stomach churning until she finally felt her gag reflex trigger. She spat out stomach acids as she wept over a love that was never hers.

“God, you’re so nasty,” Junko kicked her in the ass, knocking her down into her own puke, “Get out and don’t come back until I command.”

“Love me… love me… love me… please… I beg you…!”

“Do you think if I crushed my hand, Junko would care?”

“No.”

“Sonia wouldn��t care if you crushed yours.”

Kazuichi’s eyes flickered from his work to (Y/n), “I know.”

“It’d be…”

“Despairful?”

“Absolutely morbid,” her tone was breathy, a grin easing up over her lips and heart beating faster as she set aside the half-finished Monokuma and pressed her hand onto the metal desk, raising her heavy wrench above her head.

Kazuichi was quick to copy the moves, eyes wide in anticipation and muscles twitching as his brain desperately tried sending the signals for him to stop.

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

Screams echoed in the warehouse following the sickening crunch of bones under the torturous weight of their wrenches. Kazuichi looked at the girl through his tears, “Again?”

In the midst of her agonized cries, she nodded, blubbering about how horrific the pain was, “Yes, yes, again!”

And so, the countdown started once again.

“One, two, three!”

More bones broken, more pain blasting through their hands for their beloveds to reject everything they were. For the loves they held so dear to look upon them and their injuries and roll their eyes - because they were meaningless in their loves’ eyes.

And that was the despair they craved.

Nagito held out his chain, grimacing when it was Izuru who took it rather than (Y/n) before shoving that hatred back into his chest. Izuru may be a despair-filled faker with no real talent he’d been born with, but he himself, Nagito Komaeda - Servant - was worse.

He wasn’t worth the air in his lungs. Not even human garbage as he was barely passable as a human being.

Then, his eyes traveled once again to (Y/n). His dearest and closest friend.

Izuru may have had more talents mastered, but she was natural. She was genuine and had taken the time to master her Ultimate herself while Izuru had them all planted inside his brain as if he had a right to them at all. It was like watching a slacker get all the credit that a hard-worker had already done. Infuriating.

He wished to see (Y/n) ascend into hope once more, he truly believed she could pave the way above everyone else. She had to. She was better than everyone else, it was up to her to return them to hope, once she realized hope for herself.

He believed in her and her hope - once Enoshima’s metaphorical hands were ripped from her spirit.

And he liked to think she had fresh patches of skin that weren't hers, still red around the scars and peeling, were there for the same reason he had a new hand that wasn’t his.

“She’s so much like Byakuya,” Makoto mumbled, watching through the glass as their newest captured Despair, (Y/n) (L/n), tapped her nails against the table her hands were chained to.

“First that troublesome imposter and now her, who do they think they are? They’re not even near being worthy of the Togami name.”

Kyoko scanned the girl, “She was screaming at the guards earlier when they pointed out the scars and patches on her face. Perhaps bringing it up again will get her to talk about some things.”

“We…” Makoto stopped, shivering at the memory of Junko Enoshima’s corpse when they’d found it on the side of the road outside their old school. Patches missing from a bloodied, pulpy face, “We already know what happened. What more could you want her to talk about?”

“Maybe she knows where some of her classmates are.”

“The nurse freaked out when we mentioned her, maybe if we bring Mikan up to (Y/n), she’ll have a similar reaction,” the Ultimate Hope offered up.

Nodding, Kyoko turned towards the door into the interrogation room, “It’s worth a shot.”

Five minutes was all they got, Makoto Naegi said. He was compassionate and understanding and so sweet. Of course, he’d set up a meeting between the lovers who didn’t know if they ever really loved each other.

Mikan was always unusually cold and smelled of lavender with a hint of vanilla, her hands were soft and her lips a lovely shade of pink.

Now, as (Y/n) held the nurse’s hand over the interrogation table and basked in her presence, she could feel how much she’d changed in despair. She was still cold but now she reeked of dirt and blood, no matter how many showers she’d taken. Her lips were much paler; dry and cracked. Hands rough and calloused.

“They told me you took her womb.”

“You took her face.”

“You’ll bear her children?”

“You’ll bear her beauty?”

It was always a fight. It was always a competition. For more. For love. For the affection and attention they’d been deprived of all their lives.

“Have you… tried conceiving?”

There was silence. Mikan looked down at the table and then back up at (Y/n).

Her skin was no longer peeling along the jagged incision sites but her scars were infecting when she’d been taken in and it was obvious. They were puffy and oozed every so often.

She looked back down.

“With who?”

Shaking her head, Mikan tightened her grip on the girl’s hand.

“Why didn’t you get me to do the skin graft?”

“You were probably busy.”

“I would’ve done it anyway. I’d done Fuyuhiko’s eye.”

There was more silence. Stiffness building in the girls’ bodies the longer their quietness buzzed in the room.

“Am I still beautiful…?” it was rare to see vulnerability in (Y/n).

“Almost like our beloved herself.” it was rare to hear a lie from Mikan.

It wasn’t the scars or the blood or the skin patches, it was the act of how she’d gotten them. Scars and patches didn’t make a person ugly, but stealing pieces of a dead woman’s face and using them as your own did.

#antag reader #sdr2 x reader #mikan tsumiki x reader #junko x reader #nagito x reader #anon chatter :)

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finiteuniverse13 · 4 years ago

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home is people, not a place 1/?

A/N: This has been published on AO3, but I was inspired to put these on here!

Summary: Clay gets attacked on base. DEVGRU finds an issue in that.

TW: Blood mention, physical assault, canon typical violence

Tag: @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @bravo-four-seal-team @velvetcardiganbucky @supervalcsi @abby-splace @itsonautopilot @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @pinkrockstar19 @softi92 @mrsmarvelous1995 @jayhalsteadfan-2417

Clay Spencer is rarely off his guard. It’s a hazard to himself and the people around him if he’s not alert. But being on guard all the time is exhausting. That’s why he had his eyes closed in the cage room, cage door ajar and his head leant against his locker. He’d just got back from being spun out with Bravo, a weeklong mission that had meant he’d had to stay awake in 20-hour stints, constantly watching a target house for a man who’d only arrived on the sixth day they’d been there. He’d been in the cage room for around an hour, about 15 minutes after Trent had finished sorting his supplies and gone home, a grumbled order to follow in his footsteps as Trent leaves, looking as bad as Clay did. There was a good chance that Bravo team would sleep for about 25 straight hours.

That’s why – he’d reason to himself in the following months – he hadn’t looked up when the door opened. Why he hadn’t greeted them, because it could be Bravo, Blackburn, Davis, their support team, all have access to the room. His cage is unlocked (why would it be locked? He's on base, home turf, in a restricted access building), so they get the drop on him. The four of them, green team rookies who probably haven’t even met a Tier One operator before, walk in quietly. Clay doesn’t look up, doesn’t question them. He doesn’t see their faces, their names, or the bat that one of them holds. He has his back turned to them, slowly squaring away his bag with the air of someone who needed downtime. He doesn’t see the bat coming, doesn’t have the time to shout out in pain before he’s on the floor.

They drag him into the threshold of his cage, and one of them puts a foot on his chest – right above his pounding heart, ready to burst out of his chest from the adrenaline beginning to pour into him – and two more pairs of hands come down to restrain his arms. His legs kick out uselessly, between the foot pressing down – ow ow ow ow – on his chest and the hands digging into the flesh of his arm, he can’t fight them off. He can only watch through blurry vision, struggling and restrained, as the wooden bat descends onto his chest, right on one of his ribs. The pained groan that echoes out makes one of them laugh and Clay knows that the laugh is going to haunt his dreams.

Clay’s eyesight blacks out and his consciousness leaves him, taking him to a place where he can’t feel his nose break, or the bruises forming on his exhausted body.

Eric Blackburn knows he is only slightly better off than his team, not that he knows the state of his rookie – of course. Blackburn leaves his debrief, having reported Bravo’s AARs and answered questions until he was dismissed. He can practically feel his bed – and his wife – calling him home. As he leaves the office, he decides to check the cage room. Bravo had looked, for lack of a better word, dead on their feet; and he wouldn’t put it past any of his idiots operators to either curl into a ball on the cage floor or hang a hammock so they could sleep at the base. They were going to give him grey hairs, the lot of them.

He pushes the wooden door open and walks in, blearily looking through the darkness over to the cages, trying to see if there are any hammocks hanging. When he sees none, he rubs at his sore eyes and lets his tired gaze fall to the floor. His eye catches on a shiny patch on the floor, and he fumbles for the light switch on the wall for a few seconds before he manages to find it, figuring that he’d at most need to call for someone to clear whatever Clay had spilt in front of his-

Oh god. Oh god. No no no no no no. Bravo Six lies on the floor of his cage. His head and shoulders both lie past the threshold. His head lies in a puddle of blood, with his face turned away from Eric.

It’s 2am, and god knows when this happened. Any way that Eric mentally spins this, there’s no good outcome. Something happened to Clay while the team wasn’t there. Eric runs the mere feet to where Clay is facing, and what greets him is, put simply, pain. Blood dribbles out of a very broken nose, and a forming bruise spans most of Clay’s jaw, and that’s just what Eric can see. He’s certain that there’s more beneath Clay’s shirt. He falls to his knees in front of Clay’s slack face, his knees breaking the surface tension of the puddle of blood, and he doesn’t pay it any mind, even as it stains his trousers. His hands find their way to Clay’s face, and a tiny bit of tension leeches from his body when he finds the skin warm.

“Clay? Clay! Bravo Six!” His voice increases steadily in volume, as Clay doesn’t show any sign of responding or so much as registering that his commanding officer is trying to wake up please god Clay wake up get his attention. Eric pulls out his phone, thanking something above that he’d remembered to pick it up as he left Bravo’s briefing room. He dials 911 and he ignores the blood staining his fingertips, and his screen, and his trousers, and his skin, and the floor and and and, giving the operator who answers him all the information that he can think of – rattling off his service number and Clay’s, telling the man that he was on a military base, that they needed an ambulance, that Clay had a concussion, that he had already bled a lot. The operator told him that the ambulance would arrive in about 10 minutes. Eric hung up the phone without thinking too much about it.

Alpha Five, a middle eastern man named Jordan Frazier, walks past the open door, and double-takes in a way that Eric would have found comical if not for the fact that he’s kneeling in a puddle of his rookie’s blood. Eric’s eyes bore into Frazier and he barks out an order – praying that Alpha’s operators responded better to the chain of command then his own team did.

“Go to the entrance and direct the ambulance.”. Frazier gets halfway through a salute before processing that there were more important matters at hand then paying due respect to Eric. Eric’s gaze looks back down to Clay, to his unmoving, unflinching face. Eric’s hand moves down to Clay’s jugular, feeling Clay’s heartbeat. Even though it is weaker than Eric would like, Eric hangs to the feeling, to the knowledge that his annoying as hell brother, son, nephew mix that he wouldn't replace if you held a gun to his head operator is still alive.

“Bravo Six! Blondie! Sunshine!” He tries the nicknames that he’s overheard Bravo calling him, praying that something will get Clay to wake up.

Time passes in a paradox, both slow and fast, as Eric continues trying to rouse Clay. He looks up when he hears a noise in the doorframe, and tension bleeds from his body when a paramedic bursts through the door, a gurney trailing him. Frazier helps the other paramedic get the gurney through the door, and he’s followed in by Alpha Two.

The paramedics assess that Clay is okay for transport and that their biggest concern is his headwound. Eric is instructed to hold gauze against the back of Clay’s head, where the bleeding is concentrated and he doesn’t think about how the blood, Clay’s blood, there’s so much blood, on his hands stains the outside of the gauze. When the paramedics get him atop a backboard, it’s all Eric can do to keep the pressure on the wound as Derek, Jordan and the two paramedics all lift the board onto the gurney.

Derek and Jordan step away, letting the trio start making their way towards the base’s entrance where the ambulance is parked. A silent communication passes between them, and they storm out in sync, looking for the rest of Alpha. Someone did this to Bravo’s rookie. Clay may be Bravo’s rookie, but he was Tier One’s kid. They've all seen him work, all given him pointers, all taken and given advice. They've seen Bravo take the kid - and he is a kid, the youngest Tier One operator in history - under their wing, and that means that Tier One took him under his wing. Thanks to Clay’s knowledge of languages, there wasn’t a Tier One team who hadn’t utilised the kid’s skills. Some punks on base had hurt their kid. A fellow sailor had hurt their kid.

As they’ve gathered Alpha, they run across Delta, who have finished a couple of late-night rounds in the shootout house. Delta One, a formidable man named Tyler Jaramillo, or TJ, takes one look at the stormy faces of Alpha and draws some speedy assumptions.

“Clay?” Behind TJ, Delta perks up, looking away from where they’re ribbing each other.

“Somebody attacked him in the Bravo cages.” Full Metal isn’t one to beat around the bush, especially when their kid is involved. Delta matches Alpha, anger burning and knuckles whitening. The cages are sacred, a place where sailors can decompress in a place that is solely their own. And someone had gone into that room, had attacked one of their own, had hurt him so bad that his commanding officer had needed to call him an ambulance.

“We need to find who did it.” This is a given, but it gives the teams something to focus on. Alpha and Delta both splinter off in their operating pairs, with the intention of finding somebody who had blood on their uniform.

Alpha and Delta’s 2ICs pair up to make their way over to the security room where the cameras are. While the room is unmanned – it’s a base full of sailors trained by millions of taxpayer dollars, why do they need an on-duty security guard – they know how to access the footage. TJ and Metal stay behind to inform Bravo of the situation, on the off chance that Blackburn hadn’t called Jason yet.

Metal makes the call to Jason, and Jason picks up the phone with a tone of irritation, and Metal can hear Jason picking up his car keys before Metal even gets the chance to start speaking. Jason cuts of whatever Metal was about to say – “I know about Clay, I’m going to the hospital right now, and I’m about to call the rest of Bravo.” The dial tone rings out before Metal can get a word in edgeways, not that he needed to anyway.

TJ pulls his phone out of his back pocket, shooting a text to the group chat that has the Tier One Master Chiefs and 2ICs in it. Spenser was attacked in the Bravo cages. Delta and Alpha on base. Finding who did it.

Metal’s phone buzzes from where he’s putting it in his pocket, but since he watched TJ send the message, he doesn’t bother checking it. They make their way over to their 2ICs in the hope that they’ve found who hurt their rookie.

Sped-up footage of the hallway shows four Green Team trainees entering the room, leaving 10 minutes later, and then Blackburn checking in about 5 minutes after they’d left. The footage is stopped as Jordan entered the frame, a still of his confused face. Derek rewinds it back to the trainees entering the room and manages to get three non-blurred pictures of the trainees, the other one is looking down at the bat he is holding, meaning that they can’t get a good angle of it. TJ and Metal take pictures of the three they manage to get, sending it to their respective groups in the hopes that the images will help to flush out the fourth.

#seal team #eric blackburn #clay spenser #brock reynolds #trent sawyer #ray perry #jason hayes #sonny quinn #seal team fanfic #seal team cbs #ocs #fanfic #angst #brothers #they're family your honor #scott carter #full metal

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ravensbug · 4 years ago

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hi! could you write something kind of au where the reader is the avatar, and during the battle of zaofu she and kuvira are flirting with/teasing each other to the point they’re not even fighting by the end anymore?

Tease

Fandom: Legend of Korra

Ship: Kuvira x Avatar!Reader

Request: YES

Prompt: ^^^^

A/N: Thank you for being the first request. You have no idea how excited this makes me. You will forever hold a spot in my writing heart. I hope this is some of what you were looking for. I got excited and didn’t want to wait for my brain to be fully functioning with ideas.

Summary: You confront Kuvira after Suyin tries to assassinate her. She challenges you to battle for Zaofu. Being as stubborn as you are, you accept, knowing full well you’re still recovering from Zaheer. You two are evenly matched for a while until you hear her make a snarky remark. You two begin teasing back and forth as you fight.

“Avatar Y/N, you are interfering with internal Earth Empire business, and letting your personal feelings get in the way of reason. Zaofu cannot continue to rule itself. They have been hoarding their riches and technology too long. I'm here to distribute those resources fairly throughout the nation. This is about equality.” Kuvira calls out as you stand across from her. Her army is behind her, ready to attack if need be.

“You don't care about equality! This is about control!” Opal yells from her spot beside you. You both turn to each other and she speaks again. “Just take her down! You know it's the right thing to do! You have to stop this!”

“The only way you're going to keep me from marching into Zaofu is if you physically stop me. Now what are you going to do?” There is a hint of arrogance in her tone. This Kuvira was different from the one you met in Zaofu three years ago. That Kuvira was the captain of the guard and had to follow Su’s orders. Now she was free, although you knew she was taking things too far.

“It looks like you're not giving me a choice.” You step forward, separating yourself from Opal and Jinora.

“Fine.” Kuvira turns to address her troops. “I want you all to know that I would never ask any of you to do something that I'm not willing to do myself. So, rather than risk your lives, I will fight the Avatar one-on-one.” She turns to face you again. “Y/N, if you win, then you can do whatever you want with Zaofu. But after I beat you, I want you out of my business for good. I'm the one who brought peace to the Earth Empire, not you. You're not relevant here anymore.”

“Fine. You wanna fight the Avatar? Then let's finish this, right here, right now.” You roll your shoulders. Now you sounded like the arrogant one.

“Are you really ready to fight her?” Jinora asks you.

“Just stay back and let me handle this. It's been a while, but I got a lot of pent-up rage.” Yes, you were very arrogant. You also had a lot of steam to let out.

“Don't mess around! Kuvira is too good! Just go into the Avatar State and get it over with!” Opal’s resentment towards Kuvira was clearly evident.

“No, I'm only going to use that as a last resort,” you told her. You wanted to win this fight fair and square. To show Kuvira you could still stand up for yourself and the world.

“Use whatever you want: all the elements; the Avatar State; anything you need,” she smirks as she takes up her own battle stance. “I know you're a little rusty.”

“Enough talk!” You yell at her. There would be plenty more talk.

You send two boulders at her first, using them as cover to come at her from above. She anticipated this and moved to the side, rather than backward as you wanted. She took a shot at your exposed side with her own boulder. It hits you in the gut and changes your path to the ground. You barely land and have to catch your breath.

“Looks like the Avatar’s a little off her game!” You hear her chuckle and spirits it had been a long time since you heard anyone laugh. This still makes you frustrated that she thinks it’s so easy.

You send another boulder her way, which is easily dodged. Now that you are upright you send two blasts of air at her. You get closer with each attack, having Kuvira on the defensive with how fast you were going.

You swipe the earth under her feet, standing only a few feet in front of her. Now it was your turn to laugh. You weren’t as rusty as you or she thought. Maybe you did have a chance at winning.

“Now look who’s off their game,” you sneered at her. Kuvira did not like you teasing her with her own words.

She sends two metal strips on your wrists as an answer, forcing you to fall with your arms behind your back. This allows her to get up and dust her uniform off.

You send a large gust of wind at her using your feet. This knocks her back again and releases your wrists from the metal. You rub your wrists from the familiar feeling, holding back the remaining flashbacks from Zaheer’s torture.

“Don’t like being restrained?” Kuvira asks jokingly as she gets up again. Her hair is starting to become undone. She doesn’t pay too much attention to the loose strands.

“I’d like to see you try it some time,” you called back at her. Your remark was mostly meant to help your bruised ego, but when you saw Kuvira’s face go red you knew you hit a nerve.

She snaps out of whatever thoughts grip her mind and send more metal strips at you. They aren’t as precise as the other two, but they’re still on target. You still have to either dodge or deflect them to avoid being restrained again. These little discrepancies would go unnoticed by anyone else, but you knew that Kuvira aimed for perfection. Clearly, something was distracting her.

You two traded blows for a long time, her with her metal or earth and you with mostly air and fire. You figured out earth bending wouldn’t be much use against someone as skilled as her. These blows you each traded were either dodged or deflected. The fight was about evenly matched now.

“Are you holding back? Or are you just too scared to use the Avatar state?” Kuvira took a low blow at your ego and trauma. She knew what Zaheer had done to you, that you had been struggling since then. That was her point though. Get you riled up so you make a mistake.

And you made a mistake.

You often used earth as your anger element. Most people would have assumed fire, but earth was much more willing to cooperate with your anger. And so it did that very well.

In your rage, if you would call it that, you created a fissure in the ground, going from where you stood to where Kuvira stood. The earth was great at conveying your emotions. Your reaction caught Kuvira off guard, again. She did not expect such anger, or this amount of power to come from it.

The fissure cracking caused Kuvira to stumble and you sent a boulder in her side, knocking her down to the ground. She was dazed. Trying to get up was much harder than before.

The gasps from everyone were heard. Kuvira’s soldiers were shocked at how much power you showed without the Avatar state. Jinora and Opal were surprised at how many times you had knocked Kuvira down at this point.

You sprinted over to her before she got up, grabbing her by her collar in her dazed state. Turning her head to face you, you saw your own face with eyes glowing rather than Kuvira’s face. You threw her back as a reaction, terrified that she would trample all over you at this point.

Kuvira had expected another smart ass response from you and when she didn’t get one she knew something was different. The way you looked at her with fear and emptiness made her wonder what you saw. She could guess it had something to do with Zaheer, but there were so many faces you could have seen.

“So you are scared?” she chuckled as she got up.

“The Avatar, afraid of her own shadow!” Kuvira yelled for all to hear. Her soldiers cheered and laughed. Opal and Jinora glared at Kuvira.

“Don’t make me put you in your place, Kuvira!” You yelled back, trying to push the growing fear and doubt in your mind.

“I’d like to see you try,” She smirked. She began her onslaught of metal and earth again, immediately putting you on defense.

As she continued to attack, you continued to back up. There was no other way for you to go. If you moved to the side you would get a boulder thrown at you to keep you in line. Kuvira was practically ordering you to keep going backward. Her attacks were precise once again, which allowed her a wider range of movement.

You had heard the boulders you manage to dodge hit the large group of rocks behind you. You didn’t expect to be pushed against them so soon. But you were and shortly after that four metal strips restrained you to said rock. You were in a vulnerable position and under Kuvira’s will.

She stared you straight in the eyes, holding a strip of metal next to her head. You knew what she was going to do with it, so you waited. But Kuvira hesitated.

“Oh don’t get all attached to me now, Vira,” you tried to hold a smile. You really were still terrified, but what was one more tease going to do?

She grabs you by the collar and leans in to whisper in your ear. “I don’t know, Avatar. I’m not so sure I’m the only one getting attached.” A chill was sent down your spine.

“Surrender Avatar!” Kuvira backs up, ignoring what just happened between the two of you. You knew what she would do if you said no. But it was your job to stop her from taking Zaofu.

“N-” You were cut off when Kuvira was sent flying. Once she was out of your way you saw that Opal was the one to move her.

“Opal!” you yelled. You still pull yourself from your restraints and look over at Kuvira. She was lying on the ground unconscious and bleeding.

“Shit!” you cursed. You wouldn’t have put it past Opal to have done this on purpose.

You ran over to her body and looked for where the blood was coming from. There was a gash above her right eye that would surely leave a scar if not healed by water. Sadly you had no water.

“Get a medic over here!” you yelled out. Opal and Jinora hadn’t come over to help you. Why would they? Kuvira’s the bad guy.

You saw a soldier and, who you assumed to be, the medic run over. The medic was carrying a bag in his hand. You adjusted Kuvira so she was laying on you, allowing the medic to work on the wound.

“I need to take her back to our camp, Avatar,” the medic told you. Under normal circumstances, like Kuvira losing the fight fairly you would have said no.

“Take her.” You moved so the shoulder could take her from you.

You stood up and walked away, not looking at Opal or Jinora. Zaofu would be free for a little while longer. If only Kuvira hadn’t been such a tease things would have been different.

#kuvira x reader #kuvira/reader #kuvira #kuvira legend of korra

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 4 years ago

Text

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written)

Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! If you don’t want to see these you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories, whether it be for bad things happen bingo or any of the other series, one shots or in general!

I’ve been picking at this particular request since early December as the person who requested it had a lot of details they wanted put in making the writing process a bit more challenging. As a disclaimer, note that the chapter is split between present time and the past; with Logan recalling things in his past in an attempt to make the details requested for the story flow better. I received this request from AO3.

General taglist: @im-an-anxious-wreck

Experimental Socialization

Summary: Logan was raised by the government to be nothing more than an experiment and a weapon, utilizing his unique abilities as a mutant. When he finally escapes things are much different than he imagined they’d be but thankfully finds others like him willing to help guide him right where he needs to be.(Happy Ending)

Warnings: allusions to abuse, physical punishment and human experimentation, tw for weapons and fire, panic attack. If there are more please let me know

Prompt; Not Used To Freedom (requested by AngstyEmoGal on AO3)

Ships: Intrulogical, Logan x Remus

WC: 3432

“You just gotta breathe, Logan. In four, hold seven, out eight remember? You’re doing great, just keep going.”

Logan felt himself slowly coming back to reality as his breathing evening out, the raw panic that had gripped his chest easing slightly as Virgili continued coaxing him through the exercise. He felt the other slowly rub up and down his arm in a slow, steady beat that helped ground him further in reality and he smiled up at his friend gratefully and nodded to let xem know he was okay. Gripping his knees as Virgil’s voice trailed off he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and let out one last calming breath.

“Thank you, Virgil. I-” He struggled to find words, gesturing flippantly in the air making Virgil grin.

“It’s okay. Take your time, L.”

Logan puffed his cheeks out in frustration, thoughts swirling too quickly for him to comprehend anything but the apprehensive fear he held for the plans Remus had made for them later that evening. “I am- not used to being outside. Given my history and the threat I pose as a potential compromise to our place of hiding I fail to understand Remus’ reasoning for going out when we could just as easily celebrate our relationship here.”

“Hm.” Virgil leaned back on xyr hands and looked up at the low ceiling of their underground paradise. “Can’t really see the stars from here, no matter how many stickers Princey finds and puts up it can't really be compared to the real thing.”

Logan had made the mistake of going on a tirade of space facts a few months into his stay in the hideout, Remus patiently listening to the extensive infodump of constellation facts and space physics and planetary rotation. Having a limited amount of books to entertain oneself with for extended periods of time meant memorizing entire books on one subject, which Logan had used all too happily as a figurative escape from his situation in the past until he had actually managed to escape when he was 16. Hearing Logan speak so passionately about the subject had apparently made his mind up that he was taking Logan outside for their first “official” date to view the stars, which had then landed Logan in his current state of panic as he realized that date was today and he was decidedly not ready for what might lay in store outside of safety of the hideout.

“I can stay close by if you want. I won’t spy or anything and Remus won’t have to know.” Logan looked over as his thoughts were interrupted by the offer, Virgil turning invisible and reappearing a couple seconds later to emphasize xyr point. Smiling Logan shook his head, knowing the other derived as much joy from going outside as Logan felt about going himself.

“Thank you for the offer though, you’re very kind.” Letting his thoughts drift again he idly wondered when Virgil had discovered xe could disappear and reappear at will and if xyr parents had tried to hide it before the government had found out. His own parents-

-----

“Logan?” A very small Logan turned at his mother’s voice, losing his concentration which made the hidden jar of Crofters fall from its suspended place in the air and smash to the floor. His parents hadn’t known he possessed any sort of powers, and even as small as he was he still understood the position he’d put them in if they ever found out. Fearfully his hands dropped to his sides as his mother covered her mouth in shock, tears rolling down her cheeks as she took a step back.

Men in suits and long coats were there just a few hours later, speaking in hushed voices while both of his parents cried and he was ushered out the door and into an unmarked car, quiet as he understood yelling and crying would do him no good now. What’s done was done, all he could do was be compliant and hope to be treated gently.

-----

The room suddenly brightening with a flickering light brought him back out of his thoughts, Roman entering with his signature bright flame held proudly in his hand. The image of him in his rather scrapped together Princely outfit posing subconsciously in the doorway was almost enough to make Logan roll his eyes but he didn’t want Virgil to think it was because of xem so he managed to restrain himself.

“My dearest brother has been pacing in the same spot for two hours now and I haven't been able to calm him down soooo I thought to check on our resident nerd.” Roman declared with his usual flare. Logan actually did roll his eyes this time but Virgil did as well so he figured it was fine.

“The ‘resident nerd’ is doing fine, Roman. Though it's concerning to hear Remus is nervous as well considering he’s the one who suggested the date.”

Roman waved his hand at Logan dismissively. “He’s just a sap- moreso than me surprisingly. He doesn’t want to do anything to put you in danger but he wants to do something nice, so he’s worried that’s all. Remus is an idiot but I trust him with my life; believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about except his terrible sense of humor.”

Logan merely hummed in response, staring at the way the flame moved around as Roman gestured with his words.

-----

He panted as he rolled out of the way of another flamethrower, singeing the tips of his hair in the process but he couldn’t afford to slow down enough to worry about that. Years of training with different fighting styles had earned him incredibly fast reflexes but a good portion of his accuracy in knowing where to step and when was owed to him working even harder to focus his powers. Thoughts from others constantly surrounded him on a regular basis, getting more and more prevalent the older he grew. Learning to block out the constant string of stimuli was a useful skill to keep him sane but learning to hone in on specific thoughts to predict actions was what had kept him alive.

He ducked below another bullet and brought up his leg in the same motion, kicking a throwing knife to the side and sending it to clatter harmlessly between one of his assailants feet. A twirl to the side and a tilt of the head let another bought of flame boil the air beside him while another knife just barely brushed his ear. The constant bang of bullets and roar of flames and whistling of knives was overwhelming and made the air so thick he could barely draw a breath and it was becoming a struggle to concentrate the way he needed to and-

A high pitched alarm sounded one, twice, three times- a blaring flash accompanying it that left him blinking painfully. His shoulders slumped as the barrage finally ended, another successful training day completed. He watched as everyone began putting their weapons away, laughing and congratulating each other, clapping themselves on the back and discussing whatever they had planned after this. No one even spared the thing they had been firing at seconds before a spare glance, save for the director of the branch, who took long steps forward to stand in front of him only to snap his fingers and motion forward no doubt to see him back to his room until dinner. Absorbing the sounds around him he drank in as much praise as he could that wasn’t his and would never be for him; people rarely congratulated weapons after all.

-----

“Is this where we all decided to hide today?” Logan looked up to see Patton sitting cross legged on one one of the beams in the ceiling, grinning happily down at them even as their fluffy ears twitched nervously and even fluffier tail whipped back and forth in agitation. They must have come back from trying to calm Remus as well, Logan mused; Patton had never done well being in the same room as Remus who tended to voice his thoughts abruptly and without much care to how they might sound to others which always managed to set Patton on edge no matter how hard they tried not to show it.

Patton was a rare mutant in that as opposed to being born with abnormal traits or abilities they had been a science experiment from the start- an effort to create super soldiers rather than stealing them away from families and training them. Even rarer was the fact that the DNA splicing had taken extraordinarily well by pure chance as Patton was born with a mutation that left their DNA incredibly malleable- a mutation that never would have been discovered had cellular manipulation not been the reason for them being in the experimental branch that they were. They had tried cloning Patton at first to see if their power could be duplicated but when that failed to work they began trying to combine them with different animals to see if desirable traits would come forward. By manipulating them on a physical and anatomical level they were able to change some parts of them to be more cat like, intending, Patton had guessed, to turn them into a kind of stealth soldier but they got away before they completed it, leaving them with heightened agility and surgically coaxed cat ears and a tail. They were only a child when the lab had done this but somehow they were never bitter, simply preferring to leave their past alone and embrace whatever future they could make- a trait Logan greatly admired them for even if their unending optimism could be somewhat grating at times.

“Did Janus brush your tail out Pat? It looks fluffier today.” Patton preened at Virgil's compliment, their tail beginning to wave in a more relaxed manner as their mind was distracted from whatever it was Remus had been ranting about.

“He did! He found a cat brush and got it for me so I could finally get the undercoat out!” Jumping down and landing lightly on their feet they posed a little and flashed another wide grin.

“Beautiful as always, Patton.” Roman said genuinely as he lowered his hand into a barrel to light up the paper scraps and wood in it for the night, the dim sunlight that had filtered through the grated having long since died. The home was a modified branch of a sewer system, thankfully the part most removed from the city where it flowed without the stench and was sealed off inconspicuously enough that in the ten years Janus and Remus had been using it no worker had ever found it.

-----

It had been Janus and Remus who had found him, beaten and bloody from an escape attempt he had made just days before his real one. He had made a weak attempt to coax the scientists into a false sense of security, holding back the full scoop of his powers during training for a year in anticipation for his final escape. He had punished severely but had simply thrown him in his regular cell, assuming he wasn’t strong enough to do any more damage than they had seen him do already and trusting that they had beaten him down enough that it would be a while before he tried again- if he ever did. Not six days later the mangled metal of the front of his cell was tossed into a group of guards, walls torn apart in a straight line to the exit and the huge buzzing gates leading to the outside world thrown open wide and stuck there with varying amounts of heavy debris.

The outside world, as it turns out, was a lot bigger and louder and downright terrifying when you weren’t being sent out as a personal assassin or field missions or training sessions- all controlled on some level to keep him from being killed and compromised. Without the begrudged protection from the labs and moreover having to hide from said lab was another story entirely. The times they searched for him and how closely they came to his spots were random and made it incredibly hard for him to pick out their thoughts from anyone else’s in the city and figure out how close they were. On more than one occasion they passed right by him crouched under piles of garbage or laying low under a hedge, his breath held as he tried desperately to keep himself as still and quiet as possible, thoughts of what they would to him once they found him pounding against his head and making him squeeze his eyes shut to keep his terrified tears from falling.

That was how Remus had found him. It had been dark and hours had passed since the searchers had left that park he had been hiding in. He had still been hiccuping down his sobs as he rolled out from under the hedge that he hadn’t bothered to scope the area for anyone’s close by thoughts, having shut out as much as he could after they had left to try and block out any other hate fueled thoughts that may send him spiraling again. His heart had leapt in his throat so high his breath caught painfully, immediately shifting to offense as he tensed, ready to fight as long and hard as he could. He couldn’t go back- he wouldn’t. No matter what they did or promised him or punished him with; he’d go down fighting or not at all.

But Remus had only raised his hands in the air in a motion of peace, eyes widening as he locked onto the government issued bracelet that marked him as an experimental mutant. He had grinned impossibly wide then Logan remembered, briefly disappearing from his sight and reappearing a moment later, setting him even more on edge but curious nonetheless.

“I’m like you.” Remus had said quietly. “Basically I run real fast and the government hasn’t figured out how to get me yet.”

Logan had watched as he jiggled his wrists a bit for emphasis, bare save for colored chords that he assumed didn’t associate him with any government branch since they didn’t look official.

“Are you okay?” Remus had asked next and mutely Logan nodded, unsure of how to react to this fellow mutant who had never been caught by any sort of lab, apparently living as free as one could when you were as different as they were. He stepped back as another man appeared behind him, Janus he later learned.

“Liar.” Janus had hissed, making Remus reach around and smack the back of his head.

“It was a polite thing to ask that he tried to dismiss Jan. Let the adults speak for a second.”

Logan had noted the faint pout on Janus’ face though he was still trying very hard to look intimidating. And then all at once his eyes had turned cold as his attention was once again focused on Logan, glaring menacingly from beneath a black bowler hat. “I’m younger than you and yet I’m the one that has to put my foot down. He’s being chased clearly; we are not bringing him back with us.”

Remus has turned, Logan seemingly forgotten for the moment. “That’s not how it works! He needs help and we’re not leaving him to starve or be found in the middle of a park! What would Patton say?”

“Patton is a soft fool who needs to figure out where their morals stand. I myself am choosing not to compromise our place of hiding and three other people that you know those power hungry idiots would love nothing more than to get their hands on!”

Remus rolled his eyes so hard his head had lolled with it, face going pale as he watched something in the sky. It was then that Logan heard the telling sound of a helicopter flying low and getting closer but he had barely tensed before he found himself gripped around the middle and held vertically with the ground flying underneath him. They stopped abruptly and he was set down, blinking in rapid confusion as Remus grinned sheepishly at him.

“Welcome to the hideout?”

Logan’s eyes had widened and his breath had caught yet again, chest tightening as he shook his head vehemently. “You can’t- I need to go back! They’ll do anything to get me back-!”

He was stopped from going forward with a finger to his chest, his blue eyes locking with beautiful brown as Remus held his gaze. “And we will do everything to keep you safe.”

Safe. With that one word Logan was his. He hadn’t known why and he still didn’t quite understand it but he had trusted Remus with everything he had- and he still did. Even as Janus had stalked off grumbling and Virgil and Roman had kept their distance at first Remus had kept him close and showed him how much better his life could be, even if they were living in a modified sewer system.

Back in the present he looked up as a hand was thrust under his chin, smiling softly as he took Remus’ hand and let himself be led away from the others’ idle chatter. He counted himself extremely lucky in the end that Janus had eventually come around to him, seeing how happy he made Remus and how Remus made Logan feel it had been him to finally talk to Logan about it and get the two to officially talk about how they felt, going on about the being “hopeless gay idiots” when they had finally started to date officially. Logan wasn’t sure what he’d do without Remus at this point, just a year later and he was so attached to their small group of hideaways he wouldn’t trade for the world.

They approached the exit to the sewers, Remus swinging their hands between them. Logan held his breath right before they crossed the threshold, closing his eyes and letting it out slowly as his feet met grass and he opened his eyes to the darkened field. There were a few tunnels that lead out to different places depending on where they needed to go and this, Remus had told him, was his favorite because of how empty it was. The city lay far in the distance so there was almost no light pollution to block out the sky. Soft grass and flowers brushed his ankles as he scanned the area carefully, seeing nothing but trees lining the far end of the field with a road so far away he could barely, make it out in the darkness. Remus tugged his hand softly to get his attention, searching his eyes for any hint of discomfort.

“Is this okay?’

Logan took another breath and let it out, the last of his nerves fading away as he took in the quiet. “It’s perfect Remus.”

The other grinned and tugged a little harder this time, walking fast to the middle of the field where he stopped suddenly and raised Logan’s arm up to lead him into an impromptu twirl. Logan laughed quietly and then louder as he was dipped, secure in Remus’ strong hold as he reached up to grip the back of his neck. He was safe. He was free and safe and happy finally with someone who truly loved and cared for him. His breath caught in his throat again but this time in awe, Remus chuckling as he was laid down carefully tucked into his side, till with his arms around his neck.

The stars shone bright and winked lazily while swirls of color dusted faintly behind them. The moon was waning, a barely there light that let the beauty behind it show fully as the wind whisked away any clouds that dared to try and cover it. It was everything Logan had ever hoped it would be and more, excitement thrumming through him as he squeezed Remus tightly in an attempt to convey it. He felt Remus grin against his scalp where his face was buried in his hair.

“It’s beautiful isn't it?”

Logan looked back at him, light from the stars reflected in his eyes and wild brown hair framing his face. He leaned up slightly and kissed him, a faint brush of their lips that left them both grinning like the idiots they were. Placing a hand on Remus’ cheek Logan smiled at him, thumb brushing over his cheek in adoration.

“Absolutely stunning.”

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whatudottu · 4 years ago

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So I’m sure y’all (ben 10 fans specifically) know about the episode Inspector 13? And how Gwen couldn’t used her mana like she usually does?

Yeah, those are my thoughts today and I’m gonna talk about ‘em.

Let’s get this out of the way first, pure full Anodites will not have the same trouble that Gwen has, regardless of form. Basic reason here same as normal, they’re pure mana and Gwen is a fleshy human with a spark, so inherently there’s already a difference in the flow of mana.

But are other species capable of magic and mana manipulation?

Heck yeah!

Knowing what we’ve seen with Anodites already, sans Gwen of course, they’re the... uh... hmm let’s say playboys of the universe. Much in the same way that humans can’t keep it in their pants, Anodites don’t have pants in the first place and would definitely proliferate with life spanning galaxies. And just like with humans, there is a chance that any hybrid child of an Anodite can have the spark.

But does that mean that Gwen can use mana as each of the aliens she turns into?

Heck no!

At least not on first try.

Now let me explain. Humans have a filter on their flow of mana, one which Anodites don’t possess, but other species have that same filter. Why? Well, it’s their DNA of course, it’s what separates them from the pure energy beings of Anodites, the unfiltered raw flow of mana. This filter is there because while Anodites are filled with mana, a hybrid with a spark produces their own unique life energy that interacts and mingles with the flow of their mana.

But what does that mean for Gwen?

Given that the spark is not... uh... entirely genetic (there’s a need for an Anodite SOMEWHERE in the bloodline for the spark, but it doesn’t come up in DNA), it should exist through each transformation. But the issue here is that, while the spark stays the same, the filter wildly changes.

Gwen, as herself, is athletic and light on her feet, so her mana floats, twists and turns, and when solid, is akin to glass. But as Diamondhead, suddenly there’s more weight and less dexterity. There’s a difference that opens a new set of rules for Gwen that she’s never had to deal with, and just like at the start of her magic career, things don’t work exactly as they should.

I’m done with the whole analysis side of this thought, but the main reason why this is on my mind is because... well... I didn’t like how the show handled the differences in mana manipulation. It’s maybe a sneaky little episode rewrite, and maybe a little more interesting version of the ‘getting-used-to-another-person’s-powers’ trope... which I’m pretty sure is a thing. I don’t know I’ve seen it before a few times so whatever.

ANYWAY! Moving on to what I would’ve like to have happened, let’s go in order of Gwen’s transformations.

As stated (and is obvious), Petrosapiens aren’t very known for their light weight and dexterity, so one’s magic would reflect this. How this will affect their mana would turn the free flowing looseness of floating mana into physics based materialisation. But what makes this different to a Petrosapien’s natural crystalkinesis?

Let’s demonstrate with Diamondhead.

A falling Gwen would realise quick that her attempts at making platforms would fail, seeing them fall alongside her. However, producing these solid objects took nothing away from her physical levels of energy, meaning Diamondhead wasn’t growing fatigued unlike with typical crystalkinesis. Gwen would have the ability to form as much ‘crystals’ as she wants in order to keep her from crashing too heavily into the ground.

This use of mana is more so built upon traps, because they last a lot longer and barely need concentration to work. Used as a replacement for crystalkinesis, a Petrosapien ain’t gonna get very far, because these ‘traps’ work on everyone even if they can disperse the constructs. No, it’s better to stay away from the constructs because they amplify sonic waves (the mana vibrates as if like a tuning fork) and can create shatter explosions if struck the right way. For the latter, if y’all have seen the dude pressure plating a diamond, it’s like that.

Now, let’s talk about the second alien Gwen transforms into, Clockwork!

Chronosapiens are a little more robotic than Humans and Petrosapiens, especially Anodites, so their filter of mana is a lot larger. It is the fact that they are alive in the first place that let’s them use magic at all, but their mana capabilities are extremely limited. It’s like being trapped in a metal suit, where it’s hard to allow the internal spark to manipulate the external environment. But what if one doesn’t use external magic?

Clockwork can work like this.

Gwen may not manage to bypass the filter and create mana constructs, or even a flowing tendril, but she can find ways for her modified magic to work. Clockwork keeps the spark internally, so why not help that along with less offensive and defensive skills, and instead more utility casting. What does this mean? Flight, babes! But instead of the traditional sort of flight, Gwen finds that she can ‘walk on frozen time’ and ‘slip through the seems’.

Okay maybe that sounds a little too much like the Esoterica power set, but it’s not like seeing a fourth dimension and accessing the inaccessible. It may appear to be the same, but just like how people may perceive Clockwork to have super speed, even though he’s just slowed time for everyone else, it’s just a matter of perspective. But in general, learning to use mana outwardly would need more time than Gwen had.

Moving on to alien number 3, we have Humungousaur.

Now, in terms of filters, Vaxasaurians have a little more access to mana manipulation than Petrosapiens and especially Chronosapiens, but they have a whole lot of life energy due to their size, which has an effect on their spark. While the dexterity of their magic can be comparable to Human’s manipulation, the strength of it is quite limited, so while a Vaxasaurian may be dependent on their physical bodies for attack and defence, magic is just a bonus action.

So how would Humungousaur use magic instead?

Well, while Gwen would engage in a good old round of fisticuffs, she can use mana like a lasso/whip to trip opponents and yank them this way and that. And by ‘this way’ I mean directly into her punch, like you’re the ball of a paddle-board. It’s definitely more of an assistance type of magic, and it’s definitely not strong enough to support the weight of Humungousaur, but Gwen can control the battlefield by controlling the stability of the enemy.

Think hunting and gathering, this is where a Vaxasaurian’s magic thrives, where it helps with restraining and retrieval rather than attack and defence, they’ve already got THAT down. Prime Vaxasaurians, with their size increase, would lose the use of their mana when at max height, but Reboot Vaxasaurians can emphasise their tail shockwave with magic to make it even more deadly.

Up next is Upchuck, and boy is this an easy one.

Gourmands already have a natural relationship between themselves and energy, so someone with the spark can super enhance their energy bile. To the point where it’s almost unnecessary to actually eat anything to get at least some sort of fire power. Of course, with a Gourmand’s small squishy body, they are perfectly capable of throwing up defences (I swear that pun was an accident), but who needs defences when you’ve got a whole arsenal of explosive mana.

But there’s a little issue with Upchuck that Gwen has to get over.

The problem? Gwen’s a little self-conscious about a Gourmand’s abilities. Mana is the flow of life energy, so if the flow is restrained by embarrassment, it doesn’t act at its full potential. Upchuck can certainly try to use magic as a crutch to avoid needing to eat and spit her way in, but the free flowing stream cutting off is inhibiting the strength of her defence too.

SO! When Gwen finally caves and eats some metal, there’s enough power to blast a hole into the techadon factory big enough to get inside with time to spare. Aside from enhancing the blasting power of a Gourmand’s natural energy, the use of mana manipulation can change the ‘weaponry’ of the attack, which can turn into a gassy smokescreen (burp) and a sticky ball (loogie) to name a few. A Gourmand’s best strength is confidence, so Gwen would need to adapt her mana the same way.

And last but not least, we have Rath stepping up to the plate.

Now, Appoplexians are... rather straight forward and fight tooth and claw rather than strategically. They have a similar mana to life energy filter ratio to Humans, but that doesn’t mean that they’re just as magic friendly. Mana manipulation typically requires coherent thought other than the urge to beat someone up.

But Rath can use magic, and here’s how Gwen works it.

Cutting to the chase, there’s no range mana attacks, at all. For one thing, Rath would find it cowardly, another being that unlike ripping out a turret and throwing it at something else, there’s not enough brutal violence. And utility magic is not even considered. That needs some planning, and the only plan Rath has going into the fight is to WIN! And Gwen is not immune to the urge for violence.

So what happens instead, Gwen would accentuate a punch, slash or block with the extra kick of mana. Enemy fist approaching at 5 o’clock, t-minus 2 seconds? Mana armour. The techadon warrior is regenerating a little too fast for liking? Mana blade! Inspector 13 is being an annoying little techadon engineer with his constant downplay of their abilities? MANA PUNCH!

And after all that, Gwen gets to be in her own skin again. Some of the abilities she learnt that day don’t translate to her Human form. She can’t form crystal traps, she can’t slip between the seams of time, she can’t modify the properties of her mana. But some of the techniques she learnt can be adapted into her regular fighting. She can manipulate the battle field, she can construct armour on the fly.

But most importantly, she can see the differences of life energy, and how they effect magic use. Seeing a range of different mana manipulation, Gwen has unlocked a more open perspective on magic and can learn so much more, her expectations of Human magic pried open wide.

I think THAT would’ve been neat.

But instead we got same face syndrome not to rag on the episode haha.

#gwen tennyson #anodite #petrosapien #chronosapien #vaxasaurian #gourmand #appoplexian #ben 10 #Inspector 13 episode #headcanon #ramblings #a vague sorta #rewrite #but like not entirely #just a little bit of complaining but i just wanted to look at magic

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novelconcepts · 4 years ago

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fic: (how lovely i feel) not to have to pretend

Jamie has never met anyone quite like Dani Clayton--a matter that goes without saying on nearly every level. She’s never met someone quite so selfless, quite so brave, quite so prone to acting on behalf of others without even seeming to realize she’s doing it. More than that, she’s never known anyone else to be quite so self-possessed as Dani Clayton. No one but Dani has quite the same capacity for keeping a firm grasp on how they look to the outside world.

Jamie finds it remarkable even before they become a they at all--watching Dani stride around the manor grounds with her head held high, her shoulders thrown back, her fists clutched tight at her sides as though she is at all times in full control of her physicality. It is most remarkable because it simply isn’t true; almost before she knows the woman’s name, Jamie becomes familiar with the demons she’s holding at bay, the short breath and sharp sob she tries so hard to keep shelved. Dani to the naked eye is a woman clean and pressed and presented. Dani beneath the surface is roiling.

And still, even once Jamie knows there is something else lurking behind blue eyes and pretty smile, it can be hard to forget. Dani is so good at fabricating a version of herself for the world, a version fit for consumption, that she almost doesn’t seem to realize she’s doing it. Her clothes, though meager in number, are always clean and well-matched; her hair, be it tied up or tied back or teased high, is perfect. Dani is every inch the person Wingrave hired her to be: a young woman in control of her own body, a young teacher poised to guide her charges into the light of self-restraint.

And, if she should shudder at shadows--

If she should flinch from mirrors--

If she should, from time to time, catch herself staring at Jamie as though uncertain how they both got here--

Things happen. Things outside of Dani’s agency happen, and they seem to keep happening--death, and darkness, and decisions made by everyone around her--and still, Dani doesn’t bow. Dani’s head is up, Dani’s clothes are clean, Dani’s eyes are clear.

Even after the lake. Even after things go the most wrong anything ever has. Dani’s head is up. Dani’s clothes are clean. Dani’s eyes are...

Jamie sort of expects it all to change, after that. Expects Dani to change, after that. To lower her guard, or to build a wall to the sky, or something to show on a tangible level what she is carrying on her back. But Dani is still, despite it all--though her gaze is distant and her smile is brittle and she forgets from time to time what she’s doing or where she is--Dani. No one is the wiser. No one has the first idea she might not be in total control.

No one except for Jamie. Dani lets Jamie see it all. Dani gives her the darkness, the shuddering terror, the long nights kept awake and the long days made giddy from lack of sleep. Dani gives her laughter, and blank stares, and everything in between. It is, Jamie recognizes, the greatest gift one person could give another: to offer up on the altar of trust the self, the whole self, for good and for ill. Jamie gets to see it all, though no one else has a clue.

Jamie doesn’t take it for granted.

***

This art of Dani, this secret language of reading between the lines, comes in handy on bad days, it’s true. There are times Jamie thinks it is fortunate she is so equipped with comprehension, so well-honed to Dani’s every mood. Early on, especially, it comes in handy more often than she could possibly have predicted.

Still. It isn’t always a matter of doom, with Dani. More often than not, this self-possessed air has nothing whatsoever to do with her beast in the jungle, her rising panic, her terror of looking too far ahead.

More often than not, her self-control reveals itself in a completely different sense.

It begins at the house, on a lovely day that starts with Jamie waking alone, Dani on her skin and all around her in every sense except now. It begins with Jamie pulling her clothes on in a rush, feeling slow and muddled and a little bit drunk with the memory of Dani’s hands trailing like phantoms along her body.

“You’re going?” Dani, in the doorway, a pink jumper and cascading hair and nervous little smile. Jamie, one boot in hand, her jeans still unzipped, feels herself grin too broadly to restrain.

“Thought you’d already gotten to business.”

Dani shakes her head. “I found Flora outside again. She says she’s all right, so I left her with Owen and Hannah in the kitchen. Wanted to make sure--”

She trails off, looking embarrassed. Jamie tips her head and waits.

“Wanted to make sure you didn’t wake up alone,” Dani says at last in a rush, her eyes wide and blue and so happy, Jamie can’t imagine her any other way. “I was afraid if I took too long, you’d--well, you’d leave, and I wouldn’t get a chance to--”

“Wouldn’t go far,” Jamie promises. It’s not a thing she’s ever been able to offer a woman before, not wearing yesterday’s clothes and feeling the gentle ache of last night’s pleasures winding through every muscle. She’s never in her life been able to look a woman in the eye the next morning and say as much, but she says it now. “I...I’d like to stay.”

It’s sunlight, the way Dani smiles, stepping all the way into the room. Her hand lingers on the doorknob, her fingers tapping an idle melody as she looks Jamie over as if searching for some kind of permission. When Jamie lets her boot drop to the floor, it seems to be all Dani is looking for.

They should go downstairs, some distant part of Jamie’s responsible nature grumbles--but the rest of her can’t be bothered. Not with the eager stride of Dani crossing the room, the click of the door coming to rest in its latch as thrilling as the day’s first kiss.

“They’re gonna know,” Jamie says, plucking at the front of her shirt. “That I--that we--”

“Yes,” Dani agrees. She’s standing within reach, rocking on her heels. Jamie, seated on the mattress, feels as though they are on opposite sides of glass, as though Dani in her clean clothes and nervous smile is today while Jamie in her rumpled t-shirt and mussed hair is last night. Dani could still walk away from last night, walk off into today, if she so chooses, and Jamie would be here. Stranded in the memory of Dani’s touch, ghost-light on her skin.

“Do...you wanna...” She extends one hand slowly, as though approaching a skittish animal, and Dani grabs for it like a lifeline. The space between shatters, Dani coming to her with all the graceless glee of taking a breath after too much time underwater.

She expects slow, gradual, even fearful--expects the shine of last night’s fire to have faded to something that might yet burn them both--but Dani’s knees are dimpling the mattress, Dani’s weight firm and steady in Jamie’s lap. Dani’s hands are on her face, as though she might have forgotten overnight what Jamie feels like and can’t stand a minute more without learning each arc and line all over again. Her thumbs sweep across cheekbone, along bridge of nose and arch of brow, her lips barely a breath away.

It’s tempting to close the gap, but Jamie forces herself to wait. Forces herself to mirror Dani’s hands, cradling, testing, exploring with the pads of her fingers in gentle motions. There’s something about this--about posing at the door of something grand, about standing here with toes just over the edge of the entryway, waiting to be invited in--that forms its own kind of gravity. Last night had been waiting for Dani to come to her, in every sense of the word. This moment, this morning, is a suspension.

Control, she thinks for the very first time. Control over time in this one perfect, near-impossible way. Control over space, as they hold just apart from one another, as Dani’s knees dig into the bedspread and Jamie’s thighs flex beneath her. Control in the most self-imposed sense of the word, lips an inch apart.

Dani kisses the corner of her mouth once, lightly. It is, Jamie thinks, a challenge--and one Jamie accepts without pause. The curve of Dani’s cheek is soft against her lips, a temptation all its own. Dani sighs, one hand sliding up the back of Jamie’s neck to rest at the base of her skull.

Another kiss, then, Jamie thinks with shivering anticipation. Just a small brush against the tip of Dani’s nose. Dani, in kind, presses one to her forehead, cradling the back of Jamie’s head, her lips lingering for a full beat. Jamie closes her eyes.

There is seduction in slow and easy, she thinks, and all the more so because it is not intentional. Dani is not trying to be anything at all except a woman who wants Jamie in this moment--a woman who holds to the back of her head, fingers trailing through messy curls, mouth drawing a slow path across forehead and temple, down one cheek and up the other. Each kiss is deliberate, gentle, Dani’s lips parting and sliding as though she could quite happily spend the entire morning doing nothing else.

“Is this...are you...” Dani seems unwilling to stop long enough to let her own thoughts unravel. Her nails scratch softly down Jamie’s neck, one hand coming to lay at the base of Jamie’s throat. “Do you want...”

Jamie is nodding, not much caring where that sentence might end. Want to stay here forever? Want to let Dani burn an entire day exploring her at this leisurely pace, her lips tracing the shell of Jamie’s ear, her breath dragging shivers down Jamie’s spine? Want to keep her hands right here on Dani’s waist, pushing pink cloth aside to rest on the soft skin beneath?

“We should be quick,” Dani breathes, though her kisses do not increase in velocity or pressure. Her hands are trailing down the backs of Jamie’s shoulders, palms sliding over shirt, fingers dragging back up again. Jamie is dimly aware of her own hands flexing, pushing Dani back, pulling Dani forward. Dani, smiling, does not fight her.

“This feels,” Jamie says, her voice still raw from lack of use, “like the opposite of quick.”

It feels, instead, like a promise. As Dani pushes beneath her jaw, easing her head back, laying an open kiss to the top of her throat, she wonders if this isn’t some sacred space they’ve built. A perfect, singular spot where nothing can touch them, no one can intercede, time itself is forced to stand still.

Dani, still kissing her way down even as she’s easing Jamie’s shirt up, hums against her skin. “Want me to speed up?”

“No,” Jamie says before she can stop herself, before she can even begin to interrogate the notion that Dani with this kind of control over herself--this kind of control over both of them--might be the thing she’s been needing for a long time. She feels Dani smile against her, feels the tip of Dani’s tongue flick lightly against her rushing pulse.

“Want me to...” She rises up, brushing her nose against Jamie’s, letting her lips linger in the softest kiss Jamie’s ever been gifted. Jamie is nodding, wild with the memory of how Dani had kissed her last night compared with how carefully Dani is kissing her now. On purpose, she realizes. On purpose, Dani is doing this. Testing every bound available to her. Testing Jamie’s resolve, and her desire, and her control.

Abruptly, Jamie closes a hand around the back of Dani’s head, urging her close, and all the seduction in the world can’t compare with how Dani breathes her in. With how Dani presses her down into the mattress, sitting tall astride her with hands buried in Jamie’s hair. Jamie lets them both fall backward, lets Dani sink into her with a soft moan, and thinks it is good to know Dani has this in her--the desire for slow and easy and calculated--just as it is good to know how quickly that dam can break open. How Dani can swing in a moment from teasing to throwing her whole self into a kiss like this, her hands sweeping down Jamie’s body, searching for the place where her zipper gapes open.

Dani, kissing like Jamie’s the only sustenance a world can offer, slides a hand down her jeans and presses her own hips behind the action. The shift from slow to sudden is immaculate, dizzying, and Jamie feels herself building almost before she can stop herself. She has never in her life been this awake, this present in her own body, as Dani rolls her fingers in tight circles, her quick-study smile hot against Jamie’s lips.

Control, gathered and broken in moments, and Jamie is making desperately muted sounds, turning her face against Dani’s shoulder in an effort to quiet herself, even as Dani is fighting tight denim, letting her fingers quicken their pace, letting her own body chase Jamie’s--

A knock sounds once, a quick rap of knuckles followed by a rather amused, “The children are beginning to worry, and I’m running out of excuses for you both.”

Jamie flinches from the sound, even as her body tries recklessly to follow the melody of Dani’s fingers. Dani freezes, her mouth gone rigid against Jamie’s skin.

“Miss Clayton,” Hannah says in that same too-entertained voice. “Flora in particular is being very persistent.”

“Out in just a sec,” Dani calls back, her voice stunningly level. Jamie raises her eyebrows, opening her mouth to add something, and Dani gives her a smile, gives her a series of hard strokes with confident fingers. Jamie chokes, jerks under her, the unexpected combination of that gesture with Dani’s grin pushing her over the edge.

“I suppose Jamie will be needing a plate,” Hannah goes on, oblivious. Jamie’s hand is over her own mouth, clapped into place just in time for her lips to part around a silent groan. Dani, hand sliding free as though it had never been busy at all, laughs.

“No getting anything past you.”

“Well, it’s hard to deny the reality of the truck out front,” Hannah says wryly. Dani is out of bed, wiping her hand discreetly on the bedspread, straightening her clothes and brushing back her hair in a flurry of distinct motions.

Jamie, shirtless and panting into her own hand as she comes back to earth, gapes at her. Dani reaches down, catches her by the wrist.

“Come on,” she says, cheerful as anything. “Breakfast.”

***

It’s an art form, Dani’s ability to keep together regardless of the situation. A truly mesmerizing art form which Jamie, try as she might, cannot for her life replicate.

“How,” she asks one day, Bly Manor two years behind them. “How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?” Dani asks innocently.

Innocently--as though she hadn’t just been pressed against the table, her skirt a mess, her blouse gaping open. As though Jamie hadn’t been holding her there, hands firm on Dani’s thighs, pressing her open. As though it hadn’t been a brief eternity of Dani rocking into her fingers, both arms wrapped tight around Jamie’s shoulders, her voice a low echo against Jamie’s ear as she’d begged Jamie to move faster, to give her more, to bring her to the edge before lunch break could end.

And now, not a minute after Jamie had curled deep and felt her shudder, not a minute after she’d bitten down on Jamie’s shoulder to keep quiet, Dani is buttoned, pressed into place, utterly presentable in every way.

“That,” Jamie says, gesticulating wildly to cover the whole of Dani in a single motion. “How does your hair do that?”

“It’s just hair,” Dani says mildly, smoothing it carefully down with her palms. It stays in place as though never been mussed at all, as if Jamie hadn’t just grabbed a handful and used it to yank Dani into a kiss.

Jamie’s hair, on the other hand, feels like it’s sticking up in twelve places. Her clothes, which hadn’t even been unbuttoned, unzipped, removed in the least, feel in dire need of an ironing. Her mouth feels swollen, her skin flushed, and Dani is still sticky on her fingers.

“You look,” she says dumbly, “like you didn’t just--I mean, you did come, yeah? I didn’t hallucinate that?”

“Hell of a nice hallucination, if so,” Dani says with a laugh, and kisses her one more time--a long, glorious kiss, one of those stop-time kisses Dani seems to come to so naturally. When she steps back, Jamie fumbles for the table, blinking away stars. “Shame there wasn’t enough time to return the favor.”

“I look like you ravaged me six ways to Sunday,” Jamie points out in a faint voice. Dani looks pleased.

“Six ways, huh? Sounds like fun. We should discuss that later.”

Jamie opens her mouth, but Dani is already ducking out of the back room, striding to flip the sign back to open and greet the customers who have gathered on the sidewalk to wait.

“You look ill, dear,” one of the old women tells Jamie, who has staggered to the counter with considerable effort. “Flushed. Not running a fever, I hope.”

“Warm day,” Jamie says, fully aware that it is late November. Dani tips her a grin, a thumbs up, her entire demeanor perfectly arranged. Jamie shakes her head. “Warm. In the back, I mean. Humid. For. Plants.”

The woman gives her a puzzled frown. “Best take care of this one,” she calls to Dani. “She needs someone to look after her, I can tell.”

“Hey--”

“I always do,” Dani assures her, never breaking her smile.

***

Honestly, it’s almost eerie. Dani’s capacity for control seems to have no bounds, no push too far to reel back from. Jamie has actually started to try, curious if there’s a way to turn Dani from neat-and-orderly to flustered in public settings. It becomes something of a personal challenge.

She finds herself pressing up against Dani in the shop after-hours, letting her hands roam around Dani’s ribs, up her breasts, down the front of her blouse. Dani gamely lets her head fall back onto Jamie’s shoulder as deft fingers work open her buttons, allowing herself to rock back as Jamie’s hands knead at the front of her bra, as Jamie’s fingers pinch and stroke.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, if you think we’re ever going to finish inventory.”

“Danger can be good,” Jamie points out, pushing aside Dani’s collar and sucking sharply. The skin is glistening, reddening, her tongue stroking away the tease of her bite, and Dani tips her head to allow better access.

“It’s like you don’t even want to go home.”

“You keep counting,” Jamie suggests. “I’ll keep doing this. Everybody wins.”

“And if someone--” Dani groans as Jamie slides her fingers beneath the cup of her bra. “If someone calls?”

“Well,” Jamie says politely, pressing herself harder against Dani, pinning her to the table. “They’ll just have to wait, won’t they?”

It’s a fine plan, she thinks with self-congratulatory pleasure. A fine plan, letting her free hand wander down to pull at Dani’s belt, feeling Dani slowly unwind the day’s tension into her hands as she leans back, breathes deeply, gasps.

A fine plan, and if the phone should--

It rings, right on cue, and Jamie waits for Dani to push her away. Is certain that this--Dani rolling her hips into Jamie’s waiting fingers, Dani abandoning inventory altogether for Jamie’s considerably more interesting plan--will take precedence over any self-imposed need to look presentable Dani might have.

“Let it go,” she suggests, even as Dani’s hand is drifting. “Let it go and let me--”

“Keep going,” Dani says in a low voice, and then the phone is to her ear, and she is saying, “Good evening, Leafling, Dani Clayton speaking” as though nothing is happening. As though she isn’t leaning her head on Jamie’s shoulder, Jamie kissing her neck as quietly as possible. As though Jamie’s hand is not working magic between her legs, Jamie grinding herself against her back in that way she knows makes Dani’s breath quicken.

Dani’s voice is never anything less than polite as she walks some faceless stranger through the finer elements of a birthday arrangement, though her hips are matching Jamie’s increasing rhythm, her skin flushed pink beneath Jamie’s lips. She turns her head, watching Jamie with dark eyes, tongue pulling her own lip between her teeth as she says, “Yes, yes, that sounds--that sounds beautiful. Would you--”

Jamie grins, pulling her hand free. Dani makes a thin noise of disapproval, easily passed off as a cough over the phone--and then, a startled sound as Jamie grasps her hips and presses her over the table, leaning across her back.

“You could still hang up,” she points out in a bare whisper against Dani’s unoccupied ear, even as she’s pulling Dani’s jeans down. Easing Dani’s legs apart. Pushing her harder down against the table, kissing the back of her neck, slipping a hand between her spread legs from behind.

“Yes,” Dani says, perfectly calmly into the phone, “yes, we do--we do two-for-one deals through the weekend, would you like--”

Jamie laughs. She’s fighting a losing battle, it’s clear; though Dani’s skin hums beneath her hands, Dani slick across her fingers as she tugs down underwear and returns to her efforts, Dani never shows a sign of it in her voice. If she is rocking harder against Jamie’s hand, if she’s gripping the table with white-knuckled desperation right until the end of the call, it does nothing to diminish the easy charm of her additional, “All right! Sounds wonderful, we’ll get that squared away for you by Monday. Have a lovely evening. Yeah. Yes. Bye now.”

She slams the receiver down, bows her head, cries out as Jamie gives a particularly hard thrust in celebration. Jamie is laughing into the back of her shoulder, her wrist aching as she slides free and shakes her head.

“You are unbelievable.”

“I am a professional,” Dani gasps. “And you were doing a really, really good job.”

***

Dani doesn’t give up control in public, not for anything. It isn’t even intentional, Jamie has come to realize. The product of her upbringing, probably; the expectation of too many years, too many people telling her to stand up straight, keep her clothes neat and her smile orderly. Dani is presentation and poise, even in her darkest moments.

Except for this.

Except for being here.

Dani at home is truly at home. In pajamas, in wrinkled t-shirts, her hair a mess, her face devoid of makeup, she is perfectly at ease. Perfectly imperfect. At home, with Jamie, she allows herself to fall apart in every way a woman can.

She laughs more at the apartment, and with greater reckless zeal. Rarely does Jamie hear this breathless tint to her laughter outside; rarely does Jamie see her collapse into herself with giggles, cackling so hard, she nearly knocks herself off the couch.

She cries harder at the apartment, and with no interest in doing so prettily. Rarely does Jamie see her face blotchy and miserable outside; rarely does Jamie hear her gasp and choke and whine as sobs wrack her body.

She dances at home. Dani isn’t much of a dancer, it turns out, but there’s something magnificent about watching her move to the radio as she cleans the kitchen, as she smoke a cigarette and puts dishes away to the tune of Top 40 hits.

She sings, too. Never in public, never where she thinks she can be judged, but at home, Dani is always singing. Her voice is pretty and unrestrained, no training at all as she scrambles for notes Jamie would put her own eye out trying to reach. There is something simple and marvelous about days when Jamie comes home late, a pizza in hand, to hear Dani belting in the shower.

She is at her best when she is free, Jamie thinks. When the control is set aside because she no longer needs it, no matter how good she is at keeping a hand on the wheel.

She is at her best at home, with Jamie, here. With candles lit and dinner ordered in, with Jamie in her finest clothes for the express purpose of offering cheap wine in discount glasses.

“It’s just a day, Jamie,” Dani says, but she’s grinning. Just a day for most people, maybe, but this marks three years of time in America. Three years with Dani’s beast silent and Dani’s love loud. A day, sure, but it means the world when you put it that way.

“It’s silly,” Dani says, though she’s wearing a dress that makes Jamie wonder how she even got into it without help, and her lips are painted as though she isn’t fully aware Jamie will be ruining them as soon as dinner is over.

“It’s nice,” Jamie counters. Dani raises her wine to her lips, nodding.

“It is. Thank you.”

“For what?” Italian food ordered in from the best local place is not, exactly, high-class. Jamie with a dishtowel over one arm, playing at fancy as she tops off Dani’s glass, is not exactly high-class, either.

Jamie in general is not exactly high-class--and she has not for even a second thought that mattered. Not to Dani. Not ever.

“Thank you for...all of it.” Dani gestures to encompass Jamie, the apartment, the world. “For not getting sick of it.”

“Never,” Jamie promises, and pretends she doesn't see the tears in Dani’s eyes as she bends her head to kiss her.

It’s true that Dani thinks she could get tired of it all, that Dani thinks she could at any point be ready to walk away. It will get worse with time, but for now, it’s easy to convince her to step back from the weight of that line of thinking. Easy to take her hands, bring them to Jamie’s lips, walk with her backwards away from the fear of not being good enough. Of not being whole enough. Of letting the polish slip so much that Jamie might one day flinch from what’s waiting beneath.

Jamie doesn’t know how to make it clear how little she cares for the polish and the poise, how little she needs the artifice Dani is so good at putting on for everyone else. Dani, who has made a life out of professional, responsible, put-together. Dani, who needs people to see the woman who does not step back from shadows, who is stronger than she knows.

And still, the best moments are these: Dani with her dress pooling at her feet, stepping out with an almost shy giddiness as she moves into Jamie’s arms. Dani, her cheeks flushed, the pink trailing down her neck, splashed across her chest as she leans back onto the bed. Dani, her makeup smudged, her lipstick stained into Jamie’s skin, her hair utterly unkempt as Jamie slides her hands in and pulls her close.

Dani on her back on the rumpled sheets, her breath coming in quick jabs as Jamie moves between bent knees. Dani, soaked through and crying out, her hips twisting as Jamie coaxes her along, each roll and swipe of her tongue a promise that this is what she’s been looking for. Dani in control is exquisite in a certain way--Dani bent over the table at work, Dani keeping composure even as Jamie buries herself deep, makes the world hot and heady and surprising. But Dani like this--Dani as no one else is allowed to see her, Dani shifting beneath her and pushing hard against her mouth with her hands winding in the sheets--is something else entirely.

She wants to feel Dani lose control, wants to feel Dani surrender to this allowance she gives herself only when alone with Jamie. Three years now, and it’s still such a special occasion, Dani letting herself unbind all those ties holding her steady.

“You don’t have to be anyone with me,” Jamie has whispered on more than one occasion. “You don’t have to pretend.”

“Not,” Dani has said every time, a distance in her eyes Jamie wishes she could banish. “Not with you. Never with you.”

For everyone else goes unsaid. For everyone else, I have to. Jamie understands. Jamie can’t imagine what she’s been through, what she still goes through on days when the demons have sharpened their claws and come to call.

She pulls at Dani now, easing her up on her knees, guiding her back down onto Jamie’s lap. Hands at Dani’s hips, she urges her to rock, to slide a hand around Jamie’s neck and press her forehead into slick skin and give herself up to Jamie’s hand between them. It’s satisfying, how Dani sighs and arches, how Dani hisses when Jamie sucks a fresh mark into her neck. It’s satisfying, Dani’s hair plastered with sweat, her mouth a red smear as she kisses Jamie hard, her hips bucking as she rides plunging fingers.

Undone, thinks Jamie with an unbidden sense of pride. It’s the one thing Dani refuses to be most of the time, the one thing Dani seems to fear anyone thinking of her as. Undone. Untethered. Incapable of holding firm.

Here, in this bed, Jamie’s name on her lips, Jamie’s mouth on her skin, Jamie coaxing her toward a break, is the only time she allows it. The only time her discipline slips. Here, pushing Jamie down, holding her with a hand firm against her sternum, gazing down at her with lidded eyes as she bucks, writhes, comes with a long cry, is the only time she truly lets go.

It’s an art, the way Dani holds herself in front of others. An art, making sure no one can ever see what lurks behind her smile--be it demon or defense against a cruel world. It is, as art is meant to be, gorgeous to behold, fascinating in its clarity.

But this: Dani allowing herself to slide up the bed, to lower herself down over Jamie’s mouth, gripping the headboard with one hand and Jamie’s hair with the other, is something else entirely. Dani, allowing herself the slow climb, the roll of hips as her knees press into the pillow, as Jamie spreads her with tongue and hot want, is truly herself in these moments. Not haunted. Not poised. She is only taut muscle, trembling limb, breathy exuberance. She is only Jamie’s, the only way Jamie would ever ask her to be.

Three years down, who knows how many more to come, and there will be shadows. There will be things they cannot carry into the dark, and days neither feels strong enough to walk the road ahead. There will be times Dani’s control will feel like the only thing keeping her hand in Jamie’s, the only thing keeping her from abandoning this life they’ve built for the ease of terror. And there will be times like these--times in bedrooms and hotel rooms, times with Dani nodding off against her as a movie plays, times where Dani leans back and lets Jamie look beneath the bed for monsters. Times where she will walk with eyes closed into whatever garden Jamie leads her.

And on those days, she will look exactly as she does the morning after: Jamie’s shirt buttoned badly over bare skin, a mark peeking out from beneath the collar, her eyes tired and her hair wrecked. She will stumble out of the bedroom in search of coffee, find herself distracted by Jamie on the couch with slow kisses that feel like a challenge. There will be no rap at the door, no intrusion on the space built so carefully between them, and Jamie will feel as though there is nothing so close to equilibrium as Dani folded with her in the quiet of their living room, her fingers in Jamie’s hair, her lips tracing Jamie’s cheeks.

There is no version of Dani Clayton Jamie does not adore. No version of her--brave, frightened, miserable, thrilled--Jamie cannot love. She learned it early, and she learned it well: there is nothing Dani can be she isn’t uniquely designed to crave.

Still. This version, the one who sits astride her on the couch with hands cupping the back of her head, tilting Jamie backward until she meets laughing eyes. This version, bare-legged and moving in with slow deliberation as she bends and teases Jamie’s lips apart with soft curl of tongue. This version, sleepy and happy and warm as she molds her body to fit every curve of Jamie’s.

This one, this version of Dani shared with no one else, is a triumph. The truest art. Worthy only of Jamie’s unending gratitude.

She kisses, and allows herself to be kissed, and thinks there is no place Dani is better suited than right here.

#fanfiction #the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #dani x jamie #jamie x dani #damie #control one-shots #here: an olive branch to make up for the last one #really I always intended this to be finished today #just turned out I needed a quick ficlet to warm up

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