#thread: an early morning encounter

[fiber-optic-alligator]

I would LOVE to see a TFA!Megatron x human reader of some kind. I love him so much, such an intimidating and scary but fun version of him 🤭 I want it to be in the First Contact AU still, but why not sorta spice things up and make it have soulmates in it? Wouldn't it be cool to have a giant alien warlord from space destroying cities to find their soulmate? 😳🫣 lol if this idea sucks de bout it, but I'm excited to see your works that's transformers g/t related!

- ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ

THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST CHAMELANON! PLEASE ENJOY!!! God I love TFA Megs so much. He's so hot AUGH!

Be Careful What You Wish For

Pairing: TFA Megatron x Human Reader (Soulmate Au)

Word Count: 2961

Summary: Soulmates exist, and you have one. Proof exists in the form of soulmarks: a red thread-like tattoo imprinted on a person's arm. Only when one meets their soulmate and touches them will the soulmark disappear. Unfortunately, you have yet meet yours. After many lonely days wishing you would be reunited with your Other Half, a chaotic encounter with the leader of the Decepticons has you realizing one thing. And it is that soulmates persevere across time...and space.

Soulmates are real.

  Since you were a young child, this is what you have been told. Soulmates are real, and every person has one. The special red thread that connects two people twines between the left hand’s fingers, up the arm, snaking under the clavicle and ending directly over the heart. Bright like the blood running through your veins, it is your life force, your compass leading you to your Other Half, with your hand outstretched to touch theirs…and only then will the red thread disappear.

  You’ve spent hours staring at that red line, tracing the pattern it makes on your flesh. It’s been a constant presence throughout your life…and it has never gone away. No matter who you’ve met, who you have fallen in love with, who you have fallen out of love with, it is all the same. The thread remains, and you continue to carry a lonely heart within you.

  “Give it time,” your loved ones tell you. “You’ll find them. It won’t happen in a heartbeat. You need to be patient.”

  Yes, you know. Patience, after all, is a virtue. Plenty go about their lives and never even see their thread go away. An existence without your soulmate can be a perfectly happy one. But you want to know who your Other Half is. You want to be one of the lucky few who can be counted as soulfully complete.

  Sitting in a coffee shop with a hot chocolate cupped between your hands, you find yourself once again observing your thread. The morning is cold; you can feel the wind trying to bite you through the shop’s large glass window. People bundled in their coats, scarves, and gloves hurry by, heads down and minds focused on whatever tasks they have at hand. Looking out, you observe them with a blank stare, not really observing them at all.

  “Anything I can get you right now?” The older woman who owns the shop comes up to you, offering a plate of freshly baked cookies. “Chocolate chip? They’re right out of the oven!”

  You offer her a thin smile and shake your head no. She understands; she’s seen you forlornly watching couples pass by. Sighing, she sets down the plate. “You know,” she says. “I didn’t meet my soulmate until I was in my early 40’s.”

  You raise an eyebrow. She sees your surprise and chuckles. “I know, right? A little late to be meeting my Other Half. But hey, it happened. And now look at me! I’m living a good life, running a successful business, and I got to see my thread go away. Those are all things I never thought I’d get to experience. All I had to do was wait a little!”

  You cringe. Yes, waiting. It seems all you’ve been doing is waiting, waiting, waiting, all for a soulmate who might never come. You and your damn waiting.

  She notices your mood go sour and sighs again. “Listen, all I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t lose hope. You’ll meet your soulmate. I know you’ve probably heard this before, but…you need to give the world time to sort things into order. That’s all you really can do when you're dealing with the threads of fate.”

  You mumble a quiet “Thank you” and try to look appreciative, when you feel anything such. She says no more, but leaves you a cookie before heading off to tend to the other customers. You watch her go, then lift up your left hand. Your thread is vibrantly bright, showing no signs of fading any time soon.

  Yeah, you think sadly while you bite into the cookie. No hope lost whatsoever.

  You are walking out of the shop when it happens. The door’s little chimes clink together as you swing it open and bid the owner farewell. And then, a pain unlike any other hits you with the force of a freight train. It tackles you and makes you stagger, knees buckling and bringing you to the ground in a matter of seconds. Your heart starts slamming against your ribcage so hard you think a bone might crack. Pushing your hand against your chest, you pant and watch your vision swim as you attempt to get to your feet, yet fail and fall down once more.

  Multiple people help you up, each one asking if you are alright. You hold out a shaking hand as if to assure them, but no sound comes out of your mouth when you try to speak.

  Someone says, “Call an ambulance!” You want to tell them you are fine; unfortunately, you can’t seem to form any coherent words. All that rises up from your throat is a thin, wispy whimper.

  The chaos continues when out of nowhere, an explosion erupts further down the street. People scream and scramble back. The people holding you let go, and you nearly topple right over again. Shouts of panic and confusion fill the air, confirming that no one has a clue as to what is going on.

  Two dark shapes scream through the sky. You look up just in time to see a fighter jet fly past with a bomber plane following behind. For a moment, you think this is some sort of military aerial show-why such a thing would be happening in the middle of winter, you don’t know-but it’s the only conclusive argument you can decide on what you are seeing.

  But then the two planes start descending. They roar over the crowded street, then begin morphing and shaping themselves into creatures completely different from the disguises they previously sported. You recognize them: they are Cybertronians. Robots from outer space who have become borderline celebrities in Detroit since arriving here months earlier. These two, however, aren’t members of the heroic Autobots who help protect the city. They are Decepticons. The villains, the destroyers. The bad ones.

  The smaller of the two stretches his arms over his head. He laughs maniacally as he watches people run. “Look at them, Lugnut! They’re scurrying away like little ants!”

  The other Deception growls and pays no mind to his partner. “Silence, Blitzwing. Lord Megatron has a mission for us to complete. We must distract the humans while he finds the one he is looking for.”

  Blitzwing’s face swivels and changes into an icy blue expression. He surveys the humans around him with an air of disgust. “I don’t understand why Lord Megatron cares to capture one of these creatures. They are far too weak to be kept as pets.”

  “It is not my place to question him, nor is it yours. We are here to do as we are told and give our lord the time he needs to complete his mission.” Lugnut grabs a car and throws it into the air. It crashes down with a heavy slam, windows shattering, metal crumpling, alarm screeching out the vehicle’s pain. You watch in horror, unable to fathom that you have a front row seat to this show of destruction Detroit is about to face.

  Yeah, no, you think. I’m not sticking around. These Decepticons obviously have no regard for human lives. If you remain here, there is a high chance you will end up dead. You need to run, now.

  “You're not going anywhere, little one.”

  The voice is deep, and it pulses through your mind like a gong. You clutch your head and bite back a shout of pain. A strange feeling builds up in your chest. It makes your heart beat faster, and your thread begins to burn with an uncomfortable warmth you have never felt before.

  A third vehicle appears from the sky: a strange helicopter with two blades and a massive cannon mounted beneath its cockpit. Your hair whips back when it lands. The Cybertronian’s body condenses and rises, metal folding over metal, creating a gigantic figure with narrowed red eyes that immediately land on you the moment they open. Your jaw drops; this is easily the biggest mech you have ever seen. And you recognize him. Megatron, the feared leader of the Decepticon forces, and the worst bot you could run into right now.

    Lugnut drops to his knees and bows. “I serve you, Lord Megatron!”

  Megatron does not acknowledge him. He remains focused on you. You are finding it hard to breathe.

  Blitzwing walks over to the taller mech. “My lord, the Autobots will be arriving soon. What should we do?”

  “Continue destroying what you can.” Megatron’s voice is a deep rumble of thunder. You feel the wind get knocked out of you when you hear it. His voice. His voice. Why are you so focused on his voice?

  Your thread is beginning to burn. You slap your hand over your left arm and squeeze, hissing through your teeth. Megatron notices; he looks intrigued.

  “Have you found what you are looking for, master?” Lugnut asks.

  “Indeed I have,” Megatron replies. “And I don’t intend to let it escape me. Resume your orders. Keep the Autobots back for as long as you can. Once I have what we came here for, I will sound the retreat.”

  Blitzwing and Lugnut do not question him any further. You, on the other hand, are questioning everything. Why is this robot having such an effect on you? Why can you hear his voice in your head? And why, why is your soulmark on fire?!

  He’s here for me. There’s no solid confirmation that has been given to you about this, but you know deep down it is true.

  He’s looking right at me.

  Shit. Fuck.

  Your legs want to move. But your brain forbids it and forces you to remain put, even as other people go running by you, their screams mingling as one high-pitched wail while Blitzwing and Lugnut destroy anything they can get their hands on.

  Megatron remains still. He tilts his head with the air of a curious predator who is searching out the weak spots of his prey. You cannot drop eye contact with him. Something about his piercing gaze has you rooted to the spot in which you stand.

  Only when he begins lumbering towards you do you snap out of it and run with the rest.

  Everything is a blur for you. You nearly get shoved to the ground multiple times by the panicked masses who are fleeing. It feels like Detroit is crashing down. Police drones are flying in to fight back against the Decepticons, but you don’t think for a second they’ll do any damage against them. After all, they hardly ever do.

  “Don’t run from me, little one.”

  There is pain. So much pain. It is too much for you to handle. It causes you to collapse, clutching your head and writhing in agony.

  “You are so much more fascinating than the rest of your pathetic kind.”

  The ground trembles. Each step signals the robot drawing closer and closer.

  “Why can I feel what you feel? Why does my spark tremble with your fear? I don’t understand it. I need to understand it. So stop running, and come here.”

  You need to keep going. Grunting, you struggle to your feet and stumble forward in a haphazard fashion. You don’t even bother looking back to see if the robot is close. You just need to run. You need to hide.

  Your miracle appears in the form of a parking garage. Squirming under the partially closed grated gate, you find that it is abandoned; no one is in here with you, and the cars are all empty, abandoned by their owners. You retreat into a corner dark and covered with shadows. It should provide you with the necessary cover you need in order to hide.

  You remain in there for what feels like hours.  It goes awfully quiet outside. Any remaining civilians are long gone. Somewhere close, you think you hear the sound of mechs duking it out. Your breathing echoes off of the parking garage’s walls, giving you a further sensation of complete unease. Perhaps hiding in here wasn’t the best choice. Maybe you should have continued running with other people to a safer spot. Allowing others to be in your presence would endanger them…but now you are alone, completely defenseless to those who wish you harm. The robot who is currently stalking you can kill you without even thinking about it. By hoping to protect the city, you may have ensured your own doom.

  You hear stomping outside. Too loud to be human, too heavy to be an Autobot. Your heart tugs eagerly on its strings in an attempt to break free. It’s a mutual sensation of utter fear and strange wanting.

  “Where are you?”

  You see the massive head of the mech appear right underneath the gate. A shriek nearly escapes you, and you have to slap your hands over your mouth to quell it. A single roving red eye searches the garage, unblinking.

  “I am not known for my patience, human. If you do not show yourself, I cannot guarantee things will end up well for you.”

  The eye settles on you. It narrows and a low growl emits from the robot’s intake. “There you are.”

  You have no chance to react before Megatron’s hand smashes through the gate. You scream when his fingers curl around you. Tightly pressed against his palm, you struggle and kick your feet while Megatron slowly draws you out into the open.

  “Let me go!” you shriek. “Stop! Please!”

  Megatron growls again and gives you a warning squeeze. “Fighting me will get you nowhere. Cease this at once, or suffer the consequences.”

  Well, that’s threatening. You immediately go limp and snap your mouth shut. Megatron snorts, satisfied. He brings you closer to his face, studying you. You shrink back, flush with panic and terror.

  “What is your name, human?” he rumbles.

  You stutter out a barely coherent reply. “Y-Y-Y/N.”

  “Y/N.” He repeats it to himself. “Y/N…a fitting name. Tell me, have we ever met before?”

  “I…I d-don’t believe so?” you say.

  “Hm.” He regards you, turning his hand left and right so he can examine you from all angles. “How very interesting.”

  “W-What’s interesting?”

  “Your mark.” He pushes his thumb under your left forearm. “It’s gone.”

  You follow his gaze. Indeed, where your thread should have been-the thread that has been with you for your entire life, a presence in which you believed would never leave you-there is only bare skin. There isn’t a speck of red to be seen. The burning that accompanied it before is gone too, and now there is a sort of settlement weighing on your chest. It is an instinctive rush of fulfillment, like this was meant to happen.

  You feel faint. Nothing makes sense anymore when you look back at the robot. “You…You're my soulmate?” you squeak.

  “Soulmate.” Megatron stretches the word out into a slow drawl. “So that’s what your species calls it. Yes, you can say that. My kind has a similar phenomenon that affects us.” He opens his mouth and breathes in deeply. “You smell of fear. I can see in your eyes that you know me. So this city is aware of who I am, hm?”

  You don’t dare answer. You're way too terrified of how close his massive teeth are to you. You don’t want to think about what might happen if you find yourself between them.

  “There is no need to be afraid of me. Our sparks are linked. I would be killing a piece of myself if I were to eliminate you.” He sighs. “As disappointed as I am to discover that my sparkmate is a human, I can learn to work with it. I wish to know more about you, Y/N. I will know why fate tied us.”

  “I need to know more.”

  “What makes you so different?”

  “Foolish little thing, you cannot get away from me.”

  “I will get to the bottom of this.”

  His thoughts are loud and overwhelming. You shake your head and feel tears gather in your eyes. “Please…It’s too much. Your thoughts-”

  “Ah. Is that primitive brain of your overloading? I can hear it. Don’t think your thoughts aren’t in my head as well.” He rises to his full height. “I am sure we will both learn to get used to it. If not, I will have Shockwave create something that will bar my thoughts from entering your mind.”

  “Wait! Wait!” You look down. The ground is far away from you. Everything sways queasily when Megatron begins to walk. “No! Put me down!”

  “If you vomit on me, I will not hesitate to drop you,” the Decepticon says gratingly.

  “Y-You can’t take me with you!” you yell at him. “I can’t be your soulmate! There has to be a mistake!”

  “The spark doesn’t lie. Your mark is gone, and I can feel the completion you bring me. There is no question that you are my Other Half. What I want to know is why.” He shakes his head angrily. “It is a burden to have such a weak creature by my side. But I will learn to understand. Perhaps you can show me the few strengths humans possess. Do you think you can convince me to spare your race, little one?”

  He’s taking you. He’s not letting you go. You feel faint with horror at the realization that you aren’t getting out of this. Whether you believe it or not, this alien robot is your soulmate.

  You’ve gotten exactly what you wanted. But this isn’t how you thought meeting your Other Half would go.

  You hear one last thought from Megatron echo ominously in your mind. It sends shivers down your spine. “You are mine now.”

  After that, you pass out.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

The Plant Prowler of Pabu

A/N: I’m scared that Pabu is going to be toast after this week, so I wrote a little fluff to make myself feel better. Also, this is the first time I’ve been able to finish a fic in six weeks, so… yay me!

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (GN)

Rating: T (but MDNI as always)

Wordcount: 2.1K

Warnings and tags: mild language; fluff; a kiss; spoilers for The Bad Batch season 3

Summary: Exploring the island during his first morning on Pabu, Crosshair encounters a mastermind of botanical crime: you.

Suggested Listening: 

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Whoever said, “It’s darkest just before dawn” had clearly never woken up to go for a walk before sunrise. Even if Crosshair hadn’t had enhanced vision, it would have been easy for him to navigate his way down to the beach of Pabu in the dim half-light. Hunter had wordlessly watched him exit the Marauder, pretending to still be asleep, but Crosshair knew that his brother would have drawn his vibroblade in a flash if he’d even glanced sideways at Omega.

Crosshair didn’t exactly blame Hunter for his caution, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow. The squad had arrived on the idyllic island the previous day, and Crosshair was immediately swarmed by a horde of curious locals. With Hunter determined to keep Crosshair in sight at all times, there had been no escape from their onslaught of hospitality, and by the time the celebrations had died down, Crosshair had been clinging to the tattered threads of his patience and sanity.

It was a hell of a thing to go from barely speaking to anyone for months on end to suddenly being plunged into the midst of a vibrant and chaotic crowd of nosy spectators. He’d escaped to the Marauder at last and pretended to sleep, keenly aware of Hunter’s eyes on him. He’d spent enough time under the microscope in the past several months, though, and he was ready for some privacy.

And so it was that he found himself wandering down the empty terraced walkways of Pabu, making his way to the shoreline in the pale gloaming. He didn’t encounter a single soul as he walked—barring the ubiquitous moonyos that seemed to frolic across the island at all hours. Pabu was the sort of place that seemed too flawless to be real. Too flawless to last.

Not quite as flawless as it seems on the surface, he acknowledged as he turned down a path that snaked through one of the sections of the island that had yet to be rebuilt after the catastrophic sea surge he’d heard about countless times at the welcoming party the previous night. The buildings had been reduced to rubble, and judging by the weeds sprouting in the cracks of the walkway, the locals tended to avoid this particular part of the island.

Perfect.

The gentle breeze off the ocean was chilly, and he told himself it was the reason his hand trembled more than usual that morning. He shoved both hands deep into his pockets as he navigated the last few levels before he reached the beach. As he stepped onto the sand, a gust of wind buffeted against him. It was bracingly cold, and it smelled like salt and aquatic vegetation and wet earth, and he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and focusing on the sensation.

When he opened his eyes, a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision had him snapping his head to the side. He froze. A figure meandered slowly down the beach, sticking close to the bottom of the hill where the lush foliage grew thickly right up to the edge of the sand. He was certain you had spotted him, but you didn’t immediately acknowledge his presence.

He watched for a moment as you paused and stooped down to examine one of the plants, then carefully plucked a few bunches and laid them in the basket you carried. Bizarre. What the kriff was this person doing out here so early? Nothing innocent, that was for damned sure. Why would anyone sneak down to such an isolated stretch of the beach at this obscene hour if they didn’t have nefarious intent?

Aside from me, obviously.

He squinted slightly. Even with his enhanced eyesight, it was dark enough, and you were far enough away, that it was difficult to make out your features, but he was reasonably sure you hadn’t been at the party the night before. 

Hmph.

He turned and walked the opposite direction, away from the person who’d had the audacity to interrupt his solitude by getting to the beach first. Better not to get involved.

Crosshair took a different route the next morning, arriving at the beach just as the sun rose. As bad kriffing luck would have it, you were exiting the beach just as he arrived, and your paths inevitably intersected. He braced himself for a conversation, but you simply met his eyes and nodded quietly as you passed him.

He suppressed a sigh of relief. Stepping aside to make room for you to pass on the narrow trail, he couldn’t help noticing that your basket was filled with a variety of neat bundles of leaves and twigs. Odd, but your hobbies were none of his concern. Even if they did involve herb rustling and grand theft shrubbery.

He continued his path down to the shoreline and wandered along the water’s edge, staring out at the horizon. Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see your solitary figure making its way up the steep slope and into Lower Pabu. He was now completely sure that you’d not been at the welcoming party, nor had he encountered you in the village. It wasn’t that surprising; after all, hundreds of people lived on the island, and he wasn’t in any particular hurry to meet them all—or any of them, if he were honest.

Of course, he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Wrecker had flatly refused to allow Crosshair to isolate himself, while the gregarious mayor Shep Hazard seemed equally dedicated to the twin causes of thrusting Crosshair into the community and plying him with as much fruit as he could eat in a lifetime. He was starting to feel a tiny surge of violence every time he saw a jogan fruit.

On the third day, Batcher woke up with Crosshair and scrambled out of the Marauder, bounding ahead of him down the ramp and then turning to wiggle her entire body in anticipation as he followed. He let the lurca hound pick the path that morning, not bothering to hide his thin smile at Batcher’s endless curiosity and enthusiasm. She crisscrossed the walkways incessantly, sniffing and exploring, chasing the moonyos playfully down the hill, investigating every nook and cranny of the village, and easily running five times the distance that Crosshair traveled on their way down to the water.

The beach was empty this morning, to Crosshair’s relief. At last, some peace and quiet. Or at least as quiet and peaceful as it could be with Batcher rocketing back and forth across the wet sand, grunting and huffing as she charged into the surf and back up to Crosshair, crouching into a bow as she tried to entice him to play with her. When he didn’t immediately comply, she took off chasing a flock of seabirds, scattering them into the air in a cacophony of indignant squawking.

She chased the birds down the beach, barking joyously as she splashed through the surf. When the hound disappeared around a bend in the shoreline, Crosshair sped up slightly, not wanting to risk Omega’s wrath if anything happened to her pet on his watch. As he rounded the bend, he was greeted with a most unexpected sight: Batcher was lying on her back on the sand, writhing with delight as you rubbed her belly.

Your basket was overturned, and all the neat little bundles of herbs were strewn across the sand. It wasn’t hard to deduce the instigator of such carnage. Batcher spotted Crosshair and immediately jumped up and shook the sand off herself before rushing to greet him.

“Down,” he said sternly as she jumped up and swiped at him with her massive paws.

She dropped obediently, and trotted along next to him as he approached you. You’d already begun picking up your fallen bundles of leaves, and he quickly bent to assist you.

“Sorry about that,” he mumbled.

“No harm done,” you replied, shaking a bit of loose sand out of the bundles before you dropped them into your basket. “They all get washed before I hang them up to dry anyway.”

“So you’re not just engaging in botanical heists for the adrenaline rush?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah, it really gets the blood pumping,” you replied, deadpan. “My day just doesn’t feel complete without a little horticultural larceny.”

“I can see you like to live on the edge,” he said with a tiny smile. “The Plant Prowler of Pabu.”

“And I would have gotten away with it, if it weren’t for a mysterious stranger and his meddling dog.”

He liked you. Damn it.

Crosshair didn’t see you for the next several days. He assumed you’d moved your criminal enterprise elsewhere on the island, and after the team returned from Barton IV, he didn’t feel the same need to escape the Marauder as he had previously. Still, he wasn’t sleeping particularly well, and after an excruciatingly restless night, he slipped out of the ship not long before dawn and wandered aimlessly down the streets of Pabu until he found himself in the unstable section he’d discovered on the first day.

As he picked his way through the ruins, he spotted movement two terraces below, and he grinned. Forcing himself to walk casually so you didn’t suspect how pleased he was to see you, he sauntered down to your level, only to find you ripping weeds up from between the fragments of pavement with uncharacteristic abandon.

“What did those plants ever do to you?” he asked.

You must have spotted him before he arrived, because you didn’t even flinch at the sound of his voice.

“Invasive species,” you replied. “I try not to over-forage, but in this case, I’ll make an exception.”

“And I thought your crimes only extended to vegetational theft,” he drawled. “I had no idea you’d escalated to floral murder and agricultural vigilantism.”

“The hero Pabu needs,” you said with a smile that had no business being as charming as it was, considering you were currently covered in a fine layer of dirt and assorted bits of leaves and twigs. “If this plant gets established on the island, we might never be able to eradicate it. It will outcompete the native plants and could cause significant disruptions to the ecosystem.”

“How altruistic of you,” he remarked drily.

“Not at all,” you laughed. “It also happens to be delicious.”

Crosshair stooped down and pulled one of the plants up by the roots, examining it closely. “It’s on sight, then.”

“Exactly. No mercy.”

As the first rays of the sun appeared on the distant horizon, you packed the large bundles of weeds into your basket, then stood and dusted your hands off on your trousers. You stretched a bit, clearly a little stiff from your labor. Impulsively, Crosshair spoke.

“Want to watch the sunrise with me?” You looked surprised at his offer, and he cleared his throat, looking awkwardly away. “Or do you turn into a meiloorun if you stay out past dawn?”

“Yes,” you said. “I mean, no. I mean, yes, I’d like to stay. No, I don’t turn into a meiloorun.”

You bit your lip and stared down at the bundle of weeds in your basket, poking at it ineffectually as you muttered something unintelligible under your breath. Stifling a laugh, Crosshair climbed up onto the crumbling half-wall of a destroyed structure and extended his hand to help you up after him. You scrambled up and sat down next to him, gazing out at the tranquil ocean as the sun began to paint the high clouds in brilliant shades of gold and pastel.

“Not a bad view, is it?” you asked quietly. 

“Definitely worth waking up early,” he replied, watching your face as the light caught on your cheekbones and reflected in your eyes.

Without making a conscious decision, he lifted his hand and brushed a little loose dirt off your cheek. His damned hand trembled, and he mentally cursed. You didn’t seem to notice the slight tremor, though—or if you did, you didn’t say anything about it. Instead, you turned your head slowly, grazing your lips across his fingertips as you met his eyes. It seemed the most natural thing in the galaxy to continue to trace the line of your jaw until his hand curled around the back of your head.

Your lips were soft and warm in the cool breeze, and you tasted like sea salt and dew and something he didn’t quite recognize. Something new. He liked it. You leaned into his kiss, and when at last it came to its natural conclusion, he drew in a shaky breath.

“Hi,” he whispered. “I’m Crosshair.”

---

Want more Crosshair? I have another Crosshair x Reader ficlet here!

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[petpippin]

୨ৎ sweet escape! — chifuyu mats.

it came first with the shoujo mangas he'd bashfully keep hidden under his mattress, vowing to never have that guilty pleasure slip to even his best friend, baji.

there had just been something about whirlwind romances, the fateful meet of a guy and a girl, destined to evolve into something deeper that set chifuyu's cheeks ablaze, having to fight the urge to grin so stupidly.

he'd always considered himself a tough guy, too.

hands shoved into the pockets of his ill-worn pants, hair put up in a way that looked so cool. (there had gone months before baji had set him straight with that awful 'do.)

but there'd always been something about those types of girls, that stayed with him.

charms that jingle as they skipped by, all soft-spoken, with gentle hands and tooth-rotting smiles. the type of girl that'd shrink under the scrutiny of bigger guys like baji, or draken, yet would curl up so perfectly in chifuyu's palm.

yeah. girls like that, girls, it so happens, like you.

which is why chifuyu is counting every lucky star in the damn sky, when you, fumbling with your hands, let a pink-tinted pencil slip from your grasp.

staring habit ramming into him like full-speed train, chifuyu barely has time to react before he's bending down, nearly making it a race, picking up the jingling little thing for you.

he nearly stares you into the ground, growing red and flustered, shakily handing you back your pencil.

"here's-- your-- pe-en-cil," it's a dire realization chifuyu is quick to make in that moment, that he definetly isn't making the introduction he'd desperately dreamed of.

but you don't laugh at him. you try to smile, just as bashful and shy as he is, just as quick to snatch your pencil back.

it's unfortunate, much to chifuyu's dismay, that mere days after your encounter, baji has him all figured out.

the red thread doesn't even directly lead to you at first, the captain's first clue being the few curious bumps along his vice-captain's bed.

mistaking them for the racier of magazines is baji's very first blunder, as it had only lead to a hefty stack of brightly-lit, cutesy cartoons.

chifuyu couldn't die with dignity after that, but he did decide to make peace with the humiliation that would come of his most prized possession.

it's a sacrifice he would readily make, but with you, that one proved a harder task.

stealing glances, touches chifuyu could sneak, noting each and every of your little quirks. baji has long dug his grave.

it comes to a damning head, one fateful day, one where baji has been smirking so ominously all morning, that chifuyu doesn't even know what to make of it.

they're waddling the dozey early-morning halls, only so happening to pass a certain someone that has him momentarily rearing his head.

that was what chifuyu had hoped, at the very least. a glance at the very pretty girl who's presence he had been graced, perhaps catching the trill of a new charm dangling from your phone.

and yet, with a singular, cunningly placed elbow to the side, chifuyu had went stumbling like an idiot.

knocking into you, death should've never come quicker. but such mercy didn't befall upon him, and baji was only watching on.

it only worsens when something falls out of chifuyu's pocket, and now it's your turn to pick it up. and by god, does he immediately recognize that awful handwriting.

you look up at him, suddenly turned all giggly, a ring so sweet it overrules any of your little trinkets.

you smile, briefly glancing over the note. much to chifuyu's dismay, it's littered with hearts and he's, unfortunately, actually able to make out what's been written.

something along the lines of. . . a confession.

time freezes for such a while that chifuyu doesn't know whether to cry or take off running, in a stupor only managing to freeze up completely.

an angel stands before him, the overhead lights suddenly simulating early death. was it just chifuyu imagining the heavenly light?

"okay. i'll go out with you."

you're grinning so hard your cheekbones ache, and chifuyu soundlessly crashes back onto earth.

the lights even out in the background, and he mirrors your smile with vigour, a short breath of 'really?'

chifuyu doesn't know who he'd rather kiss.

[diyakkul]

How You Get The Girl🎧 ༘♡ A Lo'reya spin-off from HYGTB

to his disdain, Ao'nung finds out his beloved, beautiful, and innocent little sister Tsireya has been dating his disgusting, arrogant, teammate but rival Lo'ak. But how did it happen? | A behind-the-scenes thread.

♡ how they met.

Tsireya had always loved jogging early in the morning— it had been difficult not to pick up at least one of Ao'nung's obsessed jock routines growing up. In her first days as a freshman, she quickly mapped out a 30-minute route to follow every morning: from her dorm, she'd go down the serene streets, past the hockey arena, and head toward the cute coffee place her roommate had recommended before going back.

On her official third consecutive morning, however, she realized she wasn't alone. A tall, fairly tanned boy, braids always tied in a low ponytail and eyes so warm and sharp they could cut anyone with a glance, routinely stepped out from the athletes' residence hall just as she ran past the building. He'd adjust the headphones over his head before sprinting past her. Tsireya never had enough time to study his traits thoroughly before he'd start jogging, so she quickly made do with the idea that he'd simply be some attractive dude from the athletes' residence hall she'd see once every day.

One day, however, as she jogged back, she found her morning-attractive guy in the middle of the walkway, standing under a tree, his chin tilted up to the sky as he psst at tree branches. Curious, she stopped right behind him, and following his gaze, she found a cat huddled between the leaves.

"It'll never come down on its own," Tsireya muttered, catching off guard the boy. She had to fight internal demons not to apologize to him in a rush, suddenly flustered because A, his pretty eyes met hers, B, he was hot— like reallyreallyreally hot.

"Care to help me, then?" Even his voice was hot, not hoarse and low like Ao'nung's but sweet-hot.

A nod and they jumped straight to work. The boy locked his fingers together, squatting, and Tsireya carefully placed her foot on them. She held onto his sweat-damped shoulders, and after a mumbled countdown, he pushed her up and she successfully lured the cat into her arms. Once back on the ground, Tsireya dared to nuzzle her nose against its seemingly clean head before letting it go, and when she looked up, the boy was staring at her with a glint in his eyes.

"I know you," he suddenly said, a handsome grin parting his lips. "Tsireya Niìr, am I right?"

"Yes.." She felt her breath hitching. "How do you..?"

"I know your brother," he promptly answered, hands falling on his hips. "I'm on the hockey team. And you know my brother, actually."

Tsireya pursed her lips as her big, green blue eyes danced over his dawn-kissed face. His traits were kinda familiar, she definitely had seen that cute nose somewhere—

"Are you Neteyam's brother?!" She gasped, half content half surprised.

Neteyam Sully was her radio station co-host and the current main topic between her and an infatuated Ao'nung.

"It's me," he beamed. "Lo'ak, nice to meet you." He stretched a hand, politely, and she grabbed it, enjoying its warmth.

"Do you.." oh God, what was she gonna say? "Do you wanna grab breakfast together?"

Her heart throbbed, cheeks reddening in a second, then it ran as Lo'ak's smile widened even more.

"Sure."

In the following days, she couldn't help but bring up their encounter with both brothers.

"I met your brother, you know?" She shyly initiated as soon as Neteyam let another song play, both propping their headphones on the table.

"Yeah?" Neteyam flashed one of his pretty smirks, and Tsireya perfectly understood why Ao'nung was so crazy about him.

She hummed, "He's.. cute."

"Want me to give him your number?"

"What?" She gasped loudly, nervously fidgeting with the wire of the headset. "Would you really..?"

(..) "He's.. cute," she found herself parroting as she told the same thing to Ao'nung and Rotxo.

"Don't you even think about getting close to him, Tsireya," Ao'nung warned, pointing a finger at her while munching his lunch. "He's trouble."

"He seemed nice," she mumbled.

"He is," Rotxo nodded, not tearing his gaze away from his phone.

"He's not," Ao'nung's eyes pierced hers. "Stay away. He's not good for you."

♡ Trouble Lover: how it started.

Half through the second semester, Tsireya found herself madly attracted by Lo'ak, who slowly began to appear everywhere she was and not hide her reciprocated feelings. She knew he liked her, and he knew she liked him, too. Neteyam knew, Rotxo also did, luckily Ao'nung was too focused on trying to sleep with Neteyam to even realize what was going on between his sister and his 'enemy'. So what was keeping them back from being with each other? She didn't know. And she was slowly losing her patience.

"You're so dumb," Tsireya hiccuped to his shoulder.

They had sneaked out from a party to grab a late-night snack (that became an oily hamburger) in the middle of the night, and they were now sitting on the edge of a sidewalk. Tsireya snuggled into Lo'ak's embrace even though the air was too warm to be hugging. But Lo'ak wasn't complaining, and Tsireya was too drunk to realize.

"Bought you the tastiest chicken burger and you call me dumb?" Lo'ak gasped before dipping two potato fries into his sweet curry sauce. "Rude!"

"Yes!" She whined before giving a big bite to her snack. "Cusyouwobkidme."

"What?" He chuckled, going for a bite, too. She let him.

"You.." Tsireya lazily dragged her eyes on him. "Won't. Kiss me."

Silence fell as Lo'ak eyed her under his hooded eyelids. A flame trembled inside those golden eyes, hot and wild. His stare fell on her lips before he could bring it up, back to her doe eyes, just staring right at her like he would always do, freeing thousands of butterflies in her stomach. Before she could know, she was tearing up.

"Am I not pretty enough?"

Lo'ak's eyes widened as if she had just said the dirtiest blasphemy, "Don't you even dare say that!"

She sobbed, taking another bite, sauce staining her lips as she munched. He quickly brought a hand to her cheeks and wiped the sauce away with his thumb, eyes locked.

"First of all, you're the most gorgeous girl I've ever seen," he confessed to the night, stroking her cheek. "And you don't need me to tell it to you. You're clever enough to know that, don't you? That you're the prettiest Metkayina princess."

She nodded and he laughed.

"Has Neteyam ever told you how I call you when I talk to him about you?" His eyes sparkled under the streetlight.

Tsireya shook her head, cheeks full of food.

"Mi hermosa," Lo'ak breathed against her ear.

Tsireya could faintly remember her Spanish class in high school and she shyly chuckled at the name, unable to control her blushing.

"Tan hermosa," he kissed her temple, softly nuzzling. "Wanted you to be mine as soon as I saw you cuddling that little kitty, so beautiful."

"I was sweaty," she grumbled.

"I didn't care," Lo'ak whispered. "And I really want to kiss you, always wanted to, I like you so much but I'm afraid I'll ruin everything and ruin our friendship."

"But I don't want to be your friend," Tsireya pouted. "I want you to be my boyfriend. Boy-friend. Boooyyfrieeeend. Novio!"

"Whoa," he breathed, something about his voice trembling with amusement. "We have a long way before I can be your novio, you know?"

"Let's start with a kiss, then," and she leaned closer, the burger almost slipping from her fingers.

But Lo'ak laughed and jerked his head away, "I'll kiss you when you're sober, after asking you, as we're on a pretty date."

"Ow," Tsireya sighed, leaning her head against his chest again. "I like you."

A waterfall of kisses fell on top of her curls before she could slightly bend her neck and Lo'ak's soft lips smooched her cheek until she burst into giggles, telling him to stop.

♡ the aftermath.

Lo'ak always sends flying kisses to Tsireya whenever he scores;

Tsireya is the first ever girl Lo'ak introduced to his parents— Neteyam did half the job for his younger brother since Jake and Neytiri always sit behind him and Tsireya at the arena;

They once argued because Lo'ak thought it was unfair she could wear all his sweatshirts but he had nothing of her, so he 'stole' her hairband;

Tsireya shares her relationship details with Ao'nung even though he pretends he doesn't want to hear them since her boyfriend is Lo'ak;

Tsireya was the one telling Lo'ak Ao'nung has a crush on Neteyam— he almost had a mental breakdown;

They always hang out in Lo'ak's room after games and have cute movie nights or 'skincare sessions'— Lo'ak has more products than Tsireya;

During summer break, they both lied to their families and spent a whole week together in California;

They have one of those apps for couples on their phone in which they send each other silly doodles between classes and errands when they are apart;

Lo'ak's phone screensaver is a picture of baby Tsireya dressed in a Stitch onesie;

They still go on their early morning jogs together and have breakfast in the same coffee place.

[whiskyanndboots]

Brutal

Summary - "Dean, I care about our relationship way too much just to be your South Dakota good time while you're in town"

Pairing - DeanxReader - Platonic!BobbyxReader

Warnings -Angst, infodump for upcoming series, tension, no editing once again

Slight continuation of SNAP

Meeting Bobby Singer had changed your life entirely, he and Rufus had saved you and two co-workers from a vampire attack after several Friday night margaritas. Your co-workers were happy to forget it had ever happened, even denied it after awhile, you however couldn't let it go. You'd researched every single thing you could about vampires, your brief encounter helped you weed out the impossible from the highly probable. 

You call it some kind of early midlife crisis, you had regularly taken time off your job to track down victims of possible vampire attacks. You are well aware how unhinged that was, you even had the crazy person map on the wall with thread attached to markers detailing all the possible vampire attacks in the area you'd been able to find, colour coded and everything. 

You decided since you weren't actively looking to interact with any vampires, just gathering information tor curiosities sake that you were safe. 

The next 4 months you were practically obsessed and while on one of your solo road trips you found a lead in Colorado that lead you to another in New York. You had stopped in the small town of Sioux Falls for the day to rest before driving more. Seeing one of the men that had saved you in the aisle of a grocery store buying beer and hamburger helper was so unexpected you almost ran into a coca cola display. 

He had ducked his head when he'd recognised you, he had rushed the cashier when you'd gone to talk to him anyway and he'd started speed walking to his car when you dumped your things and followed him out. 

Bobby Singer was not happy when you told him what you'd been doing if the "Are you out of your goddamn mind?!" was anything to go by. 

You'd told Bobby you weren't hunting, god no, you just wanted to know about this hidden world inside the one you thought you knew. You'd showed him the journal of vampire facts you'd written, which he immediately pointed out two wrong things you'd thought were correct.

He'd rubbed a hand down his face and stared for a moment. Then he asked how old you were, what you did and if you were married, children, basically everything about your life. He'd quickly realised you weren't going to be convinced into going home or letting this go so he begrudgingly told you his address. 

Right there in a Sioux Falls grocery store parking lot started your unlikely friendship.

You turned up at Bobby's the next morning and he grumpily educated you on vampires and let you have free rein of his extensive library so you'd go and leave him "the hell alone". Three weeks later, you'd quit your job and moved to Sioux Falls, you got a job at a tavern and rented a room nearby, you'd visit Bobby on weekends, sometimes even weekday afternoons. 

You'd never said you weren't impulsive or that you weren't escaping your old life. 

Around six weeks later you were living in Bobby's spare room, he'd said "Why are you wasting money on that shithole, I've got a room upstairs as along as you don't plan on annoyin' the crap outta me", you moved in and realised Singer Salvage was a mess on the business front. You'd spent your days researching monsters, trying to learn ancient languages which was as hard as it sounds, and organising Singer Salvage's inventory and sales. You'd quit your bar job when you'd started making Bobby money and he decided you were now his receptionist, both for hunters and the junk yard. It made it all more believable when you picked up and 'transferred' calls to your boss when cops called.

You'd later learn why Bobby was so willing to take you in. 

One night in late July, not long after you'd moved in, you'd both had a bit to drink and you built up the courage to finally ask Bobby about an old polaroid you'd found of himself and two young men. He'd told you about Dean and hell, how Sam's been of the grid ever since he died. Bobby had lost the two men he'd considered sons and you were filling some kind of void for him though he'd never admitted it, he wanted some companionship.

It was for the first time you really understood the sadness and loss that came with hunting, Bobby had many friends, not many close, but no family. 

The more time you spent with Bobby the soft spot you immediately had for him became ten times it's size. You learnt to cook more, he complained about the healthier things, but the guy had to watch his chloestrol. You cleaned when he was away and catlogued his never ending junk yard of parts and cars to sell. You still remembered the look on his face when you pulled out $2500 in cash you'd gotten on a day trip you'd taken to sell his stuff after he'd told you this 'junk wasn't worth that much". Problem was Bobby knew where every artififact, weapon, rare herbs and weird stuff was in his house, but he couldn't remember all the things he had buried out back amoungst the rusted out steel. 

Google had turned you into a parts expert, the only rule he had was to make sure he didn't need it and not to let any buyers here, public exchange only. 

It was an oddly simple life considering Bobby's profession. You became receptioinist for Singer Salvage by day and various FBI and Department of whatevers assistants in the shadows,he'd taught you how to answer phones while he was gone, what to say to keep the hunters out there covered and what kills what so you could help any hunter who called when he wasn't around. You were no Bobby, but you were getting better. 

Bobby had decided a beat up 1970 Chevy Chevelle was going to teach you all things cars, told you that you should know how to do things on your own, this one wasn't going so well, honestly Bobby had done most of it while you watched and admittedly zoned out for majority of it. 

The only thing Bobby wouldn't do was let you hunt. That was a hard, solid line and you did not mind in the slightest, you'd had to help on one salt and burn once when Bobby needed and that was enough. Monsters, ghosts and demons in theory were interesting, the reality of it you could miss. 

Bobby's drinking had you more worried than any supernatural creature did, you enjoyed the occasional alcoholic beverage, but the empty bottles you'd fine some mornings that weren't there when you went to bed worried you, but he would snap if you ever pushed. You were planning on a more subtle intervention.

You'd gone to a friends wedding in September and returned to absolute chaos of a resurection and an apocalypse. Bobby wanted you to pack your things and leave, you refused. You now wondered if that choice was a huge mistake. 

That was the first time you'd met Sam and Dean Winchester. 

It felt like a lifetime ago. 

It was February now and they'd missed both Christmas and New Years, you'd forced Bobby into swapping gifts on Christmas and by gifts you meant a bottle of scotch and some skincare gift pack Bobby must have grabbed at the grocery store, which strangely made you feel warm inside. 


You, Sam, Dean and Bobby were now sitting on Bobby's front porch and had been for the last few hours, just talking, it was nice considering how intense things had been for the last few months.


Sam and Dean had been through alot with the snippets Bobby had told you, despite how very much involved you were Bobby was still keeping it vague with what was going on out there. You'd heard them talking about a demon named Alistair, Lilith, Angels and Seals when you had turned on the shower and snuck out to listen to what they were talking about when they thought you couldn't hear.

Lilith. 

She hadn't come for you, it'd been months. Your rescue from her demon minions was miraculous and you'd been living on the edge ever since, Lilith had said she needed you for something, you have no idea what. 

You laughed loudly with everyone at Bobby's story about a hunt with Rufus, you were pleasantly buzzed after a few vodka limes on this particularly hot afternoon. You liked when Dean and Sam came, especially when you had moments like this, moments when you could pretend the apocalypse wasn't looming over you all. 

You stood up asking if anyone else wanted another drink with an all around yes. You said you'd get some snacks too.

Three days ago when Sam and Dean arrived was the first time you'd seen Dean since the motel room incident two months ago. Some nights you couldn't sleep thinking about that night, just rolling around unable to get comfortable or relaxed because you couldn't stop relieving the way Dean's hands felt on your skin, how his mouth felt against yours. 

Neither of you had brought it up again, just like you'd asked. 

You opened the refrigerator pulling out some cheese, dip and salami and crackers. The first time you'd made a glorified cheese platter for Bobby he'd scrunched his face up at 'this fancy crap' you'd stared at him incredulously, 'fancy? It's lazy dinner'

Now he's a cheese platter fiend, not that he'd admit it. You regularly drink beer on a Saturday afternoon eating too much cheese and breadsticks while watching football or reality TV.

"Want some help?" Dean's voice startled you, you turned around from cutting salami to see him leaning in the door way. 

"No, I'm nearly done, do you want your beer?" You asked grabbing a bottle from there fridge and holding it out towards him to quick not to be obviously nervous. 

Dean pushed off the doorway, his eyes moved down your body as he crossed the room, so brazenly, you were immediately off kilter. The tank top and denim shorts suddenly made you feel suddenly bare.

You wouldn't let him know, you wouldn't show him how much he rattled you. You were an adult for god sake, why did he make you so nervous and stupid? he never used to. 

You'd been lulled into a false sense of security, you weren't sure if it was going to be awkward when you watched the Impala roll up the driveway, but to your great relief Dean was completely normal, he was even back to his old self and wasn't treating you like you were cotton wool.

The blatant way he was checking you out caught you off guard, It had to be the alcohol you'd all consumed.


He took the bottle from your hand and you quickly turned back to the food you were getting ready, you took a swig of the vodka you'd made yourself to calm down.

You had to get a grip on yourself. 

"I'll be out soon" You said without turning around. You just had to get this ready and go back out and continue drinking, eating and laughing, no issues.

"You been doing ok, feel like we haven't talked?" Dean asked from behind, damnit he wasn't leaving.

He was right, you'd found yourself alone with him two days ago while you were making some tweaks to the Chevelle, you were about to get Bobby to check it over, you weren't an overly confident home mechanic without him yet. 

"She not running?" Dean's voice made you jump. 

"Jesus, Dean" You huffed holding your chest.

"Bit on edge there (Y/N)" He laughed "What's going on?" He peered under the hood beside you. 

"Making a weird noise, I think something is loose and vibrating on the engine, I'm pretty sure it's here" You pointed, looking at Dean for assurance.

“Can I have a look?" Dean questioned raising his eyebrows. 

"Sure" You smiled easily moving out of his way.

Dean leant under the hood and peered into your engine bay "Can you turn her on?" 

You moved to the front seat and turned the key until you heard Dean yell to stop. You jumped out and came back to stand beside him.

"Very close, looks like that one, but it's further back" He strained leaning further in and gestured "Over here" you peered over his shoulder. 

"We can get this apart and tighten it up this afternoon, won't take long" He smiled widely. 

So you did, well mostly Dean did while you watched.

"There' Dean grunted twisting the wrench into place. 

You were suddenly very distracted by Dean's arms, he was pulling on the wrench, tan skin bulging as he pulled it tighter, his grey t-shirt was straining against the size of his arm, Dean was talking and you realised you weren't listening when he raised his eyebrow. 

"Sorry, what?" Pull yourself together 

Dean repeated himself looking at you and the car to make sure you understood. He was so unaffected, ofcourse he was, Dean would've been with plenty of women on the road since you last seen him, you're such an idiot. You just needed to avoid direct eye contact and get through the next few days. 

"Should be good as new" Dean said as he finished putting everything back together "Start her up" 

You did as he said and naturally there was no more weird noise. 

'Thanks, Dean " You smiled genuinely "saved me alot of time and taught me something new"

"It's all good, I needed to get out of the house, there's only so much Sam and Bobby talkin' ancient languages and lore I can take" He wiped his hands off with a rag, once again the movement made his arms bulge, all that thick muscle not from a gym, from hunting because he was strong, you knew first hand how firm he was. 

You glanced up and see Dean looking straight at you, you felt your cheeks heat up from embarrassment and swallowed quickly moving to shut the hood of the car, Dean was still watching you with an unreadable look on his face. 

Suddenly that familiar feeling of being too close came over you, you could feel the warmth of his skin and you weren't even touching.

"Should get back inside" You said quickly.

"Yeah' He answered, his voice suddenly deeper. You looked back at him and you did not like the change in demeanour at all.

You really wish you never opened this can of worms. 

"Yeah there's been alot going on, I've been good, Bobby and i have had a couple of hunts, he wants to lay low for the most part" You answered. 

Dean leaned onto the counter beside you, his posture was relaxed, but his brow was pinched. You turned to look at him, you nervously licked your lips, Dean's eyes shot down to the movement, copying it himself. You knew if there was any shot of forgiveness with Jo, you could never ever do what you did again, you hadn't meant to the first time.

"You? Alot more going on out there than here, I'm sure" You tried to keep it light while you distracted yourself with placing cheese cubes.


"Nothing new so far, just your regular end of the world stuff" he'd answered with a tired sigh, a pained look flashed across his eyes which was gone just as quickly. 

You smiled weakly with the corner of your mouth and opened a pack of crackers. You were sure it was much more complicated.

"So tell me" He began fake casually after a short silence, your body tensed at his tone.

"You going to be weird around me all the time now?" He continued. 

"I'm not being weird" You replied quickly. 

"You're being weird right now" Dean's grin was teasing, definitely beer spearheading this conversation. He was also right, You and Dean had an easy connection that had been strained since that night in the motel. 

"I'm fine Dean, really" You answered, probably a little too reassuringly. 

"You won't even look at me anymore" 

You sighed deeply and tilted your head to meet his gaze raising your eyebrow. You had never let any man make you feel this jittery, you weren't going to start now. He's just Dean, a man.

You turned back to finish what you were doing, Dean chuckled, you could feel his eyes on you, this had to stop now.

if Dean wanted to talk then you'd talk.

"What are you doing, Dean?" You turned to face him fully trying to keep your voice casual.

"What are you doing, (Y/N)?" He countered grinning, like this was a game.


You frowned confused, you were ignoring this thing exactly like you were supposed to. Dean chuckled looking down for a second shaking his head.

"You tell me you want to forget what happened and then you keep looking at me like you want to jump my bones" He stared at you, you were making a huge bold mental note not to be alone with Dean when he's been drinking all day because apparently his already huge balls got even bigger.

"I do not" You whispered, eyes wide, looking at the door making sure no one was there "I meant what I said" you insisted.

"Why?" He asked suddenly serious. 

"Why?" You repeated incredulously 

"You want to" He stated. You could tell Dean Winchester didn't get rejected very often, you could see why too. That cocky grin, that handsome face and playfulness that you knew would show you a good time. 

"Really, cause it sounds like you're trying to convince me" You raised an eyebrow keeping your tone just as playful. He laughed sliding closer to you.

“Dean, we had a fight, that got out of control, thats all" You continued. 

"Sweetheart, I have fights with people all the time and they don't end like that, unless they started like that" Your heart was thumping in your chest, it hadn't started like that though, it really did catch you off guard. You and Jo were on shaky ground as it was, but almost back to normal after months of trying to fix what happened. 

"Look Dean we work together, we're friends, Jo is my best friend, there's a whole apocalypse, it's just messy" You finished making your snack platter intent on leaving this kitchen. 

"Jo?" He questioned, in your panic you'd slipped up. 

"Is that what this is about?" He leaned in closer towards you.

"No" You said quickly. 

"(Y/N), Jo is like a little sister to me, nothing's going on with us, nothing has even been going on" His face was full on reassurance, but you felt none of it. Your heart broke for Jo, little sister, ouch. 

You crossed your arms with a sigh and turned to face Dean, your face hard you needed a final blow. 

"You know Dean, I really didn't take you for a guy who needed to be told no twice" Even as it left your mouth your stomach was turning in knots. 

Dean's face feel and all playfulness and flirting was gone. 

"(Y/N) I didn't-" He looked so upset with himself.

"It's fine, really" you interupted "Dean, I care about our relationship way too much just to be your South Dakota good time while you're in town" You tried to make light of the situation.

"You're not just a good time" Dean looked insulted.

"Yeah, I'm a pain in the ass too, I know" You smiled trying desperately to get this conversation over.


"Right" He ran a hand over his mouth clearing his throat and looked away. A heavy silence fell over the kitchen.

You felt awful, but you were honest, you didn't want to be another notch in Dean Winchesters bed post. 

"You two good?" Bobby’s gruff voice startled the both of you. 

"Yeah" You both said unconvincingly at the same time. 

"Here, I'll take that for you" Dean grabbed the platter and his beer and disappeared through the doorway. 

"Should I be worried about that?" Bobby asked from behind you as you were gathering the beer for the rest of you from the fridge. 

"No" You scoffed, guilt still churning in your stomach.


"Dean's a good man, you know I love him like a son" Bobby continued.

"God, Bobby i'm not trying anything on Dean" You pleaded.

"Dean isn't the kind of guy for you (Y/N)" Bobby took his beer from your hand. 

You were surprised, that wasn't what you were expecting. 

"A hunter isn't the kind of man you should be going after" he clarified "It'll be nothing, but heartbreak or death at the end of that road"

"It's ok, Bobby. Don't worry, we're just friends" You patted his shoulder.

There was very little chance of Dean ever making a move on you again, so you weren't worried either.



[yutahoes]

Polarity

Chapter Eleven

Masterlist

characters: mafia boss! Yuta Nakamoto x innocent! florist! reader

summary: While running away, you seemed to be moving closer to the man you were avoiding. Are you even heading to the right direction?

chapter word count: 6.8k words

chapter genre: fluff, smut

chapter warning: language, lots of kissing, MC has low self-esteem issues, mention of sexual abuse (please see past chapters), trauma, sex talks, female masturbation, horny MC, a little backstory, blood, oral-male receiving

taglist: @sourirensoleillee @kyuprincess @nuoyipeach @anonjyxd @a-bts-world @a-place-filled-with-random @smolbeanieee @yumilovesavocado @imnotsureokay @dhaly-g @spicyryujin @doodoodove @blueeyedlove-blog1 @kosmoreads @joepomonerof @calipsou @yutadae @juungvely @hangyeomcult @cherrphoenix @itsyntt @winterwritesblog @yutazen27 @ytzvivi @brightestmark @yujaesstuff @johnbanana @fullsunncit @loverofnct @127lvr4 @scuzmunkie

You were tired. 

Your body ached and you don’t know why. Is it because of what you and Yuta did last night? Wait, you didn’t do anything. You were just lying in bed while he does all the action. So why are you so tired?  

Yet your body felt very tired. 

Maybe because you didn’t have the right sleep last night. You thought you’ll sleep soundly in Yuta’s arms but the words he said before you drift off to sleep only made you awake. 

“I love you, Y/N.” 

The L word. The words you never dreamed he’ll say to you. 

Your stomach felt warm as he hugged you from the back, his hand slipping on your waist. You quickly closed your eyes, pretending to sleep. “You’re not a dream,” He released a relieved sigh before kissing the back of your head. “You’re really here with me.” Is he talking to himself? Or talking to you? Does he know that you’re awake? “I wish every day would be like this.” 

This feels so surreal. He’s a handsome man, a man who holds the power. He’s everything you wish for in a person and someone that you can’t resist. It’s no wonder that you fell for him. But why would this overly-attractive man fall for you? Is there a moment, an encounter with Yuta, that would make him fall for you? 

This is a fairytale. A dream. 

And you need to wake up from this dream. 

You opened your eyes but the warmth of his touch still lingers on your skin. Even if you look at it in any way, he’s real. He’s not a dream. 

You turned around to face him, moaning sleepily. He giggled before landing a soft peck on your lips. “Good morning,” Yuta greeted with a smile. “Did you have a nice sleep?” Is he teasing you? When you have a sleepless night like this all because of him? You nodded and he kissed you once again, earning a giggle from you. Will every day be like this? 

He leaned in to kiss you, your hands threading on his hair. When you let go of the kiss, you smiled. “Why did you dye your hair blonde?” You didn’t even know why you asked that question that early morning but it’s bugging you. He looks different with blonde hair. “You look better in dark-colored hair.” 

Yuta took a strand of his hair, looking at it. “Because Johnny said you don’t like guys in black hair.” You blinked in surprise. He remembered that? He changed his hair because of that? “I thought that was the reason why you never notice me.” 

“What?” You asked, not believing what you were hearing. Is it this early that your ears are picking up weird statements from him? 

“You always talk to Jaehyun and Mark first. You call them by their name, you call them when you’re in trouble.” You could feel your heart squeezing in your chest. Is this the mafia boss’ version of jealousy? Why is Yuta so adorable like this? “Then your tall childhood friend came and I felt threatened, I might really lose you.” 

Could you survive every day like this? With all the heart-wrenching confessions and sweet words? And this early in the morning? Yuta might give you a heart attack.

Then it occurred to you. The consequences of what you both did last night. You just ran away with him. You didn’t tell Johnny anything, didn’t even inform Sophie. Your eyes widened in surprise. Sophie. “Oh no, Sophie is going to kill me.” You exclaimed, sitting up on the bed and frantically looking around. You didn’t bring anything. You left your purse in Johnny’s car. “Shit, I have to…” 

“I already called Sophie,” You stopped and stared at him. “I also informed Johnny that we’re together.” How? He has Sophie and Johnny’s number? Yet you don’t have any contact with Yuta. Why is he getting jealous when you call Mark or Jaehyun when you’re in trouble when you don’t know how to contact him? “I think it’s Johnny’s flight to Chicago today. I’ll drive you to the airport.” 

“You don’t have to,” Then realized that you literally have nothing. You can’t even go home in your dress and soiled underwear. Why is your life this pathetic? “I think I’ll go home first.” 

Yuta sat up and you were now facing each other, he held your cheeks while smiling warmly at you. “I’ll get you a change of clothes then drive you to the airport.” He doesn’t have to do that. “Don’t leave just yet. I want to spend some more time with you.” 

If this is the mafia boss’ way of being clingy then your heart might really not make it. 

—-

You were astonished once again when the man from last night parked the car in front of a posh-looking boutique with a huge marquee of its name. A name you only heard from the hostesses in the nightclub. You remembered liking a lilac dress that Aeri wore and she mentioned that it was from this shop, a gift by her patron since she cannot buy anything from here. 

The ladies and men in uniform bowed when Yuta came inside, holding your hand. From the interior itself, you can easily claim that this is an expensive thing. Is Yuta really that filthy rich? “Just get anything you want,” Yuta claimed then kissed the back of your palm. You nodded just as a lady in uniform introduced herself as your personal shopper. “I’ll just check something upstairs.” 

You were just standing there, in your braless off-shoulder dress and Yuta’s coat from last night. You didn’t bother wearing the soiled underwear and you wanted to change immediately. “Do you have any preferences, madam?” The woman asked that startled you. Madam? “I’m sorry, do you want me to call you Lady Nakamoto?” A gasp escaped your lips. 

You shook your head. You didn’t have to smile that wide just because of that name. “You can call me Y/N.” 

“I’m sorry but some of the mafia boss’ wives don’t want to be called by their names…” Again Y/N, you don’t have to be that happy. You’re not even Yuta’s wife. Not even his girlfriend. He just said he loves you but there’s no label in this relationship. What are you, even? “I’m sorry.” 

You waved your hand, shaking your head. She doesn’t need to apologize that much. “I think I need to change into comfortable underwear first.” She smiled then nodded. Obviously, she had tended to other customers who had the same problem as yours since she doesn’t seem fazed by it.

The dresses on display were so pretty but it was too much. You can’t imagine wearing something like this every day. It is well-fit for parties and social gatherings. You’re more comfortable wearing jeans but since they only have skirts, you settled on one that reaches your knee. You also picked a white sweatshirt from their last season’s collection since it’s cheaper. The woman guided you in the hallway and into a series of doors where you can change but your feet didn’t move. 

The last time you were inside the dressing room something bad happened to you. If not for Yuta, you might have been sexually abused at that time. The thought of coming inside a dressing room made you scared. What if a person is inside one of the rooms? “Miss Y/N,” the woman in uniform called and you only nodded. “Are you alright?” You tried to nod but your hand was shaking while holding the door handle. 

It must have been a long time since you were standing in front of the door since Yuta can already be seen walking in the hallways towards you. He changed his black dress shirt to a ragged white sweater. It was the first time seeing Yuta in light-colored clothes and he looks like an angel. Shining so bright. “Hey,” he greeted. “Is there something wrong?” 

This is such a small thing so why is it such a big deal for you? Mark finished that man off. You heard the gunshot. You shouldn’t be scared. But the vivid image of the man’s wicked smile while removing the buttons of your blouse doesn’t leave your mind. “Can you come with me inside?” You asked in a soft voice, embarrassed so you just focused on the ground. 

Without any word, he took the clothes you chose from the woman in uniform and opened the door for you. His smile was mischievous at first when he placed the clothes on the small table inside which changed into a frown at your lack of action. “Y/N, are you alright?” You breathed heavily before nodding, taking a step inside the small room with a wall-length mirror on one side. Yuta noticed it and then walked in front of you, “Get changed. I’ll guard the door.” 

You were facing the mirror as you removed the dress from your body. You can easily see Yuta facing the door, avoiding to turn to your way. “Last night…” He started that made you stop wearing the knee-length denim skirt. “Did I make you uncomfortable?” 

“No, you didn’t.” Maybe you were too blinded by pleasure and his gentle touches. Or it was probably your intense yearning for Yuta. From the reflection, you saw him exhale as if relieved. “I’m sorry.” You whispered after putting on the sweatshirt you took. 

Yuta took a quick glance then smiled reassuringly after seeing that you’re all changed. He shook his head, “I’m sorry. I think I was forcing myself on you too much, making you uncomfortable.” But you aren’t anything near uncomfortable with him. You weren’t even awkward with him even if he already saw you naked. “If ever I made you uncomfortable in any way, don’t be scared to tell me.” You nodded which made him smile once again. 

It was such an intense feeling. A foreign feeling growing inside you. You feel calm. At peace. A calmness that you wanted to stay with you forever. Maybe this is the chance to assess what your relationship is. “Give me your hand,” He claimed and you followed him, stretching your hand to his palm up. He placed a phone on your palm, “I’m the only one who knows this number.” He’s giving it to you? Then he placed the same gold card on top of the phone, “This is the key to the penthouse.” 

“Why are you giving these to me?” 

He held your free hand, the other hand rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “I want you to call me whatever happens. If you need anything, you know where to find me.” The cogs in your brains started whirring. This is too much. Isn’t Yuta trusting you too much? “Just tell me whatever you want and I’ll give it to you. Just don’t give up on me.”

Yuta must have been hurt a lot. You don’t have any idea what happened to his parents but the death of his brother is tragic enough. Even Kyoko, who chose another man over him, is heartbreaking. And just like you, he might have needed the reassurance he needs. “I love you, Yuta." 

He held your waist, placing his forehead on yours. “God,” he called which made you giggle. Why is he suddenly calling for the divine being? “How can I get so lucky to be loved by you?” His words made you swoon. A man with a high status such as him acting like a lovesick person for someone like you is beyond what your mind could conjure up. “You are so beautiful.” You are definitely living in a fairytale. 

“And I’m glad I’m the first person to see you like this,” Yuta whispered. You only raised an eyebrow at that. “An upper hand from Johnny Seo.” 

Another giggling fit escaped your lips, “You do have an upper hand.” You started before tiptoeing to place a quick kiss on his lips. “You are the one I love.” 

—

The airport seemed too crowded and it confused you on how Yuta knew where to find Johnny. The last time you were here, you almost went to Johnny’s but Yuta stopped you. Now, the idea only made you laugh. 

“I hope Sophie doesn’t get mad at you,” the taller guy claimed, handing you your purse. “I felt bad that you ditched me last night.” 

You pouted. “I’m sorry,” You lightly glanced at Yuta standing a few feet away from you. “Things happened.” 

Johnny ruffled the top of your head, smiling charmingly. “Well, I’m happy you chose your own happiness.” He crouched down so that his face is a few centimeters away in front of you. “I just wish that Yuta would give you the happiness you truly deserve.” You blinked in surprise. What does he mean by that? It felt positive but the way he said that sentence made you think otherwise. 

You only felt someone pulling you away from Johnny and your back is now leaning on someone’s chest. “Your flight is already boarding, Johnny Seo.” Yuta claimed, smiling teasingly. 

“Good luck with this jealous freak, little kitty cat.” The other guy exclaimed, grinning. He spread his arms wide and you reached out to give him a hug. “I’ll contact you about your dad.” His fingers casually thread on your hair. “Always remember that I’m just a call away, Y/N.” You nodded. 

“Johnny, your flight.” Yuta reminded and you bit your lip to prevent from giggling at that. You only felt Johnny kiss the top of your head before you were once again pulled back by Yuta, his eyes glaring at the taller guy. You remembered crying a lot when he first said goodbye to you. Your first friend. The person who became a mother to you when you needed that particular person in your life. Yuta slipped his arm on your waist, “Are you alright?” 

Somehow, you felt a lot stronger now. You are just smiling at the person you used to call ‘Mother’, waving at him enthusiastically. You didn’t even shed a tear even if you weren’t sure when you can see him again. 

Mother. Johnny was right. Sophie best fits that nickname now. 

You smiled, “I suddenly miss Sophie.” 

The ride back to Sophie’s place was a little short. Yuta was busy talking to someone on the phone and you heard that he’s meeting another mafia boss for lunch. To be honest, you still haven’t wrapped up your head on what a mafia boss does. You know they get into violent fights a lot but where did they get all the money they have? Isn’t it illegal? Will you get in trouble if you remain to be this close to a mafia boss? 

The car stopped in front of your apartment building but you waited for Yuta to finish his call. During the whole car ride, he was holding your hand and playing with your fingers. “Thank you for driving me home,” You claimed then thanked the driver as well. “I will…”

“I’ll walk you upstairs,” Yuta claimed, putting down his phone and lightly glanced at the driver who went out of the car and opened the door for him. What? He doesn’t need to do that. He has a lunch meeting and he’ll be late if he doesn’t leave now. Yet, he was already opening the door on your side of the car and lending a hand for you to take. 

It was awkward. Your palms are sweaty from all the hand-holding but he kept his hold on you as you walked to the elevator. “You don’t have to walk me up.” 

Once inside, he pulled you closer. “I want to spend as much more time with you.” He held your cheek with his free hand, placing his lips on you. “I don’t know when I can see you again. When I can kiss you like this again.” He placed another soft kiss on your lips. “Let me just indulge in you for a while.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, parting your lips to let his tongue enter your mouth. How many times have you kissed? But you can’t get enough of him. This is bad. You’re getting addicted to Yuta Nakamoto. The elevator opened but you’re still in his warmth. Yuta was right. You don’t know when you’re going to see him again. Doesn’t know when you’re going to be in his arms again. You should maximize all the time you have with each other. The elevator door closed but you were still in his arms, kissing his lips. 

—--

Sophie has her arms crossed, glaring at you sternly. She’s really such a mom. “I’m sorry,” You whispered, rubbing your hands to apologize to her. “I left my phone so I can’t call you.” You explained then sighed, “And I should have called you last night. I thought I’m going to die.” 

She raised an eyebrow then smiled mischievously. “So you spent the night with Yuta Nakamoto and he kissed you goodbye after bringing you home,” she started. Yuta already explained the situation to her when she opened the door for the two of you. She remained stoic that he only kissed your goodbye, promising that he’ll call you. “Is he good in bed?” 

You gasped at the direct question but she only slapped your arm, teasing you that you shouldn’t be innocent since something clearly happened between you and Yuta. Is it that obvious? “I don’t know,” You answered quietly then continued, “But I felt that...” She raised an eyebrow in confusion. “You know that pleasurable body-shaking release.” 

“Oh, my God! He gave you an orgasm.” She shouted, repeatedly slapping your arm. “Is he big?” It was your turn to give her a confused look. Big? “The innocent attitude isn’t fitting now that your virginity is taken.” Oh. That. “I’m so proud…” 

“He didn’t remove his pants.” Sophie’s eyes widened in surprise. “He said he’ll take care of it.” 

“And you just let him?” She screamed against your ear. Why is she so loud? And why is this conversation so embarrassing? She hit you with a throw pillow that made you hiss in pain. Why is she hitting you so much? “He gave you an orgasm and you didn’t do anything for him? How stupid!” 

But what are you even supposed to do? You don’t even know what to do for him at that time. Can you even repay the pleasure he gave you? “What should I do?” 

“Jerk his cock off, suck him off.” Huh? “Bite his head off.” What? “Next time you’ll meet, make sure that you give him a mind-blowing experience, Y/N.” You’re now suddenly dreading to see him. Are you even ready for this? And what if you cannot give him that mind-blowing experience? Will he leave you? Will that be the last time you’ll feel that body-shaking orgasm? “Wait, so how did he give you an orgasm if he didn’t penetrate you?”

“His fingers,” Then in a soft voice, “His tongue.” 

Sophie gasped and then screamed, slapping your arm once again. “God damn it! You are a lucky bitch.” 

A bitch. That was what you feel now. A female dog always waiting for her master. A female dog wagging her tail when his master gives her attention. Yuta called that night, asking how you were or what were you doing. You were just lying on the bed and he just whispered that he wanted to be in the same bed as you. His voice was low, erotic. That you started touching yourself. 

The warmth of his lips is still imprinted on your body. The feel of the rough pad of his fingers, as they caress your skin, makes your body blaze as if in fire. Your fingers trailed the same path as what Yuta did last night, from your neck, shoulder, breasts, and down to your stomach. Breathing heavily, you dipped your finger south. Your forefinger circled your clit before two fingers entered your wet folds. "Y/N, are you there?" His voice whispers your name against your ear, earning your body the pleasure that you are so familiar with. A moan escaped your lips as you loudly heard the squelching sound your fingers made, along with the light giggle from the phone. "Naughty Y/N. Do you like that?" 

You bite your lips, turning around so that you are stomach-flat on the bed. Your face buried on the pillow as you released a throaty scream when you wet yourself. The orgasm, you've done it to yourself. Although it's not as intense as what Yuta gave you, it's still there. "Did you enjoy that?" You forgot that Yuta was still on the phone with you. Why are you so blinded by pleasure? “I wish I was there to watch you.” 

You are a bitch. A bitch in heat for this man. 

The dirty doings transcend to your dreams that you always wake up feeling bothered, hot, and horny. Truly, a bitch. You were never like this before and it’s making you crazy. You wanted to feel that intense pleasure again but Yuta just messaged that he's heading to Shanghai for a week. To ease the heat you were feeling, you started watching porn which is out of character for you. You watched diligently how to pleasure yourself and how to send a man into his own orgasm, as Sophie suggested. 

It was weird that you felt guilty for thinking erotic thoughts about the man you had an intimate moment with, especially seeing his niece. It was a feeling you had before, when you thought she was his daughter. But Momo was only smiling at you, excited to see you. Miss Han was just behind her, watching over the younger girl as she selected orange flowers. "And Yuta told me to get you a white lily." You smiled then took the flowers she chose, arranging them in a bouquet. 

"Do you miss Yuta?" Momo asked but you only smiled timidly. You do. But who are you to ask for his time when you knew he was busy? "I miss him and Uncle Mark whenever they leave abroad," She claimed then fiddled her thumbs, continuing in a soft voice. "I wish they wouldn't leave anymore." You only pursed your lips at that. 

"I wish they wouldn't get hurt that much." 

The lover of a mafia boss. Sophie teasingly calls you that. Sooner or later, as she claims, you're going to run the mafia like the lady of the house. The mafia boss' wife. Even the store employees from when you purchased clothes called you that. But what does it take to be associated with the mafia? What does it take to be dating a mafia boss? 

You cannot just give him pleasure sexually, you need to do your part to help him. Momo is worried that they would get hurt. But what exactly are they doing in Shanghai that would hurt them? You wished Yuta would just call you and assure you that he is still alive. You need to know what you should do to stop these worrying thoughts. 

If only you could talk to a mafia boss' wife. 

But the only mafia boss' wife you know is Kyoko and you didn't have that great impression of each other. Who should you talk to? 

The struggle to find someone who you can talk to has brought you in front of Fortune Club. If there is one person who might know things about the mafia world, that would be the owner of this club. Mama. 

It feels weird to be the customer and not the waitress in the club. The girls are happy to see you and excited for a quick chat but the busy night prevented them from doing so. Lexi was walking to her regular when you met eyes and she gave you a raise of an eyebrow. "Mama is in her office, ready to see you." One of the bouncers claimed and you followed him to the homey office which smells of tea. Mama was all smiles at you, asking you to sit down. 

You don't know what to do right now. You don't even know why you went here in the first place but she made sure that you can feel that you're welcomed in the club you once worked at. "I'm glad you visited. I was worried about you," She started while pouring a green liquid into teacups. But her statement startled you. Worried about you? "Do you miss him?" 

Honestly, you don't know what you're feeling right now. You don't miss him that much. You were just starting this - you weren't sure if you could call it a relationship - so you didn't know what to expect. You weren't talking much to each other even before, why would that change now that you two were more open to your feelings for each other? "I think I'm more worried." You confessed, holding the teacup with both your hands and watching the smoke coming up from the warm tea. "I don't know what this is. I don't even know what I should do, Mama." 

She gave you an assuring smile. "Y/N, you have to understand that a mafia boss is prone to danger. You might be seeing him now but you're not sure what will happen later." She claimed. "That is the hardest factor in your relationship with him." 

You sighed heavily. It is. Maybe that's why you're more worried about this. You don't know when you can see Yuta again. If you can even see him again. Maybe that was why Momo said those things. 

Mama sipped her tea, "So what are you and Yuta now?" You shrugged, you haven't labeled anything from what you have. You weren't sure if you can call yourself Yuta's girlfriend now. A lover perhaps? “Did he at least tell you that he’s crazy about you?” Wait, how did Mama know about that? “He kept coming back here and asking me what he was feeling about you. I think that kid loves you.” 

“He did say he loves me.” 

The surprise in her reaction confused you. Does she not expect that much from Yuta? “He did?” She sipped on her tea once again. “He didn’t even say that word to Kyoko and just asked her to marry him.” He did? But why are you surprised? He did mention that he found out about love because of you. “You might really be the real thing for him.” 

Does she know Yuta so well that she assumed those things? Does she not like Yuta confessing to you? Are they perhaps ex-lovers? “Mama, are you and Yuta…” You trailed off, not sure on what word to use. Yet you knew she understood you when she laughed wholeheartedly while shaking her head. 

“He’s like a son to me.” She cleared up, “You see, I was his father’s lover.” You almost dropped the teacup at the revelation. His father’s lover? The older woman smiled at you. “ When their mother died in the hospital, their father was with me. His brother loathed me for that but Yuta was the only one who said that their father can’t do anything even if he’s in the hospital.” Her voice was quieter as if reliving that time, thumb fiddling with the rim of the teacup. “I’ve always thought that kid would do great things in the future.” 

“His father’s lover?” You repeated, “When their mother died, you didn’t marry him?” 

Mama leaned on her chair, smiling. “I’ve always known that I’m not meant to be a mafia boss’ wife.” But she’s already his lover. Is there a difference between the two? “Y/N, being the wife requires great courage and sacrifice. A mafia boss gets hurt a lot, his life is always on the line. And once you hold the mafia last name, you are also susceptible to that danger.” Of course. That made perfect sense. “As a wife, you are expected to wait for him. You have to experience all the anxiousness of your husband being dead or alive. You have to experience being worried that someone might take you or kill you that instant.” 

She leaned in, placing her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her clasp hands. “If you’re just his lover, you aren’t expected to wait for him. You’re free from all the anxiousness, all the nervousness.” She narrated and you nodded. It does make sense. “You just need to accept what he gives you and don’t have to give something in return.”  

In some ways, the talk with Mama had made something clear in you. The stark difference between being just a lover and being the mafia boss’ wife. You weren’t sure on what path you and Yuta will head to but it only made you more worried about what might happen in the future. If he did just want you to be his lover, does that mean he had to find himself a different wife? And if he asks you to be his wife, is he going to find a lover? You shook your head, Yuta isn’t like that. He loves you. You have to accept what he gives you and be grateful for that. You have to make every little moment count the next time you meet. 

But will you ever meet again? 

Something in your bag vibrated that startled you. Quickly, you took the phone Yuta gave you and stared at the screen revealing his name. You have never clicked the green button that quickly and answered an over-excited hello. “Hi, love.” It was Yuta. “Are you outside? Where are you?” 

Somehow his voice is breathless. “I’m heading home from Mama’s place.” 

“I’ll ask someone to pick you up and bring you here in the apartment.” 

Wait. He’s back? “I can take a cab to go there.” You whispered and quickly glanced around for any sign of taxi cabs. “Are you alright?” 

“I just want to see you.” He whispered, followed by a loud gasp. He doesn’t sound alright. “I miss you.” You didn’t realize how much you missed him after listening to his voice. 

“I miss you, too.” 

It was a short ride to the luxurious building. The cab driver was eyeing you weirdly and you grew nervous. Is this what Mama said about being in danger? Does he know that you’re going to a mafia boss? Maybe you should have just said yes to Yuta’s offer to pick you up. Luckily, the doorman of the building was at your aid. You thanked him after paying the driver and he even told you to use the VIP elevator, followed by the name ‘Mrs. Nakamoto’. Mrs. Nakamoto? And how did he know that you’re meeting Yuta? 

That didn’t matter much as you entered the penthouse and saw blood droppings on the floor. “Yuta?” You called while removing your shoes and you only heard a soft voice coming from the living room area. Once you turned the corner of the receiving area, following the trail of blood drops, you saw a lot of blood-soaked gauze on the floor. Yuta was sitting on the couch, medicine to clean wounds on the table in front of him. “What happened?” He was pulling a thread from his skin to close the wound on his right abdomen. 

“It’s nothing.” It doesn’t even look like nothing. But his face isn’t even showing pain. Even the way he stitched up his own wound seemed too professional. “It’s a small slash.” 

A small slash? Yet, he needed to stitch it up? Is he too used to getting hurt that this seemed nothing to him? “Do you need any help?”       

He smiled, shaking his head. “Just seeing you here is enough.”   

'You just need to accept what he gives you and don’t have to give something in return.' It’s not like you don’t want to give him something in return. But what can you honestly give him when he has everything and you have nothing? Maybe, like Mama, you aren’t fit to be a mafia boss’ wife. 

He cut up the thread and covered the wound with gauze. Maybe you should learn how to do that and help him next time. “You should let Jaehyun see that wound.” 

Yuta shook his head, putting the medicine in the kit. “This will heal. Jaehyun would just tell me things I already know.” But isn’t it better to ask for a professional’s help in this matter? You helped him keep the things he used. “He only has the license but I still top him in class.”  

It sounded like a brag but what surprised you is he was in the same class as Jaehyun. “You’re supposed to be a doctor?” You asked, blinking at the idea. He nodded, laughing at your surprised face. It answered one of the questions you have in mind. If he’s not a mafia boss, Yuta might have been a doctor. He might be working in a large hospital, wearing those white robes that add attractiveness to anyone. He’s in high society and you’re at the bottom, the same as now. There’s really no way you’ll meet each other that way.  

And somewhat you’re relieved that he became a mafia boss. 

“Are you that surprised?” He gestured for you to come sit beside him and you complied, leaving the medicine kit on the table. Once you were within his reach, he quickly wrapped you in his arms for a tight hug. “I missed you so bad.” He whispered, breath warm against your neck. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to hug you like this again. It scared me.” You realized that this would be the constant dilemma you and Yuta will have. The downside of being in love with a mafia boss. 

Mama was right. Love isn’t just enough. You need to sacrifice a lot of things to be with Yuta: not seeing your dad, the fear of not being enough for him, and the unsure future. And you need courage. 

The courage to stay with him whatever happens. The courage to always choose him. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck in a tight hug. “I love you, Yuta.” His hands removed your clasp on him before holding your cheeks to place a soft kiss on your lips. A needy kiss that you desperately crave. His tongue slipped between your lips. His warmth and dominance send flames into your body. 

His lips were red and swollen when he let go of you, breathing harshly while staring at you with hooded eyes. “Fuck, I want you.” He whispered before he cursed once again. “But I can’t move much. Curse this wound.” 

You giggled at that before your fingers trailed on his bare chest. “Then, is it alright if I do something for you?” He looked confused before you gently kissed his chest. You have to give him that mind-blowing pleasure that he let you experience to return the favor. You need to put all your studying into action. You have to make Sophie proud. 

Curse words kept on coming out his lips as you trailed butterfly kisses on his chest. You gently sucked and licked his nipple which earned a low groan from him. A sexy sound like music in your ears. The way that his sounds were becoming louder as you head south of his torso gave you much confidence that you kneeled in front of him, parting his legs. “Y/N,” he called, “You don’t have to do this.” 

You stared at him, breathing harshly. “I want to.” 

“Fuck.” He leaned in to kiss your lips. “I love you so much.” You smiled before your shaking fingers undo the button of his pants and unzip his fly. Yuta’s eyes closed, which gave you a signal to continue what you were doing. 

Along with a groan coming out his lips as you pulled down his pants, a gasp escaped your lips. He’s big. You can now proudly tell Sophie that he’s bigger than the vibrator she uses. It’s weird how the other penises from porn look white or dark in color but Yuta’s look so red and throbbing as if it will explode. Wait, is he turned on already? But you haven’t done anything. 

You trailed your fingers on the vein of his cock and he bit his lip, jerking his hip up. You rubbed your forefinger on the tip and he let out a string of curses that made you smile. Either he’s mad or he probably likes it too much. You placed a soft kiss on his tip and a groan can be heard followed by your name yet you only focus on giving him the utmost pleasure you can give. You focused on his balls, licking and lightly sucking before your tongue went north to his shaft, stopping on the tip. 

You took him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down while occasionally looking at Yuta's reaction. His eyes were closed, his chest heaving up and down, as silent whispers of your name escaped his lips. You only have seen that reaction in porn videos you currently watch, when a guy was on the verge of his release. Maybe you’re doing a good job. 

To further elevate his pleasure, you gently bit the tip of his throbbing cock and his eyes shot wide that instant. “Love, that hurts.” The pet name made your heart skip a beat in your chest. “Use less teeth.” But Sophie said to bite his head off. Is that metaphorical? You followed him by taking him once again in your mouth, gently letting the tip on your throat without gagging. His fingers thread on your hair as he thrusts his hip up. A sign that he likes it. You are indeed doing a great job. 

And that was further agreed upon when he started groaning in a low tone, calling your name as if chanting a prayer. “I’m cumming.” He warned, gently pulling your hair but resisting him by keeping his ock in your mouth and letting him spurt all his cum in your mouth. “Y/N, you don’t have to…” You gulped the slimy, salty goo in your mouth. “Swallow.” 

He stared at you in a mixture of confusion and astonishment. You read that guys love girls who swallow so you did. And it doesn’t taste that bad, but not that good either. It’s weird. That’s the only adjective you can think of. You wipe your lips from the drool and some remaining cum with the back of your fingers, his eyes still fixated on you. Surprise was all you can feel when he pulled you up and let you sit on his lap. You were even careful not to graze his wound but he only held you by the waist, staring at your eyes. The chocolate brown gaze makes your body melt. “That was amazing,” He complimented, earning a light blush on your cheeks. “Where did you learn all that?” 

You were ashamed of your actions. But you’ll feel more embarrassed if he thinks that you frequently do all these things to others so it’s better to come clean. “Porn,” You whispered, looking bashful as you said the following words. “I wanted to learn to give you an amazing orgasm.” Yuta giggled, pulling you close for a hug. You wanted to see his face, wanted to know his reaction.     

“You’re adorable, love.” He kissed the side of your neck. “Once this wound is healed, I’ll make sure you won’t be walking for weeks.” You gasped then stared at him wide-eyed. Isn’t that so sadistic? But why are you getting excited? 

A small smile played on your lips, “Then you should take care of yourself and let the wound heal quickly.” Yuta grinned like a young schoolboy. He looks so attractive like this. A different side from the scary mafia that the world sees. A side that only you can see. You wanted him to be happy, smiling like this, all the time. You are sure you’ll do everything to make him this happy.

Even if it costs you everything you have. 

“Y/N,” He called and you hummed in response. His eyes stared at yours. Chocolate brown eyes looking all so serious that you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Your breathing started to knock on your lungs as your heartbeat tenfold against your chest. You wanted him to smile, not to look all serious like this. 

The words coming out of his lips made your heart drop in your chest. 

The words you have been dreading to hear. 

“Marry me, Y/N.”

Chapter Twelve

[secret-smut-sideblog]

The Swan

Lavellan x Blackwall

18+ reconciliation, rough sex, dom/sub, bodice ripping, fingering (f!), oral (f!), body worship, cultural grief, depictions of a seizure, hurt/comfort

Following the anger Vella had burned into him, and her silent forgiveness, Blackwall seeks her out to ask for something shaped like atonement. And to maybe, selfishly, hope for something more...

Masterlist, Prev Chapter

-

The most beautiful thing sat on his workbench.

A small braided lock of her golden hair, woven with sweet grasses. An elegantly scribed note sat beneath it. Only one line on the thin page.

I'm sorry.

Blackwall's hand hovered over the beautiful gift. Unfit to even touch it.

She had explained the significance of hair for her clan. The length of it precious to her. A cultural touchstone she still felt she could hold.

He finally slid it into his cupped palm, holding it like a delicate fledgling bird.

He couldn't articulate the emotion that this overwhelmed inside him. Staring down at how the rising sun caught glow in her hair. Heart bursting with ache. He had rarely been given gifts and had never received one like this.

He didn't know where to put this feeling. Where to keep it.

Then it struck him. It was simple.

He stood, still cupping the precious bundle. Bringing it to his nose as he walked, sighing deep into the sweet smell. Carefully laying it inside a leather pouch that he strung sinew through.

Lifting the pendant of her, he closed his eyes. Poised to adorn himself in it. Flooded with the most profound undertaking he had ever been given, more powerful than a knighting. A ceremony he silently held in the chill of early morning.

He slipped it over his head, taking full deep breaths.

He pressed a palm over the pouch. As close to his heart as the world would allow.

"Tell me a dream."

Solas smiled at her, turning in his seat. That gentle adoration in his eyes that was hard kept from her.

"You are eager to hear my travels." His voice low, already poised to begin a tale despite the gentle tease.

She only smiled, leaning her head against the curve of the lounging couch. Staring at him with those terribly beautiful eyes, now inset with the thinnest ring of silver. Wide and sweet in their seeking.

Solas sighed as if being greatly put upon. But Blackwall knew he was aching to share with her.

She had this way of pulling the essence from people. Pulling along their heart to unravel their troubles at her feet. All of them spilled over her, whether those she held close to her or strangers she encountered. Tilting her head as they spoke, truly hearing them. Seeking to understand. Asking beyond what the common person would.

In her court, every decision was made with care. Weighing each side in her palms.

Few would fight her, seeing the thought poured into it. Despite every factor working against her, she was an inspiration. A kind and just leader.

She stared at Solas now with that soft rapture. Eyes just slightly wide, lips fallen into the sliver of a part. Truly listening. A rare skill.

Solas leaned into her, speaking in hush. Meeting her in the quiet reverence fully. Weaving his tale with deliberate fingers. Sitting in a pocket of the world.

He thought Solas might be infatuated with her and couldn't find no blame in it. So often, people just wanted to be heard. And the way she saught made the heart reach for her.

She was so deeply adored, and yet, felt none of it. It rubbed him raw that she felt outside of the love that surrounded her. Always poised to leave. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He couldn't understand how she could devote herself so deeply to their people, to their cause, and feel like something ready to be discarded. Not even putting up a fight, like cutting her away was the world righting itself. To weave herself so deeply with a knife poised over her thread. Ready to cut as soon as they were done with her.

How could someone so loved be unloved within it?

She had spoken little about her father. Her eyes swam in sorrow when the conversation circled on him, so he didn't push it. But he suspected that was the source of her isolation.

He didn't know how to fill the empty well of love in her. He knew, realistically, that he couldn't wholly do that himself. But fuck if he didn't want to try.

Except...

The torture of his deceit was reaching a boiling point. It was torment to keep himself from her. From those wide seeking eyes, eager to drink the story of him. To know him. He was constantly on the edge of spilling himself at her feet. Cutting open his belly and falling to knees to pray for forgiveness. Nothing could forgive him for deceiving her, but he couldn't bring himself to shatter the illusion yet. Not while she still saw light in him.

He could still stand with her, if only for a few precious moments. He could try to atone for attempting to drive her away.

When others pushed her away, she fell back almost gratefully. When he pushed her away, she came back with righteous anger. Burned into him, demanding a resolution. For him to sever her fully. Why was he different?

"My lady, a word?"

Her eyes lifted to his. Solas' following in a start, so engrossed in her that he hadn't felt him there.

"Of course." Her tone soft in its casual.

She hushed something in Elvish and Solas responded in kind. Her hand cupped his cheek, smiling at him in that radiant softness, rising to feet. Solas' hand raised to cup over hers as she pulled away but left it hovering. Eyes following her.

Blackwall watched him with a knowing empathy. Turning his back as she drew forward to spare him his gaze. The graceful glide of her step pulled him into a stride.

Uttering that spell, that incantation, as they walked that had made many fall to their knees.

"Speak to me."

He paused, gathering himself. She waited easily. Leading him up a trail of stone to a favorite hiding place.

The small bedroom over the Herald's Rest, still wild with vine and crumbled stone. The inn below muffled, quiet in spilled light and deep green.

He adored this little piece of solitude she had found. Often sneaking up in the night himself to visit it alone. To sit amongst her things gathered in a corner. Sometimes he stumbled upon her sleeping in the abandoned bed.

He could tell she felt alien in her designated chambers, only going in at night for the sake of propriety. Catching her climbing out of the balcony as the moon rose, already found the footholds. Smiling up at a wild beauty from a seat in the stables, scaling down a castle wall.

Though, she wasn't always alone in this serene place. Their newest companion, the strange boy between worlds, sat with her here sometimes.

Cole set his teeth on edge. He couldn't pin him down, and that made him dangerous. It made him even more nervous to have this unknown near her. But he couldn't deny their connection.

It was like they had known each other for a long time. While the boys vague ramblings made Blackwall bristle, Vella responded to them like they held obvious meaning. That she understood implicitly, gently nodding. Not even startled when the boy would appear behind her, smiling like she expected him.

Though, he had mused that she was part spirit before. Maybe that held more truth than he had anticipated. Something in her saw clear in him. It all made him wary, but he couldn't bear encouraging her to separate from this connection. So he reserved to watch over it.

"I hope they never fix this part." She sighed, trailing her fingertips along the vines. "I don't know how people can live in stone places like this. It's so..."

"Cold?" He offered.

She turned, pointing at him.

"Yes! It's cold, there's no life. I guess it's safer, but nothing breathes in it. The forest is all breath. You can feel it all around you. Breathing with you."

He lost himself in her words again. Fully agreeing. The forest was one of the few places he felt home in.

"When this is over, I want to go back. I want to go to the Emerald Graves. Have you been?" She offered.

He waved his hand in a so-so gesture.

"Oh," She rose her hands to cup over her chest. Eyes bright with memory. "It's so... its a mournful place, but Gods, I can't even describe it!"

Maker, he loved her.

"Give it a try." He chuckled, leaning against a large stone. Eager to have her talk like this all night.

She smiled wide at him.

"You're distracting me."

"Is it working?"

"You know it is." She laughed. The sound filling the air holy. "We still need to talk though."

"So soon?" He teased, drawing forward. The desire to kiss her all consuming.

"Maybe not for a bit." She sighed, staring up at him.

"I missed you." He hushed, cupping her face. The petal of her cheek warm under the rough of his palm.

She leaned into his touch. Closing her eyes gently.

His breath drew from him as he kissed her. The ache in his heart sang. He had never felt a love so deep. She flowed through his body as a great river. He bathed in her water.

"I missed you." She echoed as he finally pulled away. "I'm sorry I spoke to you like that. I'm just... I want you. If you dont want me, I'd rather know that."

He shook his head, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. Her hand woven around his wrist an anchor in his storm.

"No, your anger was good. It was justified. I want you terribly. Don't hold back for me, I want it all."

"But you're holding back." She offered softly, eyes searching his.

He froze, but she didn't. Not pulling away, her hand steady on his chest.

"Whatever it is, I'll meet you there when you're ready. I want to know you. But this..."

She held his palm up, turning it against hers.

"This is good." Her pupils wide with love for him.

He gathered her to him in an urgent kiss. Tears threatened behind his tightly shut eyes.

He wanted to promise the world to her. Anything. He would do anything. But he couldn't, and it was eating him alive. Suffocated and immobile in his own web. Maker, how was he going to tell her?

"Thank you." He breathed against her lips.

"No problem."

He pinched her hip, and she giggled against his mouth.

"So... are you my boooyfriend?"

He groaned. Pulling back from her with a shake of his head.

"No? Oh man, I was so hoping..." She laughed, pushing forward into his jest.

"Boyfriend... what are we? Twelve?"

"You're right. Boytoy has a more dignified ring to it."

"Maker..." He sighed. She paced in mock thought.

"Oh! I've got it. You're my sweet thing. My baby."

"We're breaking up."

"Oh man! I hope we get back together."

"Come here." He laughed, tilting her chin up to his in his fingers. Kissing her deep. Drinking from her river.

She drew back breathless. Eyes blown.

"I adore you, you menace. Will you walk with me or not?"

"Hmm, I'll consider it."

"You'll consider it." He tickled into her sides. She shrieked in laughter, trying to wiggle away.

"Yes! Yes! Now unhand me, you brute!" She laughed.

"Oh brute, is it?" He growled, hoisting her by the waist over his shoulder. "Better play the part."

He carried her outside, her feet kicking happily next to him as she protested on his back.

"Guards! Seize him!"

Catching Varric's gaze, his eyes already creased in laughter.

"Varric! I'm being apprehended! Get him!"

"Oh no, Sunshine!" He called. "I'm too far away! I can't help!"

Her contained laugh shook against his shoulder.

"Oh, are the odd couple finally made up?"

"Dorian! My confidante, my bosom brother! You must help!"

"Mm, I'm sure you're fine. Have fun with your capture!"

She huffed, poising her chin into her hand on the curve of his back.

"Are you done?" He laughed.

"Never!"

She wriggled off of his shoulder and took off running, laughing like a mad woman.

"You're going to scare the locals!" He called, chasing after her.

"Not if you can catch me!" She shouted over her shoulder. Many bemused faces watching her run.

-

He had snuck into her chamber early in the night, waiting in shadow.

It had been only a handful of weeks since their joining, but it had unleashed a storm of desire. Pulling each other into alcoves and corners to spill ravenous over each other.

When she finally entered, looking weary and so hauntingly beautiful, he rushed her.

It was an addiction, pulling sweet sounds from her. Feeling her body tremor and writhe around him. He had become insatiable.

It shocked him how much he craved this kind of dominance. Shoving her against the wall. Pressing her hard against the stone as she gasped. Her hands braced next to her head, already arching her wide hips into him. The curve of her ass so full and firm.

"Do you know what you do to me?" He accused, yanking her beautifully tailored court dress over her shoulders. Inlaid with gold filigree and deep indigo flowers, a soft cream garment that fell from her in slick waves.

It had been Leilana's idea. To fill oppresive decor in the great hall where she held court and judgment, great towering statues of figures holding spears, fire pits burning along the walk to the throne. The atmosphere heavy with power.

Then Vella would flow into the room, dress trailing behind her. The molten gold of her hair braided loosely down her back. So shockingly beautiful, juxtaposed to the heavy decor. Planting newcomers firmly on the back foot. Perceiving her even more mysterious on bad days when she would don a black silk blindfold.

It was genius subterfuge, using her otherworldly beauty and hidden condition to their advantage. But it had become an endless source of torment for him.

He had elected to become the head of her guard when she held court. Something that swelled his chest with purpose and pride, but meant he had to escort her in these silky garments. The sway of her hips and the full of her thighs teasing under the shifting fall of fabric. The perk of her small breasts beckoning under the low fold of fabric.

And, of course, she would tease him. The gentlest graze of her ass against his hips as she bent to Josephine's writing board. Trailing her fingers lightly up his forearm when he would assist her from the podium where the throne stood.

By the end of the day he would be rabid with desire, cornering her in empty halls. Hissing in her ear, fondling her breast, pulling her hair in a firm fist.

It was making him insane to not take her, to not bury himself to the hilt in her velvet sex. But he couldn't bring himself to indulge in that kind of pleasure. Not with deceit rotting in him.

But her pleasure was holy. It was his most profound call to unravel her over and over. To see her moaning and twitching, her arousal pooling in his palm, in his mouth. He couldn't stop. He would beg for it if she denied him. He would sit on knees and kiss the perfect curve of her stomach, running his calloused hands up the lambs ear of her thighs. Pleading for her to allow him to taste her.

"Striding around in these fucking dresses." He smeared kisses in the rolling muscle of her shoulders. Just the sight of her pulling her bow enough to send him dazed.

"Knowing this is underneath." He grasped a handful of her ass. Groaning at the taut but giving flesh. Kneading it in his palm. Her gasps and whines wrapping around his head. Yanking the dress down her hips to fall in a silk pool at her feet.

"Maker, preserve me..." He moaned, beholding her. Wearing nothing but a lacy little thing that sat high on her hips. A deep red that danced against the gold of her skin. "You look like a fucking painting."

"I have so much to do, Blackwall." She protested in a moan as he rubbed her cunt over her panties.

"I don't care." He growled, pinching her nipple between his fingers. The soft yelp he earned twitching his hard cock.

"Spread your legs." He commanded.

She slid them out. Panting against the wall.

"So beautiful..." He sighed. Kissing along her swan neck. Her golden hair fallen curtain over her shoulder. "I can't believe I get to see you like this. To touch you like this."

He slipped her panties off with the curve of his finger, fallen to her ankles. Rubbing his knuckles along the soft gold curls to the soak of her slit. Her whine pulling another throb from him.

"You talk too much." She smiled over her shoulder at him.

He took her hair in his fist, pulling her head back in an arch. A moan rose from her.

"You want it like that?" He growled.

She nodded, biting her lip.

He plunged two fingers inside her. Her body already tight around him. Thrusting in curved pulses.

"Oh, Gods." She mewled. Staring back at him with glazed eyes. "It's so good."

"Yeah?" He growled, his fingers plunging in faster and faster strikes. The velvet slick of her squeezing his digits. The squelching of it so salacious it made him dizzy.

She nodded, lost in her pleasure. Rocking against the wall with the power he drove through his arm. Dazed and emitting the softest cries.

"Harder, please." She moaned, the edge of a whine on her words.

He snapped. Grasping her by the hips to turn her to face him. Leaning down to lap fervently at her nipple, the other pinched and rolled in his free hand. The fingers inside her striking up with the force of his shoulder.

She cried out, head thrown back. Body shuddering hard, the muscles in her belly clenching and twitching. Thighs shaking so hard they may well give out.

He was near his edge, almost cumming in his trousers. Panting into her breast around the slurp of his tongue. Her arousal running down his wrist. Delirious with lust.

Her hands wound into his hair, pulling in her fist. He groaned loudly, his orgasm raw in him. Desperate for release.

"I'm- ah!" She cried. The tight clenches around his fingers telling already.

She pulled his hair down, forcing him between her legs. He followed gladly, gripping her hip as he lapped vigorously around his fingers. Drinking the cum that poured into his palm. Her cries of ecstasy muffled behind her hand. Body in the tight throes of release.

He only had a moment to get his cock from his trousers before he was cumming in hard strikes. Moaning rough into her. Her pleasure transcending into his. Spilling from him in clenching strikes. Eyes lost under hazy lids, still urging her release from her in flat pulls of his tongue. Gripping her hips in both hands.

She rode out her aftershock above him. The little clenches of her belly and shake of her thighs his favorite sight. Her hand gently trailing through his hair.

"Gods, you're incredible at that." She gasped, smiling down at him. Her wide blown pupils and flushed cheeks unbearably beautiful. A sight only for him.

He rose to meet her plush lips in a deep kiss. Dizzy with love for her.

"I would do that for hours, if you'd let me." He murmured through their lips.

"Hm, so devoted." She nuzzled against his beard, eyes glittering with mischief.

He scooped under her thighs and back and reveled in the little surprised squeak she emitted. Carrying her up to her wide bed.

"Deeply." He sighed. Kissing along her neck, leaning down over her as he slid into the bed next to her.

"Sweet talker." She sighed, arching her head back. His fingers drug light down the curve of her breast, the soft of her belly, the ridge of her hipbone.

"How can you look so..." He wished he had more words. Was more eloquent. Had a wider vocabulary.

A thought struck him.

"I want to speak with you. Could you teach me?"

"Teach you what, baby?" She smiled, pleasantly lost to his train of thought.

He nearly puddled at the pet name but steeled his resolve. Laying parallel next to her.

"Your language. Could you teach me Elvish?"

She rose on elbows, sitting up. He followed, suddenly terrified that he had offended somehow. He was always clumsy to the nuance of other cultures.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, no." She assured quickly, her eyes fell from his. "It's just... I'm a hunter, not a hahren."

She must have seen the confusion in his eyes. Smiling gently.

"A hahren is... it's an elder, a teacher. But it's more than that. They keep our history and tell it so we may live it again. It's a sacred role."

"The keeper is our leader, but the hahren is our soul." She waved her hands as she spoke.

"I'm not making any sense." She sighed. "You should ask Solas."

"Absolutely not. And you're making sense, I promise."

She bit her lip. Uncertain.

"I can try." She sighed.

"You know," She smiled at him in that vulnerable way that made his heart ache. "You've always reminded me of an emerald knight."

She repeated the name in Elvish, and he repeated it back to her clumsily. Repeated until he got a loose grasp on it.

"What's an emerald knight?"

So she told him. Of the great warriors that stood the line of the chantry's invasion. Of promises broken and land razed. Of long painful journeys and those lost on the way.

But also of hope. Stories of impossible victories and song ringing through the air. Of her bloodline, touched by gods, leading them forward. Of promises shattered but new purpose found within their shards.

It made his heart ache with wonder and disgust at his own teachings. The lies that the chantry spread. Denouncing her people as nothing but lost angry children. Doomed to wallow in their own history.

The rich tapestry she wove was laughable in the face of the lies he had been told. Her ancestry was fierce and cunning. Resilient in a way he could barely fathom.

"When I was born golden, my people saw me as a spirit of hanal'ghinan, a golden halla that led our people to safety. And they were right in a way. I saw beyond my eyes. I kept us safe where my father couldn't."

Her head hung, hands low in her lap.

"But when I came back wrong and late with shemlen tongue, I was to become what I had been since I was lost. Len'alas lath'din. An empty child. Unwanted."

"You did so much. You remember so much." He urged. Drawing forward on knees. "You're more than what your clan couldn't see."

She smiled sadly at him. "I know. I'm trying to separate my hellathen from my kin. It's hard, though. To unravel my vhen from my exile. To trust that I'm of the vhen'alas. Of the spirit of the earth."

"Do you mind if I write this down?" He offered sheepishly. Feeling the words start to lose meaning.

"Very non-traditional." She teased. Handing him a small notebook. "I like it."

So he wrote her language, her history. Reassured to have it to look back on. To know it.

"We should pause. It's getting late." She sighed, eyes heavy but still soft.

He nearly asked for her to continue, but felt the weight of his own eyes. Nodding.

Her body went very still.

"Oh... okay." Her tone shaken but determined.

"What's wrong?" He urged, already standing on knees.

She laid back as she spoke, putting her hands relaxed over her belly. Eyes already filled with a haunting silver glow.

"I'm about to have a seizing fit. Don't panic. Don't put anything in my mouth. It'll be over soon."

"What should I do?" He tried to keep the panic from his voice.

"Just wait, it looks worse than it is. I'm sorry."

She took slow deep breaths, then went rigid. Her arms pulled tight against her chest, breath caught in a hiss. Her legs extended out, heels digging into the sheets. Head craned back, neck extended in a stiff arch. Seized up in a tight bridge.

He rubbed along her hands, her hard stomach. Kissing her teeth gritted jaw. Trying to channel his terror into soft care. To bring her back. To return her eyes from the top of her skull.

Just as her lips started to go blue, and he was about to call for a healer, it released. Her body fallen slack again. Gasping with returned breath. Looking around limp and lost.

"Hey." He murmured, sliding under her body. Cradling her inside him. "There you are."

"What...?" She blinked, leaning into him.

"You had a seizing fit." He assured against her hair. Pulling it gently from her temple. Rubbing a warm circle into her chest.

"Oh..." Her eyes filled with silver tears. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not. I'm glad I was here."

She nuzzled into his chest. Curling her legs up in a ball.

"Can you just hold me?" She whispered.

"I will hold you until you will no longer have me."

Her fingers tangled into his tunic. Crying softly into his chest.

He held strong around her, leaving small kisses in the crown of her head. Heart aching but steady. Aching for the times she rode this out alone. Awaking scared and lost, piecing together the moments before.

He wanted to ask how often this had been happening and how he could help. But she was trembling in his arms and he couldn't bring himself to ask of her further. He thought he might know, anyway. The familiarity she showed before it struck all too telling.

For now, he would hold her. A sacred duty. The guardian of the most profound and powerful woman. Unbreakable but shaken. Resiliency that could crack the earth.

"Sleep. I'm right here, okay?" He hushed between kisses.

She nodded. Curling her head into his chest. The fabric of his tunic damp.

He closed his eyes, cupping around her back.

"Vhenan..." She murmured.

"I don't know that one." He teased in a whisper. But she was already evened out in the tide of sleep.

"Vhenan." He echoed.

Not baby. But he liked the sound of it.

~

Next Chapter

[mxdarling]

["You’re so pretty when you smile." / "We’re stuck together now, I’ll make sure of it."]

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

ೃ⁀➷: summary: shu is making pretty outfits for his lovely model, aka you / you finally have a lover, mika isn't too thrilled about it.

ೃ⁀➷: Word count: 1469

ೃ⁀➷: Reference/Inspiration: N/A

ೃ⁀➷: Event: [200 followers event]

ೃ⁀➷: ERA: !!

[note:] If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me. I don’t condone this type of behavior, this is merely just for entertaining purposes and some sort of coping mechanism for me. If you continue to read beyond this point, ignoring my warnings, I am not responsible for your actions from here on out.

[Warnings:] bad oneshot, lowercase, maybe ooc shu and mika, yandere behavior, implied reader could be in love with shu, reader gets called darling (ma chérie), reader is being treated like a doll (shu's part), reader has a lover (mika's part), reader friendzones mika, implied murder, mentions of getting rid of a body, mentions of stabbing.

[GN reader]

SHU ITSUKI had quite the hobby of stitching up new outfits whether it be for a valkyrie performance or not. most of the time you'd find him in his office spending upon hours and hours designing and stitching up an outfit from scratch. sometimes you'd see band-aids wrapped around his fingers from when he'd accidentally poke himself with the sharp needles, or how some of the threads will be attached to his clothes when he finally leaves his office.

you're often left curious what goes on in the process of making these distinctive and compelling outfits. what deductions does shu do to make a decisive decision on every part of the outfit? where does his creativity flow come from? such questions were left bitterly unanswered yet you didn't have the heart to ask him. you couldn't bear to disturb the peace while he makes these clothes. so, you've slowly accepted just watching from afar.

a few months have passed and nothing out of the ordinary has happened during the day. completing your usual routine, helping mika with his idol work, and...slightly admiring shu from a distance. that's how it always went—just a simple unrequited love. nothing more, nothing less. till that simple yet crafted planned out routine was crashed all by a unexpected encounter.

"do not be mistaken, for it was not I who have made such a demand, but mademoiselle who persistently kept requesting your presence in my office."

without hesitation, of course you said 'yes'. he spoke in his usual harsh tone and wordings, yet, just for a split second, there was a slight fondness in his eyes. perhaps you were just imagining it but it wouldn't hurt to believe in it, right?

since then you've starting spending your time in his office, modeling till morning to dawn, sometimes late evening depending how satisfied he is with the final product on you. being of service to shu thrilled you, so much more when he began to seek you out more frequently. you finally got to see the whole process of his creations, the amount of beta designs one outfit goes through. the motion of his hands sewing the fabric together, you could finally see all of them in front of your eyes.

as time went by, you started to grow more and more concern. you're still thrilled to be able to spend time with shu, don't be mistaken, but it felt like you were spending more and more time in his office than doing anything else.. it wasn't often that shu would disturb you during your morning tasks, he'd wait until later afternoon or early evening to start. soon morning tasks were moved to the afternoon as you were preoccupied with modelling for shu. slowly but surely you've started to abandon almost your duties in favor of wanting to spend more time helping shu with model his outfits.

to be honest, you felt bad for leaving all your work to mika.. poor lad must be struggling in pressure and stress from how much he has to do in a day and next the following days. though mika has reassured time and time again that this is no problem for him. ("helpin' producer is what i want to do!"). although you've demanded to aid mika have never truly died down, they are met with the same verdict repeatedly and again.

"please don't make such a dejected expression, ma chérie. it will ruin the appeal of the overall creation of my hard work."

shu successfully hushes your protests from slipping out your mouth, opting in keeping your mouth shut, knowing your words won't change his mind. standing up from his desk in favor of walking towards you. he takes slow and steady steps, sound of echoes of his shoes bounces off the walls sends a elegant yet eerie vibe, goosebumps rising in your arms and legs. for the first time since you've been with shu, you feel unsafe.

"there, smiling suits you best, don't you know? smile for me, alright? you’re so pretty when you smile, ma chérie.."

MIKA KAGEHIRA was a sweetheart to you. it was hard to find it in yourself to dislike him. even if he messed up one of his tasks, you could tell he was trying his best to learn and adapt. plus, you were there right by his side to help him! help guide him when he looked lost and needed your help! often you praise him for his hard work when doing his tasks—even if it ends up a little wonky, it was hard work nonetheless.

you took note of how happy he gets, and how much wider his smile gets when you praise him. he seems more motivated and more determined to finish when you do so as well. to you it was a very cute sight to see and witness on a daily, it reminded you of good puppy doing tasks for its owner to try and win their praise. of course this giving of praise wasn't one-sided, no no no, not at all. in fact, he probably does it way more than you do!

you two were like two peas in a pod, inseparable. attached to each other's hip and always right by each other's side. if the other goes, the other follows. lots of people have observed that and would comment on how close you and mika were. even shu (plus mademoiselle) has made such comments about the two of you. it became more and more of a common sight to see the both of you doing something together. whether that be sewing outfits to show to teach, collecting stuff toys, making (forcing) mika eat a proper meal, going shopping, everything.

naturally people around would often say how nice you two look together, how it was adorable you two were matching bracelets, how you two look like an actually couple. couple, you and mika? you never really thought about how people would view your very close friendship with mika, neither did you ever thought of really dating him. the idea wasn't unwelcomed, but it wasn't something you desired either. you couldn't really find yourself actually dating mika and being in a romantic relationship with him. it just didn't felt right to you, so you'd end up telling people you and mika are just friends multiple times as the assumptions about you being a couple continued to grow.

with that in mind it was safe to say that you weren't surprised when people jaw dropped the moment you announced that you had a lover and it wasn't mika. so many people expected you'd two were gonna become a real thing, listen to the people's assumptions, you guessed. introducing your lover to mika was... awkward. mika kept acting 'weird' in your lover's words, knowing mika longer and more personal than they have, you know that's just mika being nervous. still he was odd when describing how he felt about your lover, all the muttering and whispers weren't normal, nor was his oddly empty and dark gaze.

it was even more odd to find your lover not in your shared apartment that night, yet it all made sense when you find your lover dead on the ground, and the culprit was none other than your best friend, mika.

your lover lay flat on the ground, most likely already dead by how dry the blood on the floor is. their clothes were a bloody mess, you can see the stab wounds through the clothes they wore. worse of all, a knife stabbed right through their fucking skull. you wanna throw up, your stomach feels sick just by looking at this scene alone. you turn your head towards mika, who you caught just before he was about to get rid of the body.

your eyes showed disbelief, he was your best friend after all. his eyes looked guilty, almost like you weren't supposed to seem him like this.

"waah... please don' cry..! I'll cry too! I.. I did a good job, right...?"

mika points out your crying you were unaware of. he soften his gaze and walks towards you, opening his arms to signal he's gonna hug you as an act of comfort. (perhaps he should dispose of the dead body in the alley. if he did, it removed your source of discomfort, or so he thinks.) putting your comfort above his 'task' he tries to give you into a (not) comforting hug. he knew you were scared. you were trembling, seeing blood and a dead body isn't good for your untantained eyes. out of fear and instinct you step away from him, hitting the alley wall as a result—trapping you with mika blocking your only exist.

"no! please don' leave me! we’re stuck together now, I’ll make sure of it!"

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

[a/n; ohhh boy.. this was long LOLL mostly because this just wasn't one character. this took way too long for me to write i'm so sorry. though i definitely had a lot of fun writing this, especially shu's part. in all honesty i sort of did rushed mika's part but i think it was still good lmaoo. anyways, thank you for requesting shu with dialogue #7 and mika with dialogue #22! i hope you still like this despite it being a few months late! again so sorry for not being active! its really hard to be active here without any interactions with followers! pls i encourage asks about anything really! i wanna talk to you guys i swear i'm really nice🥺🥺]

[helloescapist]

Can you do romantic modern au HCs for daki and a female y/n the same age whos kinda nerdy and introverted but very patient and affectionate towards daki? Kind of like an opposites attract sort of thing, like maybe they met in class and get paired together for a group project, and things slowly escalate from there? Like Daki eventually grows a soft spot for y/n

-🐼

hello, hello, 🐼

I kind of love the idea of Daki falling for a shyer personality, one that struggles with socializing, and easily nervous. Specifically, when we consider that Daki was a oiran in her human life as a means of survival, and even continuing the line of work in her demon rebirth, Daki essentially is predisposed to considering other women as threats whether its status or financial. Oirans are terrifying--- just imagining Daki with a female she can actually grow to trust and love over time is wholesome fluff I need.

And all of a sudden—I’m just going to have to break this into two parts. That’s really all there is to it. Oh the wellllllll

Sincerely, | Daki

Word Count: 2382

Setting: Daki x fem!reader

Content Warning(s): suggestive, ecchi content, reader is a low key perv (but like, who isn't in their teen years), will have mentions of assault in parts to come, girlxgirl, yuri, modern AU

Summary: an unlikely train encounter, and questionable tutoring.

A/N: the amount of effort I put into calculating how tall Daki would likely be is just… why am I like this? Spoiler alert, she is likely around 5’2-5’4, but as she appears tall for her era when you take away her shoes, such as when you view her height in comparison to Koinatsu, but for the purpose of adapting her to a modern AU, I would put her height at 5’6, as statistics show the average female height to be 5’4. Part II , headcanons

The clench of your bag in your hand, as your other hand fought to reach the handgrip. The reach just escaping your grasp, the tips of your fingers brushed against pull. The sea of bodies that pressed against your form, jostling you to and fro despite the reach of your fingers. The cram of suits, the buttons threatening to break skin as it scraped across your cheek. Early morning commuters, businessmen and women alike operating on late hours, and caffeine. Dedicated to daily survival, murmured of yawns, dreary in their stark existence. Old men that sighed into newspapers, flipped through pages and drew exhaustion upon weary bones. Their fatigue met only by the civil servants that mentally prepared themselves for the hour to come. Laborers corralled next to office workers, college students shuffled between members of the workface, their discussions of lectures hollow against the weight of data, and meetings. Ironic in the experience against the new to the world; the rare high school student such as yourself lost amongst the crowd. Victims to the push and pull of the fluctuation of passengers, your low status upon the totem pole revealed by the flutter of your school uniform as you fought against the sea of bodies, the grit of your teeth before managing your weight to the tip of your toes, the thread of your fingers secured at the caught of the metal in your palm. The rattle of the train, the murmurs of the morning as you allowed the breath to release from your lungs Struggled to multitask holding your belongings, the train rail, and push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. The murmuring of giggling girls drawing your attention out of sincere curiosity. The press of the back of hand from one to another, snickers that fell pass distinct neckties, and khaki blazers. Pressed uniforms, meticulously maintained as their fingernails, hair styled and fashioned as their sneers fell upon glossed lips. Fresh faces that fell upon haughty glares upon a girl seated amongst the crowd. Having secured a rare seating opportunity though the lecturers glances of the older men that lamented near the seats hinted that the opportunity had not afforded itself. Yet, the group of onlookers merely whispered ideal gossips, painted a portrait of a whore amongst faculty members. Murmured poisonous accusations, and delved details shameless of their surroundings. The clench of your jaw, fumbling upon the bag in your hand as your eyes caught upon the victim of their scandalous discussion.

              Moonlight kissed hair that drew the breath from your lungs, threatened to smother you with its vision. The high of her ponytail reminiscent of the beauty of oirans of the past, intentionally placed hair pins that met the curls that formed at her hips. Thick locks that captivated every curve, danced upon ever trace of her silhouette. Shuddered the chill of winter down your spine. The reveal of her breast, openly exposed, the buttons of her white uniform blouse intentionally left undone, snug against the cup of her form, the peak of—lace? W-why?  S-she was clearly a high school student, was she not? Ah, n-no maybe it’s a costume. The small shift of her hips reflected the sheer material of her thigh highs as she rolled her pelvis into the seat. The adjustment having drawn a small scrap of fabric, a skirt, and its pattern that drew the heat of your cheeks in one swift strike. As though you had been slapped with the reality of its familiarity—n-nope. Not a costume, the telling pattern back and red plaid patterns, the thin strip of black that drew at the pleating of the skirts. Her brown loafers school issued as the very ones you wore. Though your uniform had never… left such a lasting impression as the one she adorned. The fairness of her skin that the peeks of her uniform provided despite the chilly weather February provided was delicate as though she was a portrait painted by Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto. The celestial god the only one capable of providing such beauty upon the earth, the draw of her breast and the distinct hiss that rumbled at the base of her throat.  The meticulously draw of kitten eyeliner dipped into shades of crimson rouge, and the press of her lips into a disapproving scowl. Lush, summer grass that threatened the very existence of winter’s chill upon your spine. Rattled your bones with the press of her painted lips together as her eyebrows met a furrow.

“What, are you look at?”

Her beauty unescapable, deadly as delicate. Caught amongst her glare, the point of her sharp eyes, becoming aware of the ends of her Chrysoberyl hair that appeared as though it had captivated her hiss, and robbed you of your own voice. The small shiver that met at your shoulders as you dumbly found yourself drawing your finger to your face, “M-me?” The horrific realization that you had been caught ogling her, only amplified by the chuckles of the girls that had drawn you into this situation. The sharp tint of her eyelashes, long and lush as they captivated your own. Willing your glasses at the tip of your nose to shield you from her edged lour. The flare of her breast, i-it was not your fault that you gaze had drifted as you forced your hand from the pull, tucking your finger tips to fumble with your eyewear. Struggled to choke down the lump that formed in your throat, aware of her flaring temper as she pulled herself to her feet. Abandoning her seat, and ignoring the appealing way that older men traced her steps. The shameful realization that, perhaps she was accustomed to men leering at her, and found your wandering gaze a peculiarity. Though you had not the opportunity to rationalize why she had fault with yours, nor how horrified that you were on pare with perverted old man. Fumbled with your glasses, tucked awkwardly at the strands of your hair that fell to your ears, as you attempted to find any way out of this. The draw of her pointed glare down upon you, standing a few inches taller than yourself. The hint of osmanthus followed a spice you could not name tantalized your senses, the sputtering realization of how hard her perfume had hit you left you choking on your lips.

The ding of the station, hitched upon the knot of the track. The rock of bodies, pressed every which way, the shutter of the girl before you rocked backwards, pinioned against you as you struggled to find your footing. The slam of your hand into the window pain at her head. The bend of her knees, and the shocked quiver of her pupils. Rattled at the pinion of her body pressed beneath your own lsot amongst the shuffle of passengers. All of the shoujo-ai you had read in your lives could not have prepared you for this moment. K-Kabedon?! The internal screaming upon your heart, shattered your brain. Short circuited all thought presses, blissfully unaware of the growing wrath that seethed beneath you alongside the ding of the train doors. Foreboding, and impending the girl before you descent to the platform. The rattle of her skirt hiked up, the rack of your form pressed into her. Old men that chuckled as they rushed to their offices; college students that lingered far longer than you’d prefer. Prayed that none of the snickers, utilized cellphone cameras, nor instilled this moment for later purposes. The rattle of your heart, the spread of her hair beneath you despite the obvious seething wrath that immolated across her doll like features. The green strands of her hair that coiled beneath her, the scathing glower that caught amongst your own. The scream of fury that threatened the cull of her throat, quivered her bones as the veins began to pop in her forehead, only furthered by your insufferable, incoherent apologies. Fumbled over your belongings. Snagged your bag, shoved your glasses up the bridge of your nose, and retreated.

If there was a god, he was laughing. Delighting in your misery. Savoring the anguish, ignored the prayers you uttered in horrified internal screaming, begging him to allow the earth to swallow you whole as your teacher stood before you. Ignorant to your obvious apparel, all bartering from your swearing off meat to joining a nunnery intentionally ignored for sheer folly. No, no god must be a woman, it was the only explanation to the sight before you. Aoki-sensei’s clueless smile, eyes shut, and proud of his own suggestion. Tutoring, assisting another student’s preparation for college exams, and the very subject before you. D-daki, he had said with such delight upon introducing her. Absolutely blind to the turbulent forces that circled around him. The coil of a viper posed and agitated. Her green eyes flaring the grit of her teeth. The small slip of her canines against pursed rouged lips. Her freshly manicured nails rapped against the desk before digging into the wood grain. Twitching eyebrows, wrinkled nose, as the green mamba hissed, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

              No, no it appears not.

              Who says that the gods do not have a sense of humor?

It had been a few weeks of—could you really call this studying? Any attempt to navigate course material fell on deaf ears. Was muddled by the click of her nails against the desk, the pop of bubblegum, or the occasional flip of a fashion magazine. The evidence of her bubbling rage at each pointed glare she shot you when you attempted to stutter for her attention. The break of your voice, a higher pitch due to your duress than you’d like to admit, and yet despite the notable hostility, she had continued to attend the— “study” sessions. Her irritability having reached an all time high today as her bubblegum popped, the twitch of her lip-enhancer glossed lips quipped with the wrinkle of her nose. The vein in her head practically throbbing with each nervous fumble you could conjure. The chalk practically shaking in your hand as you attempted to demonstrate the proper algebraic equation. The searing lesions her vision threatened to brand into your back as the chalk nervously rattled against the chalkboard. An incomprehensible tapped scribble as you forced an awkward smile, attempting to find your voice. The cup of your hair cut off at your ears and utilizing the opportunity to press up your glasses in an attempt to avoid her eye. Each movement betraying your nervousness had only tempted her ire. The dodged glances when Daki sought your gaze, frail voice that lacked any resolve. She had even witnessed your knees clatter against one another, the height of her panty hose unable to shield the obvious state of tremors that rolled up your spine every time she watched your back diligently scribble incomprehensible. A flush guaranteed to kidnap your fatures, and your gaze from her own when the taller girl successfully met your gaze—what fucking help were you supposed to be to her?

              You couldn’t even help your fucking self.

              The knot of a mocked sticker—an immature attempt at humor from one of your female classmates that had escaped your notice. Successfully implemented when she had patted you on the shoulder before your tutoring session had begun, the smug grin and how boldly the little bitch had met Daki’s eyes had been enough to piss her off, but met face to face with the rainbow flag and homophobic slur stickered  to your collar had her boiling. The grip of her magazine crumbled between clenched fists; she had attempted to remove it. She had, but ever action had a reaction. Her close proximity regardless of how perfectly timed, or well intended, resulted in you trembling and babbling. It only pissed her off more. How were YOU supposed to help her? With your little insult sticker, and inability to even make eye contact—fuck how pathetic must she be to seek your HELP? The thought had dropped her brows to the point that they dipped at her enhanced eyelashes, threatened to simmer over as though she were a neglected pot. She could feel her temper boil, and her teeth scrapping against one another before she allowed it to steer her.

              “What the fuck is your problem?” Daki seethed, slamming her hands to her desk, forcing her chair back in a rattling screech of her chair across the floor. Tremored your bones and drew your attention to her in shock worthy of some B horror film. The click of her school issue indoor shoes clapped harder and harder with each step forward, as you attempted to position the podium between the two of you. “Are you screwing with me? Pisses me off seeing you worm around like this?”

              Manicured nails caught the collar of your school uniform, her height foreboding against your own as she leaned forward. Daring your averted eyes to catch her own, pressing her gaze against you as the vein in her forehead threatened to burst the longer, she glowered at you. The clench of her canine teeth against one another before shoving you from her sight. Exasperated pursed rogued lips that grunted dissatisfaction with your response, “Whatever, I don’t need this.”  Daki’s absence in the classroom marked only by the quite of an abandoned lecture, the most peculiar sticker discarded in the trash on her way out, and the sinking pit in your stomach that something, something was wrong.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓃮 Even the Sun Influences the Tide: Chapter Four

Even the Sun Influences the Tide: After the death of your foster brother, King T’Challa, you had spent much of your year of mourning in isolation. When your mother gathers you and your sister to end your mourning period, you encounter the newest threat to Wakanda: Namor. You don’t know what to think of Namor, but you do know one thing: he probably shouldn’t be making trips to see you at your beach hut.

Warnings: None.

To Note: Namor/K’uk’ulkan x Fem!Reader, I Tried To Make The Yucatec Maya & Xhosa Translations/Traditions As Accurate As I Can Get.

Word Count: ~2.1k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

It had been days since the convening of the council and you had easily fallen back into your life. You had your garden to tend to, your hut to maintain, and some laundry to wash. You had woken up early this morning with the intention to fix some fishing netting before it grew too hot to work under the sun. So you had made your way out to the nets you left in a part of the shallows of the river, and waded to the torn section. Your fingers found the edge of the fishing net and you began tugging at it, pulling up the gaping hole that a fish had managed to chew open.

You held it up and looked at the frayed edged, your eyebrow lifting while you internally sighed. This would be an instance where Okoye or Shuri would remind you that you could have just used a vibranium net and not have bothered with the traditional netting that could break. If you had done that, you’d have nothing to do and nothing to take your mind off of your pain. You’d rather be standing in the river, fingers grappling with spare twine, mending the bloody net, then lost in a world of emotional agony.

Knotting the broken twine that was just floating free, you began to repair the net like how you had been taught. You worked out to in, softly cursing under your breath when the twine slipped from your fingers or dug into your flesh when you pulled too tightly. Why did you think this was such a good idea in the first place?

“Sometimes you are just too foolish to think straight, Y/N,” You sighed to yourself, tying off another end. You were about halfway through the repair.

“I am surprised to find you tending to such a menial task, princesa,” Your fingers ceased their mending instantly and your eyes lifted to stare at the horizon in front of you. Did this god have nothing better to do than break Wakandan law and risk your mother’s wrath? Your eyes dropped back to your task at hand and you resumed your repair.

“I’m not a traditional princess,” You spoke, your fingers whittling away at your task. “I’m not even royalty by blood.” Namor sloshed around behind you, slowing moving up the current to stand side by side with you. You felt his powerful stare on your body, but didn’t move your eyes from the task at hand.

“That doesn’t make you any less of a princesa, princesa.” He replied, eyes now trained on your fingers working away. You didn’t have the hands of a princess. You had the hands of a commoner, a worker, a farmer… not someone of regality or royal. But that still didn’t take away from the beauty Namor could see. You hummed vaguely before responding.

“Doesn’t it?” Namor cocked his head while his lips twitched, then he looked to the clouds above. The gentle sunrise painted a kaleidoscope of colors across the sky, it was going to be a beautiful day, he was sure of it. “My people named me their king because they believed in me, not because of the blood I carry through my veins.” Namor pointed out, reaching over and stabilizing a thread that had been on the verge of slipping free from your work. You quickly fixed that thread and moved on. “How did you become the daughter of Queen Ramona?”

You didn’t freeze, you were proud to say, but your hands slowed down a noticeable amount. Twisting your head, you looked at Namor with question. What need did he have to know that answer? For a moment you thought to tell him to just look it up, as it was public knowledge… but then you remembered that he didn’t have access to those types of resources.

“My parents died,” You explained shortly. “The Dora Milaje found me wandering and cared for me while they found information on who I was. Ramonda and T’Chaka took me in when they learned that I had no one left. End of story.” Namor raised an eyebrow once more, knowing that your story was far from being as simple as that.

You were partaking in another late night swim, enjoying the cool water and calm evening. You had spent a great deal of time in your garden earlier in the day, working up a sweat. It felt good to clean yourself and simply relax. Dipping below the surface, you swam as far as you could without surfacing, relishing the absolute silence. Surfacing, you tread water for a moment, looking ahead for any wildlife. There was the herd of elephants that always visited the river, just off to your left. You were sure that they were going to bed down for the night soon.

Overhead a flock of birds screeched in the night, a swatch of black that momentarily darkened the sky. Their disturbance was fleeting within your mind as you stopped trending water and resumed your swim. Your muscles were getting tired from the rather labor intensive day you had and the cool water was only doing so much to relive your aches. Twisting in the water, you began your trek back to your beach.

You were half way there, thinking of nothing as you focused on swimming, when your senses alerted you to the fact that something wasn’t quite right. At least that skill hadn’t gotten rusty since you left the city. Feeling as if someone was following you, your swam a few more stroke, before abruptly turning in place while your left hand snatched the knife strapped to your leg. Your knife came within millimeters of Namor’s neck as he gazed at you with an impressed look.

“Your senses are sharp, princesa,” Namor echoed, his eyes bright and his lips stretched into his boyish grin.

“Kristu!!” (Christ!) You shouted in exclamation, your heart racing in your chest for a few more seconds. “Do you have no self preservation, Namor!?

His cheeky smile widened and you growled at him, not lowering the knife from his neck as you tread in place.

“What are you doing here? Again!?” You hissed in question, honestly wondering what he found so fascinating about you, that kept him coming back despite the potential repercussions. Namor shrugged at you.

“I do come in peace, princesa,” He told you before looking down to the wrist of the hand holding the knife to his neck. “And I have a token of trust I’d like to give you.”  Your eyebrow went up while your eyes remained on his face in scrutiny.

“If you want to speak about trust, you’re better discussing that with my mother, for it is her who’s trust you’ll have to gain if you want Wakanda to help you.” Namor’s eyebrow wiggled as he brought his fingers to your skin and began tying something around your wrist.

“I don’t need Wakanda’s trust, not right now,” Namor admitted to you, liking the way your eyes always sparked with life and fight. “I just want a mutual cooperation. After all, was it not your brother who revealed vibranium to the world?”

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from impulsively going off on him for speaking of T’Challa. What did he know about your brother!? But then logic returned and you thought over what he had said during the initial conversation between him and your mother. If T’Challa had kept quiet about vibranium, government agencies wouldn’t have gone digging in the ocean looking for it, and then posing a threat to Namor’s people. When Namor’s warm fingers left your wrist, you finally allowed your eyes to flicker to what he had tied there. Lowering your vibranium knife from his neck, you stared at the delicate and clearly handmade bracelet now tied around your wrist.

“Namor…” You softly spoke, your eyes pinching as you thought it over. “Who’s is this?” Namor looked at the bracelet fondly, a smile on his lips. His mother’s bracelet looked very nice on your wrist.

“It was my mother’s, made for her by the elder of her tribe from the fibers of a special plant and carved jade.” Your eyes grew to saucers as you realized just what was currently wrapped around your wrist. A relic. You went to take it off, because if it was his mother’s, surely it meant something to him.

“Namor, I cannot take this—“ He intercepted your reaching fingers, holding them in a gentle grip while looking at you with a smile.

“I want you to have it, princesa, because I do not wish to be enemies with you.” You chewed on your lip, still indecisive.

“It’s your mother’s,” You protested weakly. “I’m sure it means a great deal to you.” Large fingers folded over your smaller ones, keeping you from taking the bracelet off.

“And I wish for you to have it as a token.” You stared in Namor’a eyes for a few seconds more, before dropping your gaze with a sigh.

“If that’s what you want…” You trailed off quietly. “But really, you’re tempting fate by coming back to see me, Namor.” His face twisted into a cheeky smile once more and you sighed. You were fairly sure that he didn’t care.  

Your fire was getting low, sputtering an crackling with dying embers while you sat beside it. After finishing up your dinner and cleaning up the dishes, you had taken to sitting beside dying fire while holding one of your most prized possessions: the  Xhosa necklace you had received from T’Challa. You didn’t know why he was on your mind this night, you were usually good about not letting your emotions get the better of you… but not this night.

Sniffing in frustration, you pushed your hand over your hair and let the little beads that marked the stages of your life within Wakanda, slip through your fingers. You weren’t sure if it was real, but you felt a calming hum from the beads, like T’Challa was within them, soothing your emotional pain. You picked at the colors and did your best to focus on the memories you were most fond of. T’Challa holding your hand while he led you through the city markets. T’Challa teaching you how to track animals in the bush. T’Challa sneaking you out of your tutoring sessions…

Your eyes burned and you lifted them to the night sky overhead. You wouldn’t cry. You couldn’t. The ritual you had done when you burned your funeral clothes marked a new chapter. It wouldn’t do to fall back into despair or allow melancholy to rule your mind. Rotating the necklace in your hands once more, you looked back down at the colorful beads.

“Don’t cry, Y/N,” You told yourself. “You promised T’Challa that you wouldn’t let his death consume you.” Your fingers tightened around the beads and you took a deep breath, calming your thoughts and mind.

“It is a beautiful night, K’iino,” (Sun) You were no longer surprised when Namor appeared, he had visited enough that you didn’t jump in place or pull your knife on him anymore. Your eyes lifted from your necklace to the sky.

“Yes, it is.” You replied absentmindedly. The stars twinkled back at you, unhindered by the light of civilization. Namor examined you, his gaze eyeing the red tinge and watery look within your eyes. Something had upset you and judging by the words you had been murmuring to yourself when he had arrived, it was based around T’Challa.

“That is a beautiful necklace, where did you get it from?” Namor questioned, his eyes running over the colorful beads. You held it with such care, surely it meant a great deal to you. Pursing your lips, you glanced at the god like man.

“T’Challa, it was the first gift he ever gave to me,” You explained, smiling softly at the memory. “In our culture, beads are added to signify life events. He taught me most of what I know.”

“The late king sounds like he was a wonderful brother.” You chuckled, finding irony in his words.

“He was, especially to a complete stranger who joined his family so abruptly.” You thought over T’Challa and looked back at Namor. “I know that you are not happy that he put your people at risk by sharing the knowledge of vibranium with the world, but he did so with good intentions.”

Namor cocked his head.

“Perhaps…” He mused, eyes skimming the river horizon and once again appreciating the beauty of Wakanda. “I do not know if I would have gotten along with the king, but I might have with the brother.”

Date Published: 3/26/23

Last Edit: 4/2/23

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[ashandquiet]

My Most Unswerving Devotion

Chapter 3: Picnicking and Parties

Regency! Soma Jarlskona x F!Reader

Summary: Since coming to Norfolk to stay with your family, the conversations have all revolved around matrimony. Just when your aunt has found a match for you much to your chagrin, quite by accident you fall for the wealthy Duke of Cambridgeshire; Soma Guthrumsdóttir. Can circumstance truly keep you apart?

A/N: In which our titular heroine joins a picnicking party and gains new friends, information and intrigue abound. Thank you for your patience, I hope I haven't been away too long. :)

Read it on Ao3

The morning before the dreaded picnic, you snuck out in a simple smock of a dress and overcoat at first light. Having woken up incredibly early in a cold sweat an ever-present feeling of unease churning in your stomach.  

You felt sure a walk would clear your head, though you were more than aware of what today meant for you. You would be expected to put on airs and behave the part of a lady most enticed by the prospect of marriage. As if it was something you wanted, to be married to a man. It sickened you, felt like the crushing weight of destiny lay before you, akin to an out-of-control carriage barreling headwards into a collision. You, the unwilling passenger with an indifferent driver and dubious footman. Barrelling ever onwards with locked doors that blocked out your cries for help. 

Feeling quite woozy in the head and sick to your stomach you stopped on the path and sat down in a patch of soft-looking grass. You couldn’t even seem to bring yourself to care that it was still wet with morning dew. 

The brisk morning air washed over you, and your thoughts slipped back through yesterday’s events, and it was as if every fiber of your being could still feel the deft yet temperate hands of the lady gentleman. 

Upon returning to the magnificent manor house after your disastrous encounter in the fields, there was much fuss over your injured wrist and grass-stained dress. You had recounted your tale as clearly as you could in your flustered amorous stupor to your fussing aunt and her maids; yet when it came to the topic of the owner of the handkerchief tied round your wrist, you froze up. You had heard how they gossiped about the Lady Gentlemen that resided in the country, of Soma Guthrumsdóttir and her companions. If they gossiped so fervently about a Duke surely, anything less than that would be such a foul creature of scorn in their eyes. 

So you had lied and stated that it was simply just a gentleman like any other, and when they pressed for a name, well there was no reason to lie, you simply forgot to ask. They dithered on about the joys of a mystery urging you to divulge any details of your supposed rescuer's appearance which you fruitfully ignored. 

 Once your wrist was treated for the soreness and bruising with chilled water and bound in place with bandages, with your head bowed in quiet shame you excused yourself for the evening. 

While heads were turned you glanced at the lace-trimmed handkerchief that lay discarded on the side table.

Acting quickly you snatched it up and disappeared up the stairs to your room. There you had spent the rest of the evening in silent pity, occasionally glancing headlong at the handkerchief that you had neatly folded and placed on the window sill. It was embroidered with primroses of a pale yellow, and in one corner, stitched with a slate blue thread there were the ornate letters “ SG ”. 

You held it now, the delicate fabric worn and so clearly well-loved was soft in your hand. A faint scent of perfume lingered in its threads, delicate like fresh lilacs and something smoky and herbal. Your head swirled with thoughts about the owner's preferred fragrances, and how she would adorn herself and her clothing with them. The embroidered letters brought you a moment of solace, having such a delicate, intimate object with you seemed to provide every comfort in the world. 

Ever so carefully you tucked it away and rose back to your feet, the object's comforting presence enough to urge you forward into the day, fate’s cruel hand shaken from your spirits for just a while.

Returning to the manor house you dressed, with some assistance, in a simple country frock and tied a long white ribbon in your hair, swatting away the hands of the maids who attempted to even out the ribbons' tails. You even refused to acknowledge the looks from your aunt as you strode past her with a book in hand. 

“You truly mustn't dress so plainly dearest, you’ll want to make a good impression!” She cried in vain as you walked out to the carriage, barely lifting your dress from the ground. 

 “Oh come come, my Love,” your uncle laughed heartily as he followed behind you beckoning for his wife. “It's a glorious summer day, let us enjoy the picnic, she has no need to be weighed down by frills.” 

Your uncle smiled and offered a kind wink in your direction as you climbed aboard the carriage. 

With a sidelong glance at your injured wrist he chuckled, “Perhaps, she should dress plainly to prevent another tumble.”

You huffed lightly sitting, laying the novel on your lap, and resting your injured wrist on its leather cover. You refused to glance your aunt’s way as she boarded the carriage and sat across from you. 

“My dearest niece, how can you expect to find time to read when there are such friends to be met today,” She chortled, glancing from the book to your face. 

“Perhaps dear Aunt, I have no intentions of meeting friends today, when there is such knowledge and friends to be met in a book,” You replied and glanced out over the front gardens. 

Your aunt bristled and shook her head indignantly, surely preparing to snap back about an attitude most unbecoming of a lady, but uncle swooped to your rescue. He sat and commanded his driver to go, grabbing his wife’s hand in a shushing motion. 

“It is a beautiful day in July, let us enjoy it how we please, and if our niece would like to spend it with a book, then that shall be her day,” He said in a firm and commanding tone, yet his spirits were light and he smiled happily to himself as if pleased with his proclamation. 

The carriage ride was a jolting one, winding down from the manor into the parsonage beyond the grand estate. The picnic was to be held in the shade of a beautiful apple orchard belonging to the parish that your uncle presided over. When united with the larger group he chatted gayly with the men of the party about how he was glad to have leased it so long to a family of tenant farmers known as the Grants. 

His prattling seemed like nothing but noise to you, but all the men nodded and chided along in agreement and admiration. Yet the chatter of the ladies as they talked of fortunes and matches made for ladies of the gentry, seemed even more foreign to you still. 

You strode away from the group to better grasp your surroundings, looking for a comfortable place to sit just close enough to avoid scoldings, but far enough for a moment of blissful peace. 

A low-hanging apple tree dense with young fruit seemed to call to you, its drooping bower a welcoming shield from the sun. Just as you were about to make your escape, there was a great commotion from the group. Turning around, you took stock of the situation. A young man, who looked to be no older than five and twenty sat atop a dusty-looking yellow horse that danced about on its hooves. He was dressed plainly in an olive green tailcoat, and he held his riding hat in his hand as a much older man attempted to catch the reins of the young horse.

“Hold the bloody bastard still Oswald!” The older man growled, his accent was Scandinavian in origin. Perhaps he was the younger man’s steward. 

“I’m trying-” the young man, Oswald said as yanked the reins firm to his body. Patting the horse’s neck with his hand and drawing circles into its sweated fur. “Easy Diamond- Woah… there-there boy, that’s a good horse…” 

With the yellow horse calmed he was able to dismount. While handing the reins to his steward he replaced his hat on his mess of golden curls. You watched him intently as he strode over to the rest of the picnicking party. Not so much confidently as ungainly, perhaps wobbly from the ride. The women inclined their heads to him and he gave each a polite nod and a “Hello”, the men greeted him with smiles and pats on the back. 

Just as you were sure the conversation would turn to his deft riding skill and congratulations on taming such a riled-up horse, your aunt called out; “Oh (Y/N), come here dearest! Where did that girl go?”

For a moment you debated running, you glanced at the path between the trees, where the orchard gave way to meadows, and meadows to hills and streams. But the thought of obligation and strong wrestling feeling of guilt drew you back. Running would accomplish nothing, tarnish your name, and destroy whatever small holding in society you may have now. So you turned round and made your way over to the party at your own snail's pace.

“Oh, there she is!” Your aunt cried and made her way to your side grabbing your arm firmly, if not too roughly. “Now come come dearest niece you must meet Mr. Egerton, for he has ridden all this way to meet you .”

You bristled at the way she crooned out the last word, seeming to drip with ever the slightest it of disdain. You watched as Mr. Oswald Egerton turned his full attention to you, scrutinizing your every step, his neutral expression turned to what you hoped was a kind smile. He had the kind of eyes that seemed to expose his every thought and feeling. You dreaded the introduction but you knew, he was your intended suitor. He was on the shorter side, nothing about him was too handsome, and he appeared to be perfectly safe, if not a little plain. He gave a polite bow in your direction, and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit smug that even in your poor fashions you had still managed to out-dress a gentleman.

“My niece, Miss (Y/N) (S/N),” Your aunt introduced you, and you gave a polite smile and nod. You hoped the smile didn’t look too forced.

“A pleasure to meet you Miss (S/N),” Oswald smiled kindly.

“Likewise sir,” You chided crossing your arms behind your back to hide your book and injured wrist.

There was an awkward silence that was quickly broken by one of the men, “Mr. Egerton, say how is your estate at Elmenham? I hope your tenant farmers are doing quite well.”

“Oh yes, quite well indeed,” Oswald nodded. “Everyone is doing quite well this season. But I can’t say the success is all mine, Finnr has been working himself to the bone keeping everything in order.”

The steward, Finnr waved his hand towards the younger man in a motion of dismissal with a grunt as he plucked an apple from the branch of a tree. He was a much older and gruff-looking man dressed in almost out-of-date fashions of the 1780s, his hair greyed and long. His facial hair was almost too long to be considered proper for a man of society, but perhaps the Scandinavian fashion was different. 

You found yourself pondering the details of the lands across the sea, you had read somewhere about how Sweden once had a girl king who had refused to marry. Much like the lady gentlemen that now populated the country. Perhaps soon the whole of society would be populated with them, women holding positions of power and dressing like gentlemen, marrying women. You blushed at the thought, the feeling of butterflies in your stomach returning. 

“Um, Hello…?” an apprehensive voice tore you from your thoughts and you jumped slightly. Oswald was standing to your left a small awkward smile on his face that morphed into one of concern.

“Are you quite alright Miss (S/N)?” He asked kindly.  

You shook your head to dismiss your thoughts of women in waistcoats and breeches, “Yes I’m alright sir I appreciate your concern,” you tried not to sound indifferent to him, as he had been kind thus far.

He offered his hand palm up, “If you would be so willing, would you join me for a walk about the orchards?”

His smile was inelegant, brows knit with unease, and his hand trembled. You regarded it for a moment and spared a glance to your aunt and the other ladies. They stared hungrily at your hands like wolves regarding a sickly lamb. Minds likely swirling with tales of success to gloat about for hours, to talk of nothing but fortunes and houses, your potential bride clothes, and where you'd buy them.  Feeling the weight of consequence you nodded with an inaudible sigh and offered the coltish gentleman your arm. 

Oswald took your arm in his and you began to feel ill, it wasn’t that he was terrible to look at but the thought of any prolonged amount of time with the man sickened you. 

He did not tug you forward so much as he suggested a slow and delicate gait, and you followed his lead to appease the party of older women who cooed about the match made between you two. Together you walked paces out of earshot of the ladies and he withdrew his arm from yours with a polite yet awkward smile. You paused but happily accepted the respite from his touch.

“Um,” he began. “You see, it is not that I wish to lead you on, or to let you down per se, but I am- have had, my eye on another young lady for some time.”

You paused and looked at him, “You have? Then why… why would you entertain the idea of coming to the picnic?” 

Oswald’s face reddened and he fixed his collar walking ahead two paces, “Well you see, it is that the young lady was in an unwilling entanglement back in Denmark, before her brothers and she came to England at the behest of their cousin. And our amour is quite secret…”

You followed him resting your injured hand against your back, turning ideas over in your head, “So because it is secret, you must keep up appearances?”

He grinned sheepishly back at you, “Precisely, I planned to formally propose but I doubt her brothers would grant a blessing of the marriage. So to maintain appearances I entertain the whims of my patron until I can secure a firm answer. I had hoped, when I noticed your apprehension that perhaps you weren’t enthusiastic about the match as well…?”

You fought to hold in a snort of laughter, “No,” barely containing your smile you shook your head. “I had no interest in this match. No interest in any match that is.”

“Thank heavens,” Oswald let out a visible sigh, his shoulders relaxing and he touched his chest as if calming his heart. “I mean no offense of course Miss (S/N).”

You waved your hand at him lightly, “I take no offense, sir, you're quite alright.”

He smiled, “Perhaps we can be friends, I could help you avoid potential matches, and perchance, you could help me woo my lady?”

You strode ahead of him to gaze at the clover buds blooming in the grass. He made a good offer, friendship in exchange for matrimony. He was a young gentleman with an estate, and he likely had resources, resources enough to help you find the lady gentleman.

“I would like that, perhaps,” You tried turning towards him. “In exchange for helping you woo your paramour, you could help me with something.”

“Well of course! What can I do for you Miss (S/N)?” 

“I need your help finding a particular gentleman,” You said pulling the handkerchief from your pocket with a smile. 

ꕥ

You regaled Oswald as you walked about the orchard with the story of the lady gentleman and your romp in the fields that caused your injury. He made no attempt to interrupt your tale listening heartily his brows knit together quizzicakly. When you finished your tale you offered the handkerchief his way so he could examine the details of the embroidery. 

“Well this is quite the conundrum,” Oswald puzzled brushing a thumb over the lettering before handing the handkerchief back your way. “The countryside is quite literally crawling with these Lady Gentlemen.”

You bristled feeling indignant, “You all keep saying that, as if they are mice. I have yet to see more than one. If the countryside was crawling with them you would think I would see more.”

Oswald laughed an awkward boyish laugh, “Perhaps you are right, but there are a noteworthy few. Most likely you have encountered a friend of the Duke of Cambridgeshire, her estate is near here, no more than a two-hours ride on horseback. I will see what I can learn for you (Y/N).”

You took back the handkerchief tucking it away in your dress pocket, nodding thanks. Perhaps if Oswald was successful in his promise, you could learn the name of your elusive savior who ceased to escape your thoughts. 

“So,” Oswald drew out awkwardly. “You enjoy the writings of Sappho?”

You turned to him flushed with embarrassment and indignation, you had yet to voice this to anyone but the fatted and lazy tabby tom cat that patrolled the kitchens who seemed to only care that you were a human, and humans bring food from the heavens to fatten his belly further. And a cat, could not go about spouting to others about how you would rather divine kisses from the lips of another woman. Yet you supposed if he trusted you with his secret perhaps you could allow him this one of yours.

“And if I do?” You countered a bit more snippily than you originally intended which caused you to wince.

Oswald raised a hand in a show of submission, “Not to worry, your secret is safe with me. I am a friend of a lady who also prefers the company of other women, though I doubt she is the woman you encountered, she’s blonde. And I wouldn’t always count her among gentlemen, or women for that matter, but she is a friend of a great many other lady gentlemen.”

You couldn’t help yourself from smiling, “Is it possible that she might know who it is that helped me then? Your friend?”

“Oh, Eivor? Yes, I will write to her as soon as I return to Elmenham,” Oswald smiled and offered you his arm again. “Shall we return to the picnicking party?”

“If we don’t soon I fear they’ll have too many scandalous ideas swirling about their heads to even function,” You quipped taking his arm. 

Oswald laughed and led you back through the orchard to the picnic. When you neared the party you were surprised to see a tall black horse had joined Oswald and Finnr’s horses that grazed lazily about in the orchard grasses. Another individual had joined the picnicking party and was heartily regaling the group. 

As you approached you could see that the person was a lady gentleman. You felt your heart quicken at the possibility of it being your savior. But when she turned to face you and Oswald you could see that wasn’t her, this one was tall, her voice jolly and light, and she had a joyous smile that reached from ear to ear. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she was dressed smartly in an all-black gentleman’s suit, similar to the other lady gentleman you had encountered yesterday. 

You came to stand near your uncle letting go of Oswald’s arm and avoiding your aunt's gaze.

“... we would happily receive you all in a week's time for a masquerade ball,” the Lady Gentleman finished speaking and beamed her eyes landing on you in particular. You could tell she was being sly as her eyes flicked from your face and down your body making you blush hotly. 

She smiled and winked before waving, “I bid you all good day!”

The group exploded into whispers and exclamations of joy, the prospect of a private ball was all enticing, yet you had arrived too late to receive the name of your hosts. 

“Uncle,” you tapped his arm lightly to draw his attention. “Who will be hosting?”

Your uncle folded his hands neatly against his lap and smiled, “Why Soma Guthrumsdóttir, the Duke of Cambridgeshire.”

[akiwitch]

cozy urban fantasy you say? 👀 talk to me about the coziest part of it!

For ME the coziest part is the friendship between the two pov characters, David and Wallace. It’s the most important relationship in the story. They’re close despite their quirks (Wallace being…Wallace and David being nonchalant about any mortal peril he encounters and gently roasting his friends)

And since they’re business partners they compensate for each other’s weaknesses and support each other’s strengths!

ALSO the growth because of their friendship! (Especially David who goes from “I guess I’ll take my trash out but it’s for Thistle (his service dragon) not for me” to “oh I do deserve love and care actually”)

MORE COZY this excerpt is probably my favorite in the whole book:

David made himself coffee and sat at the small dining room table, carefully moving some of Wallace’s research to the side. It was so quiet. No neighbor pacing around upstairs, no one yelling at their tv. Just the silence of an early morning, falling over the world like a spell. Most of the park was still lost in shadow, the sun still not quite over the mountains.

He had notes to go over, research to do, but he found himself just sitting and staring out the window. Steam curled up from the surface of his coffee, twisting in the pale morning light. The ceramic of his mug warmed his fingers. The eastern sky turned pink, then red and a dazzling gold, the sun shining through a thick bank of clouds. Sunlight glowed on the very tops of the trees, leaving the rest in blue shadows. It spilled over the balcony railing and pooled across the floor, picking out threads of honey in the dark wood.

Thistle ate some fruit he left out in a bowl for her then curled up in his lap, letting out the occasional mutter. He smoothed his fingers over her fluff and she sighed with contentment.

He felt safe.

Thanks so much for the ask, obviously I’m obsessed lol

[theplumsoldier]

aftermath [4]

summary: it's the day where joel and ellie are leaving for their final journey before jackson. a morning hunt with joel makes you realize a couple of things; you're despondent, in no rush to be alone again; and you're incredibly attracted to him

pairing: joel miller x reader

word count: 2,6k

warnings: vulgar language, pining, sexual frustrations, mentions of blood, encounter with an infected, descriptions of wounded animals

series: aftermath as always comments are appreciated <3<3

The thunderstorm raged on all night and into the early morning, and although it did not keep you from falling asleep, it did wake you.

Joel's offer had laid camp in your mind since last night. Although you had insisted you were not very good with people, you found yourself fantasizing about what it would be like. He said that if you became a part of the commune, you could join the patrol, guard the stronghold, and get respect. It appealed to you yet you were not sure why.

In school, you learned that humans were social creatures. With an innate capacity to form connections with others, our norms take root in our culture, which in turn goes back to social harmony. You used to think yourself an alien because you lacked this capability to form bonds, well you could, you were just never very good at it. It made all the more sense when you found yourself in a family where the norms just didn't float your boat.

You had been opinionated and argumentative which, when oppressed for several years, diminished into nothing but a constant bellicose hostility toward others. They did not listen to you, so you stopped trying to get through to them.

Only out of spite you had grown to not like people. They were bigoted and impolite, and you found no need in keeping them about. And perhaps that was what made you bigoted and impolite.

So why was this, Joel's offer on you joining him and Ellie to Jackson, suddenly tempting? you wondered.

While you hadn't engaged in much conversation with them, you enjoyed smoking with Joel last night. You wouldn't have guessed it, but it was nice not being alone for once.

It made you wonder if you had made a mistake in living isolated all these years. You thought about whether you would still be alive; if you'd have friends and if you'd have children. It made you shiver, but a warm feeling spread in your stomach, too. Maybe it was just an infection.

Cleaning yourself up in the bathroom you put on a new bandage—the wound no longer bled, not to your surprise (your nursing skills were impeccable), but you remembered your storage had exhausted a couple of days earlier which called for strenuous activity. You needed to go hunting today.

You rolled a joint and pulled into a fresh blouse and sweater, and cowboy jeans. The jeans had to be tightened with a belt cause they were several sizes too large, but loved dearly as the threaded stitching and poorly patched-up holes revealed. Normally you would wear the same outfit for a couple of days, as you had found that handwash would roughen up some types of materials and make the clothes uncomfortable, much like the discomfort a pair of new leather boots gave.

Only when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you stopped and wondered why the fuck you suddenly cared about your appearance. You watched your jaw tick. You knew damn well it was because you had guests and growing up that meant one had to look presentable. You damned the pre-apocalypse world and stepped out of your room.

Joel was awake—of course, he was. He offered a gauche wave of his hand as he looked up from the bent position he had taken by the fireplace.

In turn, you nodded, barely acknowledging him before stomping outside, like a storm passing by. Cursing at yourself you stroke a match and lit the joint embarrassingly quick—you hoped he hadn't noticed the way you had gaped at the size of his thighs. They looked fucking enormous in that bent position.

Outside it seemed to calm a bit and before you knew it the sky had cleared, the breeze had gone and the sun was out. It was still cold but the sun's rays warmed your cheeks when you stepped out from under the pent roof.

Before long Joel stepped out on the porch, too, thumbs fitting in the belt loops in his jeans, looking up through pinched eyes.

"Brew a pot o'coffe. Hope that's okay," he murmured without looking at you. His voice was deeper than it had been yesterday, more coarse and a bit groggy from sleep. It did something to you.

You didn't say anything, instead only speaking when you felt he had begun watching you.

"Wanna go huntin'?" you blurted. Just like last night, the cannabis made you brave. As if you needed an excuse for inviting him, you added, "don't think I can pull much weight with Ellie's souvenir on me, but I need the fresh air."

Joel was a bit surprised but also delighted with your offer. He assumed the weed spurred you on, making you more comfortable in his company—nevertheless, he relished it and agreed to go with you.

You handed him the rest of the joint.

"Let me grab my gear and some coffee," you said before heading back inside.

Joel went upstairs to inform Ellie, but she was fast asleep still. Instead, he found a pencil and a piece of paper and wrote that you had gone out hunting. He added that they would leave for Jackson that same day.

Trotting through the shabby ice and mud, you found yourself a few miles from your home before you spotted anything. Joel thought it was good you had been with him because he would not have noticed the two grazing hinds with their white rumps in the landscape.

Joel crouched on one knee when you urged him down with you.

You turned your head slightly but did not look at him yet. Scanning the hills you looked for a trail to get closer to the hinds. You would need to approach them from the opposite direction so that you were downwind.

"We'll go downhill and follow that track over there so they don't sniff us out."

You didn't wait for him to move with you but you heard his heavy steps crunch the snow behind you. Joel kept close watch of the deer while you navigated. Suddenly Joel halted, making you look back.

"There," he pointed.

You looked yonder and saw a stag's antlers peak up from a mound. It peacefully sauntered toward the hinds. As it stalked closer you realized its size, smirking to yourself as you knew it would last at least two weeks on frost.

"Think you can hit it from 'ere?"

From this distance, you thought you would miss. There was a reason you had chosen the sword and perfected your swordsmanship; you never had been good with long-range. Either way, if you had been, a bow and arrow would obviously have been preferred to a gun.

Joel seemed to find no trouble with the challenge though. Getting down into the mud, he positioned his rifle against the eroding trunk of a dead tree. He bit the finger of his glove, swiftly pulling it off so that no barrier was between his index and the trigger.

You squinted your eyes and prepared for the bang as he drew a couple of breaths.

The shot drilled through the air and straight into the heart of the stag, killing it instantly. Deer were slow to react, so between the time it took the hinds to process the danger and flee, Joel had reloaded and went in for another. The hinds' movement did not faze him one bit and another fell in the scuffle.

It was not unusual to be excited during a hunt, howbeit this arousal was purely sexual and you knew exactly what you wanted. There was no reason for it to be not okay, but it did not sit right with you.

Shifting your weight did no good either, as it merely rubbed one thigh against the other, adding to the tingling already growing.

You awkwardly cleared your throat. "Impressive."

Joel offered a humble look, but you could tell he was satisfied with himself.

Moving forward, you secured the stag and the young deer on the homemade sleigh you had made of rope, deerskin, and wooden cylinders.

Joel made futile conversation on the way back, and you joined in as best you could. Right as you wished you had brought along a joint for the trip, Joel pulled out the remaining of the one from the morning.

"We'll leave in a couple of hours," he said and handed you the lit joint. You accepted it within a second but it took a little longer before you realized what he meant. "You're still welcome to come with us. To Jackson."

It should make you happy to be able to return to your solitary way of life, after all, you had been rather reluctant in letting them stay, but suddenly you were in no hurry to become alone again. Your heart solemnly dropped when you realized it would be just awful to never see them again—to never see him again.

Later in the evening, when they had left for Jackson, you felt yourself growing increasingly restless, sometimes forgetting your solitude and looking up, expecting to find Ellie sprawled on the couch with a comic in hand.

As you sat quietly, you thought back—Joel had offered you to come with them. For a minute you had dwelled on it, but eventually, you decided against joining them.

Before parting ways and wishing one another luck, Joel gave you a hand-drawn map. He had carefully traded the area as well as a road to reach Jackson. "In case you change your mind," he had said.

The feeling between your legs — the one which had appeared on the hunt with him — was resurrected once again. It made you think that Joel wanted you there; otherwise, why would he provide you with a clear guide to reach their destination?

Was it out of the kindness in his heart or the very same feeling that formed goosebumps on your skin? Did he feel it, too?

With sudden movement you stirred away from your thoughts, eyes blinded with flickering light after having stared for too long into the fire.

You busied yourself with rearranging the cushions, getting it back to normal, praying that your voice would stop imagining things, and trying to persuade you that Joel was attracted to you. But when you went to fold the blanket, the smell of him filled your nostrils and engulfed you. It felt as if being held by a ghost, Joel's scent warm and inviting, providing a false sense of security.

Leaving the mess as it was, you decided to heat up an early dinner which was leftovers from the lunch you had prepared before Joel and Ellie's departure.

You would never have guessed it, but it turned out your hosting skills were quite commendable. You had cooked the hind, for the meat on smaller deer was more tender, and while you had prepped a surprisingly lavish lunch for them, Joel skinned and diced the stag in portions, preserving the beast for future feasts. There had been enough to send them on their way with their bellies full and packs of meals they could eat on their journey.

Joel had praised your culinary skills and Ellie said that she would miss your cooking while stuffing her mouth full with it. That made you happy, knowing someone would miss something about you.

After dinner you went outside to clean the bloodshed off the ground, using the hose to flush the area where the deer had been chopped like it had been wood for a fire.

The croaking sounded suddenly and you froze in your place, the hose leaking aimlessly at the ground.

An infected was stepping out of the woods and into sights. It was by no means careful in its approach and you were surprised you hadn't heard it until now. The rustling of the trees and howling of the wind had served as a perfect disguise. You gulped.

It emitted another clicking noise, its skewed jaw falling open to reveal a set of rotten teeth. Fungi pushed out from the eyesockets and completely swallowed what used to be a human face.

A step too close for comfort and you set into a sprint, giving yourself away for the sake of arming yourself.

The clicker was inhumanly quick, on your tail in no time, barging through the door you shot in its face. Sprinting to the kitchen you snatched a knife from the sink, you barely managed to get a grip before you had to strike.

The infected's crude coordination sent it into the counter with a thud and a sliced chest. It did not halt though, and you shuffled to distance yourself from the attacker.

Using the layout of the room, it gracelessly stalked you and flew across the couch, catching the flames from the fireplace. You moved in time to not get hurt, but the corpse on fire had you cursing at yourself. Bad call.

It scrambled to its feet, and for a moment you stared terrified at the burning corpse, wondering if this was your time. It was obviously not your first encounter, but it was the first time in years an infected had come around here. When you had first settled in the area, you had thought the rugged landscape made it difficult for the infected to roam the place or something like that. After you had set up home here, you had only ever had 3 infected come this close, the rest of the encounters had been when you were out hunting.

You lunged at the infected but the wet knife slipped from your grip and lodged in its cheek, leaving you with nothing to fight with.

You focused on dodging it, and the clumsy brawl spread out to the entirety of the room, leaving you to desperately search for an object while utilizing the obstacles in the makeshift arena that was your home.

The clicker beat itself up by running into furniture, and you felt it wouldn't be long until the flames would completely burn out the fungi—that was if it didn't manage to harm itself further with the kitchen knife still wedged in its face.

It tumbled awkwardly to the floor, flopping in the veil of the curtain it got tangled in. Circulation blew through the open door and a gush of wind licked the flamed curtain, blowing just right, like one would to get a bonfire started. You realized that if the fight didn't end soon and you could extinguish the fire, your house might verily burn down.

Suddenly much more eager to end the fight, you turned your back on the clicker and darted up the stairs case. The steps slowed it down a little but just enough for you to collect your sword and raise the blade so that it ran directly into it.

The infected collapsed down the stairs, now more brain dead than it had ever been and you survived without a scratch. The stitches in your wound, however, had opened and you were bleeding heavily.

With exasperated steps you limped back down the staircase, taking no break to let the adrenaline disappear. You needed to stop the fire, but it was raging now, having spread to the ceiling and caught onto the beams. It was not good.

You slumped against the counter, abruptly faced with overwhelming emotions as you watched your house burn down around you. You thought of retrieving the hose still pumping water outside, but it was no use. The damage was irreparable and your home was done for.

Your eyes flickered to the map Joel had left you.

You were going to Jackson.

[my-corneroftheworld]

Child without love

Summary: Namor finds a marine biologist with the powers to control water and deep knowledge of the sea and is intrigued.

Word count: 1,4k

Tags: no minors allowed, "water-bender" reader x Namor after the events from Wakanda forever, possessive Namor, mutant reader, asphyxiation, war, violence, harsh language, the usage of y/n, nausea, vomiting, pregnancy scare, afab reader

Ps. I seem to be back on track. As usual, I accept the constructive criticism below and I am grateful for your loving support :)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I began spending more time with him. Though it would always be during odd hours. Early mornings and late nights. I suppose a lot of his duties get in the way during the day and in all honesty, so do mine. Training is as rigorous as always, Namora has however complimented me at times now that I am capable of fighting underwater. Attuma and Izel were overjoyed about the courtship, constantly teasing whenever they get the opportunity. After asking Izel to formally start teaching me their language and culture she has been nothing but diligent. I have so much to learn and I am so grateful to have such a patient and kind person supporting me. I often tell her but she always tries to humble herself. Being here I feel a bit isolated and having someone who truly wants to get to know me and I them has made all the difference.

I went to his place to get ready, not that it would make any difference. Tonight is the first time I leave the cave. He asked me to come see Talokan and I jumped at the opportunity. Izel would often talk about its beauty and I feel I need to know what I am striving to protect. I can't control the water pressure for too long so he said I would have to use a suit so I won't accidentally die. A hand gently placed on my shoulder pulls me from my thoughts. I turned around and was greeted by the man who occupies most of my thoughts. He pulled me in quietly for a soft kiss to which I gladly participate.

"You look as beautiful as the moon, my love," he says in between breaths. I chuckle a bit, flattery unfortunately has very much an effect on me. I just hope I am not wrong to feel this comfortable to be in his arms.

"Thank you, but I guess you won't be seeing it for long as I am going to have to put on that submarine of a suit"

"Submarine?" he asks. I look at him confused until I remember he hasn't lived my life or is even from the surface world. I keep on forgetting that I am not home.

"It's those machines that people use to explore the sea levels that have high pressure" I clarify.

"Ah, of course, I have encountered a few. Never knew what they were called though" He looks into my eyes, searching. For what? I don't know. It's moments like these that make me wonder what he is thinking. If he really loves me or it's just another ploy to get me to stay. I suppose sometimes I search in his eyes too.

" Before we go down, I wanted to give you something," he says before handing me a chocker. It was gold lace and adorned with emerald green jewels. I can tell what kind they were but they were gorgeous.

"Thank you, you shouldn't have," I say before trying it on but the threads didn't want to comply with my instructions. I hear i small snicker then a "may I?" I embarrassingly nod and allow him to put it on.

"Thank you," He always tries to bring something for our meetings, pearls, and seashells and sometimes he would visit my old house to bring some of my books. For some reason, I'm always surprised when he does though, this amount of pampering isn't what I am used to I guess.

"Let's go then" he guides me out of the cabin and shows me to the suit at the pool's edge. I maneuver myself in luckily I manage to do without his help and on his we emerge ourselves in water. It felt strange not being able to feel it on my skin but somehow I could still feel it around me, reassuring me. He swam in front of me, looking back from time to time while I followed him. The sea got darker and darker as we moved away from the cave. After a short swim, he stopped and moved towards a circular stone head. He put his hands in the hole and put the ends of his palms together whiles stretchy out the rest of his hands. Suddenly a whirlpool appeared and he motioned me to get in with him so I did. The pool had a strong current. It became hard for me to move in this already stiff suit but I loved it. I've tried commanding a whirlpool but it took a lot of focus to even get a decent twirl. Seeing and feeling it around gave me chills and a whole new perspective on its power.

Once the whirlpool ceased I was surrounded by complete darkness, nothing but the light of my small flashlight attached to my helmet to give me consolidation. I drifted forward trying to spot him and saw a faint light coming from above a bolder and in that light a figure that I assumed to be his. When I reached the top and stood by his side I finally saw, the origin of this light was Talokan. It stood there in all its wonder amongst the dark blue sea. We swam towards it and I was struck by awe, It was majestic, everything from the quaint markets to the towering buildings. As we swam around the beautiful kingdom surrounded by busy people, I found him throwing little glances my way. He wasn't telling me but I know he was communicating his pride of his kingdom. It wasn't from a place of arrogance though but from of love. I smiled. I thought I understood before but now being here and seeing it, I completely understand the importance of protecting this place.

After spending hours there I was plagued by a sense of exhilaration and unease. I wanted to be there like fully emersed in the sea, touching the fruits from the market and the ground beneath my feet. I know one day I will but right now I'll have to be satisfied with just looking.

"Did you like it there?" he asked whiles drawing circles on my skin. We went to bed after the trip and I was so exhausted that I ended up not saying a word. I suppose it's a lot for me to process.

"Yes... I did. It was astonishing" he lets out a soft chuckle.

"Good... It is your home now" I looked at him and silence fell between us. It wasn't unwanted or awkward but comforting. Being in silence with him was my home in ways I cannot explain. Caressing each other seeking no more than each other's company is all I need. But somethings knawing at me and I don't what it is. We continue like this until I fall asleep.

Upon waking I realize he is not there. He probably left early for a meeting or something. I make my way toward my hut to change and prepare myself for training. I was walking along the pool when I felt it again, the uneasiness. But this time I realized what it was. Suddenly it came out, I barely had time to react before vomiting on the corner of the path. Izel saw and rushed towards me.

"Are you alright?" she asked concerningly

"I'm not sure" I rarely vomit or feel nausea even during my period. My period. It hasn't come yet. It could just be late, that happens at times.

"How many days has it been since I came here?"

"About 30 days. But why are you asking? Come inside so I can go get you some medicine." She pulled me to a hammock in my room and went. I might be but how can I check. Should I tell her my suspicions? No, I need to keep to myself until I know for certain. It might just be a fluke or the pressure of being underwater for as long as I have. She came back with tea and encouraged me to drink.

"It's good for you when you feel sick. Drink and I will tell Namora that you will not train today"

"Thank you" She smiles before leaving me once again to my thoughts. I have no clue what the hell I have gotten myself into.

[angie-long-legs]

starter for @hazbinned travis

Typical. Just typical of Valentino to leave Angel stranded in a rough part of town with no cab fare, no spare clothes, no nothing. Not even a goddamn jacket.

It was the same old story. The pair had got into fight, Angel had been a little too mouthy for Val's liking, and this was how he was making him pay for it: by hiring him out at a reduced rate for a spell (the difference, of course, coming out of Angel's pay check). This culminated in the spider being thrown back to his roots of frequenting grubby apartments and dingy motels and the joy of Johns who were clearly unvetted prior to their arrangement with the porn star.

As much as it was a punishment, it was a lesson. Val wanted to remind his star where he'd be if it weren't for his illustrious power and influence; where he'd end up if he were to tow the line of his patience any further. It was a promise - one that Angel didn't truly know if he would make good on, but he certainly did not feel inclined to find out.

The pimp had been that special brand of cold and smug as he'd dropped Angel off with this particular client, giving no indication of where they even were, let alone what the actor should expect from the encounter. Of course, Angel had been well aware that Valentino's generosity of escorting him to the job did not extent to actually collecting him afterwards - he would be left to fend for himself, just as he'd always done before he'd been swept off his feet by the whirlwind that was Valentino.

So now, here he was: a hooker in a tight dress, loitering on a street corner in a bad neighbourhood in the early hours of the morning, with nothing but a cash payment that was not his to spend and his phone that boasted an impressively low battery of three percent.

He needed an escape plan, and he needed one fast.

Three sets of arms curled around his torso instinctively as he did his best to blend into the shadows. He could just call Val... give him the usual blubbering spiel of "I'm so sorry, you were right, I need ya, I can't do this by myself" until the gloating moth caved and sent a car to get him. His pride was surely a worthy sacrifice in the place of being mugged, abducted, murdered, worse.

Yeah, right.

The few remaining threads of dignity that the spider vehemently clung to after enduring two hours of being a stranger's bitch were absolutely not on the table. Any other time, he might have considered sinking so low, but in the hot, shameful aftermath of Valentino's cruel games designed to break his pet project? Angel would rather face a host of evils than give that bastard the satisfaction of his submission.

No, he needed someone who didn't have the power to humiliate him like that. He sighed, scrolling through the contacts on his dim-screened phone, ruling out anyone who didn't meet his strict critera. Someone he didn't care about seeing him in this pitiful state... someone he could rely on to be around in the middle of the night, who would jump at the chance to offer Angel a favour...

Bingo.

Keen to preserve the dregs of his phone battery, Angel was quick to click said contact, sending his location before typing out the accompanying message:

Sent to: Travis 🤑

[3:21am]

u up? need a ride. pls come get me? xx

[teecupangel]

In the enchanted realm of the fae, where magic danced through every leaf and blossom, there lived a gentle and whimsical fae. With her iridescent wings shimmering in the sunlight, the fae possessed a gift for words, her thoughts flowing like a babbling brook.

One serene morning, as the fae sat beneath a sprawling oak tree, she felt an overwhelming desire to connect with distant lands and kindred spirits beyond her realm. Inspired by the fluttering butterflies and the whispers of the wind, she decided to write a letter, pouring her ethereal essence onto the delicate parchment.

The fae's letter was a tapestry of dreams, enchantment, and heartfelt wishes. It carried the magic of the fae and the essence of her longing to connect with others. With great care, she folded the letter and sealed it with a single silver dewdrop, a symbol of her hope and longing.

Now, she needed a trusted courier who could carry her precious message to a distant post office, a place where it would begin its journey to lands far beyond her reach. She sought out a nimble and dependable squirrel, known for his quick feet and unwavering dedication.

The squirrel, with his bushy tail and bright eyes, listened intently to the fae's request. He understood the importance of her letter, and he agreed to take on the role of the courier, knowing that his mission would carry the hopes and dreams of the fae to distant realms.

With the letter securely tucked away in a small pouch tied around his neck, the pair set off on their adventure. The squirrel skillfully navigated the forest, his paws swiftly carrying him through thick undergrowth and across babbling brooks.

Days turned into weeks as he ventured into unfamiliar lands, following winding paths and crossing expansive meadows. He encountered towering mountains and serene valleys, each landscape more breathtaking than the last. Along the way, he encountered other creatures, each one marveling at the magical letter he carried.

Finally, the squirrel arrived at a bustling post office in a distant land, a place where letters from far and wide converged. With a confident smile and a sense of accomplishment, he handed the fae's letter to the diligent postal workers, explaining its importance and the enchantment it carried.

The postal workers, recognizing the significance of her letter, handled it with reverence and care. They pledged to ensure its safe delivery, knowing that it held the dreams and aspirations of the fae. With their assistance, the letter would soon embark on its journey, traversing lands and oceans to reach its destined recipient.

As the squirrel bid farewell to the post office, a feeling of fulfillment filled his tiny heart. He had played a part in connecting distant souls, weaving threads of magic and kinship across realms. With a sense of pride, he returned to the fae, sharing tales of his adventures and the joy it brought him to deliver.

Curious the squirrel asked what was written and the fae replied: "Desmond becomes a ghost after the solar flare and gets sent back in time with a doll for some reason and because he's becoming unstable possesses the doll so now everyone thinks the doll is haunted by a demon because of all the pranks he did, and no matter what they do to destroy it, he always comes back unscathed. (he just fixes the doll lol)"

Their small town only had him as the courier and, most of the time, he would receive packages sent by the children (well they were adults now) who left their peaceful little town.

Then the alchemist arrived and set up their little atelier on a small hill next to the town. And the packages and messages meant for their little town grew.

He didn’t mind.

The alchemist usually kept to themselves but, if he timed his delivery well, the alchemist will give him tea and maybe some sweets as he waits for the daily mails the alchemist always requested to be delivered.

He especially liked the tea the alchemist made using moonflowers from the nearby lake early this year. They were small white flowers that only bloomed during night time and would wither once the sun was up. He didn’t even know how the alchemist could have dried the leaves before it withered but, considering no one in town really knew how alchemy worked, well… he supposed the alchemist was able to make tea leaves out of moonflowers thanks to alchemy.

He had finished delivering today’s mails so he was on his way to get the packages the villagers wished to send out. As usual, his cart was pretty much empty as he slowly made his way to the atelier.

The sun was just about to set when he reached the atelier and he stopped when he saw the clay golem take water from the well before it entered the atelier while the alchemist watched it with that little frown of theirs that usually meant they were thinking of something that needs to be optimized or another.

“That one ‘bout ready to be shipped then?” He asked curiously, having seen the clay golem walking around the atelier a week or so now.

“Not yet. Still have to rebuild it.” The alchemist answered as they turned to face him, “Come on in. I’m still finishing my last request for the day. I made tea.”

The courier perked up.

He hoped it was moonflower tea but he wouldn’t mind if it was the usual hibiscus tea that the alchemist seemed to prefer. He placed his empty cart out of the way so it wouldn’t block the road.

Even though he was pretty sure that he was the only one who used this road anyway.

He entered the small atelier and looked around. It looked the same as usual. That device that the alchemist calls an ‘item rebuilt’ device held some kind of wood carving of an eagle of some kind. He had probably seen the alchemist request him to peddle similar carvings to the Archives about 24 times now. And it seemed he would be peddling another one next week as well.

He sat on the small dining table and waited as the alchemist poured him a cup of tea.

The last time he tried to pour himself a cup, the teapot bit his finger, so he decided to not touch anything unless the alchemist handed it to him.

His face brightened when he smelled moonflowers and asked, “Made another batch?”

“Just a small one.” The alchemist replied with a shrug, “Figured I’d treat myself.”

They were about to say something but the small cauldron let out a poof of colorful smoke and they said instead, “Take your time. I’ll just prepare the daily mails now.”

The courier nodded as he took a sip of the moonflower tea, watching the alchemist take out what seemed to be some kind of doll out of the small cauldron.

Huh.

He wondered what the story behind that one would be this time.

============== Actual Answer to the Ask ==============

… so… before anything else, I did base the idea of an alchemist working on an atelier from the Atelier series (because I was playing Ryza when I first got your ask) and they have this reoccurring character named Pamela who is actually a ghost… that haunts a teddy bear… Because of how we set up this ask and answer portion, I am immediately thinking of Desmond as Pamela which is funny because Pamela usually looks like these:

So now I’m just imagining Desmond as a ghost wearing an Assassin outfit that feels more gothic and fluffy? Like a mix of Ezio’s mentor robes and Evie’s Master Assassin robes but more flowy so his clothes would float whenever he appears like an actual ghost.

My initial idea was to keep the doll as a white teddy bear with a red ribbon the same color as Altaïr’s sash but let’s up the creepy factor. The doll looks exactly like Desmond in his ghost outfit but seemed to be made of fabric instead of porcelain or wood. It’s super weird because this doll? It never gets dirty. No matter where it’s been thrown or even when it was thrown in a fire, the damn thing still stays as pristine as always regardless of what happens to it.

Now, since we sent Desmond back in time, this does mean that we have an option of Desmond either haunting the Templars or the Assassins.

Honestly?

I think it would be funny if Desmond is haunting the Assassins XD

Altaïr:

Umar actually finds the doll in one of the bureaus, slumped over and looking quite pathetic. When he asks where the doll came from, no one can answer him and the Rafiq guessed one of the novices bought it for a girl or something but he got rejected. Sounds convoluted for Umar but if no one’s claiming it, can he take it? The Rafiq goes sure and Umar gives the doll to Altaïr as a sorta present as well as an apology because he couldn’t get Altaïr any other toy. Altaïr loves it because it’s so soft and pretty.

When Umar dies, Altaïr hugs the doll as he cries himself to sleep and he feels a gentle hand caress his hair. He falls asleep feeling a warm presence that he thought might be Umar.

When Ahmad tried to open the door to Altaïr’s room to ask forgiveness, he is unable to do anything because he felt a cold presence in the room, glaring down at him. The force is so strong that he lost all strength and fell on his knees crying as he begged forgiveness from Umar’s ghost. He still kills himself but his crying caused enough noise that nearby Assassins went to check it out and saw him do it.

The shouting coming outside woke Altaïr up but he hears a voice tell him to go back to sleep so he does.

Altaïr only heard the rumors that Ahmad had killed himself in front of their room but he didn’t actually see it. Al Mualim was never able to snuff out that rumor and Abbas hears of it as a child as well. This only made him hate Altaïr because he believes his father dying is Altaïr’s fault. (Which is really him being unable to cope with his father’s death and his father’s decision to die instead of living to stay with his son)

The doll stays in Altaïr’s room and Abbas likes to insult Altaïr for having it but Altaïr ignores him which only angers Abbas.

Assassins patrolling at night swears they see a ghostly apparition floating around. Altaïr’s floor has the most sighting but the mentor’s offices seemed to be the ones to have the most activity.

Mostly… everything looked off? Nothing is missing at all but it all looks off.

Desmond has been slowly moving everything an inch to the left.

Ezio:

Ezio finds the doll in the Sanctuary, slumped down near the bars of Altaïr’s statue. He tried to give it to Claudia who glared at him as she asked if Ezio remembered how old she was right now. Ezio just backed away from the room and made a tactical retreat.

In the end, he leaves the doll next to Petruccio’s box of feathers and asked the doll to keep his mother company.

The maids start hearing whispers coming from Maria Auditore’s room but they assumed it was the madame talking to herself.

Which only worried Claudia even more so she keeps an ear out for it.

When she heard the whispers, she runs as fast as she can to her mother’s room because she swears she heard two voices.

When she gets there, it’s only Maria Auditore in the room, holding the doll in her hands as she tells it stories about her children when they were young. Claudia doublechecks the room but there’s nothing there.

The next time Ezio returns to the Villa, Claudia tells him that his gift was slightly helping their mother. She was talking now but she… she keeps talking to the doll like it was a real person. She talks to everyone else but she keeps insisting on having afternoon tea with the doll and the maids are ordered to give the doll a teacup as well.

Mario thinks that this is some kind of coping mechanism for Maria. That she might have had a similar looking doll as a child and her broken mind had latched on to it. Right now, it was safer to let Maria do as she likes. If she starts doing something dangerous, that’s when they should take the doll. Otherwise, they risk breaking Maria even further if they take the doll now.

When Ezio visits Maria, Maria smiles at him and tells him to join their tea party. “Oh, Ezio, come join us. Desmond always love hearing stories about you.”

After Ezio’s meeting with Minerva, he wonders… if his mother knew who this ‘Desmond’ was…

Ratonhnhaké:ton:

Ratonhnhaké:ton finds the doll underneath the bed of the room Achilles gave him in the homestead. By then, he knew Achilles had a child who died and assumed that the doll was the child’s. He placed it inside a drawer he wasn’t using before leaving.

When he returns to the manor, the doll was sitting on top of the small bedside table in Ratonhnhaké:ton’s room and Ratonhnhaké:ton just assumed Achilles placed it there. He ignored it because he knows how much of a sore subject the death of his family is. He didn’t even realize that Achilles would have never entered his room without permission.

Achilles is the one who ‘feels’ Desmond the most. Mostly, he would see a ghostly figure leave the manor or enter it, hearing the creaking of the floorboard and even the ceiling.

He ignores all of it because… he actually believes it’s the ghost of one of his apprentices. With the small glimpses he saw of it, he believes it might be Hope and he believes this is another punishment.

Desmond doesn’t really play pranks on Achilles unless Ratonhnhaké:ton leaves the homestead after he has an argument with Achilles.

Because of this, Achilles believes that Hope is chastising him for being too hard on Ratonhnhaké:ton.

Desmond has noooo idea who Hope is but it makes Achilles more open to his ‘suggestions’ so… well… it might sound bad but he doesn’t mind pretending to be another ghost.

Achilles and Desmond usually play chess but Desmond only moves his pieces when there’s no one around.

The people of the homestead believe that the manor has a ghost living in it but it’s a benevolent one.

Other possible haunting locations:

The captain cabin of Aquila, Jackdaw and Morrigan (the doll was already there when they got the ships)

The train hideout in London

Café Théâtre in Paris

If you want ghost!Desmond to haunt the Farm, child!Desmond could find it under his bed

(ngl, this made me both think about my idea for a fanfic where Desmond is an alchemist with the setting of an Atelier game AND gave me an idea of Desmond actually replacing Pamela as the doll ghost when he gets kicked into one of the Atelier games… I wanna go for the Dusk Trilogy since she didn’t appear there at all and I think he’ll be a good friend to Ayesha. Plus, Atelier games are such chill games it would be a vacation for Desmond.)