#*self consciousness trickles in*

[valeriianz]

You are an obsession, you're my obsession Who do you want me to be to make you sleep with me?

“Hello, Hob,” a low, sultry, and achingly familiar voice speaks behind him, cutting through the heavy bass reverberating off the walls and straight through Hob’s chest, lighting him up.

Turning, Hob finds– who he’d been referring to as– his stranger behind him, close enough to reach out and touch. They’re in the middle of the dance floor, bodies packed and grinding all night, but somehow they’ve given them room now.

Hob was dreaming, he was aware of it almost immediately. He’s been thrown back into the 1980s, one of Hob’s favorite periods of the 20th century, and in a nightclub no less. The music loud enough to penetrate skin, feeling the twangy synth pop in his bones. Everyone around him dressed in every color of the rainbow, over accessorized in neon hoop earrings and bangles, leg warmers, windbreakers, and mesh patterns. 

Hob’s dreams often took him back in time, and he wondered what prompted this. Though as Hob often did in his dreams, instead of considering why, he simply indulged. The music wasn’t anything particular, perhaps nothing was actually playing and it was all in his head, but Hob had felt the push and pull of everyone around him and followed along like a buoy at sea.

And now, feeling drunk off the sticky sweet air in the room, Hob grins as he boldly steps into his stranger’s space and slips both arms around his middle, pulling so his skinny, pale, gorgeous friend is flush against him.

He’d been dancing with strangers all night, shadows with indeterminate faces, allowing them to trace patterns on his skin, grip his shoulders or tug on his shirt. Hob hadn’t been dancing or even hanging around loud bars or clubs in decades, maybe somewhere deep in his subconscious, he missed it. Missed the anonymity of it all, getting high off everyone else’s pleasure and succumbing to it. So it made sense, as Hob felt himself getting hot, his skin prickling, that his imagination would wander, drifting to his perfect stranger. The only constant in his life, and someone who frequented Hob’s dreams often, especially as their centennial meetings came around or passed.

Though this iteration of his friend appeared distinctly… solid. He was dressed in that long black coat and skinny jeans from their last meeting (where he’d apologized, apologized! And called Hob a friend), his black hair gently tousled as before.

Hob paid it no mind as his tongue finally became useful and spoke for him.

“Hello, stranger.” he tried his best to mimic his friend’s deep voice and giggled at himself, cataloging the twitch of amusement in his usual stony face.

“You were thinking about me.” He spoke again, choosing to not point out how Hob currently had his arms ensnared around him and swaying them back and forth. “In a place like this.”

His stranger cast his gaze about the room and Hob noticed, in the pulsing lights, his eyes were black, all the way to the sclera, not the crystal blue that Hob had become so acquainted with. It was startling, and as the strobe lights began to flicker, Hob watched his friend’s eyes shimmer as well, like stars dancing in the night sky.

“I’m always thinking about you,” Hob spoke, transfixed. He hadn’t meant to say that, but fuck it, this was a dream and he’d said and done much worse with his oldest friend, to this stranger, in the comfort of his own head. “Even if I don’t know your bloody name yet.”

Those piercing eyes focused back on Hob and he felt himself physically wobble, holding onto his friend now for support.

“Oh, I am aware.” Hob caught his breath at the genuine smile his friend gave him, much like the one in the New Inn just days ago. “But you do know my name, you must, in order to summon me like this.”

Hob huffed, impatient. His friend’s hands were still resolutely at his side, unmoving even as Hob squeezed and swayed with a little more force.

“Sure, Dream Stranger,” Hob’s arms eased up just enough to slot his hands against bony hips and pull, making him stagger forward. Hob smirked, elated at the absolute shock reflected in the man’s expression.

“Now get with the program,” Hob leaned in, touching his nose to his stranger’s, the slight gasp it caused going straight to Hob’s cock. “And put your hands on me.”

He didn’t pull away, which was good. This dream had been derailed long enough. And finally, finally Hob’s dream lifted his arms and surrounded Hob’s face in his hands.

Big hands, Hob realized as his entire body went still. Big fucking hands, with long fingers, cool to the touch, and slipping back into his hair. Hob felt like he’d been electrocuted, his face forced forward, pupils shaking as he met his stranger dead on, getting lost in the inky black atmosphere of his impalpable eyes.

“Ah,” Hob eloquently said, swallowing hard. “This is different.”

“Is it?” His stranger gave a smirk of his own, lips turning up sharp at the corners, like they could cut. “How do these dreams normally proceed?”

Slowly, like pieces fitting into a puzzle, understanding trickles in Hob’s brain and his eyes go wide, his heart stopping before kicking back up in double time.

“Oh, you’re– really here, aren’t you.” It’s not a question. Hob would feel more embarrassed about this if his ancient friend wasn’t holding him at eye level, scrutinizing in an obnoxiously amusing way.

“Yes.”

Hob wets his lips and doesn’t miss how the galaxy flicks down to watch the motion. “And your name is…”

“Dream.” His fingers tangle further into Hob’s hair, gripping it and causing Hob’s jaw to drop with a not-so-quiet groan.

He leans in close, cold lips brushing Hob’s jaw and making every hair stand on end. 

“I would appreciate it if you used it now, Hob Gadling.”

Hob’s eyes flutter shut, his fingers pressing on narrow hips hard enough to bruise. “Dream?”

“Mm…” Dream purrs, like a cat content, as he nuzzles his way up Hob’s neck to speak hotly in his ear. “Again.”

Hob gasps like the air has been ripped from him as Dream bites the top of his ear, sending a bolt of electricity down his spine and causing his hips to twitch involuntarily.

“Dream.” Hob tilts his head, exposing his neck as Dream’s lips drag along the stubble there, licking and nibbling as he goes. “Oh my god–”

“Again.” The demand is punctuated with one hand moving from Hob’s hair to his backside, groping roughly and setting Hob on fire as he feels the confined outline of Dream’s arousal press against his own straining erection.

“Fuck–” Hob releases Dream’s hips and holds onto his face instead, pulling it from his abused neck and forcing their mouths together.

The kiss is the most grounding Hob has ever felt, but also fleeting, delicate like a cloud. Hob holds on like Dream could vanish, melt into the floorboards or dissolve into a pile of sand– sand! God, Hob was an idiot.

Dream’s tongue invades Hob’s mouth like a cavalry, drowning Hob. Bites his bottom lip like a brand, a claim, drawing blood and making Hob shake with want. The dance floor suddenly becomes vacant, people vanishing, music filtering out like a volume knob had been turned down. Hob’s hands settle on Dream’s shoulders and push, walking them backwards until Dream’s back connects with a wall and Hob thrusts his entire body onto him. The impact forces a cough of surprise from Dream and Hob likes it, elated to elicit any kind of reaction from his friend.

“You make me crazy,” Hob bites out, pressing his own fingers against Dream’s throat and up into his silky soft hair, grabbing it and watching his friend to see how his eyes glint something hot and dangerous. “You know that?”

“Would you demonstrate it for me?” Dream’s lips curl, enticing and provoking, daring Hob to say yes. To take Dream apart and show him every fantasy he’s ever conjured up. To act on every impure thought Hob’s ever had, every fleeting glance or touch turned purposeful and laden with desire.

Hob would take Dream apart, if that’s what he wished. And here, in his dream, anything was possible, and Hob intended to keep him here as long as he could, letting Dream into his darkest whims and satisfactions. Perhaps he already knew, could feel it in Hob, the way Dream made him ache, the way he made him hunger. 

Slipping his fingers through Dream’s belt loops, Hob pulled as he rolled his hips, connecting their fronts and knocking his head back with the bolt of pleasure. Dream’s hands fisted into his shirt and held on as they met again and again.

“Hob–” Dream crooned, his mouth at his collarbone.

“Yes,” Hob finally answered, his head coming down to watch Dream, seduced by the exploding cosmos in his eyes. “I would show you everything.”

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream x hob #inspired by the song Obsession by Animotion #well this got out of hand #this was just gonna be them dancing #i wanted hob to goad dream into it and it be awkward and funny #mostly i just wanted to see dream stiff as a board and hob laughing at him #and then i fucking wrote this lol #not that im complaining #i still want to write them being silly and dancing #also #HAPPY SANDMAN RENEWAL AHHH #my writing #edit: tumblr ate my Read More break and its already been reblogged without it ahh #oh well #as long as youre okay with a 1.5k fic post on your blog #without a page break lol #*self consciousness trickles in*

[comatosebunny09]

fever dream | astarion a.

genre(s): fluff, angst

warning(s): language, self-indulgent, sick!reader, astarion’s a little ooc

now playing: the night does not belong to god - sleep token

notes: very self-indulgent because i’m sick and needed some comfort and @nanaoise08squad inspired me to finish this. thank you for reading, lovelies! ❤️❤️❤️

Somehow, the sun shines brighter today. Glaringly so.

You hold a hand to your temple to shield your eyes from its brilliance. Your armor feels heavier, too. Like boulders stacked on your shoulders and chest, making it harder to breathe. You force out a groan that’s gritty like ash. Trudge down the steps leading outside the inn to join your companions, your limbs weighted and achy.   

“I hate to point out the obvious, darling.” Astarion grimaces with his hands curled to his chest in revulsion. He ducks away from the sight of you. Winces as you take a labored step forward, your balance thrown to the hells.

“But you look like utter shit.”

You scoff, phlegm making itself known in your throat.

What a way to be greeted by the love of your life.

“You sure are a flatterer, aren’t you, Astarion?”

You’re sure to drag out the vowels of his name—or perhaps your words are a little slurred due to whatever ailment took hold of you today. Nevertheless, you jab a finger between his ribs, your face twisting into something haughty.

You wonder if it was worth the exertion as your vision and body sway along with the trees, and your head pounds something menacing whilst a wave of vertigo hurtles into you.

“Shit!”

Astarion catches you when you pitch forward, your legs unable to grasp the rhythm of walking. And there are suddenly two of him. Two little ‘starions calling your name, fretting over you, shaking you to keep you amongst the conscious.

You feel like lead. Feel yourself sinking below the surface, unable to return.  

Your lids shutter as if weighed down by sandbags. The muddled shouts of your friends trickle in, each tinged with varying degrees of concern. You register hands all over you, patting and pulling. Register a strained voice yelling stop, and the frantic touching ceases.  

Before you fully succumb to the darkness, there is the sensation of you being lifted up, followed by the earthy scent of bergamot flooding your senses, and it furls around your heart.

Then, there is nothing.

Something savory draws you from the inkiness of your sleep. It curls around your mind, luring you into consciousness.

You caution a sound, your throat rubbed raw from disuse. You slowly open your eyes, and the bleariness gradually morphs into discernible shapes and colors. Somehow, this place feels familiar.

You’re back in your rented room. Nestled in the plushness of a mattress with too many pillows and sheets soft as linen. You will yourself onto your elbows, wincing at the stiffness of your neck. The pain is manageable. Better than it was before, you note, leisurely ingesting your surroundings.

A lone candle flickers on the nightstand, swathing the room in its bronze glow. Moonlight seeps through the curtains lining the window across. The faint symphony of crickets accompanies the murmur of the inn’s other patrons and the groans of the floorboards beyond your doorway.

Bloody hell.

How long have you been out?

On cue, the doorknob rattles, and a slither of light leaks in. The swell of noise outside commands your attention. You stiffen, fingers instinctively twitching for a weapon. But your bones settle as a thatch of white creeps into your vision from the threshold.

“Well, hello there, Sleeping Beauty,” Astarion breathes. He toes the door shut, a steaming bowl of deliciousness cupped in his palms. Takes a few steps forward, rounded eyes flashing amber beneath the candlelight.

You recognize that aroma. The hearty scent which roused you from your sleep. Your stomach gnarls with life as Astarion nears the bed, donning that smug little mask.

“Hungry, are we?”

You nod enthusiastically, garnering a chuckle from the room’s other occupant. Suddenly self-conscious of how eager you are whilst he hands you the bowl, his fingers slinking away from yours as if he’s touched simmering coals.

“Courtesy of Gale,” Astarion supplies. “I can’t guarantee how good it tastes considering—well, you know. Undead and all that.”

His smile is tight-lipped. Guarded as he settles himself on a stool beside you, his spine straight and his ankles crossed. He helps you sit up against the headboard despite the unease permeating the air. Quickly retracts his hands to press them against the wood of his seat between his thighs, surveying your room.

You take some time to study him. Note that his eyebags seem more prominent than usual. Darker. Hair’s a little tussled, skin a bit paler. His shirt sits rumpled around his shoulders, the fastenings of it done all wrong. Worst of all, he has not looked at you for longer than a few beats. Like you’re made of glass and will shatter if he stares for too long.   

A pang shoots through you, searing hot like lightning.

He was worried.

Worst of all, he was worried about you.

You’re no longer hungry, your stomach twisting as you gaze down at the stew bleeding warmth into your palms. You set it on the nightstand with a decisive clunk, quietly receding into yourself. Silently relenting to the smog of self-loathing draping itself across your shoulders.   

“You scared me half to death, you know,” says Astarion, parting the tangled sea of your thoughts. As if he senses you berating yourself. It’s a soft drawl. An attempt at scolding you, but there’s weariness nestled in the undercurrents of it. “That’s saying a lot, considering I’ve already one foot in the grave.”

You peer up at him like a meager child. He watches you from his peripheral with crossed arms, his nose turned up, feigning disappointment. You see through the cracks of his façade, and your lips twitch with the threat of a smile.

He can be incredibly adorable when trying to shroud his feelings.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, your tone barely above a whisper.

Astarion releases a resigned sigh. And the weight of the world seems to pour from his shoulders as he angles himself towards you, reaching for one of your hands.

His expression softens, and he squeezes, his palm frigid yet reassuring. For the first time since he entered, he truly looks at you. Gaze swims through your features as if to commit every detail, every imperfection, to memory. As if he could lose you at any second.  

“No need to apologize, my love. I was just…concerned, is all. I suppose we all were when you went down.”

The recollection makes your face blossom with heat. Poor little darling, taken out by a nasty cold. Causing hysteria among your friends, deterring your journey.

Astarion thumbs your cheek, smiling something genuine at the pout on your lips.

Your tongue burns with the ache of a question, and you shrink, not wholly prepared for the answer.

“How long was I out for?”

“Nearly two days.”

You blanch, evoking another guttural laugh from Astarion.     

“Shadowheart did her best to heal you. There was only so much her magic could mend. So, we’ve been playing the waiting game while you caught up on your beauty sleep. Not like you need much more of it.”

You snort at Astarion’s cheekiness.

Leave it to your little star to find every opportunity to flatter you.

He examines your joined hands thoughtfully, thumb smoothing over your knuckles.

“It’s been centuries since I’ve dealt with mortal illnesses. Honestly, I couldn’t begin to fathom how to comfort you. Other than gracing you with my presence, of course.”  

It’s refreshing to see his humor is still intact despite his beloved pulling a Snow White.

For a while, you sit like this. Basking in the moment’s serenity, holding hands. Grinning and laughing like two enamored fools when your gazes interlock. You can tell that Astarion’s lightyears away, however. At war with himself, lost in the maelstrom of his thoughts, reprimanding himself for not being your proverbial knight in shining armor.

Absently, you scoot over. Relinquish your love’s hand—much to his chagrin—to pat the space beside you. You affix him with a look that’s all too serious as you say, “For starters, you could try holding me.”

Astarion stares at you with rounded eyes. Mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish, forming around words that he can’t quite conjure.   

“Oh. A-Alright,” he finally musters. Dumbfounded, Astarion stands, maneuvering to sit beside you on the bed. He doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands. Never does, unused to being so vulgar, so unabashed with his feelings.

Though, for you, you know he would rearrange the stars in the sky if he could.

So you help him, tugging him closer and falling into the circle of his arms. You nestle against his chest with a pleased hum vibrating your throat. Tangle your legs together, ignoring the surprised sound that leaves him.

He’s a lovely contrast to your still-enflamed skin. Fits like a puzzle piece against you, soft and lithe. He relaxes gradually, tucking you ever closer against him as if you’ll disappear in a plume of smoke if he lets go. He pets through your hair before anchoring his chin to the crown of your head, surrendering a satisfied sigh.

“Well, I supposed this isn’t so bad, now is it?” Astarion husks, stroking soothing circles into the notches of your spine.

You nod offhandedly, your lids lowering, and your body feeling at ease.

Suddenly, your ailment seems more bearable as you sink below the depths of slumber, an unguarded smile cresting over your lips.

The shadows of your conjoined bodies dance along the walls as the candlelight dwindles, and you both surrender to the tranquility of the night.    

masterlist

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #bg3 x reader #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fluff #tw: language #tw: angst #tw: self loathing #tw: sickness #sick!tav #sick!reader #astarion comfort #bg3 #bg3 astarion

[sokonoi]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗𝐈𝐑 | MIGUEL O’HARA

| working for the spider-society had it’s perks including a hot boss, but what happens when you accidentally forget to label one of your concoctions.

word count—2.6K

cw— boss!miguel + some plot + work setting + fem!reader + performance anxiety brief + breeding kink + creampie + praise + primal play perhaps? + (f.) receiving + mating press + spanish is spoken comes with translation ;) + aftercare + no beta reader

notes: i didn’t fully translate, some phrases I just think some of y’all would know… also part 2 might come i don’t know!!

It all started when you replaced his serum with well…fill in the rest of the blank.

You run full force down the hall and he’s straight on your tail. The headquarters closed hours ago; Your own self-proclaimed way to gain Mr. O’Hara’s attention was to work late and hard. Hence, why you are tailing it down the 4th Hall?? 

“Mr. O’Hara,” you huff in exhaustion. 

What the hell did you put in that serum?

Your mind was scrambled as you try to think of what you did to the formula. Sure, you’ve experimented with aphrodisiacs in the lab room. On a low scale of course. Sometimes you’d even take the serum home and rub it on your- 

FOCUS! 

You supposed a man like Mr. O’Hara had plenty of stamina You peak behind your shoulder to see him running after you still. His skin-tight suit reveals every muscle working in his body, and his mouth is salivating as he runs after you, “Y/N,” he growls. 

It shoots a painfully sinful feeling through you as you dart into a nearby office. It wasn’t the smartest idea, but you couldn’t come up with anything else.

 You weren’t like Mr. O’Hara. You didn’t have a genetically mutated body. You could only go for so long. You hid under a nearby table to the farthest from the room. Saying a prayer that he wasn’t too pissed.

Although that did nothing, as Miguel barges in. 

“I know you’re fuckin’ in here,” he snarls. 

Miguel wasn’t thinking right now, his mind was in fragments. His skin was hot and feverish from the aphrodisiac. His cock was stone hard and his mind couldn’t process what was happening to him. His talon retracted on their own, and his mouth salivated uncontrollably. What have you done to him?

¿Qué has hecho? 

-what have you done?-

You try to control your breathing and remain hidden. 

“Show yourself! Now!,” he pants. You hear furniture slide against the floor and things falling to the ground. There’s a wave of stillness in the room. 

Your heart hammers out of your chest as a bead of sweat trickles down your neck. You feel small waves of the moment in the room like he’s trying to sniff you out.  Suddenly a clawed hand grabs onto your ankle yanking you out from under the table.

“Mr. O’Hara!” you yelp. 

Those sanguine eyes take you in animistically. He crouches down, “It’s alright Cariño,” he whispers weirdly soothing.

“Mr. O’Hara, I’m really sorry,” You mutter softly, trying to reason even though your body is saying another thing altogether. You find yourself staring at him steadily. He pulls you closer to him his hands grabbing onto your arms, holding you close. His face is mere inches from yours. You can feel Miguel’s warm breath tickling your cheek.

“It’s okay.” 

You sigh with gratitude realizing everything is okay. “You’ll make it up to me,” he says, his body language clear on what he wants. His fangs are drawn as he drags them against the skin on your neck. Air gets caught in your throat as your hands find his muscular arm holding onto him gently. He waits as you open yourself to him subconsciously. 

The bite is nothing you’ve ever felt before. The pain is titillating. You should panic, run and thrash against Miguel. Yet, you stay there paralyzed by his gaze. You feel lightheaded as darkness takes over your eyesight. You’re losing consciousness you realize all too late.

Miguel was a gentleman. Even as his mind wanders to raunchy places. His body feels like it’s in heat. He wants you near and yet so far. His fingers slowly circle around your ankle slowly. He’s so mesmerized by you and you don’t even know it. 

You were a lab tech, at the Spider Society working closely with Lyla to develop advanced technology to protect the muti-verse. You weren’t a spider-person at all, but you worked closely with Peter Parker in his universe. Your work was recognized and recruited by Miguel. Ever since then, he’s been in love with you and in denial all at the same time.

Sometimes if he imagines closely enough- 

You start to wake, rubbing your eyes slowly. A soreness is recognized in your neck, you lift your hand up to touch the spot. You’re too preoccupied to realize Miguel; He waits expectantly. 

Your eyes slightly widen as you remember what you’ve done. You slowly turn, a pair of eyes staring right back at you. 

You tense up, as Miguel rests his head on your shoulder slowly. 

“Relajate Amor,” he mumbles feeling so close to you. He can hear your heartbeat like a hummingbird flapping its wings. 

You obey him, embarrassingly quick. For a second you just allow the moment to be. Not worrying about what’s to come of it. Your eyes glance around the room. This must be where Miguel rests. His bed’s pretty soft you think as you touch the sheets and big too. You let out a sigh of contentment.

“Glad to know you like it just as much as I do,” Miguel mumbles into your shoulder. 

“Mr. O’Hara,” you hesitantly say. You weren’t sure what to ask. You wanted to fuck him that much was clear, but did he know that you were falling in love with him. Every single lingering glance and brushing of hands has blossomed into something inside you. 

He chuckles, “You know better than that.”

You rephrase it, “Miguel.” 

His name taste like heaven on your tongue. He sits back now sitting on his haunches head resting in your lap. Miguel looks up at you with undivided attention.

Miguel finds it hard to control himself his body aches with need. And the waves only get stronger as he smells in between your legs: Something sweet-tangy and everything he needs.

“I hope this isn’t weird. I’m very sorry, I understand if I’m terminat-”

“I’d never terminate you,” He says with his chest not a hint of doubt. His eyes look deeply into yours as if he wants you to fully comprehend what he’s saying.

You bite your lip, now that you are so close you feel shy and exposed.   

He clocks it quickly, “No need to shy away”—Miguel strokes your cheek—” I’m here right now. I’m ready.” 

That’s all it takes. Your lips find his own; You kiss him as if you won’t be able to do it again. His lips are warm and soft like silk. You pull away for a breath, for a hint of sanity. Miguel pulls you back in, his hands finding your neck roughly. His other hand trails down your back settling on your lower back.

“Miguel,” you groan 

“Sí.”

“I want-” 

“I know, I want it too. I-” His words fail him just as your words do too. This moment feels unreal. He starts to strip away your clothes. Layer after layer falls away. He disregards them away, taking in every single part of you. 

His eyes can’t dart across your bare skin any quicker. Your eyes wanna rest upon him too, you place a hand on his shoulder. 

His suit was nothing, but a digital after all. It’s nothing that you could rip off. He undoes it, revealing everything to you. You look at his bronzed body, all the small nicks and scars rest upon his toned physique. 

Your eyes finally rest upon his cock. Big and staring straight at you almost. Miguel gives himself a stroke for you: His balls twitch at the contact of his fingers.

 You blink a little, you’ve never taken such a masterpiece. Though you don’t feel fear, the excitement rushes through you. The fact that it’s gonna stretch so good that it hurts. 

You clench your legs together, before hesitantly grabbing it yourself. You stroke it in your hands, it’s so heavy. Miguel lets a groan escape him, he could easily get lost in you. Those pretty eyes stared at him drinking in every furrow and crease on his face. 

Miguel is quickly painfully slow, he takes your hand away. “Not yet, lay back,” he commands.

You do so letting the plush bed hug you. You sit on your haunches watching as he kneels before you his mouth ghosting your leaking pussy. You could probably create a river with how much is leaking from you. You clench around nothing as he finds your clit easily. His lips wrap around it, sucking softly using his tongue to flick it at the same time. 

You whimper, never feeling anything this good. 

“Please don’t stop.” 

His eyes dart to yours almost saying I don’t plan on it. He lets go of your clit with a pop, before going back in. 

He eats like he’s dying watching your wetness coat his cheeks. You buck your hips against him, he laughs hand finding your legs and holding them still. Your head drops again. 

“Yes. Yes,” you chant 

Miguel feels himself growing heated again. It makes him feel so good that you feel good. His fingers enter you gradually. You try to fight back a scream through your teeth as tears start to build. Your orgasm approaching fast. 

His pace doesn’t stop as his fingers slowly enter you at a slow passionate tempo. He makes a point to make a come-hither motion. His mouth sucking on your clit again. Those combinations were dangerous as your legs start to shake. 

“Fuck”—Your head lolls back—“It’s so good,” you praise him. 

That’s all it takes, the reigns of composure fly away. His tempo becomes fast and rough. As you feel your worries melting away, “Migs, Miguel Please,” you plead helplessly.

“I know. I can feel you. Gonna make a pretty mess for me?” he huffs out

You nod frantically your hands finding his hair, “Ohh shit,” you whine 

“Cum! Cum for me princesa,” he says breathlessly. 

His words make you squeal, “Haaah Yes.” 

You feel your orgasm as you grab his hair and your thighs clamp around his head. You feel winded as Miguel slowly removes his fingers kissing your ankles softly. “You made me so proud. You did it so perfectly. My perfect girl.”  

You catch your breath as Miguel comes up and slithers between your legs, giving you a kiss on the lips. He pauses, “You need a minute?” 

He has to keep you in mind, even when his isn’t comprehending. Miguel wanted to breed your pussy till he couldn’t anymore. Until his balls were empty. 

He kisses your forehead.

“I’m good, just..” You can’t help but grin. This man was making you giddy.

He smiles against your forehead. He couldn’t lie, his excitement was mutual. 

Miguel lines himself up smoothly. He watches your face as he inserts just the tip, and your eyebrows knit together a little. “You can tell me if it hurts,” he whispers. You nod as confirmation nails dig into his shoulders. Miguel moans, your nails clawing into him made him feel so turned on. He inserts himself a bit more.

 Miguel feels your walls stretching around him, your cunt unbearably hot and slippery. He feels like he’s died and gone to paradise. 

You bite your lips, as his dick reaches further and further inside you. He kisses your chest. “It’s okay, you’re doing so good, making me feel so good.” 

You smile a little at that. His dick finally is all the way inside his heavy balls slightly pressing against your ass. He starts to move, taking you in slow thrusts. Allowing you to feel every inch of his throbbing cock. You sigh, at how he fits in just right. You feel yourself building up again. He increases his pace: A big mistake.

 Miguel never felt this close before. His tip aches with release. And your warm pussy doesn’t help. 

Your cunt holds him inside for dear life. Miguel grows comfortable with the rhythm he’s set, as you relax again letting him take charge. Suddenly everything feels wrong and amazing, as he feels himself cumming. His mind can’t seem to process this feeling.

“Fuck, cariño… My dear I-.” his words stuttered as he’s tripping over them. As he tries to keep thrusting inside you. He pulls you close not wanting to see his pathetic face as he cums inside you like a pathetic virgin. His balls draw up as he empties inside you. He breathes heavily against you the tips of his ears redden faintly.

“Perdóname,” he musters pulling out his cum covered tip. “It’s okay,’ you tell him softly. You’re pretty sure he’s just as nervous and excited as you are. 

“I thought it was hot. If it’s worth anything,” you admit giggling. You try to lighten the mood. 

He chuckles beside your neck, he resumes letting the embarrassment wane off. “You wanna stop?” he asks. He totally understood. He just blew his load so quickly it’s actually crazy. He’s never cum so quickly before. In his mind, he knew, you’d be hard to let go. 

You shake your head, “Till the cops come knockin’ or in our case…spider-man,” you joke. Miguel smiles lovingly at you, as he folds your legs to your chest. A newfound desire in his eyes. 

He’s got you in a press. With every thrust he makes your legs quiver. His weight makes you feel delirious. His cock hits the deepest part of you. Your eyes begin to tear again.

“My little vixen, so fuckin gorgeous.” 

You grab his arms pathetically, trying to ground yourself to reality. It isn’t long before you body is following his every command as you tetter towards the edge as he pounds into your sore pussy. 

“Miguel, just like that,” you whine your voice sore.

His balls slap against your ass as his muscular legs tense with every press. He wanted you to have his baby. Maybe it was the serum talking he didn’t know. He wanted you to take all his cum. He wanted you barefoot and round with his offspring. 

He wanted to have a family with you. 

“I want you all to myself,” he whimpers 

Your pussy starts to throb with the oncoming feeling of your climax. 

“I want you too,” you confess.

His eyes find yours deeply. 

“Are you close, hon? I can feel you…I’m gonna cum too. Gonna cum right inside you.” 

You whine and claw as your body tries to curb the intensity of your orgasm. Miguel’s tempo doesn’t falter or stop anything it becomes quicker. His arms shake as he feels himself following right behind you. Your mouth hangs open as a silent scream is on your face. You shake in his arms. 

“There you go. Shit, yes. Yes. Yes. Let me feel you, just like that,” he huffs out.

Miguel’s body begins to crumble inside you as long thick ropes of cum coat your insides. “Ahhh, Sí.” 

He collapses beside you breathless, you look over at him.

“Migs? You okay?” you ask after a minute.

“Never been better,” he sighs contently. 

His eyes slowly close, as his arms reach for you to cuddle with him. You oblige wrapping your arms around him tightly as your head finds his chest. 

“I’ll clean in a minute & run you a bath,” he mumbles out 

“Miguel, you don’t have-” 

“I want to.” 

You narrow your eyes at him Miguel had a bad habit of cutting you off. Despite it, you didn’t know what to do. Miguel was your boss. Was this the start of a relationship? 

You didn’t know and that frightened you. If this was just a one-time thing, you don’t know if you could handle that. As if he could read your mind.

 “We’ll talk about it properly, for now, I just wanna take care of you,” he whispers softly

A small secret smile is found on your face, you nuzzle into his chest further. 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”

sokonoi ─‌ like or reblog.

#sokonoi/archive #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv smut #atsv x reader #spider 2099 x reader #spider2099 x reader

[mysumeow]

Tighnari NSFW Alphabet pt. 1 ⊱☆⊰

warnings: aside from the obvious smut, i hint at yandere tighnari briefly.

a/n: i was planning on posting this last friday but i completely forgot...hehe. i've been playing the star rail to the honkai or whatever the title is supposed to mean /j

PART TWO

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Laps up any type of marking he left on you during sex. Bite marks, love bites, etc. It comes to him as natural as breathing, it’s wired into the most primitive section of his brain to tend to his mate’s marks. If you were to point this out to him, he would get a little flustered and consciously try not to do it again (he always fails, by the way). You must let him know that you either think it’s cute or you don’t mind.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His tail. Have you seen how many voice lines he has talking about his tail? Okay, to be fair, there's only three, I think. Point is, he takes great care of his tail and properly grooms it every day. So soft, fluffy, you could fall asleep on it with how pleasant it is. All thanks to the amount of attention and thorough routine he keeps it on. 

His ears are a close second, if only not for the occasional unwanted attention, they would be number one.

On his partner, he tends to deviate his attention to their neck and collarbones. This is yet ‘nother tendency that stems from his primitive side of marking up.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Mother nature did a great job at ensuring their species lives on for a long time because when Tighnari cums, it's gonna be a lot. And it's of a thick consistency, he always apologizes for how much he cums, because it always ends up trickling down your thighs and leaving you full. That is, of course, if you allow him to breed you. Otherwise, if he's cumming down your throat or outside, it's going to shoot quite far so you might want to be careful with that.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Scenting. Whether that's leaving his scent on you or vice versa. He's not touchy with just anyone, aside from general courteous gestures or when he must take care of some unfortunate adventurer. When he really likes someone, he's more open to receiving physical contact. So, if you want to go in for a hug before you leave, he'll accept it gladly. The first time you hugged him, he didn't understand why he felt so pent up until he realized he could still smell your scent on his clothes and skin. That's when it clicked for him: one, his scent's still on you too, even if your nose might not be as sensitive as his; and two: he really, really likes having your aroma lingering around him. I'll leave to your imagination what he did with his hoodie that day. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

We can assume that, since his kin is based on fennec foxes, they put great value on interpersonal relationships. It's not common for them to get too close in that way just with anyone. Therefore, there's a good chance you're the first person he ever gets that comfortable with. If you'll indulge him, make sure you'll stay with him always, unless you want to trigger some not healthy amount of obsession with you. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He tries to be romantic and go with the position he believes is the least nerve-wracking for you both and starts with missionary, which he progressively lets himself go and end up as a mating press. That's at least until you both get used to each other, and then he switches it up to you on your hands and knees, and, occasionally, prone bone. He prefers those positions because he believes it's more comfortable for him to latch on your neck and circle your waist with his arms. A movement which is necessary thanks to how rough he can get during it, his instincts tell him to hold on to you and keep you still to ensure you accept all of him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Serious but if he sees you're tense he'll make some comment on something dumb to try to take your mind away from your nervousness. Although, he's more inclined to sort to comforting words rather than funny comments.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Trimmed. It can get quite bushy if left unattended, so I think he’d rather keep it trimmed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I see our beloved foxboy gravitate more towards being romantic during intimacy. He doesn’t mind telling you how much you mean to him, in fact—he wants you to feel loved. Although his words are sweet when you’re in that mood, his movements don’t get any softer. He really tries to be gentle, but if he notices you have a particular liking to him going harder, he can lose a bit of control.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

A vicious loop. His position as the lead forest watcher is a hectic one, he barely has any time for himself. Which aids on his frustration build up more. On nights he can’t sleep because of all that pent up stress, he resorts to it.

#tighnari smut #genshin smut #tighnari x reader #/ᐠ - ˕ -マ .. smut

[keikiri-kitten]

AFTER THE DAY IS DONE ★ KEIGO TAKAMI

hawks x reader. fluff, comfort, smut adjacent. keigo wants to sleep with you after a long day of work. he wants all of you <3

“Keigo,” your body shifts under the blankets. You’re woken up by warm, damp kisses on your cheek and shoulder. There’s a dip on the bed; his body hovers over you with his lips cherishing you from your shoulder blade and trailing down your back. It’s always late when he comes home from patrols, but he always made it back before the early morning. Except for today.

“Mm, I’m sorry,” he coos. “I just wanted to let you know I’m back home.” The hero keeps in mind that he has to be gentle with your tired self, hoping his movements aren’t too sudden.

The tip of his nose grazes along your back, smelling the perfume on your shirt. His eyes close while relishing the moment with you. How he missed you so. There’s a scarred hand that glides tenderly down your arms; his fingertips trickle over your skin before they find themselves under your shirt.

“I missed you,” you grumble, fluttering your eyes open while continuing to feel full lips dress you over your top.

There’s a chuckle that is pulled from the hero as he leans his body upward to sneak a kiss onto your lips. “I missed you too.” As your eyes shift to spot your lover, you can see his hero suit is already off as he’s draped in night clothes. He wants all of you right now. His day like many others was hell and he just has to have you in his arms— bare. “Wanna sit up for me?”

You oblige willingly. He can see how drained you are, pulling you up by the waist. The hero’s position changes. With your eyes drooping once again, you decide to simply close them. Like this, you feel his knees on each side of you. He steals a kiss on your lips, soon tossing your top to the floor.

Keigo adores how you have enough consciousness to fold in on yourself. Your arms cuddle between your legs and your head is hung low. “I hate to do this to you when you were sleeping so peacefully.”

“Then let me sleep.”

His laugh makes you crack a smile, helping you fall back to mattress. On your side once again, you felt your underwear meet the same fate as your shirt. Golden eyes linger over your drowsy frame in attempt to shove away any impure thoughts. He could have his pretty birdie when you were awake.

He’s gentle when he pounces on top of you. Thick fingers tangle in your hair as he litters your temple in kisses. “You’re lovely,” he whispers along your cheek. “The loveliest.”

You hear his voice though you falter between reality and a dream state. A hand of yours reaches out to grip the hem of his sleeve, pulling him in. You say nothing but he falls on the bed to face you. Your body makes its way into his arms, taking in the cologne you missed so much. “Did you have a good day?” You groan.

“I got to think of you. My day was wonderful.”

“You’re so corny.” He chuckles at your insult, kissing your temple. “Sleep with me.”

“‘Night beautiful.”

#keigo takami #keigo x you #mha keigo #keigo x reader #keigo fluff #hawks comfort #keigo takami comfort #keigo comfort #hawks x reader #hawks fluff #birdie #hawks #keigo takami x reader

[pxrxcxa]

Why are you so mean?

✷ One shot

Pairing | Eddie x Female reader 18+.

Post summary | After getting a little taste of why Eddie Munson has such a bad reputation, y/n can't help herself (and hates herself for it) when she goes back for more.

What to expect | Eddie being a dominant, selfish ass. 18 + so minors DNI.

Post Warnings | Pure Smut 18 +, Slapping, spanking, orgasm denial, F masturbation, choking, p in v, consensual forcing, forced A (Kinda) & degradation.

Word count | 4 K Word Count.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Take care, P. x 🌻

Authors Note | Those that were waiting, thank you & I hope you enjoyed this, I've had a hectic week so thank you for your patience 🌻 - I maybe or maybe not have set this up for a part 3 👀

Eddie smirked as his front door swung back with a loud smack, the thick cloud of heavy smoke swirled in my face as he pulled the cigarette from his lips, throwing it past me onto the dry grass outside his trailer. 

“Y/n.” he sneered, leaning against the door frame. He was more relaxed here compared to the last time we met, in the comfort of his house, but he was still extremely guarded, his dark eyes watching my every move as I stood outside his front door in the dark, fiddling with my short skirt.  

I had corned Dustin at his locker at school and forced him to give me Eddie’s address under the pretence of buying from him, but since I could barely stutter out the word ‘weed’, the kid had pressed his lips together and given me an embarrassed look. I’d blushed and ripped the paper from his hand that had a name and number quickly scrawled on it, and fled from the hall, shoving the note deep into my pockets while I prepared my plan of attack. 

I’d fought with myself the entire drive over to the trailer park, telling myself that I was being an idiot for going back to him, questioning why I would even want to after the last time. But every night since it had happened, the feeling of Eddie’s hand wrapped around my throat and my hair while he had his way with me in the back of his van, forcing me to bend to his will in every way he wanted, had plagued me. Trickling into my mind at the worst times, during family dinners and tests in class. I had to cross my legs every time I seen Eddie at school because of the damn memories that came flooding back.

It had gone far enough.

I needed to do something about the growing need that was taking over my life. 

I’d promised myself that it would be the last time, just to get it all out of my system and then I’d be done with Eddie Munson.

“Can’t stay away can you?” A slow smile that didn’t reach his eyes, spread across his face as he ran his gaze up and down my body. I crossed my arms over my chest self-consciously as I trembled under his stare.  

“Why are you such a dick?” I snapped, hating his smug expression as he blocked the doorway, his tight shirt straining against his arms as he mimicked my stance. 

“Because I have a huge one.” He retorted, laughing as my face dropped in surprise, my cheeks burned at his words.

“What? That’s what you’re here for isn’t it?” He bit when I didn’t respond, watching me as I swayed from side to side uncertainly. 

“Drugs actually.” I countered, taking pleasure that I managed to catch him off guard. I shivered as the icy night air swirled around my thighs and up my skirt, riffling it up dangerously. I gulped as Eddie’s eyes watched the movement. 

“You’re telling me that Hawkins Highs ‘Good Girl’ is here to buy drugs?” He scoffed, raising his brows disbelievingly. I didn’t trust me voice to respond so I just nodded ferociously.

 “Now are you going to be a gentleman and invite me in Munson?” I peeked over his shoulder at the messy living room behind him, taking note of the cassette tapes spread out across the couch. 

“I thought you’d learned by now that I’m no gentleman y/n.” But he stood back from the door anyway, sweeping his hand in front of him as I stepped through. I hesitated in the middle of the room as he slammed it close behind me, brushing past me roughly down the hall. His wild hair blew out behind him as he took long strides away from me, calling out over his shoulder as I stayed rooted to the spot. 

“Are you coming or what?” He shouldered his way through the room at the end of the hall, exposing colourful posters plastered on the wall behind him. I followed with slow steps as my heart hammered loudly in my chest and my slick palms slid across the hem of my skirt. 

I distracted myself by looking around at the physical pieces of himself as I headed in after him, carefully avoiding the piles of clothes on the floor as he rifled through the top draw of his dresser. “Have you ever thought of being, I don’t know, nice… or gentle?” I asked softly, watching the outlines of his back muscles as he bent over. 

“If you wanted nice or gentle… you wouldn’t have come to me. So stop fucking lying to yourself. Here.” He stood up straight and turned to me, tossing a small bag into my surprised hands. I tried to keep my face neutral as I turned over the little green buds in the plastic baggie, trying to act like I’d done this plenty of times before. 

“You do know how to roll right?” He smirked as panic shot across my features. 

‘Mhmm.” I lied. 

Eddie sighed and crossed his room in seconds, ripping the bag from my grasp and wrapping his other hand around my arm tightly as he tugged me towards his desk. I stumbled as I tripped over discarded nudie mags and even more cassette tapes strewn across the floor. Eddie threw me into the side of the desk, the sharp corner of it stabbed into my hip and my arm throbbed as he let go of me. 

He folded himself into the open chair, leaning back and raising his hips in the air slightly as he adjusted himself, swiping his arm across the tabletop to clear it as he placed the bag of weed in front of him. 

“Sit.” His voice was stern as he nodded towards his lap, scowling as I hesitated with an outraged look on my face. 

“Who the hell -.” I was cut off as his hand shout out to wrap around my wrist, yanking me down roughly so that I practically fell on top of him. 

“I said sit.” I gasped quietly as I placed both my hands on his knees to rebalance myself, leaning forward on my toes so that I wasn’t pressed so tightly against his lap. My skirt was loose around my waist, so that it was just my underwear separating me from the roughness of his jeans. He wasn’t erect, but I could still feel him pressing up into my clothed slit, his belt buckle pushing into my ass. 

“I don’t like repeating myself y/n. Don’t make me say it again.” His warm breath tickled my ear and sent a shiver down my spine as he leant closer to me, his arms snaked around my waist as he reached out to grab the bag of drugs. Nerves flooded through me as the contoured lines of his body pushed into me from every angle, hiking up my breathing as the room became hotter.

“Just like this” His arm rubbed up and down against the side of my chest as he cut up some of the weed. I stopped breathing as I watched the veins in his hands flex back and forth as his deft fingers sprinkled the bud into a rolling paper. He leaned forward to rest his chin on my shoulder as he rolled the joint up. Blood rushed into my cheeks as I turned my head to the side slightly, seeing that he was already watching me. 

“Are you paying attention?” I nodded meekly as my eyes flashed up from his parted lips to meet his briefly. He paused for a second as we stared at each other, electricity zapping in the space between us. 

I cried out in pain as his free hand grabbed a fistful of my loose hair and wrenched me forward, turning my head back to the joint in his hand that he held close to my face. 

“I said pay attention.” I whimpered as his grip tightened, and clenched the fabric of his jeans from where my hands where resting on his thighs beside me as my pain subsided into pleasure, letting him guide me forward slowly. 

“Now, you need to lick it.” I listened without complaint this time, opening my mouth to let my tongue drag across the paper as he pushed my head forward. I looked up into the dirty mirror hanging on the wall in front of us, meeting his dark and heavy gaze in the reflection as my ass pushed into his hard boner. 

Our harsh breathing was the only sound in the room for a weighted second before Eddie dropped the joint on the desk and pinned my jaw between his hand, pulling my face against his as I sat half turned in his lap. His plump lips assaulted mine as I melted into him, reaching up to twist my fingers in his curls. As I moaned his name against his mouth he bit my bottom lip hard enough that the metallic taste of my own blood swirled around my tongue. 

I ripped myself from him in shock as he reached down to pull my leg over his waist so that I was straddling him. He smirked as he reached up to smear the blood across my lips, his rough fingers pushing against them painfully as I stared at his flushed face angrily, his dark eyes gleamed with excitement. 

Without thinking, I pulled my hand back to slap him clean across his cheek, the sharp sound echoed off the walls as his face snapped to the side. I dropped my hand instantly as I realised what I’d done, my blood running cold. Eddie cupped the side of his face, staring back at me in shock as he licked his lips. 

“Bitch.”

“Eddie I-“ A resounding crack deafened me as the hand he was holding his red jaw check with, flashed across to backhand me. Blind spots danced across my vision as I cowered over, tears springing to my eyes as my ears rang and my raw skin stung. His strong hands circled around my upper arms to pull me up straight, pulling me forward against his chest as his dick twitched underneath me. 

“Don’t ever put your hands on me like that again y/n. Or I’ll make you regret it. If you can’t handle me, then get the fuck out now.” Cold air bit at my arms as he dropped his grip, leaning back in the chair as he waited for me to leave. Something close to regret shot through my frame as he turned his head away from me, clenching his jaw as his eyes darkened. 

I threw myself forwards against him, hopelessly pawing for attention as I kissed the underside of his jaw, pressing my lips against the red welt my hand had left as I traced my fingers over his shoulders and up into his hair. He sat as still as a stone-cold statue, as the noises of my mouth against his warm skin echoed into the air. 

I groaned as I nibbled at his ear lobe, moaning as I despairingly tried to erect some kind of response from him. 

“Please.” I whined. With an animal like growl, Eddie groaned and gave in, turning his head to meet mine. His hands moved to my waist to grip my hips painfully, guiding me back and forth over his hard cock as I moaned against his lips that devoured me. The feeling of him was otherworldly, nothing like I had ever experienced. I had never physically needed something more.

I’d beg for him if I had to. 

Like he was able to ready my mind, he snarled against my mouth. “I’m gonna have you begging all night y/n.” 

“Do you-“ His words sent a thrilling shock through me, Eddie rolled my hips down onto his lap, making me gasp. 

“Have any-“ I cried out as his lips moved to my neck, biting down painfully on my soft skin. 

“Condoms this time?” I choked out in between the gasps of air as I broke apart from him to catch my breath.

His stilled under me as he pulled back to look at me, his dark eyes were burning with raw excitement as he laughed at me. I squirmed uncomfortably as I tried to stand up from him, hurt pulsing through me at the disgusted look on his face 

“I knew you were a fucking whore.” He grinned, his arms snaking around my waist in an iron grip as I tried to leave. 

“Don’t try to deny it y/n. I can feel you; you’re soaking my jeans from how wet you already are.” I hesitated as my words failed me, Eddie glared at me knowingly as he waited for me to argue it. 

I was never a good liar in the best of times, and the way his hard body felt under me right now, his large strong hands gripping me to him as my pussy throbbed painfully each time he grinded his hard cock up into me through our clothes. 

Fucking Jesus. 

“I hate you Eddie Munson.”

“Join the club sweetheart.”

I gasped as he wrenched us up both from the chair, gripping onto his shirt as he stormed over to his bed. With rough hands he reached up to free my hands from around his neck, the air rushed from my lungs as I fell onto the covers painfully. Eddie smirked at me as he palmed his boner through his jeans. 

“Look at you.” He scoffed as I raised myself up on my elbows to watch him rip his shirt over his head. The sight was even more glorious than last time, his Hellfire shirts did him no justice, he always looked skinny, but there was strong, intimidating and unyielding muscle under his soft skin. 

“You’re pathetic.” He spat, running his eyes over my shivering frame as I sprawled across his bed, crossing my arms over my chest as the position left me feeling too open and vulnerable. His eyes were sharp and unblinking as he made slow, purposeful movements towards me, watching me with a sick sense of pleasure – like a predator corning its prey – as I scrambled away from him to the top of the bed. In a flash he trapped me beneath him, pushing all of his weight into me as the hot tips of his fingers skirted just above my skirt, he grabbed the hem of my shirt and tore it over my head, tossing it into a corner of his room as I gulped. 

Without even looking at my exposed breasts, he jerked my hands above my head, Eddie looked at something above me as he leant up over me so that I had to stare up at him. I gasped as the cool metal circled around my wrists, the light clinking of the hand cuffs sounding in my ear as he trapped me against his bedhead. 

“Now… you’re gonna take everything I do to you without whining, alright? You had your chance to walk away.” His eyes flashed and sent a stab of fear through me. 

“Your body is mine.” He ran his gaze down my trembling frame as he spoke. 

“And I’m going to use you how I want.” Silence rang loud as his admission hung in the air between us for a charged moment. 

He ducked his head to bite my breasts, leaving red angry marks behind in his wake as I cried out and he made his way to my sensitive nipples, his warm wet tongue made circles around them as I moaned and wiggled under him, pulling against my restraints hopelessly.

An embarrassingly loud whimper of pleasure slipped past my lips as he grinded his harden cock against my pussy, making Eddie pull back to look at me with a smirk on his face. 

I dropped my eyes as his dark stare sent a wave of heat through me. 

“Awww.” He taunted, gripping my chin in his hand as he wrenched my face back to look at him. 

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?” My eyes filled with tears as my lips trembled, Eddie’s gaze fell slowly from mine to watch my mouth. War waged within me as I thought about leaving, I didn’t know what it was about him that held me here, but there were a thousand alarm bells ringing in my head that warned me away from him. 

“I don’t want to do this.” I snapped, pulling hands against the cuffs as they banged menacingly against each other, my tits bouncing with the movement, but the wet patch in my panties and the throbbing between my legs betrayed me.

He cocked his head to the side as he slowly removed his hand from my face and ran it down my body, slipping it up under my skirt and rubbing rough circles against my swollen clit. 

“Yes you do.” He grinned, the wetness seeping out of my pussy coating his fingers. 

“St- stop.” I gasped, arching up into his fingers as he buried them inside of me.

“You want me to stop?” He hovered over me as he rubbed between my legs with his thumb, pumping away as wet sounds filled the room in between his grunting and my loud moans. He tilted my head back, gripping my chin so I had no choice but to look at him.

I opened my mouth to speak but as he thrusted his arm further into me, I screamed out in pleasure. 

“That’s what I thought. Spit in my hand.” He pulled himself from me to shove his hands down my throat as I stared daggers at him, using his free hand to quickly undo his belt as I choked on his fingers, the tangy taste of me swirling around my tongue as I gagged. Eddie’s hulking form towered over me and blocked out the little moonlight seeping through his bedroom window, I gasped as he pushed my legs apart and rubbed my saliva from his hand on my pussy. He tapped my ass and guided me upwards to allow room between our bodies, his free hand snaked down under my skirt to grab his cock, I watched him as he pointed it in the direction of my entrance. 

He roughly ploughed forward into me, the long, thick length of him filling me up painfully as he grunted and pressed his forehead into mine, biting my lips as they fell apart in shock. A low murmur of a cry slipped out of me as he wrapped his arms around, moving our bodies together roughly.

“Fuck… you’re tighter than I’ve heard.” I stared at him with angry eyes through wild pieces of hair as my shoulders throbbed, my hands pulling at the restraints that held them there.

“Shut up Munson.” I snapped, chagrin flowing through me as my chest bounced outrageously beneath him.

“How do you think I knew you were a whore? I’ve heard the stories about you y/n. Not such a ‘Good Girl’ are you?” He groaned and swore as he grinded forward into me as far as he could go. “But I know none of those idiotic jocks are as big as me.” He grinned cockily, grunting into my neck as I wrapped me legs around him and dragged my nails across the skin of his back. 

“You’re taking me so good y/n.” I blushed up at him in the dark through my lashes, watching his jaw clench as I caught my bottom lip between my teeth. 

The handcuffs cut rang out as my hands slammed back and forth into the bed with each thrust Eddie fucked into me, his hands wrapped themselves in my hair as he buried me beneath him, the scent of him was everywhere as he pounded me into his mattress. Sweat, hair and lip-gloss got lost between us as I pressed my lips to his skin, biting down as he left bruises on my soft skin as he gripped me tightly. 

“Wait, you put a condom on right?” I gasped as he pulled back to pinch at my breasts. 

“You think I’d fuck you raw?” He scoffed, sitting up. My eyes flew down to his red, throbbing cock that glistened in my wetness, a drop of it dripping from the top of the plastic that covered him. 

In a split second he flipped me over so that I was face down into his mattress, reaching over me to unlock the cuffs, I gasped as his intention hit me. Without missing a beat, he wrapped his hands around my hips and wrenched my pelvis backwards against his waist, his hard cock pressing against my drenched pussy, slipping in easily with a wet noise, his pace increased dangerously until he slipped out and thrusted back into the wrong place. 

“Ow Eddie OW.” I shot forward into the pillows as I withered in pain, but he shot forward to lean over me, pressing back in against me. 

“That felt fucking good, c’mere.” I struggled to turn on my back away from him as he tried to slide back into me, my ass throbbing in sharps pains. 

“Eddie I’m being serious, stop it.” I held my breath as I half waited for him to ignore me, but he just groaned like he was a child I was denying his favourite toy, his hands snaking back to my waist as he thrusted deep back into my pussy, the tears brimmed in my eyes stained his pillows. 

The friction between our bodies was starting to hurtle me towards the familiar desired edge of ecstasy, Eddie must have recognised the sounds tumbling from my lips because his hands tightened on my hips as his paced turned into a frenzy. 

“Eddie I’m gonna c-“ 

“Wait.” He commanded, slamming into me as I cried into his pillow, my shoulder pressed into the mattress painfully as I reached between my legs to rub my clit intensely. He smacked my hand away as I faltered on the edge of exploding, burrowing my head down as I groaned in frustration. 

His last few thrusts finally hurtled me over the edge as I convulsed and clenched around his cock still throbbing inside of me, his pants of pleasure and exhaustion sounded far away as my orgasm crippled me and roared in my ears.

He laughed at my expression, pulling himself from me and falling against the pillow next to me, turning away to grab a cigarette from the pack on his bed side. I slumped into his sheets, face down, as the wave of ecstasy slowly faded and the familiar, sickening feeling of being used settled in the pits of my stomach. 

I turned my head to face him as he lit up his cigarette. “Why are you so mean?” 

He blew a cloud of smoke above us. “I treat people how they treat me.” 

I paused while I considered his words. “I don’t treat you like that.” 

He swung his head around to meet my gaze, his dark eyes searching for something in mine. “Yeah well, you’re full of surprises y/n. I didn’t think you were like this.” 

“Yeah well, I wish I could say the same thing about you Eddie.” I retorted, my mixed feelings towards his abrasiveness fighting each other, now that I was swimming in the bliss of an orgasm aftermath, my logical was painfully clear and the reasonable side of the argument was winning now. 

There was a hollowed pause as the only sound was our beathing starting to even. 

“….I wasn’t always like this.” He admitted, the hardened cocky tone slipping from his voice. 

“You weren’t?” 

“No y/n, I wasn’t…” He trailed off before the words tumbled from his lips, rushing out like he was worried he wouldn’t get another chance to say them.

“But when our hometown decides I’m some satanic, devil worshipping, trailer trash, no goodteenager. Well… figured I may as well live up to my reputation.” My mouth fell open as I saw the world from Eddie’s eyes.

He coughed and sat up, shaking his thick head of curls “Now did you want the drugs, or did you get what you came for?” 

As his dark, sparkling eyes stared me down unblinkingly, nerves and panic twisted through me as I battled over the truth that I had been lying to myself about for the past week. 

I’d already developed an addiction. 

And nothing was going to save me from it. 

“I got what I came for…” I mumbled, shuffling to the edge of the bed in the dimness, sliding an oversized random shirt over my head as I hurried to escape, preparing myself to never darken Eddie’s doorstep again. 

His warm hand shot out to trap my wrist in a firm grip, his husky voice reverberated around the room as I turned to meet his eyes glinting in the darkness. 

“You don’t have to go.” 

Part Three

Also Readers - if anyone is looking for a slow burn Eddie x y/n, check out my Opposite Ends series.

➢ Tag List } @chickennug90 @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @sl-tfor-joseph-quinn @harrys-tittie @fckyeahlames @mayafatimakhan @mavex @edwardmunsonsslut @eddieishot86 @lacrymosa-24

Copyright © 2022 by P.McCann.

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#eddie smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie x reader #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #eddie munson headcanon #stranger things s4 #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie x you #eddie fanfic #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst

[icyblogs]

flesh and bone

Winter represents many things. The start of a new season. The beginnings to an end. Or the beginnings of a new start. Years finally caught up to you, finally knowing enough to summon a creature able to fulfill things beyond your wildest imagination. So why is it that you're now finding out that everything was orchestrated from the very start? Or: A DND au where a human falls into the clutches of a fiend and his guard dog. (chapter 2!) Patron!Ghost x Fem!Reader x Warlock!Soap WC: 7.2K [AO3] First chapter -> Next Chapter Warnings: dark fic!! dubcon touching, noncon kissing, mentions of death, paranoia, gaslighting, reader has a backstory to make sense for plot, reader is a little silly, johnny being an overall menace, ghost doing ghost things.

Time came and passed, but it was nothing discernable. Consciousness not quite ever being fully up and running the times you did briefly wake up. There were voices- you think- but it was hard to tell. And with the sound came the feeling of phantom hands, fingers trailing over your skin. Limbs being moved, the brief moment of pain being settled with hushed whispers of apologies. It was hard to think, hard to function. Darkness spreads. Sand trickles through the hourglass. The sun rises and falls, the hours turning into days. 

It wasn’t waking up with a gasp, that would be too theatrical. Too novel of an idea, of waking up so sudden and everything being fine and dandy. That you’d be up and raring to go. It was a slow process, one that made every nerve flare up at once- merely the process of peeling your eyelids open enough to have some sort of idea of what had happened to you. Blearily looking around from your limited vantage point, gaze floating around aimlessly, not able to properly focus on anything. The area was dimly lit for one- almost to the point of making it even more difficult to properly take a look at everything. 

An attempt to lift your head from the object below it- soft yet solid- was made before a jolt of lightning seemed to shoot down your spine, curling through your nerve endings and then back again, ending back at the nape of your neck. A choked whimper makes it out through clenched teeth, a grimace painting your features. Your brain feels like mush, surroundings blurring to the point of becoming unrecognizable. Not wanting to move your head, let alone anything above your shoulders in fear of retribution striking down yet again.

The sound of a chair creaking resounds throughout the room, and it was difficult to remember any sense of self preservation, eyes continuing to roll around in a weak attempt to figure out exactly what was going on. It was hard exactly to remember what had happened- you .. were somewhere. The mountains, right? Where were you–

“Took ye long enough.” Too loud though his voice was barely above a normal volume, and your eyes squeeze close as if that would cause the onslaught of noise to dissipate. “Ah ‘m sorry hen, forgot you’d still be a wee bit sensitive.” Hushed this time, and when you mustered the strength- his blue eyes were staring straight back at you. Distant thoughts drift through your subconsciousness. The.. half-elf, right? The blue was darker than you’d remembered: Iolite, sodalite, lapis lazuli in a swirl of an emotion you couldn’t quite catch before his brow furrows in what seemed to be concern. He looked familiar- though.. Different. More rough- more aged; his hair longer in this style, flowing down to the nape of his neck. Scars covered his face, though it was hard to pick which one exactly to focus on: the one by his chin, over his eye, adorning his temple. Your eyes fall half-lidded, struggling to remain in the present.

A frown graces your lips, one he was quick to lean forwards to do something about. Encroaching in your personal space like he owned it, like you were friends, like you anything but strangers. There wasn’t a moment nor opportunity to move as one of his large hands cups the back of your head, careful of the wound near it- his other hand coming up and wiping the crust from your eyes, his fingers almost trembling. His skin was warm, but rough. You could only stare dumbfounded, letting the man move you like a doll as your tongue darts out to wet your chapped lips. He watches the motion unblinkingly, his own lips parting in response, breath catching in his chest.

“Y-You..” A cough, resulting in swallowing a few times to get your bearings. Voice hoarse, like sand coating your tongue. Your mouth opens and then closes, repeating that a few times as you then sniffle. Feeling the familiar burn rise to your eyes, tears further blurring what was already starting to become disconnected from the world, one of his thumbs brushing away the moisture trickling down your skin. Trying to move, but your limbs weren’t necessarily cooperating. Like a puppet with its strings cut off, privy to his hands which seemed to be holding the strings. Everything felt heavy. Lost. Disconnected. “Where..?”

To his credit, his expression didn’t even once waver that you could tell. Eyes fervently bright, betraying his weak attempt at comforting you. His head cocks, leaning forwards and nudging at your face with his nose, a grimace painting your features as he inhales deeply. An elven custom you didn’t know about maybe? “Shh.. Sh.. Yer safe now.��� One hand still cupping the back of your head he leans back for a brief moment, procuring a silver chalice. He starts to lift your head and upon seeing the immediate discomfort at the movement, he only coos, hand leaving your cheek. His eyebrows furrow, scanning your face, and then he takes a swig of the liquid.

There was but a brief moment of still air before his lips came crashing against yours. Any thought you might’ve had immediately leaves as sheer panic makes its way through the foggy seams instead. Wiggling like a mouse scrambling to try and not get caught in a trap it hadn’t fully been aware of. And like adhesive, his hand firmly sticks to and cradles the back of your head, his other pressing against your sternum when another attempt to feebly twist away was made. Lukewarm liquid spills down your skin, as he squeezes a bit harder, your lips parting in a garbled gasp as he bullies his way into your mouth, transferring the fluid into your system.

There was a shift in the room as his body hovered over yours. What you now vaguely recognize was actually water going down your throat, similar to his tongue as it seems to ignore your lack of hygiene, trying to steal your breath away, licking your teeth, your gums, trying to consume your essence like a dog getting a bone as a treat- like he was trying desperately to get your soul intertwined with him; to connect you two together. More water spills as the bed shifts slightly against the wall in a rhythmic pattern for but a brief moment, glassy eyes wide as you stare back at his blissful expression as he groans into your mouth.

It was maybe a minute at most but it felt like ages, dizzy and lightheaded as he finally pulled back from you. “See, ‘s all good, isn’t it?” The blue eyed elf cheeks were flushed, the connected string of saliva between the two of you being taken away as his tongue ran from the corner of your lips up to your nose. He then proceeds to rest his forehead against yours, his even breathing combined with your haggard ones in the small space, as if finally recognizing you weren’t responding to what he just did. “Need mor’ water, hen?” You think you were going to be sick, eyes once more rolling to the side to try and peer away from him, feeling weighed down to the bed by more than just his hands.

Disbelief. Panic. Terror. So many emotions washes over your features in an amalgamation of just a whirlwind of ‘what the fuck’. Your head was pounding, the only sound in the room was a consistent pulse, badump badump badump. Unable to stop the steady trickles of teardrops as they fall, and his head tilts slightly against your skin once more, falling forwards as he rubs his temple against yours, his facial hair tickling your cheek. He inhales deeply once more, unabashedly, before letting out what seemed to be a sigh of content.

He speaks your name softly, a hushed whisper. “Why’re ye so quiet?” The tears start to fall faster and you hiccup, facial expression crumpling. He immediately pulls back, eyes scanning your expression, his own filtering into one of confusion and then adjusting itself to an easy going smile. You were definitely going to be sick. “‘S Johnny, remember? None of them tears, ye hear me? There’s nae need for ‘em. You’re safe now, yeah?” 

Johnny? John. Ah. Right, that was his name. How could you have forgotten?

Johnny adjusts his hands, one coming up to cup your cheek, squeezing ever so slightly as you start to speak. “I don’ feel so good-”

“Need a bucket?” Another wave of confusion hits you as you squint up at him, watching as he continues to smile, thumb brushing away one of the many tears despite how they just seem replaced by more twofold.  It was getting harder and harder to tell what was real and what was not- he.. kissed you, right? Shoved his tongue down your throat so why was he acting like nothing had happened? Was it truly a custom you weren’t aware of? You weren’t friends- hell, you barely remember the guy besides he was the one that gave you that dumb list you’ve spent years of your life on. And along with his stupidly blue eyes. And dumb haircut. 

Stomach twisting and churning, gulping hard as your eyebrows pull together. He must’ve known something you didn’t because his hands left you, and in but a brief moment, you were over the side of the bed, emptying nothing but water and stomach acid into the steel of a bucket. Ignoring the searing pain shooting up your spine as you cough out phlegm, gagging as you spill your guts. Your throat felt tight, constrained and small as one of his hands held back your hair the best he could, the other gently rubbing your back- the heat of his palm prominent even through the thick fabric of what you were wearing. “I ken, I ken, it’s hard the first time. Gets better ye know, the more you come into contact with ‘im.” 

You only hack up more bile, sniffling as snot and tears run down your face, finding it hard to breathe as you rasp into the bucket. As if purging the waste and exiling it from your body. Eventually the fit dies down, as does the pain in your neck falling to a dull throb. Noticeable, but not enough to make you want to never move again. He begins to slowly lead you out of bed, easily handling your weight as you stumble around like a newly born faun, trying not to trip over your own feet as he leads you to an ornate bathroom. A light fixture buzzes on- gold, blinding. 

Nothing was really.. Getting explained. Despite your garbled and weak protests, he helps you use the bathroom, not bothering to look away as he helps you clean up. His broad frame crowding you against the countertop as he brushes your teeth, holding your stare as he does so. Smile widening as he makes you squeak, one hand spread across your jugular, the other making your eyes flutter around as he scrubs at your tongue and teeth, choking on the bristles when he goes back too far. 

And when he brings your befuddled form back to what you can now see is a bedroom of sorts- also grand, embellished. Larger than what anything you’ve seen before- than what you felt you deserved: it was easy to think you’re in Castle Waterdeep or Dragonspear Castle. Tucked away and brought to a place far above where a person of your status should be, somewhere that should’ve been inaccessible. During all this you try to talk to the man as he dragged you to one of the wardrobes; the questions you ask never getting a real answer- always something cryptic that you couldn't digest properly. Honestly it felt like riddles, like he was trying to imitate a sphinx- purposefully being cryptic to mess with your head further. 

“I- I can dress.. myself.” He only shushes you like you were some sort of fussy child, as if you didn’t know any better yet. Maneuvering you as he pleases, dressing you in a long, drapey gown, embroidered with gold, layers upon layers. Unashamedly pawing at skin, hands lingering far too long to be considered ‘gentlemanly’, squeezing as he pleases. You were dressed and adorned like some sort of lady of high nobility, extravagant jewelry hanging from your neck, from your wrists- loud and noisy, like a bell going off saying ‘here I am!’ every time you moved.

“You wan’ breakfast, hen?” His voice was a low murmur, nose rubbing against your neck absentmindedly, hands trailing down the long sleeves to your hands, interlacing the fingers together. “Of course ye do, you’ve been out cold fer a week.” He moves your hands to your stomach, chin hooking into place on your shoulder, body towering over yours. The bracelets chime in response. 

This..must’ve been some sort of fever dream.. Right? What was happening? Why was he here with you- so many ‘whys’, and yet no answer seems to be greeting you. Maybe this was the feywild, and you’ve fallen under a charm; perhaps this is just an odd hallucination. Or maybe.. The afterlife? The fugue plane, somewhere within the City of Judgement, waiting to be taken to the Crystal Spire, my soul to be judged and appraised by Kelemvor. 

There was only one reasonable conclusion- one that made sense considering you’d saw him all those years ago after the incident, like a grim reaper ready to claim its prize or like a devil scoping out its next contract- “Are you a Baatezu?” It was a mere mumble, and he huffs out a laugh, tightening his grip on you for a brief moment, before letting go and spinning you towards him. 

“Do I look like a devil to ye?” He muses, eyes filled with amusement. As if the thought of him being from the Nine Hells was humorous. He continues to smile despite your clear hesitance- so warm as it carves lines into his cheeks, his eyes crinkling. It felt so genuine; hospitable and welcoming that you almost had a hard time imagining him being a bad guy. This all must’ve been some big miscommunication right? Something got lost in translation; he.. He’s helped you. There’s a roof over your head, he has kept you alive for the past supposed- he hasn’t necessarily harmed you right? Kissed you sure- but he was just.. Giving you water. Johnny.. is just a bit too touchy for your liking, but harmless, you think- like an overzealous dog with too much energy to go around. 

“Well, maybe- I..” Your neck throbs as you eye him apprehensively, and then the same gaze drifts down to the bracelets donning your wrists, experimentally flexing your fingers, hearing the metals cling against each-other as your wrists move. “..I just.. I’m not dead?” That sparks a laugh out of him, a full bodied one that makes your ears burn with embarrassment, faltering as you start to backtrack. “I- Well- I only meant-” 

“I ken, I ken- I know what ye meant. It’s scary for ye, isn’t tha’ right? A new place. But yer here now, okay?” He interrupts you off gently, reassuring you through your clear apprehension, as he starts to herd your body towards the door. A shepherd leading a lamb, blindly to whatever fate waits them. 

A grandiose hallway greets you, one side being doors, the other sprawling windows: the views simply breathtaking. The scenery is enough to momentarily distract you from the situation- offering a brief moment of solace. Endless rolling hills stretch as far as the eye could see, adorned with a vibrant tapestry of flowers in every hue of the rainbow. The sunlight shines brightly over the landscape; casting a sort of glow over it that makes it seem like one of those places straight out of a fairytale- like something only seen in a book. It was enough to make your steps falter and Johnny accounts for the movement, or lack thereof, slowing to a halt as he too peers out the scenery beyond the panes.

“Oh it’s.. Beautiful.. But where exactly is ‘here’?” 

“I know it is. What’da see hen?” He asks instead- voice hushed as if afraid he’d break the atmosphere, no longer looking outside but at you instead.

Your mouth opens and then closes, and you gesture outwardly with your arm, one of the bangles glinting in the light. Your eyebrows furrow as a sudden realization hits you, wasn’t it almost Midwinter? “Well..  well there’s flowers I-.. in Midwinter. And the sun.. I- Are we even along the Sword Coast? Or..” You try to pick your brain, thinking, unsure. You were in Faerûn, right? Your stomach twists, swallowing down the bile- forcing a smile on your lips. He saved you, you repeat, unsure if you were just trying to convince yourself at this point or not. Making it easier that way- not wanting to confront the truth. “Maybe up at the Dalelands?”

He makes a sort of noncommittal hum, and as you twist your head to look up at him, he nods. His gaze travels to the window once more, almost melancholic, before his jaw clenches and then he looks back at you with a smile, just a little bit tighter than before. “Yeah. Now how ‘bout a wee bit of breakfast, hm?”

More questions add to the ever expanding stack as you walk alongside him. The marble feels borderline warm beneath your bare feet as he leads you down to a pair of doors, and upon entering it was large, with a sprawling table: fit for a small country it seemed. What must’ve been a hundred chairs lined the grand hall. The ceiling soars high above, reminiscent of a cathedral back in the city, adorned with oversized chandeliers that seem to dwarf any you’ve seen before. The crystals catch the light from the rose window, creating a mesmerizing display of refracted colors that seem to dance along the wooden surfaces. It looked like a place for Gods to dine in- or a king or queen; not you. You used to be of nobility, sure, but that lifestyle had died and the title with it all those years ago. Practically living as a commoner for the past five years rather than someone of high class, and well, you certainly didn’t belong here, despite being dressed in the part to be. Out of touch and way out of your element. 

Johnny escorts you to the table, making a point to sit you down next to the chair at the end of the table. The elf sort of hesitates, eyes glancing at the floor next to the chair before making his place known across from you. He makes some sort of gesture- and mute, placid faces approach- seemingly out of the dark recesses of the room as they start to work around the table efficiently. No words were exchanged, solely focused on the singular task at hand- not even stopping when you’d ask what was being served. 

“Naw bonnie, you’ll like it- made sure they knew to get all yer favorites.” Johnny starts to eat, devouring the meal with such gusto as if he hadn’t had a morsel in days- his words not fully registering in your mind. But as soon as they do it’s all you hear. They play like a broken record, causing you to stiffen, the room spinning as your gaze travels down to your plate. Lo and behold- there it all was all laid out before you. Your gaze travels from item to item- a sense of unease creeping up on you- everything you loved is there, down to the little honeycakes your mother used to make, decorated with powdered sugar and frosting swirled on top.  

Your hands firmly clasp one over the other, biting down on your lip harshly, the wound on the back of your neck beginning to tingle. “I’m not hungry.” 

“Of course ye are.” He remarks dismissively, mouth full of food. “Just open yer bonnie mouth and eat. Unless ye need me tae feed you?” 

It might have been a joke- but his heavy gaze was anything but funny. Swallowing thickly, you shake your head. Hunger does gnaw at your stomach, but at this point you think you might be sick again. “Are we in the feywild?” His fork drops, and you hold your gaze on the table before raising it to meet his. His eyes seemed darker- the shadows more prominent, but maybe it was just a trick of the light. 

“Naw why’re you continuing on and on and on. I told ye-” Johnny’s eyebrows furrow as he scowls, like he was reprimanding an unruly pet, looking annoyed in every sense of the word. “-Ye were safe now, and yet you’re tryin’ tae make it seem like ah’m the bad guy here. Dae ye wan’ to make ‘im mad? Cause’ ye won’ like ‘im for a welcoming party. I’ve been so nice to ye. I’m the one here-” His voice was growing louder, starting to look angry more than sad- looking one moment away from going across the table. Blue eyes wide, nails digging into the wood grooves of the table, scratching little crescent shaped indents into them. “Ah’m the one whose gone through all the trouble cause i’d knew ye’d be perfect and now all ‘m seeing is an ungrateful little-”

He recoils slightly, as if suddenly choked and he coughs, face contorting in dismay. His complexion drains of color, betraying his unease and he gulps hard. You shift uncomfortably, a grimace of your own painting your features- too much happening at once to properly digest what was being said. Only the fact that you needed to get out and leave. He tilts his head, muttering something in a language- Elvish, you think, before he picks up his fork, stabbing a piece of meat with more force than necessary. “Naw, ‘m sorry bonnie, didn’t mean to scare ye.” He apologizes, gaze meeting yours with a pitiful attempt at reassurance, though his smile seems strained. Trying to calm you down, if you were to take a guess. But his teeth were just a bit too sharp- eyes too wild, reminding you that at the end of the day he was a stranger, one that was easily set off at the slightest bit of provocation it seemed. Admitting it to yourself was only inevitable despite how you were trying to make excuses: you could banter back and forth endlessly, but he abducted you. ..You think. The logistics aren’t fully there. Saved you from certain death sure- thinking back to the fuzzy memories on the mountain, the ritual that yielded no results. But if feigning cooperation for now meant finding an opportunity to go back home then so be it.

“It’s alright.” You utter, though the sentiment was far from genuine. Yet his face seemed to light up at the words, seemingly oblivious to your lack of sincerity. Accepting it at face value. You reluctantly pick up the fork, his keen gaze fixed upon you as you force yourself to take a bite of the food. “Oh this is delightful.” You lie, a weak attempt to mend the fractured atmosphere. The falsehood tastes as bitter and lifeless as the food in your mouth.

He beams, looking like the incarnate of the sun- seeming to light up the room. “Ah’m glad you think so. Had the chefs making food every day, till’ you woke up. Took yer sweet time though huh? Like our own precious sleeping beauty you were- a bonnie thing.” He winks when he meets your gaze again, and you gulp hard- cheeks hurting from how hard you were trying to keep your smile afloat. And like a ship in a storm, its hull damaged- filling with water, trying to make it to shore. It’s only a matter of time before it sinks.

This time though- you weren’t stupid; you caught the word. The fork mindlessly pushing around food comes to a pause, poking at the bear. “Hey how’d you find me anyway? There was a blizzard.”

“Donnae matter, does it? Yer here now, safe.” He reaches out with another plate of the honeycakes, and you eye the sickly sweet glaze cascading down onto the plate. And vaguely you’re brought back to the present- feeling a bit like a fly caught in a vat of syrup or amber. Stuck. 

“I want a real answer.”

“And I gave ye one- now what’s the problem hen? I haven’t mistreated ye have I?” His tone sharpens, and you unwittingly deepen your own predicament. Digging your grave- shoveling out another foot of dirt every time you open your mouth- maybe he’ll do you the courtesy of taking you to where your family was buried when he kills you. Your throat constricts, watching as his grip around the plate tightens. 

“That’s not the point. I- I want to go home.”

In a sudden, jerky movement he rises out of his chair, and you hastily follow suit, stumbling over the hem of your dress, eyes wide. Your jewelry clanking loudly as he maneuvers around the table, looking like bull with far too much energy- “Naw, what did I jus’ say?” He snarls, advancing with two strides forwards for every one step back you make. His words tumble out almost incoherently, hands gesturing erratically as he closes in on you, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. Spittle flying and landing on your cheek in his fervor. “This whole place was designed with ye in mind- and ye want to go home? To where huh? Where is yer home- tell me hen.” 

Your mouth opens and then closes, words stammering, taking a hesitant step back and he only follows, encroaching in your space. His hands linger near you, but refrains from grabbing you- instead choosing to grip the chair next to him. “I want you tae tell me where’d ye go.” He finally breathes out, chest falling and rising with huff, nostrils flaring as he stares down at you. A long bang resounds through the room as his fist hits the table- and at your startled reaction his lips stretch into a grin at your silence- swallowing thickly as your eyes dart around like a stuck rabbit. “Tha’s right, ye don’ know do yah bonnie? Las’ five years you’ve been following tha’ little list down right to the last T, getting far far awae from that shithole you called home.” 

Your pulse seems to falter, arteries constricting, the flow of blood in your veins slowing to a near standstill, as if coagulating with fear, and ultimately slowing to a halt. Every nerve in your body tingles with dread, every sound feeling amplified. The air feels heavy, suffocating, as if pressing down on your chest, making it hard to draw in a full breath. It only made sense that he knew about it, I mean he was the one that gave the list to you- but the implication of how he’s been watching you– you struggle to steady your trembling limbs and calm the racing thoughts in your mind. The unbridled urge to run arises.

 “I- I don’t-”

“You don’t- You don’t what? Ye don’ know what ahm talkin’ about hen? Tha’ what yer trying tae tell me?” He mocks, head tilting- taking advantage of the way you stumble for something to say. He leans further into your personal bubble, leering down at you. 

“Stay back.” You manage in a shaky gasp stumbling backwards as you hold your hands out in front of you. 

“What’s the problem?” His laugh seems to echo around the room, and he follows you, blue eyes wide and unblinking- “It’s fate. This is where ye were meant to be- Here with us-”

“Stay away from me!” There was another word spoken- one foreign to your lips but not to his- and his eyes widened, unable to do anything in time as embers spark in the air. A rush of something equally foreign and unnerving washes over you as it leaves your tongue, like a sudden wave crashing upon a shore. The feeling was indescribable- the sense of connection thrumming through your very being; as if awakening something long dormant in you- untapped potential. Something hot- embers?- begins to manifest, a sense of otherworldly energy fills the air, crackling with a palpable intensity. A surge of heat wells up inside of you, building up to a crescendo as thin sheets of flame bursts out of your fingertips, and he barely has a second to drop before the torrent of searing heat engulfs everything above him. The heat is intense, blistering hot, and the smell of singed air fills your nostrils. Burnt meat and honey was there- charred, smokey, slightly sweet.

You can only stare dumbfounded- looking down at your hands and then at the aftermath, stumbling back. You throw a hand to your mouth, still warm from the unexpected surge of power- stomach rolling with unease. What? How did you- How was this possible– Johnny looks equally surprised- his face flushed, tilting his head back to look at the burnt wood and then back at your stunned form. His eyes fall half-lidded, making a movement to rise, expression twisting into something you can’t quite put your finger on, lips tugging into a grin. You don’t wait to try and decipher what he was thinking, instinctively turning and fleeing- heart pounding in your chest.

Gathering up your dress to the best of your ability- you turn pivot on your heel and sprint away, the clatter of your jewelry like a warning bell with each frantic step. It felt like the jewelry were more cursed collars and shackles the more you think of it, each jangle announcing your presence to anyone who might be listening. You burst out of the dining room, tearing down the hallway from which you came- desperate for escape, gasping for breath as panic tightens its grip around your throat. Sentences come to mind- each one stirring conflicting feelings.

‘The ritual would give you great power.’

‘It would provide you strength.’

‘Protection for yourself.’

You continue to flee as fast as your unsteady legs can carry you, though your pace hardly qualifies as swift, your wobbly strides barely enough to keep you upright. The hallway seems to warp and narrow before your eyes, blurring with each frantic blink. “Bonnie!” His voice echoes out loudly behind you and you only hobble along faster. Like a faun trying to outrun a predator, each step a scramble for safety. 

The sound of his pursuit fades gradually until it suddenly ceases, leaving you to wonder as you steal a glance backwards, only to see Johnny faltering in his step- expression looking almost reverent. Dare you say almost excited- dazed, and then your attention snaps back to the present as you collide with something unexpectedly soft- a wall that shouldn’t have been there. And you don’t remember there being anything necessarily obstructing in the hallway. 

The impact leaves you stunned- a buzzing in your head becoming known before swiftly dissipating as if it was never there. Your eyes drift up, up, up- and towering above you is the tallest, broadest man you’ve ever encountered. Crossing eyes with death itself- you find yourself entranced. It was fitting, with a skull over his face- skin pale as a ghost- terrifying. They say eyes are the window to the soul. So what kind of soul would it be when the eyes you were staring at were a deep abyss- as tainted as his seemed to be? Dark pools of tiger’s eye, mali garnet, topaz, amber- dravite tourmaline. Clouded and hardened by something you couldn’t quite understand- and you recoil, all but shoving yourself off of the imposing figure. His hands twitch in response, tilting his head down at you.

“I- ‘m sorry.” You almost instinctively skitter back a few feet, jewelry jingling noisily in the tense silence. 

“Johnny causin’ you trouble?” Though sounding much more human compared to before, the gruff familiarity of his voice is not lost on you and you’re brought back to a cold mountain- a warm touch, a promise. Your neck burns, eyes squeezing shut before you hesitantly raise them back to the broad expanse of his chest. You force yourself to give some sort of indication that you heard him, trembling before the being in front of you- shaking your head curtly- hands scrunching up your dress in a tight grip.

His dark eyes look down at you, and not even looking up at him, the weight of his stare was heavy.. you’ve never felt so small in your life, unable to muster the courage nor the willpower to look him in the face again. Not wanting to see death personified glaring back at you. It wasn’t too often you’ve pondered your existence in life but in this monster’s presence you’ve found yourself contemplating it more often than not. And with that, it was painstakingly easy to realize how absolutely inferior you were to him.

Throughout your life, you at least knew of your place in the world you lived. A human, where you wish you could’ve had the chance to be born as a half-orc, at least then you’d be strong. Or an aasimar, maybe then you’d be able to live up properly to others expectations and be worthy of something- take up an oath and be a paladin or a cleric, being able to properly protect those closest to you. No.. you know you are. Though making up a large majority of the population, it was easy to forget that sometimes. You.. were you. Plain. Unordinary. You don’t hear of humans winning in wars or becoming rulers. You don’t hear tales of humans doing all this- no. You hear tales of dragons soaring through the skies. Of a whole life surrounded by beings who were just.. Ascended from bloodlines so much more interesting than yours. Hell, this is why you’ve spent years of your life looking for something to give you that power. To make you special. And now that you had it.. It was weird. 

So it honestly wasn’t too hard to describe how you thought he was looking at you; how you thought he viewed you. What you imagined his expression to look like, had you actually looked back at him: Like an executioner with one hand on the lever to drop the floor beneath you, to have the rope tighten around your neck. Like a butcher as their cleaver comes swinging down towards a cow’s neck, ready to provide a merciful death or prolonging its misery. A falcon ready to swoop down for its next meal. Or a boot as it comes down on an ant whether or not to squash it out of existence. Like a wolf ready to shut its maws around you and shake until you’ve gone limp in its grasp. Compliant. Lifeless. 

But instead your gaze was planted firmly on the pristine marble, bottom lip quivering as you blink slowly, vision blurring and turning the sharp edges fuzzy. Cotton filling your ears, sounds becoming muffled, save for the steady rapidfire pulse resounding through your head. This was the protection that was promised- this was the life that you wanted right? So what was this overwhelming pressure being in his presence? This was who you summoned- you think. Ultimately, it felt like broken promises, shattered ideals- forced to live in what reality you had conjured up for yourself. No- you could tell now that this is what you had called for- what you had asked for was a fiend- no an eldritch being, maybe a God? God might be too pure of a word for him- the devil was more akin to what you’d imagine him being. There was no mistaking it; there was no wolf in sheep’s clothing. No, he knew what he was. He was confident in it even. A predator. 

It felt like the space was closing in, the long hallway forcing the pair of you to be in close proximity- a sort of draw, a leash if you would. Taking another step back was a thought, a good one really- except for the fact that the shadows seemed to slink forwards, grasping at the soles of your feet, rising up your calves and grounding you in place, chaining you down. The mere idea of trying to move away from him was a mistake in itself.

There was a momentary lapse in time as this happened, and then immediately your breath catches in your throat as the back of your neck burns as if ignited. Sending jolts of pure energy into your flesh, dark magic swirling around the air that your untrained eyes couldn’t see, but your body could certainly feel the effects of. The power that exudes off his very being. Knees crumpling to the ground beneath you, not given the right to stand, to even be at some sort of the same level as him. Flesh crawling, skin rippling- that morning’s breakfast threatening to come up, tasting the acidic taste on your tongue- bitter and pungent.

Cold sweat drips down your temple as you rasp for air at his feet, falling to all fours as each breath feels like it might be the last. Tremors run down your spine, shaking as you urge your muscles to move to no avail. Society talks of fight or flight, but always seems to forget the most common one: freeze. “Pl— ease.” Trying to get out the words; trying to beg, trying to get him to understand, not even knowing if he’d even care to give what you had to say a moment of his time. Of his consideration. Asking to be let go, to leave- for mercy- it was difficult to place what you had wanted in that moment. You were just a human and he was something beyond your comprehension.

 You didn’t realize he had dropped to a crouch, cold fingers brushing over the raised skin with a deep rumble: a hum, it was hard to decipher. You flinch anyway. His nail traces over the freshly acquired wound, drawing a low whimper out of your throat as he just kept petting and prodding- as if wanting the pain to be a reminder. 

A pause.

Maybe two.

“Settle, little bird.” Another choked sob rips out of your throat- wet and sticky with phlegm, eyes squeezing shut as his hand- calloused, large- dips down, cupping your jaw and raising you to meet his eyes, though you refuse to open them. He didn’t sound angry, at least not outright. It somehow felt worse to hear a lilt of disappointment brushes along his tone, and it causes more tears to fall. Upon the realization that you weren’t going to open your eyes, his hand moves to your cheeks, squishing them together and making your mouth into a little ‘o’ shape. “Gave you a chance and you’d rather run than stay ‘ere under my protection.” His grip tightens, and this time you don’t dare to open your eyes, afraid to see the beast mere inches from you. His breath fans across your face- surprisingly warm. “Do I have to provide a reminder that you’re mine, hm? Is that it? Have you already forgotten who was providing you a new life?”  

“N-No-” His grip tightens further, cutting you off what you had to say. It’s a familiar sensation, one that’s become far too common lately. 

“Wasn’t a question.” His low voice rumbles, and you whimper- footsteps approaching that you now recognize as Johnny’s. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, prodding at the space he had created- and you grit your teeth, a defiant response that causes him to click his tongue at your actions. Your neck sparks with more pain before you unhinge your jaw and the sensation fades. He hums thoughtfully. “It’s alright though, you didn’t know any better, Johnny wasn’t treating you right huh?”

“That’s naw true sir- she’s just upset cause she wants tae go home-” 

“I wasn’t asking you.” The pad of his thumb rubs along your teeth, and he removes his fingers, grasping your chin and jerking your head upwards. There was a sort of whine behind you, and you gulp hard. “You were just scared weren’t ya? You wanted the devil you summoned to be the first thing you saw when you woke up?” His words, though blunt, strike a nerve that makes you cringe- nose scrunching up as more tears fall. “It’s all right now- pretty little bird is just confused and lost. Isn’t tha’ right?” 

His words cause you to peer open your eyes hesitantly, dark pools staring down at you. Your gaze drops to the hand holding your head, which then trails up to a pale arm, decorated with what seemed to be swirling black ink- symbols and hieroglyphs of things you didn’t quite recognize. You sniffle, shrugging unsurely- and he coos, fingers lifting up one of the many necklaces, looking down at one of the shining jewels with a smile on his scarred lips. He lifts the gem so it is within eyesight; green glittering in the light. Emerald.

He lets it fall back against your skin, a deep sigh leaving his lips- “I should’ve been there when you woke up, ‘s all my fault really.” The warm light from the outside seems to grow even warmer, the colors in the hallway shifting to shades of red- darker and darker. “Wouldn't have let you leave that room if i’d known you be such a fussy girl.” 

“No- That’s- that’s not–” Your facial expression crumples, hands jutting out in front of you- repeating the same word from before. Only this time.. No embers shootout- nothing. Not even a hint of well, anything happens. Johnny takes a step closer, hovering. Waiting.

The man- the devil- chuckles- a low rumble. “You think i’d let you use my own magic against me? Don’t be daft- did being up in the cold make you lose all sense?” He breathes in deeply, guiding you up to your feet- and your eyes catch to the outside, choking back a sob at the vastly different change of scenery. The sky was a crimson, an artificial moon casting an eerie glow over the ground below. What seemed like flowers had morphed into some sort of city- a labyrinthine structure sprawling beneath from how high up you were. In the distance seemed to be volcanoes- billowing smoke, threatening to erupt, and you feel your legs start to give beneath you- as you let out a garbled gasp, eyes wide. He only steadies you, wrapping an arm around your back and pulling you to his chest. “You just need a reminder that you’re gonna be loved now, isn’t that right? That this is where you’re gonna be from now on. It’s okay, Johnny and I will give you one, yes?” One of his fingers tugs at the corner of your lip, coaxing a smile, “Smile. You’re home now.”

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty #dnd!141 #patron!ghost #warlock!soap #flesh and bone #dnd!au #ghoap x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader

[desswright29]

Intomba: Young Love

A/N: Hey Yaw! I know I been gone but I been busy. But I’m here now and I come baring gifts lol. For some reason this story is really close to my heart. Like I LOVE reader and Shuri! I combined my love for Angst with my love for a pretty love story and I hope you guys love it as much as I’m enjoying writing it.

Word Count: 9.6k

Pairing: Shuri/Reader

Contains: Friends to lovers, underage kissing, Love story, Angst, Struggle, Prison Shuri, manipulation, No smut for now this isn’t a smit heavy fic. There will be but I just wanted to write a story.

“Oh,God! Oh My God! I can’t believe it!” Bound to her wooden floors, her eyes locked onto mine. Stunned I should guess. Was it from my hardened appearance, or did my presence in general offend? I couldn’t have known. As our gazes lingered upon eachothers, I couldn’t help but notice after all these years, her eyes were still filled with a certain purity, guiltlessness, innocence. A simplicity, that I hadn’t been blessed to be in the presence of for a long time. Eight years to be exact. I couldn’t help but feel unworthy of it’s presence. Breaking our stare, I look down at my feet as they shuffle from side to side. Self-consciousness trickling through my veins as I continue to feel her gaze.

“I-I know I didn’t call. I didn’t have a number, only this address. I could find somewhere el-“

My body froze as I suddenly felt her body come in contact with mine. Rushing into me, she throws her arms around my neck. She trembled against me, and my eyes shut tight. The warmth of her embrace sending shock waves to my system. My arms remaining at my sides my mind not quite computing how to engage with the softness of this embrace. As my eyes remain shut I feel her pull away and soon after, fingertips gently caress each my cheeks. Slowly sliding from my cheeks, down my neck, and down my arms. She traced the art that now shadowed my caffeinated skin. “It’s really you.” The words pour softly from her lips, and I open my eyes slowly looking down at her lovingly.

 “I’m not so sure about that.” I whisper, my eyes glazing over allowing her to continue surveying me as we stand in her doorway. Those eyes, they lift from my arms back up to my own, brows furrowing as she searches for meaning. I can spot the exact moment she finds it. Grabbing my hand, she lightly tugs at my arm guiding me inside of the small apartment. Once the door closes behind us, her arms wrap around me once again.

I grip onto her, hands shaking as they grip onto her waist. I can feel the dam about to break. But, She still knew me. She could feel it, smell it on me. Her hand gently rubbed my back. “It’s ok. You’re safe now Shuri.” And with no urge to fight,I close my eyes allowing the tears to flow as I breath her in, head buried into her neck. It hits like a wave, my body shaking with sobs as my knees went weak, and we sank to the floor. “I’m sorry Shuri. I’m so sorry this happened to you.” She sits in the center of the floor, my head on her bossom as her hands delicately stroke the top of my head; allowing me to release emotions that hadn’t been safe for me to release for eight years of my life. 

And that’s who she was to me. My Amanzi, My water. When life would suck me dry. I ran to her and she replenished me.

I’m sorry. I don’t believe I’ve properly introduced myself. I’m Shuri. Now a days they call me Qamata. But, we’ll get into that later. I should explain what’s happening here. As i’m sure you’ve guessed, I’d just been released from prison, for what had supposed to have been a ten year bid. I got out in eight on good behavior. I was just a kid when I went in. 18. And there I was at 26 able to carry everything I owned in a paper trash bag. I remember feeling low. The equivalent of garbage. Cast away.

However, I wasn’t the delinquent youth that I’m sure you all are picturing. Far from it. I was top of my class. Dual enrollment. I’d graduated highschool at 17 as valedictorian, and having already secured a bachelors degree from the most prestigious university in Wakanda; where I would’ve finished out my education in Network engineering and computer science, had everything gone the way it was supposed to. But, Bast did it not. At a point in time I despised this life that I chose. It had taken the person I loved most in the world away from me. My brother.

At a point in time my father was the most feared man in the place we call The Bricks. His name was T’Chaka, they called him Uthixo. God Father. Pretty self-explanatory. He peddled his poisonous products to our community without remorse. Not a single regret. He was merciless, cold. So much so that he’d killed his own brother in cold blood after finding out that he was consorting with the enemy. Turned out my uncle N’Jobu, had been being held captive. Working for them under the pretense that his families lives would be taken. My father knew this. He still killed him, stating that N’Jobu was a liability. That was my father. His carelessness eventually cost him and my brother their lives. They were killed the same day. Their bodies riddled with bullets. My father and brother dangled from light poles on display like trophies. 

T’Challa, my brother, he didn’t deserve it. He hadn’t wanted that life. And neither did I. My mother, myself, and my sister were exiled in a way. Shunned into dilapidated buildings struggling to make ends meet. My mother fell sick, and my sister was useless. She sold her body, and the proceeds went to her poisonous habit. She’d had three children since then that ended up mostly under the care of my mother. So as soon as I was of age I began to work in the mines. It was hard back breaking work for anyone, especially a teenage girl. But, it was my only option. My name. My Fathers name preceded me wherever I went. I worked hard to turn it around. And I began to succeed. 

I am a certified Genius. If anybody was going to get us out of The Bricks. It would be me. But,  Love. Love makes us silly, Ngaba akunjalo (Does it not)? I took one look at that pretty chocolate skin. Those big Doe eyes, and that big gravity defying hair and fell into a deep bottomless pit of eternal love….In love with you Sthandwa Sami. The girl who saw me hoarding my food from the cafeteria to take to my niece and nephews; even though I myself was by every definition of the word starving. So you started packing me a lunch everyday. Making me eat it infront of you. Stubborn Haha. The only person in the world who could tell me what to do. If only I’d known that that was only the begining of the things you’d be to me.

In all of my life, there were only two constants. Tragedy. And You. I remember the day everything changed. The day I knew I was in love with you.

Your buttery brown skin saturated with the suns rays blessed Shuri’s vision. Sitting across from her, a beauty that had changed the trajectory of her exsistence. Physically, you were a goddess to young Shuri, yes. It was apparent in the way she incessantly stole glances. Bast’s light shining on you making your skin, the shade of nutmeg, gleam like pyrite stone. Eyes like buttered chocolate, swirled with caramel crescent moons. Your juicy lips appearing as though they’re dripping in manuka honey. Big curls sat atop your head like a crown. Unapologetically kinky, defying earths gravity. 

However, it was more than tangible for Shuri. Deeper than the eyes would meet. Your beauty was the flower be-speckled in the thin light of dawn. But, it was also the volunteer in a soup kitchen on a holiday missing their own family meal. It was majesty and self-sacrifice, it was all of the wonders of the natural world and our spiritual wholeness. It was the embodiment of the love God had for her people. For who are we to be blessed to walk amongst such an ethereal beauty. 

“Shuri? Shuri!?” Shuri was startled out of her thoughts, sitting up straight in her seat. The pretty girl that had her transfixed, now speaking to her. She cleared her throat trying to play it cool.

“Yea? What’s up?” Scratching the back of her head, she looked down at the books infront of her, trying to avoid eye contact. Her heart heart rate was excelerated, and her face heated, she’d been caught.

“You’re not paying attention.” Finally, her eyes raise. Looking into deep brown orbs she could so easily get lost in. So beautiful. 

“Yo. I was listening.” She spoke up defensively slouching back against her chair. Mirroring her actions from across the table, you cross your arms across your chest, squinting your eyes at your friend, cocking your head to the side. 

“What did I just say, Shuri?” Shuri’s lower lip disappears between her teeth as she tries to swallow a smile. Her eyebrows raise, and her eyes shift from side to side. Your eyes narrow as the smile broke across her face, her eyes turning apologetic.

“I’m sorry.” She chuckles. Rolling your eyes,  you suck your teeth quickly picking up and throwing it across the table at her. She catches it effortlessly. “A pencil?” Her eyes widen in faux shock. “You’re really trying to hurt me.” She says hand coming up to clutch her chest dramatically before a smirk curled her pretty lips.

“Yea, because you’re supposed to be helping me, but you keep zoning out!” Your face scrunches up in frustration. Though you couldn’t help but to admire how cute and dramatic Shuri was. With her perfectly chisled face, pretty lips, and perfect smile. Your tummy tingled a bit as the two of you seemed to get lost in eachothers gaze. 

“Shhh!” Shuri’s attention was immediately grabbed by the sound. Her gaze snapping to a young man staring at you two his annoyance apparent, and so was Shuri’s. He’d interrupted a moment of rarity between the two of you everyone knew that Shuri’s annoyance wan much more dangerous than the average persons. The smile was still plastered on her face, her bottom lip now resting between her teeth. You see her glance your way out of the corners of her eyes and you shake your head. 

“Shuri..” She turns to you fully throwing her hands up in defense. 

“I’m not going to bother him Y/n. He’s absolutely correct. We should act like we have home training? We’re in a library. We should conduct ourselves properly. Yea?” Knowing better, your brow raises a frown distorting your face.

Shuri leans back in her seat a genuine smile plastered on her face, before her gaze returns to the boy.

“He’s safe Amanzi. However, for future references. It’d behoove you to watch your tone when you speak to her.” Suddenly her tone turned serious, eyes steadfast on him, the smirk on her face leisurely becoming a grimace. The boy shifts in his seat clearly uncomfortably. Shuri turned in her chair hunching over placing her elbows to her knees only deepening the stare staring a hole into the side of his face. Quickly closing his books, shoving them into his back pack, he scurries off to find a safer table. 

“Ah maaaann! Are you leaving? Don’t goo!” She called after him sarcastically. 

“He didn’t even say anything. Why’d you do that?” You chastise her.

“Yea he did. Remember? He said Shh. And it’s not what he said it was the maliciousness

in his tone.” A malicious grin spread across her face.

“Malicious- Girl.” You roll your eyes as laughter erupts from her throat. “We’re sorry!” You call after the boy.”

“Speak for yourself, thando” She replies. 

You look at her like she’s crazy as she shrugs her non chalance. 

“Anyway Shuri. If you’ve had enough of being a bully, could you please help me with this fucking calculus I only made it into this class because of you.” 

Shuri’s outdated Kimoyo beads buzz against her wrist and another apologetic look crossed her face. You release an exasperated sigh, slouching down into your chair. 

“Put your lip up. It’ll only take a second.” 

“Khawulezisa!! (Hurry up)” You say. Shuri’s eyes roll to the back of her head as she see’s the holorgraphic name that appears. With great hesitance she answers the call.

“Challan, I’m at the library.” She answers, irritation seeping from her pores.

“Your Umama, is in the hospital. My kids were unattended for 3 hours.” Shuri’s heart drops into her stomach, immediately sitting up straight in her seat. Concern instantly crosses your face your back also straightening. 

“What are you talking about?” Shuri could feel her heart racing in all of her pulse points while she waited for her sister to give her more details. 

“Some complication with the cancer. I don’t fucking know. She’s good, but the kids haven’t eaten all day!” Shuri could feel her body began to heat up with rage. 

“ChaCha! Feed them! They’re your kids! I don’t have time for this shit! What hospital did they take mother too?” A long suck of the teeth comes from the other end of the call and Shuri’s jaw clenches.

“What’s going on?” You mouth from across the table, and Shuri holds up a finger. 

“If I had something to feed them with you think I’d be talking to you about it!” Shuri’s shut tightly as she counts backwards from 10 to try and calm herself.

“I don’t have any money Cha. Tell me where they took my mother.” She reiterated, rubbing a hand down her face, slouching against her chair once again. Your eyes never leave her watching her every movement. 

“You’re lying. You always have money.”

“I have a job Cha…You should try one. I’m only 16. Im not a fucking millionaire. I’m making enough for bills, and food for me and mother. We’re barely scraping by with that. For some inexplicable reason, I’m still waiting for you to let me know where they took my mother Cha, I’m loosing patience.”

“She’s at General…You don’t care about your nephews and niece eating?”

“Just stay at the hospital. I’ll get them something when I get there.”  Shuri hangs up in her face. Standing to her feet, and you begin stuffing your belongings into your book bag hurriedly. Shuri’s eyebrows furrow as she watches you. 

“What are you doing?” You look up at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Coming with you to the hospital. Duh.” 

“No. You need to stay here and finish studying. You’re exam is tomorrow.” Your head jerks back a look of offense taking over your face.

“Shuri get your shit together so we can go. Don’t play with me.” You finish putting away your things, throwing your bag over your shoulder. 

“Stubborn.” Shuri huffed a small laugh, while doing as you said. You grab ahold of Shuri’s hand pulling her to the exit of the Library. The two of you running out, and hopping onto Shuri’s motorbike. You place on the extra helmet she always kept for you, and hold tightly to her waist before she takes off. 

“Umama?” She speaks softly stepping quietly into the hospital room, hand in hand with you, not wanting to interrupt her if she was resting.

“Come on in baby. Im awake.” Ramonda announces her eyes lighting up at the sight of You and Shuri. 

There was once a time in her life when her mother stood so tall, so strong. Graceful and elegant. Now she lie weak and frail. It rocked Shuri to her core everytime her eyes rested on her mother for too long. 

“Umakazi! Umakazi!” The pitter patter of little feet followed the sound of little voices as they came crashing into their aunt, hugging onto her legs as she lowered herself wrapping them all into her embrace. You smile as you walk over to her mothers bed placing a gentle kiss to her cheek. 

“Y/n, it’s good to see you.” She says lightly squeezing your hand. 

“It’s good to see you too. I wish it was under better circumstances ofcourse. How are you?” A light smile lifting the corner of your lips. 

“Blessed, intombi entle.” The smile on your lips widen. She never let her spirits fall no matter the circumstance and that was admirable to you for all that she had been through.

“Bast you all get bigger everytime I see you! Look at you.” A warm smile lingers on your lips as you watch Shuri tickle and interrogate her neice and nephews about their day.

“She loves those babies.” Ramonda chuckles as she watches along with you. You nod 

“More than anyone, could truly understand.”

“Hey to you too sister.” Cha says sitting in the corner of the hospital room. Shuri looks up from the children only for a brief second. Still very off out from her and her sisters earlier conversation, but she chooses not to argue as of now. Instead she places a kiss to each child’s head and stands to her feet. 

“Hey Cha.” She says before heading over to her mother. Removing your hand from Ramonda’s grasp you step back allowing Shuri access to her mother.

Leaning over her mother, she places a gentle kiss to her foerhead, smoothing her hand over hair, “How are you feeling, mama?” Ramonda looks up at her daughter a weak smile passing over her lips. 

“I’m just fine little girl.” Shuri smirks. That was always her answer. 

“Yea. Well I’ll let your doctor tell me how true that is.”

“Don’t you go getting all worked up over me now. How are you?” She asked lifting her hand to Shuri’s cheek. 

“Worried mama.” Shuri whispers, eyes revealing the truth behind that statement. 

“I am ok. My dear, and there’s no need at all to be worried. You have all the strength you need to survive, and not to mention an abundance of knowledge. You are an Udaku. As much you want to renounce that name It holds alot of power. Every once in awhile you’ll need to tap into it.” Shuri didn’t like this conversation. She didn’t like it one bit. Her eyes searched her mothers face a since of dread washing over her.

“Mama? What’s happening what’s going on?”

“I need to head out it’s getting late. Shuri you got cash so the kids can eat?” Cha stands from her seat appearing eager to leave. Shuri stands to her full height, over Cha’s attitude. 

“You don’t see me talking to my mama?” Shuri’s face scrunches, and Cha folds her arms across her chest rolling her neck.

“Well like I informed you earlier. My children haven’t eaten all day. So I need to go and get them fed.” 

“And since you’re depending on ME to feed them it would be smart of you to wait until I finish talking to mother.” Shuri rebuts

“I don’t have time to wait for you.” Shuri chuckles.

“Oh I’m sorry, is the crack calling?”

“Shuri!” Both you and Ramonda interject reminding her of the presence of Cha’s children. 

The doctor enters the room, as Shuri and Cha grill each other from across the room.

“You must be Shuri.” A polite smile graced his face as he approached Shuri his hand outstretched. 

“Yes.” She says softly before taking his hand to shake. 

“Nice meeting you young lady. I am Doctor W’Kabi. There are a few things that I need to go over with you and your family. Is everyone in the room authorized to hear?” You stand to your feet.

“I’ll head out. Shuri how about you give me the money for the food and I take them downstairs to eat so you all can talk.” Shuri’s eyes soften at the sound of your voice. She nods reaching into her pocket to get her wallet. 

“Uh! Excuse you? I don’t know her Shuri! She’s not taking my kids anywhere!” Her eyes land on you looking you over with a condescending stare. 

“And I’m not giving YOU money. So it seems we’re at an empass here sister.” The tension growing thicker between the two siblings. Shuri’s eyes squinted, her legs slightly parting as she locked her fingers together at her hips. Cha’s nostrils flared as she looked back and forth between you two. 

“Girl fuck you.” You immediately step forward..

“Uh uh, that’s enough. You may not know me but I know that Shuri is constantly sacrificing to help you feed your own children and your not about to keep disrespecting her in front of me.” Cha smirks stepping forward. 

“Little girl, What do you think you’re gonna do?” Yoo step forward as well never being one to back down but Shuri immediately grabs your arm. 

“Chill.” She says pulling you behind her. “Cha, this is not a problem you want. Now Y/n is going to take the kids to get food Sonwe can talk to the doctor.” Turning around to face you, Shuri sees that your eyes were still set on her sister. She touched your cheek bringing you back to her. 

“Hey, calm down. Just handle this for me so I can find out what going on with my mother.” Your eyes finally land back on Shuri’s face as you calm down. You nod.

“I am. I got it. She’s just disrespectful as hell.” You say mumbling pulling yourself away from Shuri’s grasp and gathering the children. Shuri can’t help but smile a bit as she watches you leave the room. Knowing you would have much more to say. When all of the commotion was finally over Shuri brought her attention back to the doctor.

“I apologize for the disruption Doctor. You may continue.” Shuri looks over at her mother who had been abnormally quiet throughout the hostile exchange. She seemed dazed, just trying to keep herself awake. She turned back to the doctor needing to know what was going on.

“Yes.. Well.” Dr. W’Kabi says moving right along. “Earlier before your arrival we were discussing the current state of the cancer. Unfortunately, it has spread, and it’s becoming very aggressive, taking a major toll on her body. I’m sorry to say it’s only going to get worse from here.” It felt like a punch to the gut, and tears streamed from Shuri’s eyes.

“S-so what do we do? What do we have to do?” Shuri’s eyes glanced over the room. Challan remained steadfast in her spot almost looking as though this was all inconveniencing her. 

“We’ve discussed it being best that your mother goes into a hospice facility.” Shuri froze. Her world begining to feel as though it was crashing around her. 

“N-no, no, no. W-We can’t afford a facility.” Shuri says through her tears.

“There are low income options that are covered by the state th-“

“I know what you’re talking about, and I’m not letting my mother go there. They don’t give a fuck about those people!”

“Shuri..” Ramonda’s voice came out in a whisper behind her. Shuri turns to her mother.

“No mama. You’re not going there!”

“I-I’m sorry, young lady. Your mother has already allowed your sister to fill out the paper work.” Shuri’s head whipped around again. Confusion taking over her as she stared at the doctor in disbelief. She scanned the room once again her eyes like daggers landing on Cha. 

“You did what mama?” She whispered, addressing her mother as she grimaced at her sister. “Cha doesn’t give a fuck about you! You let her sign you into a death trap?!” Her voice now raised, trembling with all of her bubbling emotions.

“You know what. I’m sick of your shit Shuri! I’m the oldest, and I can damn well help take care of mama!”

“Bitch! Your brain is fucking fried you can’t even take care of your damn kids!”

“STOP IT!” Ramonda’s voice carries throughout the room, strong this time making them both freeze as they had a stand off in the middle of the room. 

“Doctor could you please give us a moment.” Dr. W’Kabi slightly bows his head as he steps out giving them space to talk.

“As long as the two of you are breathing. I don’t want to hear you disrespect eachother the way you have today. You’re treating one another like strangers and like it or not. The two of you are all you’ve got in this world. So you may not like eachother. But, you better figure out how to love. Do you understand me?” Both of the sisters held their poster. Looking the other over as though they were forever enemies. 

“I said do you understand me!” Her vice raises again and the two of them finally answer their mumbled agreement. 

“Challan step out.” Ramonda commands as Shuri’s nostrils flare, her breathing excelerated as she mugged her sister as she stormed from the room.

“Alright that’s enough Shuri.” Shuri snaps back around to her mother.

“Mama this is crazy!”

“What’s done is done. It’s my decision and I did what I had to do for you.”

“For me? This isn’t for me mama I need you. What am I supposed to do without y-“

“You’re gonna make it. Is what you’re going to do little girl.” Shuri shut her mouth. As the tears flow. 

“I ca-can’t mama. I can’t.” Ramonda’s own tears began to flow. 

“It’s time Shuri, and I need you to figure things out.”

“I don’t have anybody else. They’re gonna put me in the system.”

“No. Cha’s of age so I’ve allowed her to be placed as your legal guardian.” Shuri’s eye almost take over her face at this information.

“WHAT! Cha’s supposed to be my guardian and she’s hanging on to her kids by a thread!”

“Let me talk girl damnit….I wish that me and your father did better by all of you. I live in constant regret of the way the lifestyle we chose tore apart our family. What it did to my dear T’Challa.” Ramonda chokes up at the mention of Shuri’s brother who was killed along with her father fighting a senseless gang war. A tear fell from Shuri’s eyes. She missed her brother everyday. “ All of those late nights. The money. The power. And now I have nothing to give. Grief has made me sick in my body. I’ve held on this long for the two of you. Allowing Cha guardianship over you gives you time. And hopefully it will pull you closer again. You’ve been blessed with amazing gifts Shuri. Don’t let struggle over take you. Continue excelling in your studies and you’ll get all of you out of Brick District.”

“Ma- I”

“Shuri.. I’m not asking you. I need you to do this. I understand this is a lot to put on the shoulders of a teenaged girl and I hate that this is the only option. You need to focus. I need to know you hear what I’m saying.Take the curse from our families name.” Shuri looked at her mother her eyes clenching shut. This was it. She was her only way out. 

“Yes Umama.” She whispers. Ramonda lifts her hand again raising it to Shuri’s cheek. “I love you child. And I’m so sorry for the life your father and I chose. But, you’ll be better. You’ll be great. Promise me that.” Shuri’s eyes fluttered as she held back tears.

“Yes Mother. I promise.” Shuri says softly. 

Shuri leaned down. Placing a gentle kiss on her mothers cheek.

“Come see me as much as you can. I love you. But you’re not going to sit and sulk in this hospital with me any longer. They’ll be taking me shortly.” Shuri broke, she lay next to her mother a moment allowing her tears to fall as Ramonda comforted her. Rubbing her head as she snuggled into the crook of her neck.

“You’re going to be great girl. You’re going to change lives.“ Shuri lay there for a few more minutes before standing to her feet wiping away her tears. 

“I love you mama.” Ramonda smiles. 

“Go child. I’ll see you soon.” Shuri nods, slowly turning to walk out of her mothers room. 

“Oh Shuri?” She calls and Shuri turns once more. “Tell Y/n how you feel.” Shuri’s heart drops into her stomach. Her sexuality had never been a topic of conversation between her mother and her. But, she knew. Of course she knew. This causes a light smile to lift the corners of Shuri’s lips, before she exited her mothers room.

Your head quickly lifts, as the door opens. You stand from the bench that you’d been sitting in, approaching Shuri, concern etched into your face. Shuri takes in her surrounding.

“Where’s Cha and the kids?” The tone of her voice almost broke you. Though her head was held high as she walked out of the room. Her voice gave way to her pain.

“Cha came and snatched them up. So I just came back to wait for you.” You say softly. Shuri nods, as you step forward. 

“You ok?” Shuri just shakes her head, stepping forward into your arms. Her’s snaking around your waist, laying her forehead onto your shoulder, allowing her tears to flow. Silently, you wrap your arms around her shoulders lending your wordless comfort. 

“Cha signed mother into the counties hospice facility.” She whispered against your neck. Her tears soaking through your shirt. 

“What?” It comes out like breath, You were taken aback. Hospice? “Oh Bast. Shuri.” Your eyes welled as you rubbed gentle circles into her back. Her news struck a bit of fear within you. What now? What would happen to her? So many questions went through your mind but now wasn’t the time. You chose to continue lightly stroking her back as she wept into your shoulder. 

“I can feel you worrying through your fingertips Amanzi.” Shuri says, pulling herself up. Almost as though it was reflex you reached up placing your hand to her cheek flicking away her tears with your thumb.

“I’m sorry. I-I’m just. What’s going to happen to you?”  Shuri sighs her hand coming up to grip the wrist of your hand that cupped her cheek.

“Cha is now my legal guardian.” Your mouth drops.

“Cha? Cha? As in your sister that can’t take care of her own kids? How does that work? Are you going to move with her? What if- “

“Y/n.” She cuts you off with a finger beneath your chin. Her thumb gently pressing against your lips, before it slides down your soft lips. Your body immediately froze. The touch felt so much more intimate than she’d ever touched you before. Your eyes locked on to hers as she spoke to you. 

“I work. I’ll figure this out.” You let out a slightly shaky breath trying to cover up how much her touch had effected you. 

“Shuri you’re only sixteen. There’s only so much you can handle.” Shuri’s thumb now traced your lower lip and it seemed as though her eyes were focused there before her gaze finally met yours.

“I don’t have a choice.” She whispered.

Your eyes welled. No matter how unfair. She was right. This was her reality. No amount of feeling sorry, or worrying about her was going to change that fact. So you swallow your tears. Looking up at her still wrapped in her embrace.

“And you’ll never go through it alone.” That was a solemn promise that you would forever keep. Shuri’s heart heard it. She nodded slowly. Eyes never leaving yours. It was a silent agreement that you would remain beside her through the thick of it. Little did either of you know there was a pull inside of both of you. To seal your agreement with a kiss. However neither of you wanted to loose the other. And not knowing the others intent caused you both to step out of the intimate embrace. Clearing your throats awkwardly.  

“Uh, I should get you home.” You nod in agreement. 

“Yea.”  

The sun was begining to set as the two of you rode through the city. The two of you taking a short detour to Shuri’s so that she could give you notes for your exam tomorrow. The ride was quiet and peaceful. You held Shuri tight allowing her to process her thoughts. Once at her apartment building the two of you head up stairs. The trip was meant to be in and out, but Shuri would never allow you to be outside alone in her neighborhood. Though yours wasn’t the safest either, she’d never allow you to be hurt on her watch.

Unlocking the door to the apartment, You both step inside, and Shuri hits the the light switch….and nothing happens. Shuri flicks the switch back and forth a few times silently before her shoulders slumps. Her head drops and her eyes shut tightly. Before….

“Fuuuuck!” She hauls off punching the wall above the light switch several times. Her final straw for the day being reached. 

“I’m tired! I’m of this struggle shit!” You could see the emotional exhaustion take over her. Her body finally collapsing to the floor and down you went with her. Cradling her head against your bossom.

“I know”, was all you could give. Because after the today there wasn’t much comfort in words. Shuri had been through enough to break most adults. 

“You’re not alone Shuri. You’re not by yourself.” You whisper as you hold her rocking her in your arms. The two of you held that position. You hummed to her. Rubbing her head until you felt her breathing slow, her grip loosening around you. 

“I should get you home.” You hear her muffled words.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You immediately rebut. Shuri pulls herself away from you, shaking her head. 

“No. You need to get home. This is not your problem. I don’t have power or any food. I gave Cha my last few dollars for the kids. I’m tapped out. I’m going to take you home. Tomorrow I’ll see if I can get an advance at work or something. It’s only one night. I’ll figure it out.”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” You ask.

 “I’m not leaving you here alone, and hungry in the dark.”

“And just how do you plan to pull that off. Your mother hates me and my family. You think she’s about to let you have a sleep over at my place.” Shuri chuckles sarcastically. “Anyway, I can’t keep letting you do this. These are my struggles y/n. Maintaining a friendship doesn’t require you taking on my burdens. I would never ask that of you.”

“You haven’t. I’m offering my back to help carry some of the weight Shuri. You can’t do this alone. You were hit with a lot today, and I couldn’t sleep at night knowing your here pretending you don’t have anyone else. I love you, and right now you don’t need to be alone. More than ever you need someone in your corner, and it’s important to me that I’m that person, So let me be.” Shuri’s heart skips a beat as she looks into your eyes, her lip trembling. After the city had shunned her and her family, you’d stepped up. Refusing to lump her into her fathers sins. You and your friendship meant the world to her. 

You stood to your feet reaching for her hand pulling her to her feet. 

“I’m going to call Nevaeh and tell her I’m going to tell mom I’m staying with her. I’ll get a few dollars from her and some food. We’re going to get some candles and batteried for flashlights and we’re gonna thug this out together. And you don’t have a choice.”

Another tear rolled down Shuri’s cheek as she silently nodded letting out a small exhale. You reach up wiping away the tear quickly before taking your hand in hers. 

“Let’s go.”

As of now there were so many words that Shuri wanted to say. So much gratitude she had that she wanted to spill over into you. She battled inside with it, and finally decided to settle on a simple. “Thank you.”

Shuri gets you home. Parking a block away so that noone notified your mother about who you’d been with. Their weren’t many parents who would be fond of their children befriending Uthixo’s daughter. So she steered clear of your mother. Not wanting to cause a riff in your home. So, you ran up to your apartment quickly to grab the things you’d need for the night, as Shuri sat waiting on her bike, under the disguise of the nights darkness.

Thunderous bass reached her ears before the brand new black escalade approaching her came into view. A long sigh escaped her lips. She rolled her eyes, taking off her helmet, swinging a leg over the front of her bike. She sat to the side elbows to knees…waiting.The truck slowly rolled to a stop in front of her. The window rolling down to a smile filled with gold. 

“What up lil cuz! I ain’t seen you around these parts in a minute. I thought y’all let them run y’all outta town.” He chuckles. Shuri’s face scrunches up in annoyance.

“N’jadaka.” Her voice was nonchalant. Demeanor calm, as she waited for her older cousin to state his business. 

“I can’t check up on family? We are still family. I know Unc didn’t give a fuck about that. But, I do. Y’all been straight? I’ve seen Cha around and she not lookin’ too good.” His eyes appeared concerned but the small smirk on his lips showed his true face. Shuri chuckled unamused.

“Funny…You think we don’t know you’re feeding her the shit that’s got her fucked up?” He finally allowed his smile to break free. 

“Ah man baby cuz…See that’s business. She was getting ahold to that shit before I came along. We both know that.” He took a break to take a long drag of a blunt sitting between two fingers. “You a genius and shit right. You know whether I was giving it to her or not she was gon’ find it. Might as well be family.”

In a way he was right. Cha had always been the type to end up in things she wasn’t supposed to. But, that was still no reason to allow her to indulge. Shuri decided to ignore his comments. Choosing silence, hoping that it would speed up this exchange. She wasn’t in the mood.

“Look lil cuz. I know you don’t trust me because of what your pops did to mine and all. Y’all think I’m out to get you and shit. It’s a valid fear.” Shuri chuckled once again now sliding off of her bike choosing to lean against. Shuri held no fear in her heart for N’Jadaka. “But, I want you to know there’s no hostility between you and me. You ain’t have shit to do with that. As a matter of fact with my status out here and your smarts. We could team up. Run the biggest most undetictable operation Brick District ever seen.” Shuri shakes her head a smirk on her face, leaning against her bike. 

“You do realize I’m 16 right?” 

“Yea. But you mature and shit, and you got heart lil nigga. You ain’t scared of shit. That’s the brilliance of it man. Nobody would suspect you. The genius girl trying to stay under the radar. Trying to denounce her fathers name. No one would ever believe you would get back into this shit.” 

“Because wouldn’t.” Shuri says matter of factly, crossing her arms over her chest and crossing her legs at the ankle. Killmonger scanned her. Taking note of her calm demeanor. Not an ounce of fear detected. He smirked. He admired that about Shuri. Young and fearless.

“Wouldn’t you though? I know y’all over there struggling. Your sister has a lot to say when she’s off a bean. You 16 working the fucking mines to keep food on the table. That ain’t no life for a child man.”

“But dealing is?” Shuri’s eyebrow raised as her voice went up an octave. “If you give so much of a fuck why not help us? You’ve got it right?”

“Nah, I don’t give shit for free. Family or not. You earn your keep. Your traitor ass daddy taught me that.” 

“Well, I am not my father.” N’jadaka took the moment to lean out of the window. Taking a slow drag, blowing smoke into Shuri’s face.

“Wrong lil cuz. You’re the most like your father. You can’t outrun that shit.” Staring into N’jadaka’s eyes, Shuri bit into her cheeks jaws clenching. Tension building in the loud silence.”

From the corner of her eye Shuri sees you rushing over your bag thrown over your shoulder. N’Jadaka’s eyes follow Shuri’s, a smile spreads across his face. 

“That’s you?” Shuri’s eyes cut over to him. Her face warming up slightly.

“What?” Taking notice he teases a bit more.

“That pretty little lady walking over this way. That your girl?” Suddenly the calm demeanor that Shuri wore earlier was becoming a bit less cool. 

“What are you talking about?” 

N’jadaka throws his head back laughing. He found it. A weakness. “Don’t play coy with me. I know you don’t think you give off you like boys vibes.” Shuri’s face flushed. 

“Kiss my ass.”

“She’s a lil cutie.” He chuckles as you approach.

“Hey.” You say to Shuri and Shuri only, as you walk up looking between the two. 

“Hey.” Shuri says grabbing her helmet. 

“Heeeeey.” Killmonger says a smile taking over his face. You stare at him face upturned in disapproval. He lets out a hardy laugh at this.

“Yea she’s the one for you lil cuz. Looks like you and your lil lady friend got somewhere to be. So I’ll let you go.” He smiles looking you over and then turns his attention back to Shuri. “Remember what we talked about. You know where to find me.” You and Shuri watch as he slowly drives away. 

“You ok?” You ask turning towards Shuri.

“Yea. I’m cool. Just N’jadaka being himself.”

“Well whatever that was stay away from it. I know Killmonger doesn’t want anything good from you.” Turning to look at you. Shuri bites her lip nodding her head. 

“Yea.” She whispers to herself. “Let’s go.”

The two of you now sat on the bed in Shuri’s room lit by candle light. Studying using a small lantern for light. You’d brung a small wireless speaker that kept a great charge. Soft music played as you two studied and ate the food and snacks you’d snuck from home. Shuri had to admit she was grateful that you’d stayed. With you with her, her struggle didn’t feel so much like struggle. You’d made the night pleasant. The two of you talking and laughing as though this was just a normal sleep over.

“Ok. I think I got it now. I feel confident that I can ace this test now.” Shuri’s eyes lit up as she smiled at you.

“You were always gonna ace the test. You know this stuff.” You smile back at her looking into her eyes.

“Yea.” You say softly. The two of you sat in silence for a moment as music played softly in the background. Shuri layed back in her bed. Closing her eyes her hands resting behind her head. She seemed content in the moment as you looked her over. You recognized that when you looked at Shuri. When you were around Shuri, something felt different. Shuri in the few years you’d know her had grown to be your best friend. However, something about the friendship the two of you had seemed like more. It was weighing heavily on your mind as you continue stealing slight glances at Shuri, and you couldn’t hold it anymore. 

“Shuri?” You say breaking the silence.  

“Hm?” She reply’s her eyes still closed.

“Do um wh-why…We never talk about crushes and stuff.” You say mentally face palming. Real smooth Y/n. Your heart was pounding and your palms started to sweat a bit. Shuri’s eyes slowly opened as she turned to face you hearing your nerves through the question. She sat up clearing her throat a bit her nerves picking up a bit as well. 

“W-what do you mean?” 

“I’m just saying that we’ve been friends for awhile, and we’ve never talk about people we like or anything. Is that weird?” Shuri is silent for a moment. Her mind reeling a bit. Where did this come from?

“Uh..I mean yea. I-I guess. Is that something you want to talk about with me?” Shuri’s heart was dropping into her stomach. The last thing she wanted was to have to talk to the girl she loved about some boy she was crushing on. But, she had to have seen this coming right. This was the cherry on top of a shitty day.

“I don’t know.” You whisper. “But we’re bestfriends, we should want to right?”

“I guess…So do you? Do you like someone?” Shuri didn’t want to know this in the slightest. 

“I-I think I do. I’m not sure.” Shuri felt her heart shatter. She nods and for some reason she as much as this conversation was breaking her she’d decided to continue. 

“W-who is he?” You shake your head.

“It’s a she.” Shuri’s back straightened her interest fully peaked now. A girl. You liked another girl? Shuri’s heart was now pounding.

“You like girls?” 

“I never really thought about it before. But, I do know I like her and it feels like it’s in more than a friendly way.” 

“Oh.” Shuri felt like she could cry. You liked girls and you still didn’t see her that way.

“What about you? Is their anyone who’s caught your eye?” Shuri sighs

“It wouldn’t really matter. It’s not like anyone would be interested in dating me around these parts. Maybe I’ll be more experienced when I go to college.” She says softly. You move a bit closer to her grabbing her hand.

“That’s what you really think? That noone is interested?” Shuri nods, she could feel herself falling into a pit. Feeling a bit more alone again. Knowing you were interested in women and yet she still had no chance. 

“There’s no one that you’ve been interested in though.” You press a bit. Shuri brings her gaze up studying your face. 

“Yea.” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. “She’s perfect too. More beautiful than I could ever describe. But, like I said she isn’t interested.” A lump forms in your throat. 

“A girl? Y-you like girls too?” Shuri smirks slightly. “I’m not sure. But, I know I like her.” She says and the butterflies take over your belly as your gazes lock onto eachother. You don’t know what comes over you but, you can no longer hold your tongue. 

“I see the way you look at me Shuri.” She freezes. Heat over taking her body. 

“H-huh?”

“The long glances when you think I’m not looking. I see them.” Shuri’s hand begins to shake nervously. She’s left speechless. She has no idea what to say. So you continue. “I-If I’m the girl you’re talking about…I’d say I’m definietly interested. Because you’re who I’m talking about.” You swallow your nerves. Figuring it was now or never. Shuri’s jaw dropped, She felt as if a sudden jolt of electricity had coursed through her veins leaving her momentarily stunned.

She couldn’t lie and say she that wasn’t something she did. She could hardly consentrate around you. Ofcourse at one point or another you would’ve seen her. Now here you were under the glow of candlelight. Your pretty skin lit to perfection. Using those beautiful lips to tell her you felt the same and she couldn’t utter a word. 

“I only saw because when you weren’t looking I was stealing glances too. I guess you were too busy thinking no one wanted you to notice.” Shuri finally finds her voice though it comes out soft and breathy. The way her heart was pounding making it difficult for her to breath. 

“I-I wanted to s-say something. I just didn’t want to lose you. Y-you’re just so much more than a crush to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You entered my life at the lowest point. My family lost its protector and we were being shunned. Life as I’d known it was over. I thought I’d never know what it was like to love and be loved again. And then this pretty girl with big eyes, and big hair, that always smelled like a bakery came out of nowhere. Dried my tears, fed me, cared for me. The love you have for me gets me through. You rescued me Sthandwa sami. I couldn’t risk loosing you. I don’t even like thinking about a life without you.” 

Oh, to be loved. That was the day you felt it. The day you found out what it was to truly feel and be loved. Tears fell from your eyes. Now you were the one left speechless. Shuri reached up cupping your cheek in her hand wiping away your tears with her thumb.

“Y/n?..” Her voice gentle.

“Yes.” You breathe.

“Can I kiss you?” Your heart fluttered as you nod lightly. It was like a gravitational pull, the way your lips slowly found eachothers. A sweet innocent peck placed on one another’s lips. And then another, and then another, until your lips would not unglue. Shuri leaned back into the headboard and you slowly climb onto her lap as her arms snacked around your waist. 

And there the two of you found home.

Needing to breathe the two of you part looking into eachothers eyes cheeks warming as you break out into a giggle.

“Wow.” You say. Shuri smiles, her thumbs rubbed gentle circles into your sides as she looked up at you. 

“So…Um Would you like to be my girlfriend?” Shuri asked softly still a bit unsure. Still hardly believing this was happening. The smile on your face could’ve lit the night. 

“Of course I do.” Shuri bit her lip to contain her excitement. Leaning up to place another gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You have to promise me something.”

“Anything.” She says without an ounce of hesitation in her voice.

“I know you’ve been through a lot, I know life is doing a number on you even now. It’s made you have to mature much faster than the rest of us I know. There may not be much that I can do to make things easier for you. But, I can be here. I know one day we’re going to get out of the bricks. We’ll be happy living out our dreams. You’re so gifted I know you’ll have to leave at some point to bring evolution to the world. Even then, if we loose eachother along the way and the world you find brings you hard times, I’ll always be here.” You place your finger onto her chest where her heart thumped loudly. “Wherever I am in the world. No matter how shunned, or ostracized you feel. Know that I love you, not out of any obligation. Simply because I want to. Remember I’ll never be to far for you to come home to. My arms will always keep you safe and warm. Promise me you’ll remember that.”

You poured out your heart as tears streamed from both of your eyes. Her hands gripped tighter against your hips as she shook with emotion. There were no words she could be said to make you understand the security you’d given Shuri with your statement. All she could do was lean forward placing her lips to yours. Inside that kiss you felt her promise.

The two of you fell sound asleep in eachothers arms that night. Your hands pressed delicately pressed against eachother hearts. The next morning Shuri drops you off at school, sending you off with a light kiss and encouragement for your exam. She wouldn’t be going to school today she had to hustle up money to get her lights turned on at home. She went to her job working an early shift seeing if she could get a loan. They were willing but she could get it until the next week. She went home searching for anything of value to pawn. But their valuables had been taken by the police after her father had passed. She was hitting a dead end on all fronts. 

Shuri found herself riding aimlessly through The Bricks. Wind blowing through her shirt. Stress weighing heavily on her shoulders. As she rode she found herself traveling a familiar path. One she hadn’t been to since her father was alive. One she vowed to never step foot in again. Her bike came to a stop in front of a massive warehouse. She swore she’d never resort to this life. Now here she was tail tucked between her legs going back to the only life she’d known. She closed her eyes and let out a small breath before taking off her helmet and hopping off of her bike, making her way around the back of the building. She banged on the door hard 3 times, and soon after a latch opened and a pair of eyes appeared through the Judas hole. 

“What you need?”

“I’m here for N’jadaka.”

“Who dat?” Shuri rolled her eyes.

“You know who I’m talking about. I’m not calling him fucking Killmonger.” She hears laughter come from the other side of the door.

“Let her in Hemp.” The door opens and Shuri steps in. Topless women cooked dope and men counted racks of money. Flashes of her brother walking down the stairs with his infectious smile went through Shuri’s mind. Her mother strutting through the rows of women making sure the coke was perfectly distributed. Shuri’s eyes scanned over the building until they land on Killmonger. Visions of her father sitting dressed to the nines a cigar placed in between his lips. “You’re my prized possession intomba. I do this all for you.” He would say. She shook off the memories. Her gaze locking onto N’Jadaka’s who sat leaned back in the sitting area, a telling smile on his face. Shuri made her way over to him.

“Little cousin. Here so soon. How can I help you?” Shuri’s jaw clenched a bit. Angry with herself for being here. She stands there quietly. Her eyes looking ove all of Killmongers henchmen. He immediately got the hint. She wasn’t going to speak until they cleared area. He signaled for the men to leave and they all filed out. Shuri threw a glance over her shoulder, before turning her attention back towards him. 

“I need your help.” She says m, undertones of defeat in her voice. 

“Help? What kind of a help?” 

“I need a job…and a loan. I won’t beat around the bush. The mines isn’t cutting it. Mama’s in hospice and Cha’s useless. The lights are out in the apartment and I have to figure out how to keep up with the rent and utilities so they dont suspect I’m there alone, or I’m going into the system.” Her head drops as she bites into her cheeks. “And my girl..I don’t want her to be with a bum. She deserves the best and I want to be able to give it to her.” He leans forward his elbows settled on his knees, as he looks Shuri over. 

“Ah..young love. It’s a beautiful thing.” He says pulling out a blunt placing it to his lips before sparking it up. “Sounds like you’re in a bad way….You thought about this? This is really what you want to do?” She nods and speaks.

“I have conditions.” He smirks. 

“Ofcourse you do.” Shuri rolls her eyes in response.

“You gotta let me go after I graduate. I want out of all this the day of graduation. I just need this to stay on my feet for a couple of years. And I need whatever you have me do to be low profile.” 

N’jadaka nods understandingly. He stands and walks over to a safe entering the code. Once it’s opened he pulls out a stack of money, walking over to Shuri placing the money in her hand. 

“That’s twenty thousand. Take that as a welcome to the family business gift.” He says with a smirk. Shuri stared at the money in her hands. She hadn’t seen this much money at once in years. “What do I have to do for this?” N’Jadaka shakes his head aware of Shuri’s distrust. 

“I was serious about what I said yesterday. I don’t want you out on the corners. I would prefer that we were partners. That big brain of yours could make us some real money. So for the next two years I’d like for you to be here with me. Help me revamp my operation and graduation day you’re free to live your life.”

“So you want me to be your right hand?”

“Exactly.”

“I get 50/50.”

“Done”

“Minimum visibility.”

“Almost none exisistence.”

Shuri’s jaw clenches in thought as she took in her surroundings. “I’m not getting my hands dirty N’Jadaka. Business operations is my job. I tell you what to do, you pass it along. I come in weekdays when the sun sets and for emergency’s only. Deal?” Killmonger places out a hand to shake, and Shuri takes it.

“Deal lil Udaku. You’re quite the bargainer. I look forward to doing business with you. See you Monday.” Shuri nods. Placing the money into her jacket pockets. 

“See you Monday.”

I think back on that day often. Wondering just where would I be if I’d just toughed out the struggle for awhile. But, I didn’t. And that decision haunts me to this day.

That’s where it all began. The day I fell in love and simultaneously ruined my life.

#Spotify #shuri fanfiction #shuri angst #shuri black panther #shuri imagine #shuri fic #shuri udaku #shuri x reader #shuriri #shuri x you #Letitia Wright

[connie-taylor]

i want to see ana as the final girl so bad. need to see her absolutely kick the shit out of johnny.

i know that they all die in canon as the game takes place prior to the movie, but i can dream.

pls forgive my writing, it's been a long time since i've really dabbled in writing anything and it's 3:30am so i know there is a ton of errors probably but i needed to get this out!

ur a real one if u peep the taylor swift lyric i included too lmao

"i've got you now, girl."

a moment ago, she was sure she was dead.

terrifingly strong hands had been wrapped around her throat, crushing her airway. she had panicked, her nails scratching desperately at her throat, drawing blood from her attacker. he had laughed loudly, taunting her as her feet kicked against the concrete wall, desperate to find footing. her vision had begun to swim before her eyes, the familiar sting of tears coating her lashes.

ana had let go of johnny's hands in her last moments of consciousness, grabbing blindly at the wall and window ledge behind her. the world had begun to fade to black, and a chill crept slowly across her body. her fingers had grazed something cold - it had stung as she clasped it tight in her hand, but the pain felt miles away. her eyes fluttering shut, she had swung the object as hard as she could in a last second attempt to live. a curse and hiss of pain slipped from johnny's lips, and she felt the brute force on her neck disappear.

ana fell to the floor hard, her knees buckling beneath her as she inhaled raggedly. gasping, the world around her spun, and dizziness threatened to send her fully to the ground. but the sound of johnny to her left sent adrenaline coursing through her. she rose on shaking feet, her vision clearing slowly.

johnny was on the ground in front of her, blood pooling from the side of his neck as his hands tried unsuccessfully to stop the bleeding. he was swearing and grunting in pain, trying to get to his feet when he saw her stand.

she was faster.

ana lunged at him, grabbing the knife he had terrorized her and her friends with for days from the ground beside him before he could properly sit up. she slammed into him, the knife sliding cleanly through his shoulder as he howled in pain. his hands flew from his neck onto her shoulders, trying to shove her back, but she ripped the knife free and swung again. the skin on his hand split open, a violent red crevice marred the calloused skin.

johnny's right hand grasped at the left, gasping in pain as the knife plunged into his forearm once, twice. ana rammed the blade back against his chest once more, the blow knocking the man backward, his head slamming down onto the cold floor of the slaughterhouse with a sickening crack. she didn't stop. her mind was clouded with the acts of cruelty she had seen him inflict on her friends.

the piercing shrieks from julie, bound at the wrists, hung from the basement rafters, as the group helplessly watched johnny circle her like prey, the blade of his knife dragging across her skin slowly.

the enraged curses from danny, spit and blood spewing from him lips as he swung, held up by thick rope tied around his hands as johnny slashed at his arms, his chest, his back.

the pleading whimpers from connie, arms and feet tied behind her back on the floor, as she begged him not to beat her anymore. the sickening thud of his boots meeting her back, her torso, the nauseating snap of her ribs fracturing.

the quiet cries of sonny who tried to keep his fear and pain hidden as he curled up in the corner of the room, arms wrapped tight as he tried to self sooth, blood oozing from a wound on his thigh.

the furious threats leland had spat at johnny the entire time, and the pained sobs as johnny beat him and drove his knife deep into his shoulder.

johnny had hurt her as well. her skin showed the signs of abuse - bruises bloomed across her skin, wounds scabbed over, some still trickling blood, and her entire body ached. despite this, her pain was the furthest thing from her mind. of course, she was angry at him for hurting her, but he had hurt her friends and her sister, and that was more than enough reason to want him dead.

ana straddled his torso and drove the knife downward as quickly as she could, in between his ribs. johnny moaned in pain, blood bubbling out of his mouth as he coughed, staring at the knife in surprise. she threw her arm back and brought the knife down again and again and again. he choked on his own blood. it coated his lips and teeth as he managed a sneer up at her. he looked almost impressed.

he spit to the side, thick red blood splattered onto the floor beside him as he turned his eyes back to her. a wet, raspy chuckle came from him as he watched her raise her blood-soaked arm again.

"sure you wanna go through with this? once you watch someone die, you ain't never the same after that," he mused, coughing again, a rattle of phlegm and blood spewing from his lips. ana's chest clenched tight as his words, a white hot burst of rage flashing before her eyes.

"like you said...family first, asshole!"

coated in dirt and bruises, her face and hair damp with blood (her own? her friends? johnnys?), she knew it had to be this way. her brown eyes were wild with hatred as she shrieked, plunging the knife down one final time. she forced it down into his chest with all the strength she could muster. she was small, but the grief and fury fueled her, and she twisted the knife, putting her entire weight onto the handle, as she raised herself up on her knees. johnny inhaled sharply once, his hands raised as if to pull the knife away before they collapsed at his side. his gutteral sounds stopped with a final, deep exhale. his head lulled to the side, and the life drained from his eyes.

ana watched, her chest rising and falling as she panted, exhausted by the exertion and the pain. she felt something well up deep inside of her when she realized he was gone. she cried out - wasn't this what she wanted, to take the life of the man who lured her sister to her demise, the man who tortured and hurt her friends? she knew that it was, yet her pain remained. her heart was broken, the despair so strong she felt it physically. she didn't know if anyone else was alive, they had been separated after the first few days, and she hadn't seen them since they broke out of the basement at the house - the last she had heard was her friends fighting with the monsters who had held them captive as johnny had chased her from the home.

her stomach lurched as she shakily stood, coughing up bile and stomach acid as she staggered away from johnny's body. she wiped her mouth with the back of her arm, only to feel warmth on her lips. she glanced down at her trembling hands, and her stomach rolled again. her arm was slick with dark blood, and she quickly used the bottom of her shirt to wipe her mouth clean. the nausea remained, but there was nothing left in her to expel. the family had kept them starving and dehydrated, had weakened them in the basement. ana swallowed the lump in her throat as she stepped out of the sliding metal door of the slaughterhouse, into the downpour outside. the rain fell straight down in a heavy torrent, drenching her in seconds. the tear streaks in the blood on her face slowly disappeared as the water washed over her.

numb, her vision blurred with rain and her tears as she stumbled down the concrete steps. as her feet touched the ground, she collapsed into the mud, a sob wrenched from her chest. the dirt around her became tinged red in seconds as the blood ran off of her body. she felt a hot burning deep within her chest, as if she held an inferno inside of her. the reality out here was far too cruel to handle on her own. she felt as though she were dying. her hand clutched at her chest as she sobbed, her head lowered, wet hair obscuring the horrific landscape around her. her lip quivered, and she suddenly felt so small and so alone - this had been all her fault.

it's all your fault, ana.

her mind betrayed her, and the guilt slammed into her as she knelt in the mud, curled up, small, like a wounded animal. maria had already been gone for so long. why hadn't she gone to look for her sooner? why had she held on to any hope of finding her alive, finding her safe, somehow tucked away with a friend she made while taking photos? how stupid she felt. how did she let any of this happen? all she wanted was to find maria, to bring her home and back to the people who loved her.

instead, selfishly, she had led her friends straight into the hands of the devil.

it was as if a dam broke inside her. everything she had held in - for her mother, for herself, for her friends - since maria disappeared was ripped out of her. the reality came crashing down as she struggled to inhale, only to be met almost painfully with gasping, suffocating sobs. it was all too much. she wasn't strong enough for this. she was barely eighteen, still felt like a child. her fingers grasped at her chest as if she were attempting to tear her misery out from inside. throat raw, her battered body shuddered with each violent wail, drowned out by the sheet of rain that fell around her.

lost in insurmountable grief, she barely heard the cry of relief or the soft, uneven footsteps that approached her. barely felt the gentle hand on her exposed shoulder. faintly, ana heard worried murmurs and pained, labored breathing. she felt a million miles away from herself, hidden away in a dark corner in the back of her mind. as if she were watching a film through her own eyes. she vaguely registered the feeling of strong, wide arms wrapping around her in a warm, reassuring embrace.

her initial panic at the contact dimmed as the blood rushing in her ears began to slow, her head lifting as she squinted through the rain. several figures surrounded her, some leaned on each other, some stood alone, and two kneeled down in front of her. she couldn't focus, couldn't make out what was being said to her. the words ran together into an unintelligible mumble, but the voice was familiar, gentle, comforting. ana tried to reply, her throat hoarse, her mouth far too dry to form words. she licked her cracked lips and tried to speak again. the voices told her to save her energy, asked if she could stand. the one on her left said they thought they could carry her. she knew those voices anywhere. she blinked away the rain and tears desperate to see them, and let out another sob, this time of relief and happiness, as their faces swam into view.

her friends were alive... but what was left of them?

#tcm #texas chainsaw massacre #tcsm game #texas chainsaw massacre game #txcsm #ana flores #johnny slaughter #tcm johnny #leland mckinney #connie taylor #julie crawford #maria flores #tcm danny #im tagging everyone cuz they have a nice little cameo at the end.... cept poor maria of course #PLS BE KIND IM NOT A WRITER THERE ARE TONS OF MISTAKES ITS 3:30 AM AND I NEEDED TO POST THIS #super vague/hinted at leland x ana in here at the end btw

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 5: Identity

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: Overwhelming thoughts, reference to not eating, large crowds, worried Obi, mentions of character deaths, descriptions of violence/combat, description of blood, a little bit of anxiety, slight identity crisis.

Summary: After a rapid dash, you, Anakin, and Obi-Wan meet at The Outlander Club. In this new environment, you are met with fascinations, unanticipated side effects, and new struggles related to who you are. Later, in the midst of these disturbances, you're forced to face a test of mental and physical aptitude before a great Master, throwing your identity into further uncertainty.

Song Inspo: Across the Universe — Fiona Apple (Cover)

Words: 7.7k (oop)

A/n: Almost made this into two parts but decided to treat y'all with a long one instead :) Excited to hear y'all's thoughts on this one. Still taking requests to be added to the taglist so just lmk!

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Series Masterlist

Lying is an elementary form of self-defense — Susan Sontag

You pushed through another group of unobservant passersby as you continued to follow Anakin through the dark busy streets of the Uscru District. It was difficult to see any landmarks beyond the masses, even with the aid of bright red, green, and orange neon lights that lined the buildings on either side of you. Some flickered while others stood stagnant, catching the eye of potential customers that passed through your sight line like flashing images that often characterize a rail speeder window.

You tried to use your connection to the Force to keep track of Anakin’s movements somewhere ahead of you. But on this chilly Coruscanti evening, even that became more tiresome than expected.

Your senses were overwhelmed by the large crowds of varying species, rushing like loose marbles on a downward slope. They sported vibrant arrays of mostly revealing clothing as they continued to unleash their turbulent minds into the growing waterfall of thoughts that soaked your consciousness.

You had no issue hiding your signature from the surrounding throngs. You’d spent years, decades learning to completely mask your physical identity and connection to the force. Even more, you had long ago mastered the ability to protect your mind from unwanted intruders looking to pick through your subconscious for information. But that was primarily due to Qui-Gon’s everlasting concern. He always believed you were at risk of being discovered by a Sith from an accidental mental connection through the Force.

But now, blocking out the unending psychic waves that rolled and crashed from the swarm of non-force-sensitive beings was a skill you had not yet fully developed. Living on Hoth only allowed you to interact with small groups of intermittent travelers, traders, or pirates. And it was easy enough to stabilize your mind around undisciplined beings in those instances. But this was pushing your skills into uncharted territory.

A barely perceptible gap opened in the horde to your left so you dove for it. Taking in a deep breath of fume-filled air, you twisted into a stretch, encouraging your spine to lean to the right. At that moment, you spotted the back of Anakin’s figure a few meters ahead, slowing his pace.

He spun around toward you, bright eyes waving you over as the bottom of his black cape caught up to the sudden movement.

“We’re here.”

You strolled up beside him, turning on your heel to your left toward a large archway lined with curved yellow neon lights, a drop of red luminescence on either side of the doorway. The distant rumble of pounding beats trickled out from the entrance like a gaseous cloud slithering throughout the legs of entering and exiting guests. Above you in bold lettering read The Outlander Club.

You took this brief respite to once again push away the thoughts swirling from the beings around you, blowing them away with your mind like a loose leaf that temporarily caught on your arm before taking a step forward.

The two of you entered briskly, moving down the short passageway as you glanced at the characters around you in your first experience with Coruscanti nightlife.

The club was fairly popular tonight, with a healthy congregation spread evenly throughout the cantina. A heavy concentration mingled around the circular bar in the center and in front of the three large screens hung at the back, which simultaneously streamed different sport matches from across the galaxy. There were a number of women in colorful stockings and cropped tunics, strolling with circular trays of strange-tinted drinks and small, stale snack bowls. Notable was the observably seedy groups gathering in the shaded corners of the establishment. You spotted a bracket of lightly-armed beings wearing what you recognized as Rishi pirate colors. They stood around a darkly lit circular table to the left, staring with a rather predatory gaze at passing waiters, following them like targeted lasers. Returning your gape to the bar, you noticed a covert exchange of credits and some small, cylindrical object with a glowing yellow liquid sloshing inside between two young, but jittery, customers.

Safe to say, The Outlander Club was meant for a diverse, and probably sordid, batch of individuals, you mused inwardly.

“I see why Obi-Wan complained to you about taking me here.” You expressed as you searched for an area to idle in.

You stacked another stone atop the wall that weakly encircled your mind. Entering the club felt like plunging yourself into an empathic hail storm as new discordant voices took hold.

Nevertheless, you redoubled your efforts to block out the chaos.

But the dam would only hold for so long.

“You were stuck on an ice planet, not in a monastery.” Anakin quipped while scanning his surroundings. “Obi-Wan will be fine.”

Your ears caught the rallied cry of a distant throng. Head swiveling toward the shouts, your eyes leveled at the far wall beside the entertainment section where you noticed a throng of robust betters cluttered around an expanse of brightly dinging slot machines.

The back of Anakin’s icy hand tapped your bare upper arm. “Over here.”

You turned and followed the Jedi’s brisk tread to an empty, candle-lit table with two chairs to the right wall. It stood away from some of the larger crowds, but still gave any guest engaging in its services an excellent view of the entire establishment— from the entrance to the wide-reaching monitors in the rear.

You were about to grab the back of the rightmost black leather seat when Anakin stepped in your path.

“The other chair,” he commanded as he pointed at the vessel.

You crossed your arms, jutting your hip to the side as you sent him a questioning, yet amused, stare.

“Why?” You dragged out in an exaggerated tone.

He kicked out the leg of the opposite chair, opening it to you.

“The view,” he stated with a stony face.

“What view?” You inquired genuinely confused before taking his invitation.

You sat in the cushioned open seat, facing the club’s exit before crossing your legs and leaning back into its firm backboard.

Anakin squatted into the ousted seat across from you as he gestured to the screens to your rear with a deliberate lift of the head.

“You’re actually gonna watch the game?” You asked, raising a brow.

“Gotta play up appearances, right?” He grinned.

Anakin loosened, settling into his seat with his hips as he placed clasped hands on the table before leaning toward you.

“That’s what we said we’re here for,” he reminded in a low voice.

You shook your head as a small smile graced your features. Suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, a familiar brown cloak was thrust into your peripheral from the club’s entryway.

“And just in the knick of time, too.” You spoke under your breath, gesturing to the new clubgoer with your eyes as he ambled down the long hallway.

Anakin must have sensed him as he sent you a victorious, yet tired grin.

Quickly, he waived down a passing waiter, an orange Twi’lek in purple fishnets, brown heeled boots, and a black, sleeveless sequined top. The woman held away her tray of green-luminescent shots as she bent down to hear Anakin’s words in the midst of rowdy discussions and pulsing melodies.

“Two nerf-burgers.” He requested while raising a pair of digits.

Your eyes remained fixed on the club’s entrance, watching as Obi-Wan paused at the end of the main corridor to search its inhabitance like a droid performing a sensor sweep before registering Anakin’s words.

“One is fine.” You piped up, returning your gaze to the man in front of you.

The Twi’lek nodded as she straightened before pivoting to make her exit. She was one step into her gait when Anakin gesticulated for her to wait, eyes remained glued to you.

“You haven’t eaten anything today.” He mentioned.

The two of you hadn’t been separated for days, you thought to yourself. He’d probably noticed your lack of appetite the entire journey here. You tried his ration bars, but very quickly learned that your steady ten-year diet of lichen seemed more palatable. Still, the sudden rumblings and subtle ache at your core didn’t change your current reality.

You shrugged, looking off to the side. “I’m not very hungry.”

If you were being perfectly honest with yourself, it was impossible to allow your guard to fall even a notch. Not even a sliver to eat, despite your stomach’s protests. The constant noise of the minds around you was like a leaky faucet, occasionally dripping into a half-full glass. If you were distracted for longer than a moment, it could violently overflow. And that weakened wall that you had so carefully constructed around your consciousness would begin to soil.

He frowned, leaning back as he crossed his arms. “You should still eat something.”

You peered back to Obi-Wan to check his search progress when your gazes locked. His lips tugged upwards in greeting as he began a stroll toward your table.

You swiveled back, fronting Anakin’s expectant eyes.

“Fine,” you relented. “I’ll try a bite of yours.”

Anakin’s brows raised offendedly. “You’re not touching mine.” He turned back toward the waiter. “Two please.” She nodded again with a smile.

The waiter twisted away on her heel, tip-toeing away to deliver the drinks in hand a few tables down before your new guest emerged in her place like a stealthy shadow.

“It’s good that I found you two.” Obi-Wan acknowledged as he reached the table.

His arm snaked behind Anakin, grabbing an empty seat from another benchtop to the latter’s rear before pulling it between the two of you and sitting down.

Once balancing comfortably, he took a moment to analyze you both, face falling into a subtle frown.

“Why are the two of you so exhausted?” He asked as he crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow while his glance shifted to and fro.

“The podracing match…has been…neck-to-neck.” Anakin excused with feigned confidence, eyes avoiding his former Master as he awkwardly gestured to one of the screens in the distance.

You gave him a little kick under the table for the unconvincing remark.

“Ow.” He mumbled under his breath, hiding the reaction with the wipe of a hand over his mouth.

Obi-Wan’s gaze was enduringly unimpressed.

But soon, he sighed, dropping the interrogation in capitulation with favor toward more important matters.

“I met with Master Windu and Master Yoda. There is currently a whole communications blackout. Unfortunately, there may be a breach in our communications system.”

Anakin’s lips pursed in disbelief. “How is that possible?”

Obi-Wan continued. “We’re not sure. But for now, no comms. Unless it’s with me or another member of the council. We were given secure equipment to use until this is resolved. There will be an announcement tomorrow morning in the Great Hall, and both of you are expected to attend.”

Obi-Wan shifted in his seat toward you, speaking your name as he placed a hand on the table in your direction. “You should know I learned that Master Yoda knew of your existence.

Your brows raised in surprise. “Really?”

“Yes, but he thought you had died when you were very young. He had no idea you were on Hoth all this time.”

Your head tilted in confusion. You highly doubted Qui-Gon would have told Master Yoda about your death. No matter how fiercely he protected your identity over the years, you didn’t believe he’d ever lie to the Grand Master you’d heard so much about in your youth. As far as you understood, Qui-Gon trusted him with his life. And so did you.

“Why?”

You observed the blue-eyed Jedi sigh, eyes dropping momentarily before they returned to your face with a sensitive expression.

“He said that your parents were killed by a dark power, and that he assumed you had been killed too.”

You felt a sharp stab to your gut at his words, discreetly hunching over as you took in the sensation.

You knew your parents had passed. But murdered? And by dark forces?

Then, a particularly somber supposition drifted to the front of your mind.

It must’ve been because of you.

You breathed in deeply, steadying yourself while struggling to absorb this disturbing news. It became more arduous as you wrestled with the continued blockade against the cascading internal voices that pummeled you from every angle of the crowded bar.

Trying to concurrently calm your thoughts, you delved deeper.

What little you knew about your parents, you were still positive about their innocence. To the best of your knowledge, they had nothing actors of the dark side desired—

Except you.

“A dark force?” You murmured quizzically. “Do you mean a Sith?”

Obi-Wan tensely exhaled. “We’re not sure. But what we do know is this.”

He leaned farther over the table, subconsciously encouraging you and Anakin to do the same.

“Your identity must remain a secret.” He spoke in a hushed tone. “That means that we cannot share The Guardian’s portion of the prophecy with others or your connection to it. I’ve already informed Ahsoka.” He reassured.

Obi-Wan’s head briefly dropped to ruminate.

During this fleeting respite, you glanced at Anakin while an unsettling feeling crawled up your spine. He caught your eye, sending you a reassuring, confident nod.

Obi-Wan’s gaze raised toward you once more with lips pressed firmly together. “We also must keep your birth name a secret. Those dark forces responsible for your parents’ deaths likely learned it in their effort to find you. If they learn of your reemergence, they may come after you. So The Council has decided that until we know more, you will need to go by Silvey.”

Your jaw loosely hung open at that bit of news as your ruffled head swiveled toward a particularly sheepish Anakin. He leaned back in his chair, hunching his shoulders as he tried to hide within himself.

“I’m gonna kill you.” You deadpanned.

Anakin scoffed. “I had no idea that Master Kenobi was going to change your legal name to that!” He defended, loosely throwing his hands to the side.

“Hush, it’s not changing their legal name. Just a pseudonym.” Obi-Wan warned with a stare before turning back toward you with a more subdued expression. “If you’d like, we can change it.”

You waved away the suggestion. “No, it’s ok. Like Anakin said, at least it’s not hard to forget.”

You smirked at the cunning Jedi who sent you a knowing wink.

“Very well,” Obi-Wan concluded.

You sensed someone approaching your table, and turned to see the Twi’lek waiter returning with a pair of what must have been nerf-burgers on her black, circular tray. A brief silence hushed over the three of you as she neared the table, placing down the two entrees in front of you and Anakin before making a swift exit. You and Obi-Wan offered a resonant thank you as she departed, causing you each to share a glance.

Once she was a few meters away, you felt it safe to speak again. First though, you watched in curiosity as Anakin firmly grasped his meal with two unrelenting hands, before lifting it to take a hearty bite. You could smell the greasy fumes rising from your own meal as it took command of the table.

“So how do we explain my presence?” You asked the bearded Jedi. “I mean, I didn’t train through The Order. Nobody knows me. Do we say that I’m a Gray Jedi who just suddenly wants to hang around The Temple?”

Obi-Wan glanced up in contemplation as he reached up to scratch his chin. “That is a good point,” he admitted. “However, Master Windu has expressed interest in enrolling you into The Order. I don’t think The Council likes the idea of acknowledging you ever having the status of Gray Jedi. That reminds me.”

He tapped the table with his fingertips in realization.

“He told me that you should meet him after tomorrow’s announcement in the Sparring Arena. I can show you where that is when the time comes.”

You nodded tacitly.

“We can just say they were on some secret, years-long mission, right?” Anakin interjected following a big gulp. “That way, it’s like they’ve always been a part of The Order, just not around much.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze tilted in contemplation. “That…could work.” He admitted. “But it would still leave many questions.”

“I’m good at not answering questions.” You slyly offered with a quirked lip.

Obi-Wan huffed in feigned annoyance. “Usually, I’d say that’s not good enough. But I’m not getting any better ideas,” he explained while hazily observing Anakin take another large bite of his meal.

In your distraction, another wave of clashing voices boomeranged throughout your skull.

It wasn’t painful, though. You actually *felt* nothing. No twinge, no subtle throb in the sinuses. Yet the overflowing thoughts still remained disconcerting. You couldn’t think for yourself when all the space was overtaken by others’ musings.

Even now, despite your efforts, blocking out one impression would just leave room for another, invariably quickening your heart rate.

Subconsciously, you swatted at your ear, as if to scare away a lost Bloodfly. It was in reaction to a particularly sudden and rude exclamation that had flown through your mind, catching you off guard. You guessed it had formed from one of the sports viewers near the back when they reacted to a particularly bad play on one of the illuminated screens.

Still, no matter the circumstances, your simple, physical action did nothing to lessen the mental discomfort.

However, Obi-Wan seemed to notice your elusive gesture, furrowing his brows in apprehension as he twisted toward you.

“Are you alright?” He questioned gently.

You shook your head, momentarily closing your eyes to push away the crowded atmosphere.

At times, it felt like loose sand falling through cupped fingers. Despite how desperately you tried to shovel it away, it kept getting everywhere.

“Fine.” You curtly stated.

As the thoughts finally slowly dissipated once more, your eyelids stretched open. Immediately you registered Obi-Wan’s gaze as it morphed into deeper disquiet. The concerned Jedi nonchalantly turned toward Anakin.

“Anakin, please get me a Blue Corellian.”

“Why can’t you get it?” He complained, mouth half-full before swallowing forcefully in protest. “The line to the bar is a mile long.”

“Anakin…” he warned with a glare.

The former threw up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright.” He stood. “I’m going.”

Your eyes followed Anakin as he sauntered toward the center of the club, soon disappearing behind a group of emphatic Cereans roughhousing in the sea of idling beings.

Unbeknownst to you, Obi-Wan’s stare remained fixed.

He lowered his voice. “What’s wrong?”

Your head swiveled back toward the bearded Jedi, meeting his unrelenting stare.

“It’s nothing,” you excused, resting your arms on the table. “I’m just not used to blocking out so many minds at once.”

His features softened. “I should have realized.”

“No, no,” you interjected assuredly. “I know when a Gray Jedi comes out of the cold, it isn’t usually so drastically isolationist.”

You paused.

“Or so literal.”

Your brows lifted in jest.

He shook his head at your pun with a barely hidden smile before addressing you. “It is a skill younglings learn through consistent practice, and by necessity. I can show you what the Masters teach them, to guide them.”

A group of university students passed the table, chatting excitedly as they skittered into the bar. It sent another rush of clattering thoughts into you like a subspace transceiver through the skull.

Closing your eyes, you tried again to shove those voices away with the effort of willing a mountain to move.

You nodded vigorously. “Yes.” A slight croak escaped your throat.

“Alright, keep your eyes closed,” Obi-Wan advised softly with a honeyed voice. “I will mediate with you.”

You did as you were told, relaxing the muscles in your shoulders and neck as you reached out to the Force with the tips of your fingers. It felt like brushing your hand against the blades of sprightly grass just after a day storm. You deepened your connection, imagining the Galaxy’s power flowing from the outstretched vegetation directly into your being. Yet the stronger your link became, the less you could control the penetration of your environment.

“Good, now, don’t push the thoughts away. Be one with the Force, and allow the words to flow off and away from you, then back into the Force. Like water in a stream.”

You listened to the wise Jedi’s smooth, comforting tone. Steadily, you allowed the thoughts to approach, contorting your face at the unpleasant rush of clamor.

“Now let it flow from you.”

Slowly, but surely, you focused on that river of musings, allowing the tumultuous atmosphere to drift around you and dissipate into the greater Force. A sudden weightlessness overcame you as your mind finally emptied, providing a much-needed break from the club’s atmosphere once you poured out the proverbial glass of water.

Your eyes shot open in pleasant surprise, meeting Obi-Wan’s calm demeanor.

“Thank you,” you sighed gratefully.

He inclined backward, outwardly pleased. “Of course.”

You extracted another deep breath, absorbing air that seemed a little bit fresher, despite the smoke and pounding rhythms that permeated your surroundings. In your distraction, Obi-Wan analytically gazed at you while you embraced this relaxing state of being.

You were finally capable of comfortably engaging with your environment with the full power of your mind rather than blocking it all out in such busy circumstances. You were free to explore The Outlander Club again. But this time, with an air of excitement festering in your core.

“You’re a quick learner,” he remarked, somewhat impressed.

You grinned, gaze fixed on the activity around you. “Qui-Gon says the same thing.”

You paused, turning toward the Jedi with modest unease.

“Said.”

He nodded, a wistful smile grazing his features before his stare hardened. “I know that you’re Anakin’s Guardian, but that doesn’t mean you always need to be so impervious around him. We all have our weaknesses. And he’s certainly the best at bringing them out of us,” he commented sassily.

“Trust me,” you stated, locking an ardent gaze with his own. “It has nothing to do with that. Qui-Gon always…said, that my fierce independence is one of my best strengths, but also my greatest weakness.”

Out of thin air, Anakin reappeared, fluttering to his seat with a greeting exhale and two tiny glasses in hand, sloshing with a vibrant cobalt-blue liquid. He planted one in front of Obi-Wan before resting both elbows on the table to drink his own.

“Line couldn’t have been that long,” you commented, eyeing the mystery fluid that filled each glass.

By your count, he wasn’t gone for more than ten minutes.

Anakin smirked, taking in another gluttonous gulp of his beverage. “Jedi can be very convincing.”

“Not always.” Obi-Wan sassed.

He sent you an amused, yet fleeting glance before adopting a nonchalant guise in addressing the whole table.

“Speaking of, the next time you both decide to go pit racing, at least change your clothes before you lie about it. You two reek.”

You spied a semi-terrified expression creep its way up onto Anakin’s face before it was swiftly washed away by a deep frown. He crossed his arms, a groan escaping past his lips as he fell back in defeat. You met his nonplused eyes with a smirk.

“Busted.”

—

You strolled among the mass of nut brown cloaks that aimlessly roamed like a forenoon funeral march down one of The Temple’s primary walkways. Some spoke in hushed tones among each other, likely debriefing the contents of the morning assembly on the communication system’s breach.

You found it much easier to clear your mind in this space. While Obi-Wan’s guidance on how to negotiate your empathic surroundings certainly made things easier, the Jedi practice of concealing one’s thoughts added to your cognitive tranquility. If anything, the environment permitted you to freely embrace your long-held child-like giddiness about this very moment you were experiencing.

You have waited a long time to see the infamous Jedi Temple. For your eyes to graze its features meant that you’d finally embarked on your long-awaited destiny. It was now completely impossible to deny your future as you walked the same hallways once touched by the venerable Jedi from your holobooks, distinguished by the occasional reflective copper statue or architectural aspect mentioned historically by the figures themselves. Even the occasional wall-adorned ornaments referenced elements from The Order’s lore through circular symbolic imagery and calligraphic text.

A part of you felt guilty— inviting in these feelings of anticipation and excitement while murmured concerns echoed from the mouths of the subtly perturbed Jedi among you. They were continuing discussions on how this communications system infiltration may impact the war effort.

Even during the congregation before The Council, stood in a half circle at the top of The Great Hall’s large staircase, you heard the apprehensive whispers of those gathered around you.

How will this affect The Republic’s battle plans? We designed them months in advance. They will certainly need to be altered. Adapted to this new scenario.

The lack of a Jedi presence may bring up questions about The Order’s dedication to preserving peace throughout The Republic. What if allied worlds lose confidence in our commitment?

And how will this influence troop numbers? Without Generals at their side, we are sure to take heavy losses.

You remember exchanging a knowing look with Ahsoka as these musings continued. She’d happened to find you just as the announcement began this morning, delighted recognition bouncing from her cheeks. She gave you a subdued wave before deciding to stand to your right with an arm loosely resting on her waist for the rest of the assembly.

Earlier you’d learned that she’d just joined the war effort as Anakin’s Padawan in the last week. Add to that, only in the last few days had you discovered the war effort itself. In that sense, you both shared a certain inexperience with this breach— and a level of heightened worry from the more knowledgeable, yet troubled, Jedi surrounding you.

At the time, a brief recess in the sea of blurred mutterings came in the form of a confused inquiry from a rough, yet confident voice.

“I haven’t seen you around here before.”

You glanced to your left, observing the thick long locks of the man who was positioned beside you. His arms hung loosely to each side as he observed you curiously. Most notable was his bold face tattoo— a thick yellow line that crossed under his eyes and across his upper nose in proud fashion.

“I haven’t been here for a while. Long mission.” You explained nonchalantly.

The Jedi hummed as his brows ever so slightly creased in doubt. He took one step closer to you, perching a hand on each hip.

“I have a good memory,” he contended. “I’m sure I would’ve recognized you from a class when we were Initiates. What’s your name?”

You sensed Ahsoka take a step forward so that she could lean around you, addressing the Jedi.

“Their name’s Silvey, Master Vos,” she insisted. “The Council sent them on a very long mission as an observer and then a participant, starting when they were a youngling.”

You sent her a subtly grateful glance before adding to her justification.

“It’s likely we’ve never met.” You expounded.

Ahsoka’s defense incentivized him to withdraw as he leaned back onto his heels, a partial expression tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“We then, there’s no time like the present!” He granted before reaching out a hand. “I’m Quinlan Vos.”

Vos, Quinlan Vos, you thought carefully.

Qui-Gon once told you about him. He dedicated much of your studies not only to The Order’s history, but its present, including great Jedi like Grand Master Yoda, Master Windu, and his own Master Dooku. But he also mentioned some of the talented younger Jedi, like his own Padawans or certain younglings.

Yes, he had discussed Quinlan Vos with you for one of his more interesting force-sensitive talents. Specifically, his psychometric powers, which included the ability to seek out a being’s memories through touch.

And that was certainly a skill that would not be beneficial in your current state. You needed to keep your identity concealed, and a power like that could put that mission in danger.

Caution was essential around this individual, you thought.

You covertly stuck each hand into your robe’s pockets, nodding respectively at the Master Jedi.

“Nice to meet you,” you acknowledged before turning back toward The Council as the announcement continued.

You could only speculate about the slight annoyance that lined his features.

As your mind emerged from the cloud of the recent past, you refocused on the path ahead among the ruffling ocean of Jedi that continued down the walkway alongside you. Master Windu was expecting you in the Sparring Arena at any moment. Yet in this colossal structure, it became increasingly difficult to discern the correct path to take. You continued your search for the room, eyeing each doorway and dividing path, when a familiar voice sounded from behind.

“May I presume you’re lost?”

You glanced at Obi-Wan over your shoulder as he comfortably caught up to you, walking by your side before you both continued down the long hall.

“I thought I could find the Sparring Arena on my own,” you admitted humbly. “Seems like I could use some more of your first-rate guidance.”

The bearded Master faintly chuckled. “I’d be happy to oblige.”

The two of you strolled in silence as the crowd began to gradually thin, some groups took the occasional turn while others paused to continue their conversation in stasis.

“Thank you for the quarters, by the way,” you chirped with a glance, cutting the brief pause with a punch.

“The Temple has emergency quarters for situations like these.” He acknowledged calmly.

“There aren’t many situations like this.” You gingerly confessed.

You followed Obi-Wan as he led you around a corner, only to be met with a less embellished walkway. Eyes lowering, you listened to the full click of your boots as they met the marble floor in your smoother surroundings. In this instant, an air of nervousness touched your being in this strange silence. Due to a moment of inevitable occasional awkwardness among acquaintances, you excused.

“So, I take it you slept well?” He questioned.

“Yes, it was nice to rest without needing so many blankets.�� You admitted, smiling at his personal curiosity. “The warmer atmosphere also gave me the opportunity for a costume change,” you jested, motioning toward your newly adorned grayish-brown robe, fit with an underlayer of charcoal-tinted long-sleeved tunic, tighter black pants, and thinner knee-tall boots. “I got them with Anakin after we split off last night in the district.”

“Somewhat more comfortable than your winter garments?” He inquired with a bright expression.

“And easier to move in,” you grinned before advertising accordingly with a little twirl.

While a few older Jedi gathered in near distances eyed your action with carelessly masked displeasure, Obi-Wan instead subtly hid his gaze from your view. In your quick recovery following the realization of billowing disapproval, you had failed to notice the warm smile that battled his efforts at obfuscation.

You did notice, however, when the kind Jedi glanced at you once more. “I wanted to ask if you may be available after your session with Master Windu. I was hoping to examine The Muntuur, with your counsel.”

“I’m actually going to be spending the rest of the day in the Jedi Archives,” you told him keenly. “Ahsoka is letting me borrow her study notes for the afternoon so that I can have some better guidance in catching up with recent history. But we’ll definitely find a time for The Muntuur.”

He nodded with bright eyes. “Of course.”

Soon, Obi-Wan’s pace slowed, bringing you both to a halt in front of two rather large gray double doors that stood at triple your height.

You couldn’t help the sudden nerves that crept up your arms like impatient goosebumps.

Maybe you were more affected by this soon-to-be meeting than you first realized, you thought. It would easily explain your earlier apprehensiveness.

But there was no need to be anxious, you tried to coax yourself. You knew that your skills were adequate enough to be in The Order. To go through this ‘test.’ You’d trained for years. Honing your connection to the force, your saber abilities, and your mind.

And you knew who you were— The Guardian, destined to aid The Chosen One. You had to join The Order at some point to complete that mission. But still, you couldn’t help the slight Hoth-like chill that graced the back of your neck.

Yet, you reached for the door.

“Be patient,” Obi-Wan advised as you wrapped your fingers around the cold, steel handle. “Master Windu may be somewhat austere, given your history.”

You smirked at the Jedi. “Trust me. If I learned anything from that colorful history, it’s the necessity of patience.”

He smiled softly, nodding to you before passing your rear, flushing the back of your ankle with the trail of his robe as he continued his stroll down the walkway. You briefly gazed at his departure, still feeling the shadow of that sudden touch as his quiet form receded before returning your gaze to the path ahead.

With a deep breath, you cleared your thoughts before tugging open the weighted door. Its rusted hinges creaked as the momentum cleared an opening just wide enough to slip through. You readjusted your grip on the other side, bringing the heavy gate closed with a whine and an echoing thud.

“You must be Silvey.”

You spun around toward a dark-skinned, bald Jedi with broad shoulders, a perpetual frown lining his features.

Briefly, you paused to take in your surroundings. The large, circular, two-tiered chamber seemed to dedicate the first level to training and the second to observation. At each of the room’s four corners stood towering dark hooded statues that stared down at the room’s center. A center skylight illuminated the main disk-shaped deck of the arena, stopping at the feet of each stoically silent monument.

“Yes,” you bowed regardfully. “And you must be Master Windu,” you concluded, raising your head to him.

The Master failed to return your greeting. Instead, he wandered to one side of the arena, briefly disappearing in the darkness at its outer region before the skylight caught him once more, like a moth encircling a flame.

“I will be testing your combat skills and mental capabilities,” he stated plainly.

You were rather thrown by his undeviating attitude, at least in comparison to the few other Jedi you’d met in the past days.

Anakin was high-spirited and furtively caring. Ahsoka was boisterous and loyal. Obi-Wan was kind, intelligent, and considerate.

You’d guessed that other Jedi would carry similar qualities. But despite the revelation, you knew better than most how to adapt.

“I understand.”

But there was also a feeling of appreciation that seeped into your consciousness. You didn’t interpret his expression as malicious or as any representation of ill will. Just unrelenting determination. Steadfast purpose. And those were inclinations you could very much identify with.

“Then let’s begin.”

Master Windu quickly unsheathed his lightsaber, its purple glow adding to the arena’s dimmed luminescence as it ignited. You did the same, activating your saber while it encircled you with muted tones.

He charged at you, saber aimed to strike at your figure. Firm stare unrelenting.

You lifted your own, blocking the blow with great strength, the clash creating a cobalt blue gleam at the point of impact. You pushed away his blade, spinning on your heel in a crouch to strike his other side. But he blocked it easily, forcing you to stand to deal your next move. Still, you walked him backward with blow after blow at each flank, the buzzing crack of sabers echoing in the chamber.

He thrust aside your last hit, using the combat opening to go on the offensive. His saber transformed into a purple fireball in its fast approach as he spun the blade in parallel rings. You defended against each one with a dodged block, attempting to leap into a better vantage point at any moment to initiate your own response.

But the instant felt light years away. Windu’s fighting style was uncompromising. His ferocious attacks left little room for reproach.

If there was any hope of winning this fight, you needed to compensate.

Windu threw a particularly strong blow down the center with both hands. You defended against it with all your might when you noticed the Master begin to lean in, a hand attempting to sneak around the blades to grab your hilt.

You propelled away his saber, forcing him back before he could take hold of your weapon. Windu, however, was undeterred as he continued his vigorous attack.

He launched at you again with a powerful shove from the Force as the purple blade neared at rocketing speed. You occluded the blow with a simplified twist of your saber, adapting your technique.

In that ever brief moment, with two blades balanced at a standstill, you noticed an ultra-fine, curious glint in the Master’s eye as his brows marginally slackened.

That half a second was short-lived as the duel continued. He slid your blade away, swinging his own toward your side. You obstructed it with the effortless inverted defense of your saber, gliding it up and away before circling your own weapon above your head to strike his other flank. Windu’s lightsaber came down zealously to hinder your action, his movements growing more fervent with each beat of your quickening heartbeat.

The battle progressed in a similar fashion. You remained on the defensive as Windu pursued you with belligerent strikes, blocking each blow with an uncomplicated, yet effective guard as he pressed you backward.

But as seconds became minutes, and minutes stretched into double digits, you noticed the older Jedi begin to tire. Windows into the offensive gradually became more frequent, invigorating you to take more chances as you cautiously incorporated elements from your previous form.

You launched at Windu, hurling acute cracks with Force-bolstered hops powering your blade.

His fatigue was reaching a leverageable height, you thought, as each hefty blow began to drag. The duel expanded past the hour mark, tempering his defensive thew.

A golden opportunity arose when one particularly nimble strike at his left gave the elder Jedi only a microsecond to respond. The lightsaber was considerably distant from your point of attack, pressuring the tip of his blade to take the brunt of your intense blow. His saber was thrown in a wayward direction, faintly loosening his grip with an audible grunt.

You took this chance to make your final assault, leaping into a clockwise spin as you brought your blade down toward his right flank.

However, before your saber could near the target, a hand shot out at you.

A sudden, powerful wave blew your frame midair, sending you soaring nearly fifteen feet away. Your saber was inactive the instant your side harshly banged against the lilac marble floor, the momentum sending you clattering down the arena in a spin as you lost hold of the weapon. It jangled away with a cacophony of metallic strikes as your nose met unceremoniously with the cold ground below.

After a few more turbulent rotations, you finally stilled on your back, groaning slightly as you rubbed your throbbing arm which stung from the initial impact.

Reorienting your senses, you began to heavily rise, only to be swiftly met with a purple incandescence inches from the bridge of your forehead, keeping you planted.

“Never underestimate your opponent’s abilities,” Mace advised as he moved the blade away from your face, deactivating it with a brief whir.

“No kidding…” you mumbled while massaging your rotating aching wrist

You felt a warm drip down your upper lip before a flavor of rusted copper consumed your taste buds. Using the back of your hand, you wiped away at the sensation, noticing a splotch of deep crimson smeared across two knuckles as you pulled away.

“Here.”

You looked up at Windu, eyes centering on his outstretched hand and the handkerchief clasped between two fingers.

You clutched it, bringing it down to clean your nose with a few swipes.

“Thank you,” you vocalized as your gaze raised again.

His arm remained extended toward you as his unyielding stare remained locked in expectation. You clasped his hand, allowing him to heave you up with ease.

“I am somewhat pleased with your fighting skills,” Master Windu stated as he strolled back toward the arena’s center, encouraging you to follow at his side.

“You have enough perceptiveness to alter your form when necessary.”

“When I noticed your Vaapad style, I knew that the fourth form wouldn’t be sustainable, which is why I adopted a Soresu response,” you explained thoughtfully.

The wise Jedi nodded impassively, yet you could tell under all that stoicism a hint of appreciation crept away from the corner of his eye.

“Your rationality will serve you well,” he remarked as he reached the center circle, pausing in front of you to bring your stroll to a halt.

“I also sense great turbulence in you.”

Your eyes remained locked on the elder Jedi, unaffected by the blatant truth.

“All Jedi have experienced turbulence at some point in their lives,” you defended.

“Another teaching by Master Qui-Gon?” He presumed dispassionately.

“Actually, yes.” You challenged. “I find ignoring those parts of ourselves more dangerous than experiencing them at all.”

You kept your stance firm as you stared down the disciplined Master, his brows raising in regard at your words.

“There may be hope for you yet,” he stated casually.

The Jedi Master soon lowered to the floor, crossing his legs as he centered his body. You followed his actions, mirroring that resting stance.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed. “And concentrate on your connection to the Force. Show me how your mind wields its power.”

You rested your eyelids, calming your life force as you reached into the essence of the Force floating around you. Shepherding it into your being, you embraced the tingly feeling while it resonated throughout your body. In short time, you loosened the reigns, allowing the gate of your mind to draw open.

After a few tense minutes, your ear tickled from the inquisitive hum that sounded before you.

“You have a powerful mind,” he mused aloud.

You felt a light pressure on your forehead as your meditative concentration continued. It endured for a few moments before dissipating into the Force.

A pregnant, cavernous silence followed that light tap on your being, lining your mind with slight confusion. You were unsure how to proceed. Did the guidance end here? Were you expected to continue on your own or were you done? Maybe he was ruminating?

Despite this perplexing instance, you thought it best to just continue your meditation and wait. You further relaxed into your stance. That was until a watching presence clouded your senses.

Gradually, you peeked out with one eye, immediately noticing Windu’s plain gaze.

“You will need to lower your defenses in order for me to do a more thorough examination of your abilities,” he explained.

You had proactively unbolted the lock to the steel door of your mind a while ago, you considered internally.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “I *was* opening my mind,” you assured.

His head tilted in intrigue as he deliberated for a moment. “Most interesting.”

Outwardly, your face remained neutral. Your signature posturing stability. Your breathing displaying ease.

But in your mind, you couldn’t help the disconcertion that squeezed at your veins, pressurizing your heart.

You had always prided yourself on your deep relationship with the force, specifically your ability to control its connection to others. You suppose most of that effort went into keeping others out rather than letting them in, which in hindsight would explain your recent struggle in allowing beings’ traveling thoughts to pass.

But it still didn’t make any sense. That proficiency should go both ways. And you had truly felt like your mind had opened for Master Windu. Yet, he did not come to the same conclusion.

Your reality was distinct, it seemed. And it made you question yourself— was your mental connection to the Force as bridled as you believed? After experiencing an evening of foreign minds, losing your name by the command of a great council, and now confronting another internal unknown, you felt as if another piece of your identity was being chipped away in the early hours of this long-awaited destiny.

In a fleeting thought, you questioned how much of you would be left by the end.

But before you could delve deeper into the meaning or cause of this strange glitch, the Master stood abruptly, encouraging you to return to the present and do the same.

“We will pause here,” Windu announced before reaching into his robe.

He pulled out a small rounded gray device the size of a large credit and a small, silver packet

“What’s that?” You asked as he approached you.

“I need a sample of your blood,” he explained, motioning for you to hand him your arm.

You obliged, lifting the limb for him to grab. He raised the silver packet to his mouth, ripping it open with a bite before pulling out a thin white wipe. He removed it from its container before smoothing it across the middle of your inner arm, it’s cold chill wetting the skin. Windu exchanged the wipe with his device, placing it at the center of the cleaned area before pressing it down, causing a slight pinch. He stuck the materials back in his robe as you retrieved your arm, rubbing the injection spot.

“Master Yoda will be expecting you in The Temple training grounds tomorrow afternoon,” he informed you. “You are released.”

A touch of excitement rushed through your being. You’d always wanted to meet the Grand Master since you were a youngling. Listening to all those grand stories about him from Master Qui-Gon had its impact.

“Thank you, Master Windu.” You smiled gratefully.

He acknowledged your thanks with a meticulous nod, eyes glued to yours.

“May the Force be with you,” he wished you attentively.

You bowed at him appreciatively.

“May the Force be with you.”

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[imagine-darksiders]

Could we get some love for Valus here? I don't care in what form this love and/or attention comes in... I just miss that overprotective tinker giant 🥺💙

This would be the perfect time to finally drop that final chapter of The Quiet Man that I've been avoiding for literal years.

Smh can't believe I left Valus trapped under that rubble for all this time...

The Quiet Man - Chapter 2 - Culpa

Valus X Reader

Crushes, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, self-hatred, g/t, gentle giant, protective Valus

AO3 link

“He's under here!”

A muffled shout tugs insistently at Valus's dwindling consciousness, drawing the Forge brother from the darkness behind his closed eyelids.

To the silent maker, it almost seems cruel to be forced back into the realm of wakefulness wherein exists nothing but the crushing pressure of a mountain piled upon his spine and the agony that's settled deep inside powerful muscles that have long-since gone numb from keeping a temple from collapsing.

Blinking something wet – blood? - from his eyes, Valus wrestles them open as far as he can bear, and soon finds himself squinting down at the dull, grey floor sitting scant inches beneath his visor, barely visible through the meagre light that trickles between the hairline cracks of his prison.

Blearily, he rolls his gaze to his forearms, both of which are still settled around his head and keeping his chest aloft, as if even in his unconsciousness, his body knew there'd been something important occupying that little pocket of space created between his considerable bulk and the solid ground.

Creator, his head hurts... Why is he awake again, instead of slumbering peacefully beneath the temple's rubble until his body eventually succumbs to the immeasurable weight bearing down on top of it?

“Hurry, Eideard! Please!”

Ah, that's why...

With his jaw clenched tight enough to set his face ablaze, Valus strains his ears to hear past the shrill ringing that's taken up residence inside his left orifice.

He's almost afraid that the distant voice is nothing more than a fleeting dream, or perhaps the last imaginings of his dying brain as his body shuts down and he embraces the stone around him, as all makers do, eventually... Though hopefully not under such painful circumstances...

Valus himself would have joined the old ones whose souls have already gone to the realm of the Stonefather were it not for the simple fact that someone had asked him to promise that he wouldn't give up.

A sudden spike of pain lances through his skull, forcing him to screw his face up into a tight ball before the sting abates once more, flowing away down his spine and allowing for a single, clear thought to press in. As soon as it does, Valus's eyes shoot open again and his face goes lax with horror, all at once recalling the tiny human who had shared this claustrophobic space with him, and who had told him that help was coming... 

Y/n... You... His smallest and dearest friend.

Suddenly restless, the maker tries to shift his weight, to test the give of the stone around him. Where are you? Did you get out okay? Did you make it back to Tri Stone safely!?

As if in protest of his attempt to lift it, the temple piled on top of him groans, and several tons of rock slides out of place, causing his shoulders to buckle and scream like they've been set alight with the fire of Hell itself coursing through his veins.

The maker's neck strains against the weight above him, but he grinds his teeth together and braces his burning muscles, replaying the same mantra over and over in his head with the fervour of a man on the brink of madness.

'Promise me you won't give up!' Your voice echoes around inside his skull.

He hadn't been able to force his ragged voice box to reply with the confirmation you were probably seeking, but he'd uttered his response in a whisper, the gentle 'yes' only loud enough to breach the slit in his visor.

He knows you'd never have heard him, not in ten thousand years.

Yet even still, he's kept that promise. Of course, he's kept it.

You're the one who asked him to make it.

Just then, his ears fill with a new sound - footsteps scrabbling over loose stone - getting louder as the darkness tries to creep in again around the edges of his vision.

“Stand back now, stand back. Thane, keep a hold of her.”

Eideard.... That's Eideard...

The mountain above him groans once more, as though it too is lamenting the maker below it, and Valus barely has enough wherewithal to recognise that it isn't necessarily a good sound when suddenly, finally, the boulder digging into the base of his spine grows... inexplicably less heavy.

Somebody – probably him – draws in a wet, gurgling breath, allowing half-flattened lungs to expand for the first time in hours.

“I just heard him!” that same, melodic voice chimes, one that's been filling his heart with light and hope for days now, “He's alive!”

Valus's lips hang ajar, blood oozing between his teeth and falling into an ever-growing puddle beneath his visor, mingling with the dust on the ground. It's an unwelcome taste, like copper and salt dripping off his tongue.

The voices outside his prison are growing louder, but they're muffled, as if he's trapped underwater instead of in a cage made from solid stone.

Oblivion, it seems, is still trying to draw him back into its unfeeling embrace.

This time, the forge brother manages to emit a soft, thrumming groan, letting his head drop once more as darkness continues to creep in from the edges of his vision, swallowing the soft, blue light that's begun to seep through ever-widening cracks in the rubble surrounding him.

“You're all right, lad...” Eideard's voice cuts through the fuzz, and it wouldn't surprise Valus if he discovered the Old One can speak directly into his mind. “We've got you... You're all right...”

And that, Valus thinks distantly, is the perfect affirmation to hear just before his eyes roll back into his skull and his burning shoulders collapse at last.

-----------

....

.......

..........

“-...'s all my fault, Alya.”

If Valus had his wits about him, he might have found some poignant meaning behind your voice being the one that can pull him out of Oblivion's clutches.

The sound of you crying is the very last thing he'd ever want to wake up to though...

A single ear twitches as his body tries to single out the location of your voice before his mind has even chugged itself back into the waking world.

There's a weight settled on his chest, but this one isn't crushing, isn't suffocating. In fact, it's barely there, small and constant, tugging the maker's brain out of the heavy fog of unconsciousness the longer he registers its unfamiliar presence.

Another voice, one he immediately recognises - as familiar to him as his own heartbeat - pipes up, a little further away.

“For the last time, Valus wouldn't blame you, and neither will I. You tried to do somethin' kind for 'im, and it went wrong. Ain't nobody in this village blames you for an accident.”

He'd know the sound of his sister's voice anywhere...

“But I hurt him, Al! After I promised I wouldn't! The first thing I did was go out and nearly get him killed!”

That's you again... But Valus is more fixated on the miserable sobs that catch in your throat than the words you're speaking. Why are you crying?

Don't cry...

“You promised you wouldn't break his heart, and you didn't... Y'know what would've broken it?" Alya asks, "Seein' you get killed.”

Battered eyelids gradually manage to unglue themselves from one another, peeling apart measure by measure as Valus's desire to see overtakes his unparalleled weariness. Even the eye that's been fused partially shut by an age-old burn fights its way open, squinting narrowly at a familiar, stone roof.

Like the voice of his sister, Valus knows those cracks in the ceiling way overhead, the spiderweb of moss that clings stubbornly to the damp rock, the sound of water dripping into a cavernous pool somewhere nearby, the steady rumble of lava growling away in its reservoir...

He's in the maker's forge.

“But if I hadn't tried to go after Splinterbone-!”

Splinterbone?

"- Then Valus might've gone lookin' for it without you anyway. An' that temple might've collapsed on him just the same. But there wouldn't be nobody there to know it."

Stirring, Valus blinks once before he eases his gaze down slowly, edging it towards the weight on his chest - the source of the pretty voice.

The maker's heart gives a desperate lurch when he blinks through the dim light and sees a figure sitting on his chest.

Not just any figure.

This one isn't a maker.

It's Tri-Stone's first and only human resident.

You... you, you, you.

You're okay! You're alive! Stone's breath... You really did come back for him...

You're currently hunched over on top of the maker's immense sternum, right above his thumping heart, your knees drawn up to your chest and your face buried inside the palms of your hands. More distressingly though, you're shaking.

The forge brother's throat constricts.

Are you frightened?

Who frightened you?

With a sudden sense of urgency, he tries to sit upright, though his spine only makes it an inch off the slab below him before he crashes back down onto it, uttering a low groan from the back of his throat that startles your hands away from your face.

Dazed, Valus blinks up at the ceiling once more. 

So, evidently, moving was not a good idea.

He blinks again when your face abruptly appears in his field of view, and the maker's brows twitch together in concern at the sight that greets him, the pain in his back and chest momentarily forgotten.

Fat, glistening tears roll steadily down your cheeks to drip off a wobbling lip and splatter onto the maker's chin. Something in the feel of them against his bare skin strikes him as... off, but he's quick to brush aside the creeping sense of wrongness in favour of finding whatever it is that made you cry, and crushing it to dust beneath his fists.

“Valus!” you sob the giant's name frantically, leaning over his face to peer down into his sea-green eyes, “Val, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!”

He wishes he could find his voice, to ask what you're sorry for. Your eyes have already shed so many tears for so many things. It always burned his sensitive heart to hear you stifling your sobs at night, knowing that for as mighty as he is, he could never be strong enough to give you what you really want – your species, your home, your family. He's just a maker. He couldn't bring those back to you, no matter how badly he wants to see you happy.

With a slow, deliberate ache to his every motion, Valus strains against his own muscles to raise a colossal hand from his side and bring it towards you, shakily extending his forefinger and laying it gently across your back where he begins to stroke downwards in delicate, soothing sweeps.

He intends it to be a comfort. He doesn't expect it to make you cry harder.

Your whole body convulses below his touch as you heave in a harrowed gasp of air, slapping your palms over your mouth to try and capture the wail that attempts to slip through your teeth seconds later.

Just before he can utter a sound of distress however, another shout rings in his ear.

“Valus!”

Ah. That'd be Alya-

The forge brother's shoulder is suddenly awash with fresh ripples of fire as a strong, calloused hand wraps around it, and then, his sister's wild-eyed face is pressing into view right alongside yours, her auburn hair unkempt and frazzled from being tugged at for hours on end.

“Valus! You're awake!” she hollers, raising her head and – somehow – her volume along with it, “Eideard! Muria!”

She doesn't notice him wincing at her shout. Nor does she seem to remember that his body has suffered an ordeal as she aims a hard thump at his bicep, pulling a startled wheeze from his lips.

“You sorry sack of shite!" she roars, though her voice cracking at the apex of the sentence betrays worry, not rage, "Don't you ever scare me like that again!”

“Alya! Stop that!” You're quick to rush to her brother's defence. “He's hurt enough as it is!”

Grateful, Valus tries to aim a smile at you, but at that moment, your head flings up as the heavy doors to the forge suddenly burst open and the sound of hurried footsteps swiftly approach.

Throughout it all, Valus's eyes remain fondly fixed on you, unable to tear his gaze away from the little miracle sitting astride his chest.

Creator... He's just glad to see you safe. You made it across the Forge Lands, you brought back help, all while standing no taller than a maker's kneecap. To say he's proud would be an understatement.

Within seconds, the comforting Muria is at his side adjacent from Alya, shooing his sister's hand away from his shoulder, much to the forge brother's private relief. His shoulders sag minutely, yet he still keeps his finger stroking tender lines up and down your back, revelling in the sensation of your little heart fluttering away beneath his fingertip.

Only moments behind the shaman, Eideard appears as well, his snowy brows knitted together to form great chasms in the space between his eyes as he moves close to the youngling's head, peering down at him like a saint from on-high.

“There you are, lad,” he rumbles, “Gave us all quite the fright. Always thought I'd be lifting a temple off Karn's sorry skull, not yours.”

From your spot on his clavicle, you shake your head rapidly from side to side, whimpering the words, 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,' over and over again.

Hovering her hands above his chest, Muria spills a dose of healing magic into Valus's aching ribcage and twitches her head towards you, voice gentle and earnest, “Please, dear one, you must stop punishing yourself. Valus is safe, thanks to you.”

You let out a cry of contention, raking one hand through your hair and jabbing the other at the maker laying below you. “Valus nearly died because of me!”

“Now, that simply isn't true...” The wizened voice of their village elder eases over your shout, attempting to soothe you out of your spiral. “... You were not to know that the temple would collapse. Your efforts to reunite Valus with his old friend were noble, and came from a place of kindness. What happened was unfortunate, but it was not your fault.”

The Old One sounds as firm as Valus has ever heard him, in that perpetually soft, patient way that's hardly firm at all.

The temple's collapse...? Is that why you're crying? You think it's your fault?

Heart clenching, he's about to shake his head and coax your chin up with a finger to meet your gaze, but then, from the corner of an eye, Valus spots gnarled, withered hands reaching out towards you, Eideard's hands, clear in their intent to lift you from the forge brother's chest.

"Come here, little one" the elder hushes, "You'll have no hair left if you keep pulling it like that."

Valus can't stop his arm from springing to life, tearing something in his bicep in the process as he closes his fingers gently, but possessively around your torso. You let out a bleat of surprise as he pins you to his neck, guarding you from Eideard's encroaching appendage.

In an instant, the Old one's movements go still and he blinks down at Valus. Several, terse seconds tick by without a word passed between anyone before the village elder finally dips his ancient head in a nod.

“All right, youngling. She can stay there,” he hums calmly, “You got her out... You kept her safe.”

The forge brother's shoulders slacken bit by bit as he processes the words, breathing hard, reminding himself that Eideard would never hurt you. Regardless, he's still reluctant to relinquish his hold.

Lowering his eyes again, Valus's expression softens as he meets your fretful gaze.

You're safe... That's what matters. More than the pain that's slowly fading as Eideard and Muria administer their healing magic.

As the ache in his body abates, Valus muscles his way upright until he's seated on the sturdy, stone bench, making sure to tilt his hand slowly so that you're eased down into the cup of his palm. Only once you're there does he unfurl his fingers, one by one, as if any sudden movement might cause you to disappear.

At his side, Eideard and Muria draw back, exchanging a knowing smile between themselves which goes unseen by the young maker and his little human companion, both of whom are too busy taking in one another's faces to notice anything besides each other.

“There, see!” Alya announces, relief colouring her words, “Didn't I tell you he'd be all right!? Tough bugger, aren't you, Valus? Already up and about!”

The sob that spews out of you is accompanied by a breathless laugh, as relieved as it is distraught. “Yeah,” you cough, swiping roughly at your burning eyelids and forcing a wobbly smile onto your face, offering it up to the forge brother, “Yeah, he... he's gonna be okay.”

Valus's steady heartbeat quivers to see the clench of your teeth as you bite down on your tongue, a clear sign that you're trying harder to keep your tears at bay.

Using the pad of his thumb, he scrubs tenderly at the dampness on your left cheek, grunting a wordless apology when you screw your face up at the intrusion before he moves on to the right, giving it the same, careful attention.

He almost doesn't notice at first... as he gazes down at you, vigilantly scanning you over for any visible injuries but thankfully finding nothing but dust on your face, but the longer he looks, the more it dawns on him that his field of view seems... wider, somehow.

Squinting his good eye closed, he draws his unoccupied hand up towards his face, aiming to readjust the visor, wondering when it had slipped out of its usual alignment.

The truth hits him like a hammer to the face as soon as his fingers brush against the rough stubble that peppers his chin.

His visor...

It's gone.

The sound that leaves his throat is as far from dignified as it could possibly get – something that's halfway between a choked gasp and a strangled shout.

Valus isn't afraid of anything. Or so Alya would claim, and he's never really worked up the courage to correct her.

But to have his gruesome face – his shame – exposed to the prettiest creature he's ever laid eyes upon scares the almighty forge brother far more than he'd care to admit.

Even the knowledge that you've already seen his features doesn't keep him from throwing a meaty hand up and slapping it over the burned half of his face, twisting his neck around at a painful angle to try and hide himself away from your eyes.

He doesn't like anyone seeing it. Hell, even Alya can barely catch a glimpse if it anymore, hidden as he keeps it under a safe wall of thick, sturdy metal.

His sudden movements jostle you in his palm, and he can only throw you a mental apology, his eyes wide and wild behind his fingers.

What must you think of him now? Someone as delicate as you, gazing upon the face of a marred and brutish man whose features are so clumsy and dense in comparison? At least with his visor, he was permitted the illusion of a disguise – a way to keep his most hated aspect from the outside world.

“Oh, tits.” Alya's curse dimly registers in his ears.

At once, Muria turns to clear her throat admonishingly in the youngling's direction.

Perhaps understanding better than most that there's a very simple way to alleviate the youngling's distress, Eideard speaks up. “Alya. His helm. Have you managed to fix it?”

Fix it? It's broken?

Valus's lungs constrict around an aborted breath. 

“A-aye, it's over on the anvil.”

Hurried footsteps take off as the forge brother screws his eyes shut.

“Val?”

The gentlest touch presses into the back of his hand, the one currently trying to conceal an entire swathe of his warped and burned face from view. A single, sea-green eye cracks open and swivels down to land on your face.

You're leaning forwards on his palm, balanced on your knees with a hand outstretched to brace yourself against one of the fingers that obscures half of his expression.

You shouldn't get so close. What if he scares you?

Oh, Maker's bones, what if he's already scared you?

“There he is,” you breathe, shooting him a wobbly smile as you meet the eye that's trained on you, withdrawing your hand and letting it flop into your lap, “Can't believe you've been hiding eyes like those from me, big guy.”

Valus blinks, and for just a moment, his mortification is put on hold as a steady heat creeps up the back of his neck and into his pointed ears.

“Here! Here it is!”

Startled, his gaze shoots up to see Alya barrelling back towards him, the familiar sight of his helm clutched between her fingers.

Eideard is forced to retreat several steps as the youngling skids to a halt at her brother's side, holding the precious protection out towards him.

“Here y'are! Good as new! Had to take it off to clean your grubby mug.” Hesitating, she glances down at you and adds, “Why don't you put Y/n down so you've got a hand free-”

Her suggestion is swiftly cut off when, quick as a flash, Valus peels his hand away from his face and grabs the visor from her as she presses it towards him, a move that leaves his face exposed for all of a second before he slots the heavy, metal band around his forehead and flips the shield down, hiding himself away behind a mask of impenetrable tungsten. Not once does he use the hand that's caging you protectively to his sternum.

The warmth sinks into his skin immediately, not unlike the touch of a familiar, old friend, drawing a sigh from the maker that resonates within the confines his helm.

Craning your neck back to try and peer through the slat in his visor, you softly ask, “Better?”

And in response, the maker bobs his head, rubbing at the base of his neck and uttering a quiet grunt, “Mmhm.”

“Good,” you sniff, your eyes roaming him up and down,“Ah, you should... probably be resting. Alya's right, you can put me down, if you need to...”

To this, Valus replies with a firm shake of his head. “Nhh mm.”

He's pleased to see your eyes pinch closed when your cheeks strain against a watery smile, but his delight is short-lived, for all too soon, that toothy, little smile begins to change, tilting down at its edges into something far more sombre. Your eyes too, droop, losing their shine as you lower them to the bottom of his visor, staring at it glassily.

"Valus," you start, spilling the words you've been playing on repeat like a broken record, "I know I've said it before, but I want to say it to you now. I can't... I'm.. I don't know how to apologise to you enough."

A warm sigh spills out of the slat in his helm, breaking like a wave across your face and blowing some of the dust out of your hair. He hums a wordless sound then, and the deep resonance of his voice vibrates through his palm and up your spine until your thrumming heartbeat is lost among the gentle rumble.

Beside him, Alya opens her mouth, likely to translate her brother's vague noise, but before she can utter a word, you continue, clutching at your elbows.

“I really messed up... Big time,” you squeeze out, “I wanted to prove I could be useful to you guys, but I just ended up needing rescuing and I... I mean, I didn't even find Splinterbone after all that, for god's sake!”

Valus gives a start. Splinterbone?

The maker's head shoots up to send an inquiring grunt at Alya, who shrugs her shoulder and gestures to you with a sweep of her hand. “Aye, s'like she says. Went off lookin' for your old pal. Don't know how she expected to get it back here with those wee, little arms of hers.”

Valus is hardly listening.

You went to find his favourite hammer... You, a lone, vulnerable human, went out into the Forge Lands – a place teeming with demons, monsters and corruption - to track down something of his... Because you thought you weren't useful?

Valus doesn't know whether he wants to throttle you, kiss you, or forge a wedding ring for you.

The pad of a cautious forefinger slides up the nape of your neck, nestling in the hair on the back of your head and stays there, an easy pressure that coaxes you to tip yourself forwards as Valus lifts you towards his visor.

Exhaling a put-upon sigh, you bite on your lip to hide a smile and allow your forehead to be guided gently against the maker's helm.

Valus's heart undulates when you finally make contact, feeling the tiniest 'thunk' against the metal above his visor.

The delicate warmth of your breath wafts through the gap, and his eyelids flutter closed as he exhales a serene sigh,

“See,” Alya pipes up smugly, folding her arms across her chest and grinning at the side of your head, “Told you he wouldn't blame you.”

“Mm,” Valus concurs, blinking his eyes open to peer at you from beneath the metal.

Fragile fingers have hooked themselves into the slat of his visor, anchoring you to him, clutching with a determined grip, as if you, like him, are afraid to be separated.

“Thank you,” you whisper through the hole, “For being okay."

'Of course,' he thinks in return. He made a promise, after all.

"I've lost everyone, Val..."

The maker's forehead nudges just a little more insistently against your own.

"If I lost you as well, I'd..." You trail off into silence, but nothing more needs to be said. He can extrapolate.

He can only imagine the kinds of demons you have to battle with on a daily basis.

It's for this reason, among many, many others, that the besotted giant will extend his promise. Corruption has eviscerated his people, stolen his home from him, destroyed a future he might have made in the maker's realm. But for you, he'll keep his head up. For you, he'd shoulder much more than a simple mountain. And if Death tries to take you with him when he inevitably leaves the Forge Lands, he's going to have one Hell of a fight on his hands, because Valus doesn't plan on ever letting you out of his sight again.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #Valus #Maker #giant/tiny #Crushes #Protective #Valus worries #You blame yourself #Could potentially be set between chapters of CHWH

[defectivevillain]

bound by blood

paring: Raphael Santiago/Reader

synopsis: As you’re recovering from top surgery, you realize you’re bored out of your mind. You decide to visit Raphael and an interesting conversation ensues.

The reader’s gender identity is unspecified, but they do undergo top surgery. [This is completely and unabashedly self-indulgent.]

ao3 version

warnings: blood, mentions of surgery

Raphael Santiago is far from the most friendly person you’ve ever met, but you’ve never considered him to be rude. He’s always gruff and blunt, but he never acts above anyone else and he makes an effort—albeit a miniscule one—to make conversation with you. The more you get to know him, the more you realize that he’s a good guy. So when you walk into the Hotel Dumort one day to visit Raphael, you certainly aren’t expecting him to react with profound disgust.

“What?” You ask self consciously, not sure what’s prompting him to display such a reaction. Raphael isn’t super expressive in the first place, so the thought of him reacting so viscerally is throwing you for a loop.

“You reek,” Raphael says through gritted teeth. His hands grip the counter with frightening strength and his head is tilted down to avoid your gaze. You blink at him a few times, trying to process his comment. When you finally do, it’s hard not to be offended. You manage to make your voice sound calm.

“Sorry, I’m not allowed to shower yet; that’s probably why,” you grimace, itching at the binder on your chest. It’s far from comfortable, but thankfully, the pain has been decreasing with time as you expected it would. You’re counting down the days until you return to the doctor and get the binder and bandages removed.

“No,” Raphael says with a shake of his head. It sounds as if it’s hard for him to speak. You give him a moment to evidently regain his composure. “It’s… blood.”

“Oh, yeah,” you remark casually. Raphael gives you an absolutely murderous glare at that. “What?” You ask. “I just had surgery, so… it’s kind of unavoidable.”

“It’s so strong,” Raphael says, placing a hand over his nose.

“Probably because of these,” you explain, bringing the drains out of the confines of your pockets. Raphael’s eyes go comically wide and you watch in confusion as he slaps a hand over his mouth and turns his head to the side.

“Why would you show me?!” Raphael hisses, his voice sounding slightly warbled from behind his palm.

“Because you asked?” You respond with furrowed brows. Raphael is steadily avoiding eye contact. There’s a bead of sweat trickling down his temple and he looks to be in pain. “What, do you want the blood?”

“...No.” He’s never sounded less convincing. You huff in amusement.

“You can have it,” you offer. Truthfully, the blood serves no purpose anymore. Once it’s expelled from your body, you’re supposed to dispose of it. However, you suppose you shouldn’t let it go to waste—not when your vampire companion so rarely gets to drink human blood. You know Raphael well enough to know that he’d never harm a human and drink their blood, so he’s likely been drinking rodent or animal blood for as long as he’s been a vampire. Perhaps human blood will increase his strength. You’re not entirely sure—you’re no expert on blood or vampirism.

“Are you sure?” Raphael mutteres, drawing you out of your thoughts. He’s still steadily avoiding eye contact, as if willing you to drop the conversation and forget the interaction. Unfortunately for him, you’re too stubborn to let it go.

“It’s of no use to me, now,” you shrug, looking at him expectantly. Despite the clear resistance he’s showing, Raphael’s eyes are blown wide and his pupils are dilated in evident hunger. You can’t imagine how much strength he must have to resist the blood that is right in front of him.

Raphael doesn’t speak for a few moments. You sigh, before taking a few steps towards the bathroom. You then realize that you don’t hear any footsteps and, when you turn back around, Raphael is frozen in the same position as before. “What?” You ask, gesturing impatiently for him to follow. “Come on; don’t back out now.”

“Right.” Raphael responds with frightening sincerity. He follows you at a rather unusual distance. You’re grateful that Raphael seems to be controlling his urges for your benefit, but you can only hope that he isn’t causing himself any physical pain. Although, when you think about it, Raphael is easily one of the most composed and practiced vampires you know. There’s no way he would lose control in such a manner, you reassure yourself internally.

Once you make it to the bathroom, you pull the first drain out of your pocket. Raphael watches from his position leaning against the doorway. There’s a complex expression on his face. You tear your gaze away from him and carefully line up the drain with the measuring instrument you were given, before squeezing and allowing the blood to fall into the capsule. Thankfully, the process is painless. When you’re finished, you squint at the tiny numbers on the side of the container—only for Raphael to take it from your hand and drink all the blood in one fell swoop.

“...I didn’t get to measure it,” you remark regretfully.

“Sorry.” The vampire grimaces. His fangs glimmer in the dim lighting of the bathroom. He has the grace to look mildly embarrassed and remorseful. You resist a well-intentioned laugh at the genuine concern and regret on his face.

“It’s fine; just… let me measure this one, okay?” Raphael nods. You feel a bit nervous when you notice his gaze burning into the side of your face, but you manage to replicate the process with the drain on your other side. This time, you get a measurement of the amount of blood. Raphael is clenching his fists so hard that it looks as if he could break a knuckle. You push the capsule towards him on the counter and he grabs it with unfathomable speed, before drinking it without hesitation. He doesn’t shotgun it in the same reckless manner he did before; rather, Raphael pauses and turns to look at you for a fleeting moment.

“This feels… intimate,” Raphael remarks vaguely. You freeze and stare at him, wondering if you misheard him. He’s avoiding eye contact with you again, which convinces you that you heard his statement correctly.

“Do you want it to be intimate?” You hum, surprised by how confident and unbothered you sound. Surely, your rapid heartbeat will betray your confident facade—your heart is jackhammering in your chest right now. Raphael finishes draining the blood before wiping a hand over his lips and leveling you with an incredulous gaze. You stare back at him without hesitation. The vampire seems to need a moment to process the implications of what you just said.

“Yes,” Raphael finally answers. You stare at him in surprise. He’s staring at some unknown point in the mirror. When you try to make eye contact with him, the vampire is quick to avert his gaze. “But… I’m not interested in sex.” Silence settles in the air. For a long moment, there is nothing but a strange tension. It takes you several moments to realize that Raphael is waiting for a response from you. You blink at him a few times.

“Okay,” you eventually say, wondering why the vampire looks so high-strung and defensive right now. Had he really expected you to react poorly? Perhaps he’s had bad experiences in the past. The thought makes your stomach turn.

“That’s it?” He asks, a hint of wariness in his voice.

“I don’t plan on forcing you to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” you say.  It seems as if there’s a physical relief that Raphael experiences after that admission. His shoulders relax and the grimace on his face softens. He had been clenching his fists at his sides, and he moves to loosen them. For a long moment, there is nothing but silence. You busy yourself with washing your hands and valiantly pretend not to notice Raphael staring at you the entire time. It isn’t until you move to leave the bathroom that he seems to snap out of his trance. The vampire places a hand on your shoulder.

“Next time,” Raphael breaks off, as if the effort of speaking is laborious. His hand slips from your shoulder and falls back to his side. Raphael looks uncharacteristically restless. “I can help you empty them.”

“The drains?” You ask for clarification. The vampire nods. “Okay. You have to give me time to make measurements, though.”

Raphael rolls his eyes, letting you know exactly what he thinks of that idea.

#defectivevillain #trans reader #transmasc reader #nonbinary reader #Raphael x reader #Raphael santiago x reader #Raphael santiago #sigh #he #him #he's everything to me

[multiwreckedmess]

February Filth Fest - Day 4

Pairing: Hyunjin x gn!reader Kink: Public Sex WC: 2k (...whoops) Summary: It’s a bit of a hobby of Hyunjin’s to put on a show wherever he goes. Including the club. Especially the club. (Club bathroom fucking with essentially a stranger) TW/CW: protected penetration, spit as lube, sex with essentially a stranger (both parties are enthusiastic), Hyunjin in a skirt, reader has a “hole”, awkward reader, too many pet names (reader: pet, thing, toy, gorgeous, beautiful, pretty, handsome, love)(Hyunjin: sir, mommy, god)

Once again dear god this is fiction don’t do this, it’s not a moral guide or a life guide. It’s not meant to represent Hyunjin or stray kids in any way shape or form.

There is nothing that makes him feel sexier than the heavy thrum of the bass shaking through his ribcage as eyes rake over his waifish form. Somewhere between genders, at least for the night, Hyunjin doesn’t care who finds him attractive, just that they do. Labels were not to get hung up on, not while the lights were low and the music stunting all attempts at meaningful conversation.

A smile tickled the corner of his mouth looking at you, poor uncoordinated pet, grasping to the one person they knew in the crowd. A perfect plaything. Letting himself take on the walk of a demigendered sex demon he cuts his way easily through the crowd towards the cement wall you had clung to. Just out of your friend's line of sight he stood, cocking his hip to the side and fixing his gaze on you, knowing smirk playing his lips. Beautiful bait for an oblivious sea creature.

The heat of an intent stare bores its way through your thick skull. “That…person…” you wonder to yourself, “they couldn’t be….” Hyunjin dips his head, a polite nod of recognition. You point at yourself, mouthing the question “me” even more obviously than the flailed pointing. Hyunjin nods again with the patience of a saint. It’s all a part of the game. Making something beautiful between two strangers is easier when they aren’t so fucking self absorbed. He exhales a short chuckle as you bump into other patrons, half walking towards him and half looking behind you to check that no one else had thought he were talking to them.

You feel more like a squid on land than a human, somehow both bulbous and flat at the same time,  looking at the person who siren-like has beckoned you away from safety.  Slim sculpted legs adorned with knee high socks and topped with a bright green shiny pleated mini skirt and ripped crop top, the person in front of you can only be described as an angel made of neon filth. Hyunjin’s blonde hair pulled back into a half ponytail, pouty lips falling into a half smile as he watches you look him over.

“May I?” He places his arms over top of your shoulders familiarly, asking for forgiveness more than permission as you dumbly freeze and babble. “The name’s Hyunjin. Or sir. Or mommy, if that’s up your alley. Never daddy though.” His tone is pitched just so that it slots conveniently between the wavelengths of the music and can carry effortlessly from his lips to your ear.

You try to sway to the rhythm like everyone else, shifting weight between your legs, gliding your torso in the opposite direction. Nothing fits quite right with the music or the mood and the sudden self consciousness nukes any flow you feel you gain from the seconds of attempting to groove. A gentle guiding hand moves from your shoulder, trickling all the way down the column of your spine to your low back, and presses you pelvis to pelvis with Hyunjin so closely that you each slot a foot between each others legs. “Explore,” Hyunjin urges in your ear, “I’m the only one watching. No one else cares right now. It’s just us.”

The simple command from them is all it takes, hypnotic as his voice is, to lose yourself. The buzz of his touch at the base of your spine still lingers. You let your vision go hazy and unfocused, zoomed out to give way for your other senses. Hyunjin licks his lips, feeling your body grow more pliant, eyes glassy, as you slip into a trance with him. A small laugh yanks your tenuous thread, your brain hurtling back down through the atmosphere and smacking into your system. Naturally your vision snaps to where you think the source of the sound is. Are they laughing at me? Do I look dumb? Your eased mind revving back into full panicked monitoring. Hyunjin presses your heads together, your eyes naturally falling to the floor to avoid his. “Now what did I say about others, my pet? Just us.” Sweat drips from their brow to yours. Their scent is intoxicating, filling your lungs and hazing your mind. You could bury yourself in his collarbone if it meant you could be surrounded by it twenty four hours a day. “There you go gorgeous, that’s it. See how easy it is to just move with me? Just us like this. Moving together. It’s so natural.” Every word falls from their lips sticky and sweet to gum the cogs in your brain further. “It’s so natural to enjoy another person like this, right?” “God you’re so beautiful,” you babble sheepishly. “I don’t remember ‘god’ being an acceptable title for me, pet, but from you I’ll accept it.” “Sorry sir, sorry mommy, sorry Hyun-” you babble until they kiss you hungrily, stealing the breath from your lungs. They love your star dazzled expression as they pull away from you, strand of spit still bridging your lips. “Again?” You ask perhaps a bit too naively. Two nimble fingers tuck themselves neatly under your chin, fixing your head in place. “Oh pet, of course if you ask like that.” His lips meet yours more gently this time, almost an apology for the force of the previous kiss. Tongue brushing the soft pout of your lip he asks for permission to explore you. It doesn’t matter to him that it's out on the dance floor. That people might be looking. To the contrary, he likes it. Licking into your mouth messily, his purpose is to entertain and delight himself, you, and whoever might care to watch. Smeared lipstick nearly rubbed to nothing, leaving a rosy ring on both your chins, you look as debauched as you feel. Whatever dance you’d been pretending to attempt morphed into mutual slow grind, leaving thighs damp with the others fluids. You’re practically moaning into each other's mouths with every hypnotic swivel of your hips. Hyunjins cock strains against the sleek modal fabric of his panties, ready to change your life. “Hey pretty, wanna play with me?” He gasps into your mouth. “I wanna play with you.” “Mhm, yes, badly, please,” you hesitate for a brief second, “mommy?” You try the title on your tongue. Your nose crinkles, it feels bitter, ill fitted for you. Hyunjin throws his head back laughing, “keep trying handsome. I’m sure one of them will suit what you want me to be for you.” Fingers weaving through the hair at the back of your skull he gently tugs your head back, exposing the front of your throat and taking the sensitive flesh there into his mouth with a sharp suck. Your eyelids flutter with a throaty groan. “God damn.” A sideways smile unseen to you crosses Hyunjin’s face. “That works for me,” he thinks. “I’ll add it to my list for next time.”

Breezing past the door, Hyunjin backs the both of you into the nearest stall, dingy exposed bulbs flickering as the doors slammed. At some point the bathroom had looked cool and industrial, now looking unclean and unfinished, corners left with growing dark grime stains.

“How do you like to play?” Hyunjin pants, sweat dripping from his locks down forming a glistening sheen on his skin. “I-I-don’t know. I fuck I-” “Do you fuck or get fucked,” Hyunjin whispers the question in your ear urgently. “Get.” He hums, grasping your ass. “Alright doll. I can do that tonight if you wish.”

You hadn’t truly considered the other option. He’d been so dominant the whole night, leading you passed every goal post with enthusiasm. “Oh, I just assumed-” “Because I take control?” He tsks, “you can get fucked and still control the scenario. Very old fashioned.” Words catch in your throat and you let out a choked out sorry. “Oh it’s very fine, my toy. Do you want to be a good toy and get stuffed nicely full of cock? I promise I’ll fill you so nicely.” His hands worm their way over the lobes of your buttocks to fondle your little hole.

Gasping you nod and wiggle back, trying to trick his fingers past your entrance. “Please,” you mewl. “Please take care of me sir.” The title comes out easier to you. Hyunjin smiles. “Sir?” “Hyunjin.” “Of all the pretty sounds your vocal chords make I think I like my name the most.” He bites your shoulder as he thrusts a single digit in. Writhing in his arms he coos at your cute little whimpers as he starts to stretch you out for him. “Oh please, please,” you chant and fuck back into his palm as he sucks small red welts into your skin.

“Touch me,” Hyunjin gasps, pulling his panties to the side, erection springing free and tenting the stiff fabric of his skirt lewdly. “Anywhere. Touch me. And don’t stop those beautiful sounds.”

Once your hands begin to roam its hard to settle them. Smooth hard muscle ripples over his lean body, leaving pits and valleys for your fingers to trace. You follow the rough hem of his crop top up to brush thumbs over his nipples. Hyunjin moans distressingly loudly, filling the small bathroom regardless of who may hear. “Good pet. So gorgeous. Keep going, keep exploring my love.”

With newfound confidence you lick a droplet of sweat traveling from his chiseled jawline to his neck. Salty and hot on your tongue your stomach tenses and curls as he shivers. A second finger is added to the mix to properly scissor you open. Your hands dive up his skirt, precum already smeared over the head of his cock. Velvety and heavy in your hand you trace the veins up to the hilt, circling your first finger and thumb around the base. “God you’re so-Hyunjin you’re so perfect.” You murmur, sucking back a pool of drool forming in your mouth.

“Oh pet, you don’t know the half of it,” he pulls his fingers from you, smirking as you moan from the sudden emptiness, and makes a show of tasting you off his fingers. Leaning down he pulls a small gold foil packet seemingly out of nowhere, fisting his dick with one hand as he tears the condom free with his other and teeth. Gathering the spit in his mouth he watches the dripple travel down your crack, pressing the rolling slick into your hole with his thumb. “Now stay with me, okay love?”

The pressure from him entering you forces a groan, “Hyunjin.” The door vibrates with each thrust, the metal flexing outwards and snapping back, threatening to burst. Long arms wrapping around you he pounds you, hands splaying and playing with your front from your hole to your chest. Painting you in fluids as though it were finger paints or glow paint at a rave.

“Good toys are meant to be played with, right,” he whines. “You’ve been such a good toy this whole week you deserve to be pleasured.”

“Mhmmphf,” you try to respond but your tongue hangs numb in your mouth.

“Be a good pet and speak.”

“I deserve to be pleasured.” The phrase spills into one slurred word ending in a moan. “Oh please Hyunjin, please god, fuck.” Your jaw locks with a grunt, muscles tense and ready. You cum, greedy hole spasming around his length, you muscles pulse and shake until they are spent and loose. A ragdoll for him to fuck into with abandon.

He holds your hips tight, keeping you up as he chases his high. It’s his favorite part of the whole production, watching his partners spent frame twitching with opposing wants. Overstimulated but full of desire, begging him for something only he can solve. He can feel his climax in the back of his thigh as it shakes. Thrusts erratic but direct he slams into you fully, pumping into the condom with a strangled moan, knuckles white and grip bruising.

Sitting back on the toilet he pulls you down with him, softening dick pulling from you. “My beautiful toy. My silly pet. My sweet little thing.” Hyunjin dotes a flurry of pet names hoping one will strike the right chord with you. A small gesture of his thanks, of his praise.Leaning you back against his chest your hearts beat in one. The music sounds muted from the heavy cement walls between you. Sticky with bodily fluids you sheepishly exit the bathroom together. A man claps sarcastically and you duck in shame. “Don’t hide yourself, pet, that was the performance of a lifetime.”

Originally the prompt included feminization which i know nothing about so I didn’t try to fulfill it exactly. I just sort of made Hyunjin genderfucky. Honestly...the entire time I was thinking about how my sexual awakening was Him in the Powerpuff Girls and just decided that was my inspiration for this AU!Hyunjin.

#hyunjin smut #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x gn reader #hyunjin x you #stray kids smut #skz smut #february filth fest

[whatacaitastrophe]

Is It Over Now - Chapter 2

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "Don't Speak" - No Doubt

Chapter Warnings: Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Blood Drinking

Spotify Playlist: Here

Chapter 2: You're Letting Go

She’s standing back on the docks again, watching quietly as the sun begins to rise over what’s left of Baldur’s Gate. All of her companions are there, and everyone is happily discussing the celebrations they intend to have. Everyone, except Gale.

This time, though, Fallon is not in her own body as the scene unfolds in front of her. Instead, she's off to the side, watching as Gale paces in small circles, talking mostly to himself about what it would mean if he succeeds in reforging the crown and wielding it for himself; watching herself slowly realize where this conversation is going.

“Say something.” Fallon tells herself, but her past remains stunned silent as Gale tells her that he’s made his choice.

“SAY SOMETHING!” She yells to herself now, but someone may as well have cast a silencing spell on Fallon, because nobody reacts to the fact that there are two Fallons, and one is pleading with the other to stop her lover from making the biggest mistake of his life.

Panic flares in her chest and bile churns in her stomach as Fallon listens to Gale promise her the moon and the stars again. The window of opportunity to stop him is closing swiftly and Fallon’s past self is still standing there. Doing nothing.

“YOU STUPID WOMAN, FUCKING SAY SOMETHING!! HE'S GOING TO LEAVE! STOP HIM!” Fallon tries to run to herself, to Gale, desperate to intervene but there’s an unknown force holding her back. She thrashes against the force to no avail, screaming at herself over and over to stop her lover from leaving. At the very moment that Gale is about to take his leave, a sharp pain jolts through Fallon’s body, and the scene drifts away.

Fallon returns to consciousness with a start. Her breathing is heavy, she’s covered in sweat, and there’s something wet trickling down her arm. Fallon looks around wildly as she tries to get her bearings, and she’s almost instantly met with Astarion’s face. It doesn’t take long after that to figure out why her arm is wet; she’s bleeding.

“Sorry,” the vampire apologizes as he wipes his mouth on his arm. “You wouldn’t wake up, and you were thrashing about. I was unsure of what else to do, and I figured I woke you up from a dead sleep when I tried to bite you once before, so maybe it would work again?”

In any other situation, Fallon would laugh at the memory of the night she found out Astarion was a vampire, but any notions of humor are dead on arrival because Fallon is too busy trying not to have a panic attack. The suite around her feels like it’s getting smaller and making sure her body receives oxygen takes all of her strength. Even then, it doesn’t feel like enough. There’s an owlbear sitting on her chest and no matter what she does, it won’t move. Fallon closes her eyes, doing her best to shut the entire world out, instinctively curling into herself with her arms wrapped around her legs and her forehead on her knees.

Fallon can hear the sound of Astarion shuffling around. Not that she blames him, she wants to get as far away from herself as possible, too. The weight shifts on the mattress and, somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Fallon realizes that Astarion hasn’t distanced himself from her at all; on the contrary, he’s moved closer so he’s sitting on his knees in front of her. “Fallon?” He speaks her name gently. The last time she can recall Astarion speaking to her with such gentleness was after she convinced him not to complete The Black Mass once Cazador was defeated. Her friend gave up the sun and true freedom in favor of what was left of his humanity, humanity that one could argue he found again after spending time with Fallon and their companions, and Fallon had never been prouder of someone before.

The irony was not lost on Fallon that when she met Astarion, he was power-hungry, revenge-focused, and those around him were objects to be used as he saw fit so long as he survived. Whereas, he was the group’s moral compass most of the time who often disapproved of Astarion’s decisions.

Now, if you were to ask Fallon which of the men she’d traveled with had more of a moral compass than the other, he wouldn’t even make the top three. Scratch was higher on the list.

“Fallon, look at me.” His words are soft, but there is still the underlying tone that this is not a request. An order only amplified by his cold hand reaching forward, tucking his fingers under her chin and forcing her to look up. Fallon does as she’s told and stares back at Astarion, his red eyes full of concern for her. “I need you to breathe for me, darling,” Another soft statement that is not a request. “Don’t focus on anything else. Look at me, and breathe.”

It takes effort, keeping eye contact with the elf in front of her as she focuses on her breathing. Even direct eye contact feels too intimate for Fallon’s liking these days. Even so, the rest of the world falls away as she stares back at Astarion, trying to regain control. The stillness he exudes can only be described as preternatural. He never removes his fingers from under her chin or really even moves at all. After several attempts to breathe in through her nose and out of her mouth, Fallon regains control of her breathing, and she can feel her heart rate slowing as her body exits flight mode.

Fallon’s shoulders relax, and Astarion only moves when she is ready to uncurl herself from the fetal position. Even then, he does not go far, only shifting so he is sitting directly next to her on the bed, their thighs and legs still touching. The silence remains between them while Fallon relaxes, and several minutes go by before Astarion speaks. “How often does that happen?”

Fallon swallows hard. For a moment, she considers lying to her friend. Fallon is not really in the mood to receive more pitying looks from Astarion, but he’s already seen her at her most vulnerable, so there’s not much of a point.

“Every night,” She admits quietly, so only quietly someone with enhanced hearing (such as Astarion and herself) could hear her. “I was back on the docks.” Fallon explains, grateful that Astarion did not need any additional context to understand. After all, he was there when her life fell apart. Fallon forces herself to look at Astarion. His jaw is clenched, and the silent anger radiates off of his body as he lets out a long breath through his nose.

“We should have let him blow himself up when we had the chance.” The vampire’s words are cold and unforgiving, and Fallon flinches. The last time he spoke so coldly about another person in her presence, they were discussing Cazador.

“I was never going to let him.” They both knew that. Falling in love with him happened as naturally as breathing. By the time Elminster showed up to deliver Mystra’s orders, the inevitable had already happened. Fallon hated thinking about the moment she fell for him now, but that stupid wizard had her at the first “Hello!” after she pulled him out of that stupid portal.

“Do you regret it now? Not letting him go through with it?”

It is yet another moment where she could lie to Astarion, but it would be pointless. “You have no idea how much I wish I could regret it.” As much as Fallon wants to be filled with hate and regret when she thinks of him, she’s not, and that’s probably the exact reason he haunts her dreams so thoroughly. She glances over to the window of her suite, and it’s still dark out. Her best guess is that it’s not quite the middle of the night, but the sun can’t be more than an hour or so from rising.

Astarion looks like he has something else to say on the matter, but Fallon can’t talk about it anymore. Her attention is drawn to the now dried blood on her arm and she lifts her arm to Astarion. “When was the last time you ate? Might as well finish what you started, yeah?” If the vampire senses her deflection, he doesn’t push her, and Fallon is grateful for that. His expression softens and he offers Fallon a small smirk. “Just like old times.” He carefully takes her arm in his hands and positions his mouth over the open wound and bites down again.

Fallon closes her eyes and embraces the pain, her mind drifting back to the moment she offered to be Astarion’s personal buffett every couple of days; back when they were little more than acquaintances, and Astarion viewed her as someone to be used to ensure his survival.

”I wondered when you would come back for more.” He smirked at her.

Fallon stared at Astarion with a puzzled look on her face.“What do you mean?”

“Your offer. I’m surprised it took you this long to suggest it.” His answer only furthered Fallon’s confusion, so she just stared at him in silence, waiting for Astarion to elaborate. “Because you liked it, didn’t you? I felt the way your pulse quickened, I heard the way your breath hitched in your throat. The little moan you tried so desperately to suppress.”

Fallon raised her eyebrow at the vampire. “I think drinking my blood might have made you a little bit delusional.” She lied. Fallon barely knew Astarion, and from what she could tell, his ego was already quite inflated. Fallon had no intention of making it worse.

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, darling. I’ll come find you later tonight.”

Even now, Fallon has no plans to admit to Astarion that she enjoyed the sharp, icy pain that occurred when he bit her. There is no denying it’s an intimate gesture, willingly letting the vampire feed on her. It requires a level of trust that Fallon didn’t offer other people, and those other people were not actively partaking in an activity that could kill her if Astarion went too far. When Fallon feels herself becoming light headed, she reaches forward with her free hand and taps Astarion twice on his shoulder, just like she used to do. The vampire (thankfully) hadn’t forgotten their signal, and he pulls away from her instantly.

Astarion leans back against the headboard and offers her a sideways smile. “I’d forgotten how good you taste.”

Fallon snorts. “You don’t need to flatter me,” There’s an apple in her bedside table, she remembers, and she leans over to open the drawer to retrieve it. “I’ve already agreed to help you with whatever it is you came here for.”

“Oh yes, I’d almost forgotten in all of the…excitement,” Excitement was certainly one way to put it, Fallon thinks, and she stares at her friend expectantly. “As you know, I’ve been out traversing the Sword Coast in search of a way to get the sun back. I have a lead, but it’s not exactly local.”

Fallon sits up a little straighter. “Go on…”

“According to my sources, there’s a vampire coven in Asha, and they’re sunwalkers.”

“Asha?” Astarion nods in reply and Fallon lets out a low whistle. “You weren’t kidding when you said it’s not local.”

When Astarion said it wasn’t local, Fallon assumed he was going to drag her to Cormyr or Amn. It never even occurred to her that Astarion could be asking her to leave Faerun altogether. Asha, The City of Starlight, was located in the easternmost tip of the Faerun’s neighboring land to the northwest, Velrea. Though calling Velrea “neighboring” was a bit of a stretch, seeing as nearly a thousand miles of ocean separated Velrea from Faerun. Fallon dug through the archives of her brain to try and picture where exactly Asha was in relation to Faerun, and where the nearest port in Faerun to sale to Asha would even be. Though her highborn education was extensive, Fallon’s memory of geography was not the best. Though she did not need to be an expert in geography to know that it would take much longer than a month to get to Asha and back.

“I guess we’re not going to the Winter Solstice ball at Wyrm’s Rock then, are we?” She muses.

“Oh please, I don’t plan on leaving until after the holidays are over. You know me better than that. A full slate of soirees where people are guaranteed to worship the ground I walk on because I saved their lives? Like I’d miss that.” he laughs, and Fallon can’t help but laugh a little too because he’s right. She does know him better than that to assume he’d miss a good party.

“I remember a time when you once told me you hated being the hero.” Fallon teases, shaking her head.

“Yes, well, people can change you know,” he shrugs. “Besides, based on what I’ve observed, you my dear are in no state to depart for another adventure.”

Fallon scowls at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means, darling? When was the last time you went more than a day without nearly drinking yourself to death? Don’t bother lying to me either, because I do hear things from the others…I believe you referred to it as us “gossiping” about you last night.”

Fallon opens her mouth to argue, to tell him that she has absolutely gone more than a day without drinking herself into oblivion every night and their friends are wrong, too. Truth be told, she can’t give him an answer because she legitimately doesn’t remember. Fallon closes her mouth again with a huff, and Astarion smirks at her. “That’s what I thought.”

“So what do you suggest we do for the next month, then?”

“Well first of all, you need to sober up. Then I imagine we need to get you in the sparring ring with Wyll, because your sword is looking quite dusty in the corner over there.” Astarion nods in the direction of Fallon’s most prized possession: the sword she inherited from her father when he passed. Astarion was right. She hasn’t touched it since the day they saved the city. There hadn’t been a need for it. Not only has her living situation since saving the world been entirely gratis, but so has the food she ate and the alcohol she drank; and she rarely left The Elfsong unless one of her friends dragged her out. Needless to say, the pile of gold Fallon was rewarded a year ago was sitting in her vault at the bank, almost completely untouched.

“What about you? Don’t tell me that you’re battle ready, Astarion.” Fallon challenges.

“I’ve spent the last four months traveling across Faerun looking for answers, and it definitely wasn’t a walk in the park,” He counters and Fallon frowns again because, once again, Astarion is right. He’s probably seen battle much more recently than she has. “Besides, you don’t need to ask me to spar if you want me to put you on your back in a matter of seconds, darling. You only need to ask.” The wink he shoots her is gratuitous, but it makes Fallon smile nonetheless. Many things have changed since she met Astarion, but the vampire being an insufferable flirt? That was apparently forever. Fallon rolls her eyes. “Fine. Tell Wyll I’ll train with him.”

As if on cue, a sharp knock rings out against the wood of the door to her suite and Fallon nearly pulls a muscle in her neck at the speed with which she looked to the door and back at Astarion. The smirk remains on the elf’s face and Fallon just stares at him incredulously. “Did you fuckers plan this?”

“In a manner of speaking. I may have mentioned to Wyll that I was coming to see you, and I may have mentioned I had plans to get you out of this godforsaken tavern, and that it might be useful to me if you were in battle-ready shape. Wyll was all too happy to assist. You know how those hero types can be.”

“Bastards.” Fallon mutters to herself as she gets out of her bed and heads for the door, not even caring in the slightest that her legs were completely bare, or that she’d apparently slept in Astarion’s shirt. Wyll is far too cheerful when she opens the door for the hour of the morning it now is, and between the lack of sleep and her hangover, Fallon almost shuts it in his face. Still, she accepts the embrace from her friend anyway, because she missed him.

“Now Fallon, I’m not sure how much Astarion told you about why I’m here, but you will need to put on trousers before we proceed.” Wyll grins, and Fallon can’t help herself when she throws up her middle finger in Wyll and Astarion’s direction as she stomps towards her dresser to find pants.

“Nice to see our girl is still in there somewhere.” Astarion calls after her, and Fallon can’t help but smile.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #female tav #astarion x tav #gale x tav #astarion x gale x tav #love triangle #angst #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #astarion smut #astarion fanfic #gale fanfic #gale smut #slow burn

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #4

part 1 part 2

xxx i see the danger, it’s written there in your eyes

“He’s not gettin’ any better.” There’s no blame in Kaylee’s voice, no accusation. She’s simply making an observation. 

Somehow, it makes Simon feel worse than if she were angry with him (not that she has it in her to be mad at him for this--none of them do).

Mal has had two more seizures in the last thirty-six hours, and he’s been bleeding from the nose and the gums. He’s in and out of consciousness, and has a persistent high fever that Simon has been struggling to keep down. Even when he’s awake Mal is confused, delirious. A few times, he’s called out names that Simon doesn’t recognize (Zoe says they’re from their war days).

Mostly, though, he talks to Wash, when he’s awake enough to speak.

Hills Fever. It had taken Simon an embarrassingly long time to diagnose--though, in his defense, it’s a disease that’s been near-eradicated for the better part of a century. Simon’s not sure how, exactly, but Mal must have contracted the virus when they’d stopped on Three Hills two weeks ago. Not that the diagnosis helps much. There’s no known treatment for Hills Fever, so all Simon can do is treat the symptoms as they come until Mal recovers. Fluids, fever reducers, anti-seizure meds…All of them are present on the ship in limited quantities. 

Mal doesn’t have forever.

The others have been taking turns sitting by Mal’s side in the tiny infirmary. They’d finally managed to get Zoe to take a break a few hours ago, and now Kaylee is here. She isn’t her usual talkative self. Simon would be lying if he said he didn’t want some of that sunshiney chatter right about now, but he doesn’t blame her for not being in the mood. 

“You ain’t been sleeping much.”

Simon runs his fingers through his hair, letting his hand rest on the back of his head, and he sighs. 

“I’m afraid,” Simon says. It isn’t something that he would have admitted so readily in his early days on the Serenity, not even to Kaylee. Those walls have long since been lowered. “I couldn’t bear it if he needed me and I wasn't here to help.”

Kaylee nods and to his surprise, one corner of her mouth turns up in the ghost of a smile. “You realize you could get from bow to stern in about ten seconds, right? She’s a good ship, but Serenity ain’t exactly big. I’d come and get you if anything happened.”

Simon manages to offer a small smile, despite his exhaustion and worry. “I know you would. I really think it’s better if I stay here, though.”

Kaylee looks like she’s going to argue with him, but doesn’t get the chance. Mal stirs, a low groan escaping him, and his eyes open. They have the same vacant glassiness that’s haunted them these last few days, looking around but not really seeing.

“Cap’n?” Kaylee says softly, putting a hand on the man’s wrist. 

Mal groans again, brow pulling down into a frown. “‘m sorry,” he slurs. His gaze is fixed on a point past Kaylee’s head. “Wash, ‘m sorry…”

He slips back into unconsciousness as quickly as he’d left it. A thin trickle of blood leaks from the corner of one eye, rolling down his cheek like a crimson tear. Kaylee looks up at Simon in alarm. 

“Simon?”

“I know, I see it,” Simon says, grabbing a clean cloth to wipe away the trail of red. 

“Is he gonna be like this much longer?”

“I don’t know.”

xxx 

It’s when Simon falls asleep standing the next day that Zoe finally pulls rank and forces him to go to his bunk for a few hours’ sleep. He doesn’t think he’s going to be able to actually get any meaningful rest, but his head has barely hit the pillow before he’s out.

xxx 

“Doc!” 

Simon jerks awake at the sound of Jayne’s voice and he bolts upright, heart pounding. “Is he okay?”

Jayne’s eyes are wide. “You best come quick. He just started shaking.”

“Another seizure?” 

“I think so,” Jayne says. He sounds nervous.

Simon follows him to the infirmary at a near-run. Zoe is already there, standing next to Mal, and she looks up as Simon enters. Mal is shivering, and he’s drenched in sweat. It takes a moment for Simon’s frantic mind to settle as he realizes what’s happening.

“It isn’t a seizure,” he says.

“It’s not?” Jayne says. “Are you sure?”

Simon nods, and he could almost laugh with the relief that floods over him. “I’m positive. Look.” He points at the monitor. “His fever’s breaking.”

“That’s good,” Zoe says slowly. “That’s good, right?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s very good. I think…” He takes a deep breath and feels some of the tension that’s built up these last few days leave him. “I think he’s going to be okay.”

xxx 

Mal blinks heavily, frowning when he sees Kaylee’s worried face hovering over him. 

“Hey, Cap,” she says. “You in there?”

“I’m here,” Mal says, voice scratchy. Simon is at his side in a flash, fussing over him. Mal largely ignores him, instead shifting his focus to where Zoe and Jayne stand in deep discussion. “What’re you two talkin’ about without me?”

Zoe looks up and smiles. “Good to see you awake, Cap’n. We were just discussing the best way to go about restocking our medical supplies. You nearly cleaned us out.”

Mal blinks in confusion. “Did I?...What happened? I remember goin’ to the bridge, and then…” 

“That was four days ago,” Simon says. “You’ve been very ill. Hills Fever. But you’re past the worst of it, now.”

“Hills Fever,” Mal repeats slowly. “Huh. Never got the shot for that one. Family doc said I was allergic.”

Simon lifts an eyebrow. “Well, that explains why you got sick. Are there any other allergies I should know about?”

“Don’t think so…Gorram, I’m tired.”

“Yes, well, you’ve been through a lot. You need rest.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Mal says, closing his eyes. He quickly opens them again. “What about medical supplies?”

“We can figure that out later,” Zoe says. “You should do as the doc says.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Mal mumbles. He looks around, scanning the room for the remainder of his crew. “Where’s River?”

“She’s on the bridge,” Kaylee says. “I can go get her.”

Mal shakes his head once. “No, no. Let her be…” He closes his eyes. He can’t shake the feeling that someone is missing, but he doesn’t get much time to dwell on it before he’s fast asleep.

xxx end

#whumptober2023 #no.4 #“you in there?” #firefly #fic #blood #fever #sick #care #malcolm reynolds #simon tam #firefly fic #whumptober #my writing #my fic #whump #whump fic

[anonnie-in-wonderland]

Home Calls the Heart

Summary: Twenty-year old L/N Y/N realizes she might be, okay, is a little bit of a social pariah. But there’s not much she can really do about it. Until a dreary winter day, when a determined, persistent dog hybrid named Taehyung shows up and declares that he’s interested in adopting her for himself and the rest of his lonely pack.

chapter: four

Word Count: 4.9k

rating: T (can’t think of any real warnings this time around)

genre: romance | hurt/comfort| magic AU

tags: bts x reader | ot7 x reader | hybrid | poly| FM!reader

Emperor Penguin!Seokjin, Golden Retriever!Taehyung, Coyote!Hoseok, Mountain Lion!Yoongi, Wolfdog!Namjoon, Kingfisher!Jimin, Holland Lop!Jungkook

prev//next

At what point had she bought a weighted blanket? And why didn’t the ceiling look the way the one in her apartment’s bedroom always did? A high, sloped wooden ceiling greeted (Y/N) when she woke up, groggy and confused. Was she not at home? Where was this then? Some type of cabin…? Soft snores and the smallest shift on top of her drew her attention away from the unfamiliarity of the room, to the body draped horizontally over her. She stared down, eyes bulging at the back rising and falling in a comfortable slumber.

The covers she had crawled under last night were tangled messily halfway under and halfway on top of them, one of her pillows cradled under her bedmate’s head as he held it snuggly. A golden tail poking from his pajama pants twitched every so often.

Memories came rushing back, and (Y/N) gasped, trying to sit up to no avail with the considerable weight disproportionately resting on top of her. The hybrid sprawled out over her wriggled, slumbering on.

“Taehyung?” She whispered, trying to free one of her arms from where it was trapped. “Taehyung-ssi, wake up!” (Y/N) patted his back with increasing urgency, peering into his face to see if it was having any effect.

She watched as the dog hybrid’s nose twitched, the hair falling into his eyes fluttering before he burrowed further into the pillow he was snuggling. Was he really that comfortable sleeping so awkwardly? His legs were stiff as a board over the side of the bed!

(Y/N) wiggled her toes restlessly under the covers, wondering if trying to roll him up was worth a shot. Any minute, she would have to make her way to the bathroom as she did every morning. Giving Taehyung a less gentle shove to the shoulder, and urging him up insistently, she listened as he exhaled deeply. (Y/N)’s chest lifted in relief.

It sounded like he was waking up at last. The light feeling was short-lived, the grown dog hybrid lifting his head to stare blearily in either direction, then shifting on her lap to make himself more comfortable. He curled his feet into the bed, now resting against her with his arms banded around her torso and his head just below her chest.

“Mmm…” (Y/N) sucked in a breath at the contented hum. At least someone was relaxed, she thought sarcastically.

The tentative knock that came not a second too soon had her squirming to sit up. “(Y/N)…?” Hoseok. He must be an early riser. She never could sleep in when she was in a new place, but when she had nowhere to be, she didn’t exactly pop right up to go on a run. “Are you up?”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) cleared her throat, glancing down to the snoozing hybrid, who didn’t seem inclined to get up in the least. “I’m up.”

“Do you mind if I come in?”

(Y/N) almost nodded at the closed door like a dummy. “Sure, that’s fine.” Maybe he could help get Taehyung up and off her.

Hoseok didn’t waste any time entering, poking his face in first and greeting her with a lovely smile. (Y/N) fidgeted, awkwardly waving as a little self consciousness trickled in. He looked so well rested, his skin appearing smooth and moisturized, and his long-sleeved black shirt and sweatpants giving him a certain loungewear chic she didn’t think she could pull off.

“Uh, hi…” she said, lowering her still raised hand.

Hoseok’s eyes swept over the sight of Taehyung curled into her, the rumpled sheets, and her dazed expression, one of his eyebrows rising. “Aish, this one. So this is where he was. I sort of had a feeling…”

Approaching, the older hybrid stopped near the edge of the bed, bending over and resting his hands on the younger’s sides. (Y/N) watched as he spidered his fingers across Taehyung’s ribs. “Taehyung-ssi,” he said in a loud whisper. “Calling Mr. Kim Taehyung. It’s time to get up, let’s go.”

Taehyung sucked in a deep breath, expelling it in a chuff as Hoseok continued to tickle him awake. (Y/N) shivered at the warm breath it caused to ghost over her slightly exposed collarbone. She had done up all but the top two buttons on the pajama top Jimin had let her borrow, comfortably toasty throughout the night. Now she wondered how much her unexpected company contributed. Exactly when did he crawl into bed with her anyway? In the middle of the night? The wee hours of the morning?

“Hyung,” Taehyung rumbled. “Ten more minutes, please?”

“Sorry, I can’t,” Hoseok chuckled. “Do you realize where you are?” Shaking his head, he began addressing her, “He’s used to sleeping with us at night. Our Taehyungie likes holding someone while he sleeps.”

“Ahh,” was all she could say, taking in that information. So it was likely an honest mistake. He probably sleepwalked from wherever he was and thought he was climbing in beside one of his packmates.

(Y/N) watched Taehyung’s ears become animated, lifting as much as they were able before he peeled his face away from where he had buried it in her shirt, practically yawning in her face with his eyes closed. (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh a little to herself, even if she still wished she wasn’t trapped in this somewhat embarrassing predicament.

“(Y/N)…” he muttered, blinking at her, “Good morning.” (Y/N) gulped, hoping they didn’t hear it—yeah right, with their hybrid hearing of course they did. The raspy sound of his already deep voice vibrated through her from their close proximity. That tired pout and the sleepy blue puppy stare created a full-on smoulder. She doubted he even knew he was doing it, but there was no denying its effects, her stomach all aflutter.

“Ye-Yeah, morning.”

“Get up,” Hoseok reminded, patting his thigh. Taehyung obediently rolled off of her, sprawling on his back on the other side of the bed, kicking his legs like a kid contemplating if he should get out of bed on a weekend morning. Tilting his head, Hoseok placed a hand on his hip as he stood over them, zeroing in on his fellow canine hybrid.

She had learned last night that he was a coyote, which wasn’t a very common hybrid type in their country last time she checked. That had led to (Y/N) wanting to ask questions, but knowing her, they’d come out sounding far too straightforward given her status as barely-an-acquaintance to these men. “You know, it’s not nice to get in bed with someone without asking Taehyungie.”

Taehyung sat up, crossing his legs. “But I sleep with everyone else in our family all the time,” he pointed out, evident bemusement coloring his tone. Wait, did he feel comfortable getting in bed with her because he already saw her as one of them? In spite of herself, (Y/N) melted a little more for this dog hybrid’s endearing innocence.

“That’s different,” the coyote explained patiently. “(Y/N)’s still getting to know us, so she might not feel comfortable with that.”

Taehyung rounded on her, eyes widening and guilt overtaking his features. “Oh,” he muttered, ears drooping. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think of that…I just…I came to tell you goodnight after the hyungs finished scolding me, but you were already asleep. I just thought I’d sit with you for a while in case you felt restless sleeping in a new place. I must have dozed off too.”

“Well…I guess yesterday was a long one for everyone.” (Y/N) heard herself saying.

Taehyung perked up, grinning in agreement. “I knew you’d understand.” he sighed.

“Ohh,” The coyote hybrid watching on stretched the word, (Y/N) finding it hard to tell if he meant it reproachfully. “Careful about giving into him too much. The next thing you know, he’ll have you wrapped around his finger.” warned Hoseok, though his eyes had grown softer, knowing.

(Y/N) stared at Taehyung, who was still the picture of innocence, some of his hair sticking up on one side. Yeah, she could definitely see how that could happen.

~~

(Y/N) glanced over at the dog hybrid, who was staring back at her expectantly. She had gone to the bathroom to relieve herself, washed her face and brushed her teeth with a spare toothbrush (they stocked up on supplies just for guests), only to wander back to Jungkook’s bedroom and find Taehyung still waiting there.

She blinked, “Um, hey…”

He was still in his pajamas, sprawled on his belly with his arms around a pillow. “Hi,” he returned, tail beginning to wag.

Noticing they were alone—it was hard not to with the way his deep blues zeroed in on her—(Y/N) rubbed her neck. “Where’s Hoseok-ssi?”

“Oh, Hobi-hyung went to wake up the others.” He explained, rolling onto his back and staring at her upside down. “He’s the only one who can wake up Yoongi without getting growled at.”

(Y/N) hummed in understanding. Getting a wake-up call every morning from someone who seemed like the embodiment of sunshine wouldn’t be so bad.

“By the way, your phone rang while you were gone.” Taehyung pointed to where her cellphone rested on the nightstand, and (Y/N) gasped.

“My dad! I forgot to call him last night.” She hurried to scoop it up, seeing the battery was low after a night of it not being on the charger, but nevertheless there was enough juice to make a call. “He probably thinks something happened.” Nightly calls had been their routine since she moved out, something that helped them both adjust.

(Y/N) absently sat on the bed and pressed the contact she probably called more than any other. It only took a ring for her father’s voice to answer, sounding a touch frantic. “Hello? (Y/N)?”

“Hi, Papa. Good morning.”

“Aish, ‘good morning’ she says. This kid of mine worried me half to death.”

“I know, I’m sorry…” (Y/N) fidgeted with the drawstrings of her pajamas, “I swear it wasn’t intentional…I just lost track of time while I was out yesterday, and then the weather got bad, so I stayed with some…friends.” That was believable enough, right? Taehyung, who had edged closer and closer, leaned into her phone.

“Hi (Y/N)’s dad.”

Blushing, (Y/N) switched her phone to the opposite hand and cradled it to her ear, despite knowing he could probably still hear everything. The dog hybrid snickered.

“What, who was that? I didn’t think the friend you spent the night with was a man…”

“About that…”

“Wait, is this your way of telling me you’re seeing someone?” Her dad asked quietly. “It’s alright, you know. You’re a young lady living on your own and I know it gets lonely without Ha-Kun.” He said gently. “You don’t have to be coy with me. Papa supports you—”

“No, Papa!” (Y/N) quickly tried to regain control of the conversation as her father fell further and further into the wrong idea. “He’s a friend. Just a friend.” She shot Taehyung a quick glare as she noticed his eyes held no shortage of amusement at her expense.

“Okay, okay, message received.” he assured her, “But, if you do meet some new people, I think that’d be great for you. As long as it brings you happiness I’m on board.”

“Thanks, Papa. I love you.”

“I love you too. Be careful out there today. It might not be actively snowing but there’s plenty from the flurry last night as I’m sure you know.”

“I’ll take it easy. I don’t think I have any assignments to get to today anyway. It’ll likely be quiet.”

“Good. You deserve a rest. Call me if you want to talk, okay?”

“Same goes for you.” (Y/N) replied. The hybrid beside her was all but squirming as the call ended, causing her to raise a brow in bemusement. “What?”

“I like him already.”

(Y/N) was a little taken aback at how matter-of-fact he was about it. “…Yeah?”

“Yeah, he sounded nice. And he raised you. I like you, so I’d probably like him too.”

Part of her wanted to hide her face in her hands. It was sweet, but he said these things so candidly, it was a little hard to take. (Y/N) didn’t think she was particularly easy to fluster but maybe being around this group of hybrids was teaching her things she didn’t know about herself.

~~

The scent from the kitchen was so mouth-watering, it was enough to make a person take a deep breath in and curl their toes. (Y/N) stood at the threshold of the room as Taehyung sauntered in and immediately latched onto Jimin, who didn’t seem startled in the least. Jin was busy at the stove, but looked up and greeted her kindly when he saw her standing there.

“(Y/N)! Don’t be a stranger.” he called out, “Breakfast is almost finished.”

Jimin angled himself so he could see her, wings twitching as Taehyung nuzzled into his neck. “You are staying for breakfast, right?”

“Sure!” She chirped, her shoulders bouncing in a shrug. The young woman was learning. These hybrids were persuasive. And if she had turned down eating with them for the sake of politeness, all that would’ve happened is they’d get pouty about it. This saved them all some extra steps. “Breakfast…sounds good. I’m pretty hungry this morning.”

“You’re in for a treat then. Hyung’s making his cinnamon roll pancakes.” Namjoon informed her from his spot at the counter.

(Y/N)’s stomach gave a long gurgle that had most of the men in the room chuckling. It was embarrassing, sure, but could they blame her? Pancakes were a novelty she hardly ever had, unless she went to visit her dad for a weekend. Since she was used to starting her days early, (Y/N) often had to make whatever she had on hand that could be eaten on the go suffice. Sometimes that was an energy bar and a cup of coffee, sometimes it was toast with jam and something leftover from the night before.

Before she had a chance to voice her enthusiasm, the front door clattered open, a cold gust blowing in that made her yelp. Turning, they watched as Hoseok bounced in, pulling Yoongi by the hand. Both were dressed in winter coats with scarves and hats, but being that Yoongi’s species was perfectly at home in the cold, (Y/N) had to wonder if he needed it. Of course, maybe it was different without his fur. He could be just as susceptible to chill as anyone else—

“Hi family,” Hoseok cooed, “Hi again (Y/N).”

“Hi Hobi,” The other hybrids in the kitchen greeted him fondly.

“Hi Hoseok.” (Y/N) added, laughing to herself. Some people might find his boundless energy annoying, but there was just something about it you couldn’t help but lean into.

“All the animals are fed.” Yoongi announced, not bothering to do much more than nod in her direction when they met eyes. His hair was in his eyes, thanks to the hat, but he looked half-asleep on his feet. Something told her he wasn’t the early riser his packmate clearly was. The yawn he barely managed to stifle behind his glove confirmed that.

“How’s Jilju?” Taehyung asked, lifting his face up.

“Still moody.” Hoseok reported, lips turning down.

“Jilju?” (Y/N) had to assume that was one of their animals, but curiosity prompted her to figure out what kind. Although the meaning of the name was a bit of a giveaway.

“Our horse.” Jimin clarified. Yes, (Y/N) patted herself on the back for her accurate mental guess. “Jungkook’s horse really. They basically grew up together. He named her and everything.”

“She can be a little fussy from time to time, but usually she’s pretty easygoing. Nothing like what she’s been lately. Now she’s like a whole different animal. We can barely get near her.” Jin shook his head, flipping some of the pancakes on his spatula.

That seemed to bring everyone’s mood down.

“Then maybe…she misses Jungkook?” (Y/N) ventured timidly. Putting the pieces together, it seemed he’d been somewhat reclusive since they lost their caregiver. Her heart went out to him, a hybrid she hadn’t even met. Losing Ha-Kun had felt like it would shatter her some days. Grieving could get lonely, even with a good support system.

“I think he still goes out and sees her when we’re not around. I can always catch traces of his scent near her stable when it’s my turn to feed her. He’s probably confiding more in her than us right now.” Namjoon sighed.

(Y/N) didn’t want to risk offending them, but that was good that horse and hybrid at least still had their bond in the middle of the sudden change in their lives. “Oh…then is it unrelated…?”

“We’ve had the same vet that’s been treating the animals since before Gramps adopted us come out and take a look at her. As far as he can tell it’s not anything physical.” The wolfdog continued.

A lightbulb suddenly flickered to life above her head, “If it’s alright with all of you, I could check her over myself?” She offered, “You know, with my abilities. Sometimes that’s all it takes to figure out what’s wrong.”

“Would you?” Jin gasped. “That’s so sweet of you, (Y/N).”

“How much?” Yoongi asked, all business.

“No, I…I wasn’t planning to charge.” She waved her hands at the mountain lion. “It’s a free consultation. You let me stay the night and borrow clothes and fed me without asking for a single won. So let me return the favor.”

“Then I’ll come with you.” Namjoon got up, taller than she remembered him being the night before. That was probably just the fact that she was in a new place and panicking taking precedence back then. “If I’m being honest, I’m a little curious. I never thought I’d meet anyone with magic, so would it be too much trouble to watch you in action?”

“Nah, it’s cool.” (Y/N) agreed. “I get that request all the time. But if I can be honest, it might be a lot less exciting than you’re picturing. My power’s not as flashy as some others out there.”

“Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” Namjoon tilted his head, smirking lightly.

“Before you drag her out there, why doesn’t someone let her borrow a coat and some boots?” Jin suggested, now scrambling eggs. “Sorry, I washed your clothes but they’re still in the dryer.”

(Y/N) warmed at how thoughtful Jin continued to be to her. She would have had no trouble simply putting on her slightly wrinkled clothes from the previous day and washing them when she returned to her apartment. They really were treating her like a guest, and not just a random human that’d blown onto their doorstep.

“She can use mine!” Taehyung was jogging away before anyone could stop him.

“Get her one of my hats, or Jimin’s!” Jin called out, “Ours don’t have holes for our ears, remember?”

It was still a bit hard to believe those were the real thing, and not realistic headbands or something.

For the time being, she really was in a whole new world. And yet, the hospitality of these hybrids and the coziness of their home made it feel partially familiar.

~~

In her career, (Y/N) had helped a wide variety of animals, domestic and exotic, aquatic and desert dwellers. There would always be a special place in her heart for barnyard creatures. Horses and goats and pigs and chickens were among her favorites to work with. Sure, she got her fill of dealing with cats and dogs and sometimes the occasional chinchilla or sugar glider in the city. But driving out to the country, getting that first fresh, twangy breath of air…it was hard to beat.

In wintertime, the smell of honeycomb and freshly mowed grass didn’t drift to her on the wind, but stepping into a warm barn still did it for her. The musk of horse and the sweet scent of fresh hay mingled together as she followed Namjoon inside, glancing at the pen with several goats prancing and eating, then at some very plump and sleepy pigs across from them. The singular stall containing a horse was up ahead, a faint whinny coming from the one and only Jilju.

She was a proud mare, (Y/N) could tell just by looking at her. And oh, was she beautiful. Her mane was silvery blond and shiny, her coat well-kept and her eyes lively and intelligent.

Her nostrils flared as she breathed in the newcomer, head bobbing. “Hey there, Jilju,” Namjoon held up a hand tentatively, not putting it too close to her face. “It’s just me. This is (Y/N). She’s here to see if she can help you.”

The horse danced back and forth in her stable, nickering as (Y/N) walked closer.

“Hello,” she waved, bowing to the horse as she did to all animals when she first made their acquaintance on the job. “It’s like he said. I’m interested in helping you if I can.” She held both hands out in front of her, though the sleeves of Taehyung’s coat nearly swallowed them. “May I?”

There was a beat of silence, the horse staring them down, and Namjoon glancing between them unsurely. Finally, Jilju neighed, stepping away from the stall door. (Y/N)’s heart fluttered with relief, casting a triumphant smile at Namjoon, who nodded in approval. Moving carefully, in case Jilju changed her mind about (Y/N) being in her space, the young woman unlocked the stall and slid in. The hybrid waited just outside, prepared in case he needed to intervene. Jilju paced, nickering restlessly as (Y/N) joined her.

“I’ve heard you’ve been a little temperamental lately. They’re worried about you.” she said softly. “They told me you’re normally very sweet.”

The horse stopped her movement, eyeing (Y/N) carefully. When she was still, (Y/N) touched her forehead using just two fingers. She wasn’t unnerved by the hand, though she tensed momentarily.

“Whoa,” she heard Namjoon mutter, but kept her focus where it was needed.

As she got a peek into the animal’s muddled emotional state, (Y/N) chewed her lip, considering her next question. “So…you’re frustrated. You feel powerless.”

Jilju neighed, and (Y/N) kept going. “I’ve been there too.” Remembering what Namjoon had said about Jungkook confiding in his friend, she decided to hazard a guess. “Is it because someone close to you is hurting so much, and you can’t help him?”

The animal pawed at the ground, her strong neck bobbing as she whinnied through her teeth. “Watching someone you love go through the toughest time of their life does that to you. So does loss. It sounds like you lost someone who cared about everyone and everything on this farm.” She stroked the mare’s hair out of her eyes. “But you’re not losing Jungkook.” (Y/N) stated.

“Not really. I bet him being able to tell you things he doesn’t feel ready to tell anyone else yet has helped him more than you know. You’re his loyal friend. He knows you love him, and that’s why he can come to you. But please don’t take on all that grief and feel like you have to keep it.” An image of nights whispering her truths in the dark to Ha-Kun bubbled to the front of her mind, and (Y/N) felt her lip start to tremble as she sucked in a deep breath. No, she was not going to go down that road right now. This wasn’t about her. “Then…Jungkook might think he’s just burdening you by confiding.”

The horse snuffed indignantly, as if disputing (Y/N), telling her that she could never see it that way. “I know, I know. Just saying.” She patted Jilju’s head. “By the way…are you sure that’s everything?”

Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Namjoon’s ears go erect, alert as he mumbled “what do you mean?”

“You’re restless and protective, but is there more than one reason?” (Y/N) asked, addressing the mare. A flood of affection swamped (Y/N) and made her fingers tingle. It wasn’t directed at her, and something told her it wasn’t entirely directed at the hybrid boy she was so fond of. Could it be…?

“Namjoon?” She asked.

“Hm?”

“How far’s your closest neighbor?”

“About five miles?” She could hear the strong note of bemusement in those three words alone.

“Do they keep horses too?”

“Actually yeah, they’ve got a few.” He definitely did not see where she was going with her line of inquiry.

“Well, has Jilju ever been around any of them?”

“One broke out and wandered here shortly before we lost Gramps. We didn’t realize it until the next morning though. Why are you…oh.”

(Y/N) nodded, beaming as she stroked her knuckles down the mare’s neck. “Jilju’s a little cranky because she’s expecting.”

“Wow I…that’s great!” Namjoon blinked. “I think.”

“She’s happy, so I’d say it is.” (Y/N) moved slowly down the mare’s body, peering at her side. There was no obvious protrusion just yet. The veterinarian likely had missed the signs before because she wasn’t all that far along. It’s just that everything’s been a bit stressful with the sudden shift. If it’s one thing animals pick up on well, it’s when things are off.”

“I see,” he hung his head, tail drooping pitifully. “Sorry, Jilju. We all care about you as much as Jungkook.” He told her. “We should have known soon—”

“Don’t be sorry.” (Y/N) soothed. “She’s not really upset you didn’t pick it up. It’s probably just stress and hormones.”

“We’ll make sure you get enough to eat now that I know.” Namjoon promised, entering the stall for the first time. Jilju seemed far less antsy than she had been before, letting the hybrid come and press a hand against her neck. “And we’ll have the vet come out for wellness checks, and I’ll get out your favorite blanket, and—”

Jilju whickered, and (Y/N) giggled at Namjoon’s befuddled expression, his eyes wide. “I think she’s saying she appreciates you looking out for her, but try not to go overboard.”

The wolfdog chuffed, “It’s not me you should worry about. Wait until Jungkook finds out he’s gonna be an uncle.”

~~

Something about today was strange, a little exhilaration coursing through his veins. It wasn’t much, but it made him feel more inclined to do…something than he had been since Gramps died.

So he got up at a reasonable time, brushed his teeth and combed his hair. Next came a nice, hot shower, after which he threw on some sweats and a hoodie. There were voices filtering up from downstairs, so he knew he wasn’t the only one awake.

Judging by the aroma in the air, it was time to eat. He missed that. Everyone sitting around happily digging in and playfully bickering over passing dishes. There was just…one person missing now, which was why he hadn’t been able to bring himself to go down and sit among them for meals for over a week.

Whatever stirred him into being proactive today was also guiding him down the stairs on quiet, sure feet.

The warmth hit him full force then, and an overwhelming sense of longing and remorse. Had he really been worrying everyone when they all were facing the same pain he was? That was…that was wrong, selfish.

He had always been selfish, and they let him. But…

The front door opened, his ears lifting as much as they were able. Namjoon stepped in, brushing snow out of his black and silver hair, jaw going slack when he laid eyes on the younger. “J-Jungkook!” His dark eyes were dancing and delighted, so much relief pouring off him the young hybrid’s chest squeezed. He felt even worse.

There wasn’t much time to dwell on that feeling, because his hyung was moving closer, and there was a second figure following him out of the cold. Someone he did not know. Who definitely was not a part of their little family. She stumbled in, tripping more than walking forward as she shut the door and just barely managed to catch herself before face planting. It was probably because those boots were too big for her. Boots he kind of recognized. Yoongi’s feet weren’t huge but they weren’t her size either.

Taehyung’s coat she was swimming in, and the beanie on her head from Jimin fell into her eyes a little as she looked down, still not paying him any mind. Humans didn’t have the same instinctive alertness that they did, though, and there was no doubt to the rabbit that she was one.

“(Y/N)…” Namjoon said, drawing her attention up from the buttons she was fumbling with. The girl’s head whipped up instantly, her eyes large as they cast their curious depths at his hyung, then slid to him. “This is the last member of our pack, Jungkook.”

**TAGLIST IS CLOSED**: @luciferslvst @hesmyphenominiall @taradevonne @childfmoonn @stcrwhiz @ghostkat23 @mochimommy2002 @colourlyhobbit @bunzom @lore-lover @juju-227592 @junhaven @iconicgguk @kawaiikpoplover268 @cestlabellemort @squishyturtle @singukieee @jcrml @ryumirae @kadencialthings @neyneythepainaway @emu007 @mojojojothegreat @daydreambrliever @dinorahrodriguez @cosmos-d-clouds @blackrockshooter780 @hydroyaksha @tinyoonsblog @toughbook @4evahevah @7dilemma7 @yoursoontobestepmom @jiminie-08 @anacbm @black-rose-29 @malewife-supremacy @do-as-you-dont @yoonseok-jjang @mageprincess7 @pipminnie @jiminisaslytherin @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @kodzuskook @doublebunv @nonbinaryidiot @silscintilla @amarokofficial @bangtanxberm @kimsaerom @aurorasymphonies

Author’s Note: Between this chapter and the last I had two slots on my taglist open up since those no longer seem to be active blogs and I cannot find any new url link. So I added the two people who reached out to me immediately after my taglist closed to be fair, in case either of you is wondering why you were tagged if you were told the taglist closed. For the future, if anyone plans to change their url and wants to be sure their new url can still be tagged, just lmk. Or if you for any reason no longer want to be tagged at some point, just let me know that too, thanks! And you know I was already planning to start the chapter like this, but then I watched a video of Hobi waking the members up through the years and it was so so cute that it pushed me towards doing this even more. Also I finally got to add in Jungkook, officially. Sorry it took so long, but he’s here now and that’s what matters. 😌

#home calls the heart #ot7 x reader #bts x reader #hybrid!yoongi #hybrid!jungkook #hybrid!jimin #hybrid!hoseok #hybrid!jin #hybrid!namjoon #hybrid!taehyung #poly!bts #ot7 bangtan #bts fanfic #namjoon x you #hoseokxyou #yoongixyou #jin x you #jiminxyou #taehyungxyou #jungkook x you #hybrid au #hybrid bts