#... the water of the womb. I refuse to see them as anything else. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sparklingchim · 3 years

Text

better together; f | pjm

pairing: jimin x wife!reader

word count: 1.9k

genre: fluff, dad!jimin, married couple, slice of life au

warnings: oc is pregnant, nothing else unless you hate children ?

summary: just a casual day with your husband jimin and your little boy jihoon.

a/n: hello! this is a fic i wrote a while ago and thought about sharing it now🥰 there are a few more chapters that i wrote in that universe but they still need to be edited. i hope you like it!!❤

masterlist

Kick...kick...kick...

,,Why are you so active today, my little bean?" you coo, rubbing your belly and feeling the tiny kicks from your 7 month old baby girl in your womb.

,,Baby?" you hear the sound of your 2 year old little baby boy, who is sitting next to you, on his high baby chair. His pastel blue elephant bib is draped around his neck, already soiled with the chicken soup rice porridge your feeding him - even though he only ate approximately 3 spoons of it yet.

,,Your baby sister is moving," you tell him and he excitedly stretches his grabby hands, aiming for your bump, completely ignoring the spoon that he was about to latch his mouth on.

Of course his short chubby arms can't quite reach it, so you grab him from his baby stool and place him on your lap. He automatically brings both his hands on your stomach, roaming them all over your bump and anticipating the movements of his baby sister.

Both of your hands have a firm hold on his back and keep him safe on your lap, because Jihoon tends to get dynamic and thrilled at random times - especially when it had something to do with his still unborn sister. Jihoon loved feeling her kicks, even going so far to refuse to sleep sometimes and clinging onto your womb to not miss anything his sister does.

,,Ohhh," his stunned voice breaks the silence, his eyes going wide as he feels his sibling moving. You laugh at his reaction, one hand pushing his soft hair from his forehead.

When you attempt to sit him back into his baby chair, he whines in displeasure, putting pressure on your stomach with his small hands. You sigh in defeat, not wanting to make him sad because you don't let him rub your belly.

For a few seconds you let him be, granting him the glee he earns from being the closest as possible as he is able to be with his sister. The way Jihoons whole focus is solely fixated on his baby sister makes your heart swell in pure fondness. He couldn't wait for her birth just like Jimin and you.

You don't forget to feed him though. You grab a spoonful of Jihoon's porridge behind him and hold the spoon in front of his lips, waiting for him to open his tiny plump lips - that he definitely got from his dad - but his eyes are remain on your bump, not caring about the food presented in front of him. You slightly raise your hips up, causing his body to bounce on your lap to draw his attention towards you - but nothing. Jihoon simply doesn't care.

,,Jihoon-ah," you scold him with a stern tone since he's obviously ignoring you.

He looks up at you, with those big brown eyes and your heart lights up at his innocent face.

You hold the spoon closer to his mouth, but still, he doesn't attempt to part his lips, only backing away with his head.

,,No," he says and pushes your hand away with his much smaller hand. You quirk an eyebrow up at his behaviour.

You don't get to berate him again, when you hear the door opening and then closing shut again. You both immediately get excited - well, your excitement isn't really shown outside compared to Jihoon, who seeks to get off your lap and eagerly wants to rush off to his dad. His feet slowly sink down to the floor with your protecting hands around his little body and then his chubby legs sprint to the hallway, desperately wanting to greet his dad.

You hope he won't fall, because that accident happened a lot of times already - always ending up with some sobbing, teary eyes and clinging onto either Jimin or you. Your little boy let his delight go too overboard sometimes and only reserved little care into his surroundings. You'd have to teach him to be more aware of that.

,,Hello little guy," you hear Jimin's voice echoing from the hall.

,,Daddy!" Jihoon exclaims, giggling afterwards because Jimin probably spooned him up and snuggled his face into Jihoon's neck.

You just sit there, a warm smile on your lips, and don't make an attempt to get up to greet your husband too, because your feet are killing you today.

A few seconds later, Jimin enters the kitchen with Jihoon in his arms. Jihoon wrapped his arms and leg around Jimin's upper body, like a little koala bear and you chuckle at that sight. Jimin tilts his head down and places a tender kiss to your lips.

Even though Jimin was only away for 3 hours - because he had some meeting at the company - you missed his presence at home. And I seems like your not the only one who missed him, since Jihoon is practically glued to his daddys body.

,,You three are good?" Jimin asks, taking a seat beside you, while rubbing your belly in soft strokes.

,,We're all fine.", you assure him with a sincere smile. Jimin kisses you again. You just look so adorable right now.

You look at the back of Jihoon's head. Jimin's hand is placed on his back to hold him closely.

,,But Jihoonie still has to eat, right?" you say and look expectantly at his back, waiting for a reaction to your words. Jimin's gaze shoot to Jihoon's - still full - bowl and frowns.

Jihoon wiggles his body and then muffles a tiny 'No' into Jimins shoulder.

Jimin chuckles but then quickly asks ,,What's the matter, baby?" He softly nudges Jihoons head with his shoulder, wanting to see his face. Jihoon looks up to his dad, his lips forming a little pout.

,,You're shirt is stained with his food.", you giggle, after seeing the mess that Jihoons bib caused on Jimin dark shirt. He peers his eyes to the stain but doesn't say anything to that. Jimin and you were already used to dirty clothes since your little boy couldn't stop creating a mess every five minutes.

,,How come you don't want to eat anymore when it seems like you apparently enjoyed it?" Jimin asks the little boy.

You sigh and stand up. Jihoon needs to eat something and if he won't continue eating this meal, then you're going to cook something else. He was already fussy when you sat him down on the baby chair earlier and you don't want to deal with whines if your going to resist on making him eat that food.

You groan slightly when your feet carries your whole body weight and instantly place your hand on your side to steady yourself. Your bump got really big.

,,No, no, baby. I've got this, sit down. I can cook something for him," Jimin says, standing up with Jihoon in his arms and puts a hand on your shoulder. You look up at him, wanting to say that it's okay, but he's faster.

,,Your feet hurt, right? Let me run you a bath, love," he says, putting Jihoon on his baby chair and whispering ,,Wait for daddy, okay?" Jimin places a quick kiss on his head. Then he bends down a bit and you feel one of his hand on the back of your knees.

,,I can walk Jimin, don't carry me," you retort, your weight making you a little insecure. Of course he doesn't listen to you and in one swift motion your in his arms. He naturally watched out not to discomfort you or the baby, while proceeding to lifting you in his arms. You hear Jihoon giggling behind you, entertained by the sight of his mommy getting carried by his daddy like a baby.

,,Your dad is so strong, Jihoonie," Jimin calls out while walking to the bathroom.

Jihoon only laughs more at that comment yelling a ,,Me too!"

,,You're saying I'm fat?" you ask hurt, swatting his chest.

,,No, no! Of course you're not fat, baby. I'm just playing with Jihoonie," he panics, looking worried and concerned, because he knows that your hormones are getting the better hand of you these days. But it weren't your hormones this time. You almost laugh at his panicked face, but you decide to hold it in and not try to sooth him. Maybe you just have a little demon inside you that likes teasing Jimin, but you think it's fine for all those times he used to tease you for something.

,,You better be," you mutter and feel his lips pressing a soft kiss on your cheek.

He slowly lets you slide of his hold and you sit on the closed toilet lid, watching him as he runs water into the tub. Jimin tests the temperature of the water and hums quietly when he is satisfied with it. Then he puts some liquid inside to create bubbles and a delicious smell.

,,No bath bombs this time, I have to buy some again," Jimin says and you only nod. The fact that he even noticed that there were no bath bombs left made you want to cry. Maybe now the hormones were actually kicking in.

,,Thank you," you answer, never missing a chance to thank him for his care and thoughtfulness he's showing every day.

Jimin turns around, a lovely smile already tugging at his lips and widening once he takes me into sight.

,,You need me to help you?" he asks carefully. You shake your head as an answer.

,,No, go and feed Jihoon, your mini-me is starving," you reply. Jimin rolls his eyes at your exaggeration.

,,My mini-me is not starving," he makes clear and his eyes soften at the cute nickname you both - actually you - created for your little baby boy. Jihoon has so many of Jimins features- his nose, his lips and his eye colour are just like Jimins. You both always said how you wanted tiny replications of both of you running around the house once you'd get married, but now that it actually happened, it's scary how a tiny Jimin waddles though the house, always giggling after he'd done something he'd surely wasn't allowed to do.

,,Mommy!", Jihoon exclaims in that moment and you raise a brow up.

,,Hurry up, he's waiting," you say, swaying both your hands to shoo him away.

,,He just yelled your name. Shouldn't I be the one he's missing after coming home from a meeting?", he pouts, but doesn't wait for an answer as he leaves the bathroom.

You smile at his question. Suddenly you feel the need to snuggle your little Jihoon in your arms since he shouted your name, because he's alone, but you have to take a little break from today and his daddy is on his way to him anyway.

,,Daddy's coming!", you hear Jimin shout and you start discarding your clothes on the floor.

,,No, want mommy!", Jihoon yells back and you start laughing.

Apparently Jihoon wasn't satisfied with anything he got today.

1K notes · View notes

deluluass · 3 years

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misericordia

It's finally here T^T Here's to reaching 100+ followers! Thank you so much everyone!!

Content Warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; somnophilia; description of dead bodies; includes some elements of cosmic horror; dystopian-ish au; biblical references/imagery; angel! Ushijima

To name is a barren tree: fruitless and, ultimately, the workings of this kind.

The earth will soon be without form, and void; and darkness shall remain the face of the deep.

The Spirit of God no longer moves in the face of the waters.

Names are for nothing.

But, for any cause done here, to name is essential. As it was in the beginning, when there was still a beginning (but it has not ended yet, so the beginning shall still stay), to name had been the first task.

So when asked for a name, the mouth was able to conjure:

“Ushijima Wakatoshi,” the body said.

And as it is the way of the Created, the body became he.

And as it is the way of the Created, proof was immediately demanded for the name.

And as it is the way of the Created, once found on the chest, Ushijima Wakatoshi was then welcomed.

You weren’t there when the world ended.

In fact, so, too, was your father's father. The sky had cracked open and the oceans had already split up the old lands for as long as anyone could remember.

Before the city became a city in truth, the people had just been strangers, seeking shelter after everything fell apart, only to be abandoned by those who’d promised protection.

That didn't mean, however, that things got better for your lot once someone swept in and established order and peace and stability and whatever it is those at the top had to say to justify them being there.

If your father were to be believed, you had been sleeping in your mother’s womb, still a tiny beating heart, when the longest winter happened ("winter"; they still called it that when there had been minute differences between hot and cold).

Supplies were short; food was scarce; so when you finally clawed your way into a world breathing its last, your mother couldn't help but bleed into the sheets until your cry outlived hers.

But your father barely recognized you during his final days. That’s why when your neighbors call you a liar for saying “I was born on a Spring,” you shrug it off and think you might as well have been born on a Spring.

There’s no way of knowing. The story had always changed every time you asked him.

Sometimes he blamed you, sometimes he told you it’s not your fault. Nothing you could do about it. Spring it is, then; you told yourself.

Spring always looked so... different, in the drawings Granny made, anyway.

No one here actually knows her age. Granny had always been Granny; as permanent to this place as the walls enclosing the city.

She rarely left her quarters, that crone, and could barely stand on her own without your help. Worse, she could no longer see. What use is a blind artist, the others would laugh.

It’s their loss, you’d retort, mocking her like that. Because then they’d miss the way her gnarled and knobby hands would glide with unwavering purpose if you asked her to, strokes bold and not a space wasted.

“You never learn,” she croaked once finished, jostling the wrinkled piece of paper to your lap. “Why throw away your rations for this piece of junk?”

Granny retched, “Incurable fool.”

At this point, she would grumble about suffering in the old pig’s (her words, not yours) kitchens for nothing, and always, without fail, you’d feel a smile break on your face. It hurt, honestly, but after an entire day of frowning over the dishes you had to wash and the floors that needed scrubbing and all the other orders yelled your way, it was worth it, anyway.

“I know you’re laughing. My ears still work, mind you.”

You felt your belly shake as you giggled, brushing the paper with worn fingers, staring open-mouthed at the piece before you.

“This is amazing, Granny,” you sighed.

“Idiot,” she repeated. “It’s the same thing as the one before. And the one before that.”

And for good measure, Granny added, “Idiot. Not like you hadn’t seen that one.”

When all you’d done was take her hand in yours and place a pack of food along with a thin roll of paper in her feeble grasp, Granny finally asked, “Why do you keep coming back here, girl? Asking for the same thing.”

There wasn’t any of that surly frown now.

And looking at her like that, without the crabbiness that sharpens her features, that oddly makes her look younger and in control of herself, you find that you don’t have an answer this time. Arrested by the realization that her shoulders slumped lower than you’d thought. And that she’s getting thinner.

“Why?” you whispered back, feeling traces of charcoal stick to your palm.

Maybe it’s because there’s no other way that she’d accept food, unless she does something in return. She kicked you out the first time you intended to give her the ration you’d earned.

(Or maybe it's because you know what they'd do, once they find out she's no longer making trades.)

Why, indeed.

Maybe it’s because you hadn’t really seen things grow before.

You might work at the Governor’s place, at the heart of the city and everything else that matters, but grunt workers like you are prohibited to get anywhere near the farm, let alone actually enter it. So, really, there's no other way of seeing what growth looks like.

Maybe it’s because you can only do that when you witness her in her craft. You really don’t have anything to compare it with, but you’re sure life from soil works the same way.

Everything must come from something. And that something must be quite the artist, if they're anything like Granny.

Birthing roots from the ground of what was once a blank piece of paper with a flick of the wrist; growing into large trunks, strong branches, then into an abundance of leaves and blossoms.

Trees drawn on both sides of the paper, always with a smattering of grass and flowers in the middle. She said they used to grow here, when she was just a girl. And if you begged hard enough, she’d add a stray butterfly fluttering around the corner.

You hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe I just love seeing you, Granny,” you grinned.

“Crock of shit.”

“Really!” You grabbed your knapsack as you stood from your seat, folding the paper with care. “Hey, Granny, guess what? Don’t give me that face— I’ve already saved just enough and you know what that means?”

She snorted.

“Listen,” you pouted. “I’ll finally be able to get those pigments! I heard they don't cost that much and if I trade next-”

“Don’t.”

She tilted her head and faced your way, misty eyes pinning you. "How much does paper cost you?"

You gulped.

Then, with a swiftness that surprised you, she grabbed you by your tattered sleeve and gritted, “I may be the blind one here, but I think I see a lot more clearly than you do. You can sweat and bleed for those pigments, but I will never paint.”

You felt a sting in your eyes as she continued, “I know what you’re doing. And I’d be the greater fool if I let you work yourself to the bone for some pipe dream."

"Content yourself with coal, girl. That’s all you’re gonna get from this place. Dirt and rust and smoke. Go sneak into that damned farm. Go steal some of those fuckers’ riches. In fact, while you’re at it,” she laughed dryly. “Steal them all and run away from here. If you really want to live.”

“Only,” she said, too soft that you had to sit back down to hear her, “Only, stop hoping, my child.”

Her chest wheezed as she breathed, like air passing through the holes of a rundown machine.

You kissed the back of her hand before you left.

The wind howled and threatened to topple you as you walked back to your building, hard rain slapping you across the face when you picked up into a run. They didn’t descend in small drops anymore. As you get older, thunderstorms are to be expected once evening falls, lingering for weeks only to suddenly bring about an irritatingly humid day.

But tonight, the large cavern above that parts the dark, heavy clouds into opposite streams seem to yawn wider, closing itself lower and lower into the earth that you swore someday it’ll devour the city whole.

Mud water in your boots, you grabbed onto your soaked coat and climbed the steps of the decaying piece of slab you call home, mindful that you won’t slip and break your skull against the thick beams, twisted metal jutting out of the corners.

A solitary lamp flickered through the window of the room next to yours. Little Soo-jin must be having nightmares again, you thought with a frown.

You were about to knock on their door when the sirens blared, echoing louder across the city than the boom of lightning, followed by a grating squeal that could only be an opening gate.

Your knuckle froze over the chipped wood.

The last time the alarm rang, the people were greeted by the body of a young council member, brought by a small and wounded troop who’d accompanied him outside the city.

Soo-jin’s mom peered through the murky window, meeting your eyes after both of you stared into the direction of the gate closest to your zone, as if seeking you for an explanation. You only gave her a shrug.

“Someone must have died,” you said.

“No, he’s not dead. That’s why you’re bringing food to his room, aren’t you?”

You stared at the girl stubbornly shaking her head.

“I- I know, but! Didn’t you hear? They said they found him full of bullet holes and I—”

“Even if you’re serving a rotting corpse, as long as Cook orders it, you follow.”

It was admirable that she’s refused for this long. If it were you, you’d have been sacked the moment you opened your mouth to say no. You wiped your hand with the towel next to the sink, having finished the work assigned to you, and watched the ongoing bout in the kitchen.

“Why can’t you just ask the others? Marga’s not doing anything!”

“Marga,” the older woman hissed, “is with the others. Almost everyone is in the meeting room. So if you don’t take your butt up there, I’m gonna have no other choice but to tell Cook.”

You winced. This can’t be good.

You cleared your throat. “I can do it,” you said.

The tray was shoved to you faster than you can drop your raised hand. You would have found it amusing, considering that you’re sure they couldn’t even recognize you, but the idea of being in the same room with a half-alive man does make you feel uneasy.

Not that it’s anything new for you; you nursed your father until the fever took him, after all. You just haven’t lived long enough to get used to it yet. But you steeled yourself and did your job, because it’s not as if you had any choice.

You prepared yourself for anything as you entered one of the many guest chambers. Bullet holes, rotting corpse, entrails held together by stitches.

And when you announced your presence and gripped the tray tighter so as to not spill the soup on the sprawling carpet, it’s not really surprise that caused you to stumble upon your words when you saw the man sitting on the bed.

It’s more of an embarrassment, of sorts.

You must’ve entered the wrong room, you thought. You immediately checked around to make sure no one saw you talk and almost grovel to an actual sculpture.

Because that’s what he was.

The Governor’s estate houses floors and floors of rooms that you hadn't explored yet. But there was one that, if no one would bother to keep track of the workers, you had the habit of sneaking into.

Thinking about what it took for this family to have all those sculptures there hurt your head, so you stopped a long time ago. You chose, instead, to just admire the marble wonders in all their beauty, always looking back down at you with majesty and pride.

Just as he's doing right now.

Chiseled torso wrapped in bandages; sharp jaw that could cut; eyes the color of olives, gazing deep.

"That is for me."

You snapped your head down.

"Huh- uh, yes? Yes!"

His deep voice still rumbled through you.

"Yes, I'm sorry," you muttered, heat rushing to your face as you placed the tray on the table next to him, inflaming when you realized he didn't mean it as a question.

That is for me.

Not a question. A question means you can answer. His words brooked no other response but obedience, reminding you of your place.

Much like those sculptures, every time you'd spent too much time inside the room and you'd get the feeling that you're not supposed to be there, too filthy to be anywhere near what you think is the closest thing to perfection.

And the truth would settle on you like a heavy weight: that no amount of beauty can ever breathe warmth if it cannot live and grow.

The same way that despite the sunshine filtering through the floor to ceiling windows, surrounding him in blinding light as he sat on the bed, you can't shake the impression that this is the coldest this room has ever been, with him here.

So you anticipated his orders; a single word or maybe a glance that would tell you he wants you gone. Just either one of those and you'd run out of this room in a heartbeat.

But neither came. The man (you still didn't know his name) remained silent, staring at the food like they've insulted him specifically, and now he's questioning the collective audacity of the soup, bread, and bowl of fruits laid before him.

Maybe they don't serve those where he came from. He's from the North, after all, made evident by the small eagle etched on his chest, just above a pectoral. The last visiting Northerner you served who also bore that mark threw a rag at you (she missed) for "mixing the bathing oils incorrectly."

You stayed in your position and asked, "Is the food not to your liking?"

He didn't say anything, but he did shift his attention to you.

And what a mistake that was. How does this man go about life with such a severe presence?

"Er..is something..wrong?" you sweated, suddenly fascinated by the vases behind him.

Glaring back at the food, he answered with a deep "no" and breathed out. His large arms rose and fell along with it, straining the bandages around the muscles.

Oh, right. Right.

You perked up. "Do you need help?"

Stepping closer to the table, you gave him a tightlipped smile and a sheepish "excuse me" before taking the spoon in your hand.

You scooped a thick serving of soup, your palm hanging under it, and waited.

And waited.

The man looked at you the same way he looked at the bowl of fruits earlier.

"What are you doing?" he said, gravel-voiced.

You're gonna lose this job.

Why did you think you could feed him like he's an ailing, decrepit old man? Or a literal child? He's built like he commands an army (and he probably does).

You are definitely gonna lose this job.

"I- I'm sorry!"

You jerked away, your hip hitting the table, the impact shaking it and causing the plates and silverware to clatter against each other.

"O-oh no, I'm-" The spoon in your hand fell as you attempted to set things properly, soup spilling to the carpet along with the utensils.

You're gonna lose this job and you're gonna starve to death.

"I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry!"

Dropping to your knee like your life depended on it, you picked up the myriad of similar looking spoons and forks and placed them back on the tray.

You kept your head downwards, bowing as you'd been repeatedly taught, and shut your eyes tightly.

"I thought that you hadn't healed yet and needed help and- and-" you huffed.

"And I thought that I should feed you but- no-no!" You looked at him and flailed your hands in front of you. "No! I didn't mean feed- I meant- I meant no disrespect please forgive me!"

Not a word was spoken in that second that spanned an entire year. But just as you'd accepted that the worst has come, he said:

"Then, feed me."

Wait.

Wait, what?

"I don't.. understand..?"

"Then, feed me," was what he told you. And so matter-of-factly, at that.

So you did, desperate to keep the only thing keeping you alive.

Though your hand trembled and you wished to be anywhere but here— even the wasteland waiting outside the gates, with all its unimaginable threats, seemed like paradise —you took a loaf of bread from the basket and brought it closer to his mouth.

Lines marred his forehead as he chewed. You were about to ask, self-destructive that you are, whether you should get the sweetened roll instead, thinking he found the one in your hand too bland. But you don't have the luxury to risk digging your grave any deeper.

You kept quiet and pointedly removed him from your line of sight, choosing to count the tassels hanging off the canopy instead.

Once he's eaten all that's left of the pastries, you dipped your hand into the bowl of fruits and took a grape in-between your fingers and, as much as you can, you steadied your hand to avoid touching his lips.

It didn't work.

You shuddered at the contact, curling your toes in your boots to avoid squirming.

This has got to be the weirdest day of your entire life.

Not a hint of unease was shown. He continued to close his plump lips around the tip of your fingers and crushed the fruits with pointed canines, making the hair on your body stand on end. What if he bites you? Would you bleed?

The man seemed to like them more than bread. A sense of urgency rose within you as he went through the berries and sliced mangoes like this is the first time he's had them.

Can't say you blame him. The last time you ate something that resembled a fruit, a real fruit, was when Granny persuaded (coerced) a young boy in her complex to steal one from his employer. That boy has a child of his own now.

You felt your mouth water, your stomach growl and command that you take the bowl from him and shovel its contents to your mouth, as you watched him devour the sweet and tangy meat, the smell of it sickening as it is strangely compelling.

He raised his head and met your eyes.

Shit.

The apples, you thought as you looked back down to the tray. They're the only ones left soaking in the bowl, those apples. After this you'd be out of this stuffy room and you'd laugh about this later with Soo-jin and her mom and Granny too if she's not cranky.

You could still feel him staring at you as you fed him a slice, the apple crisp when he took a bite.

Juice trickled down your hand, the sticky extract tickling your arm as it slid to the crook of your elbow, and you were about to wipe it with your other hand, when you felt a wet tongue probe the gap between your fingers.

You gasped. "Sir..!"

You stepped away. Tried to, anyway, but with a firm hand, a hand that's not injured, after all, he gripped your wrist and continued to suck a digit.

"This is- sir!" struggling out of his hold, you pleaded with him to let go, please sir let me go, even as he only looked at you, his eyes dimming when he grabbed your waist to bring you closer.

He licked your hand, lapping at the trail the juice left behind, and when you thought he would release you, he took your hand to pluck another slice from the bowl.

Your legs gave up beneath you, forcing you to sit on his stretched lap, his hard body scorching you through the sheets, as he ate the apple from your palm, slurping the leftovers dripping from it.

"Don't cry," Granny told you once.

"Especially when you feel like crying," she said. "Don't cry."

You'd never really been good at listening, but now, you decided to suck in your breath and keep those tears at bay. You can cry and laugh about all this later.

Because you might be jobless after this, but you will certainly have a damn good story to tell over the fire once you finished kneeing him in the nuts.

So: one.

Breathe.

His teeth scraped your soaked hand.

Two.

You rested your hand on his shoulder.

Three.

You braced your leg, moving it between his thick thighs, and then, as you clutched his bandages, you—

"Ushijima-sama."

The door swung open.

"Pardon the intrusion, but the Council members requested-”

It was Secretary Hara.

“Oh."

Secretary Hara: a lanky, dark haired man with glasses who's always at the Governor's beck and call. He was here, carrying a small stack of papers, and gaping at the scene before him.

You and the esteemed guest. Who's still suckling at your skin. On the bed.

He grinned, full of humor and disgusting. “Well,” he said.

At least you weren't crying.

A question, shared only by the Heavens, began when the Lord fashioned the flesh out of the dust of the ground and said,"You are made in My image and likeness."

It was not their way, before that: to question. (One of them did, once, but that is a different story).

They have no need for questions.

They hold the highest seat, below only to the Creator, unencumbered by the trappings of the earth.

They have no need for questions.

So it remained unasked, lingering in fragments in the House of the Lord.

The question comes to him now.

For the flesh is a cage. It is ephemeral and prone to decay.

It is fitting for this kind to have it, with all their qualities bound to the material world.

You are the very epitome of these.

Graceless. Stumbling like a newborn foal. Too many apologies. Too many questions.

God is not here, he thinks as you insist on asking what does not matter.

“Is the food not to your liking?” and “Is something wrong?” and “Do you need help?”

Indecisive, too. Reneging on your promises. You said you’d feed him and then you said you wouldn’t.

Ushijima Wakatoshi is a mere flesh, locking inside divinity your kind would never understand. Yet he felt its tedious demands gnaw at him when he saw you. Something so impermanent should have no right for constant sustenance.

But he knows, just for this time, that he needs it. That’s why he tells you to feed him, as you said you would. After all, it is your way to serve. And, for all your many inadequacies, God has granted you bread and water and fruit to sate your appetites.

Thus, for as long as he is flesh, he will do as it tells him to.

When it urged for the taste of fruit, for the cloying sweetness of its juice, it is only right that he heeded its call and had his fill.

How dare you object. His light is brighter than yours; God has granted it so (and yet you were given the will that they never had). And even in flesh you are beneath him. You are easily held and defeated.

The ache in his belly did not cease, each gulp he took heightening his senses, shouting for more, more, more as he took you with his tongue. And he realizes that this is what the first of your kind may have felt like when they disobeyed. The first act of betrayal.

(For what is the wrath of God to the cries of the flesh?)

And with that, Ushijima Wakatoshi finds, since donning this useless flesh, that it is not at all easy to gratify.

Not in the least.

There are so many rules in this mansion that even Cook’s effort to batter them on your head could sometimes be futile, given that their number is just as big as this place. But, there is one, among all the convoluted and at times nonsensical decrees, that you are not allowed to forget:

Unless you’re among the core staff, you can never enter the East Wing.

The East Wing is where all the important things happen, see. It goes without saying that someone as lowly as you cannot pollute that hallowed ground.

Today seems to be an exception.

When Cook barked that Secretary Hara wanted you in the East Wing first thing in the morning, you had a feeling that you just might not live to see the next day.

You didn't speak unless spoken to. You didn't look unless told to. The things you should've done much earlier.

"How are you liking the work here so far?"

Secretary Hara pushed the pen to the side and leaned back against the leather swivel chair.

"It's a job," you mumbled, to which he only replied with a breathless chuckle. You didn't see the point in bootlicking any further. Besides, Granny hated that the most; so you avoided doing it as much as you can.

There's only one conclusion for you here, anyway. No matter how severe the punishment. And it's back in your room, with a uniform that needs sewing for a job that you no longer have.

He tapped his fingers against the lacquered table. "You're right," he said. "Work is work. Despite your place in this society."

You wanted to roll your eyes. Secretary Hara has never been any of the workers' favorites (not that any of you had your "favorites," but if you could, you avoided this guy). He had this astonishing effect, too, in which he can actually bring people together. All because everyone hated him.

He's a slimeball, is what he is. If one needed lessons in kissing ass, he was your man.

"Do you know why you're here?"

You're getting fired. End of story. Now can I please just go? is what you want to say. But losing your job doesn't usually take this much time and attention. Normally, it was Cook who'd grunt "You're out" and that was it.

So you shake your head.

"I'm promoting you," he said. "Congratulations."

Somewhere, beneath that condescending smile of his, is a punchline that you're sure he's deliberately keeping from you. Just so he can be the only one who gets to laugh.

"I-" You balled your hand to a fist. "Why?"

He scoffed. "What are they teaching you in that rathole? Honestly."

They taught me not to be rude to people I don't know, you little bitch.

"Drop the coy act, it's okay," he sneered. "It's cheap and it won't work on me."

Oh, now you really want to get fired. If only to kick his teeth in. "That man," Secretary Hara continued. "Ushijima Wakatoshi. You were all over him and you seriously don't know who he is?"

You gritted. "Secretary Hara, what happened- it wasn't- I didn't want it."

But he only gave you that look. As if to say, "Sure. Let's go with that." When it'd pass and the need to pummel him became stronger, he stood up and stepped towards the tapestry draped against the wall.

It was a map, the city a pinprick on the corner. Secretary Hara faced it, dusting the spotless surface, his back to you.

"Ever wonder what keeps us here?" he started, hand still on the map. "This city of ours?"

"The," you licked your lips. Where was he going with this? "The river..?"

Secretary Hara clapped his hands, his voice lilting like he's talking to a toddler as he said, "That's right. That's good. Excellent."

"So you do know some things, after all." His fingers crawled towards the long line of blue stitched beside the city. "And do you wonder what would happen if, say, that river begins to dry?"

You felt your eyes widen. You covered your mouth with a palm.

You're not supposed to know this. Why is he telling you this?

He scratched the thick clump of blue thread and continued, "These great cities. They have their energy; their military."

Your eyes followed his hand, moving farther and farther away from the pallid brown surrounding your city, towards the bright yellow West, stopping at the bright green East. "Some of them are blessed enough to not be surrounded by a literal desert."

Then, with a careful hand, he moved to the very top and said, "And the North…the North has it all."

The North was a sprawling, intricate web of threads, eating away the entire tapestry.

"The Ushijima clan rules the North. Much longer than this city has existed. And they’re so engrossed in their wars that they’d never glance our way if we don't give them at least half of what we make,” he spat. “These great people haven’t had contact with us in years."

Secretary Hara finally turned around, grin still in place. "But now one of them owes his life to us." He walked back to his desk, sitting on its edge. "Perhaps the heavens sent him here."

When you remained silent and looked at him with eyes that you wished had the ability to kill, because you know now what they wanted from you, Secretary Hara only shrugged.

"He asked for your name, actually," he said, tilting his head. "Lucky you. He didn't bother to learn ours."

You stood your ground. "No, sir," you said. "I won't."

He pulled a thin piece of paper from a pile sitting next to him. "You're not gonna do much," he said as he began to read. "Just show him around the city. Be his friend."

Friend.

"But I- No. I can't." You stepped forward. "Please."

He looked away from the paper. "Zone 42. Room 0312."

"What.."

"Granny," he said. "That's what you call her, isn't it?"

No.

"They say that for a blind old lady she's still somehow miraculously trading to keep a roof over her head."

Phantom touches crept to your arm, slick and nauseating like cold sweat.

"You must take it from her. Though you're not related," he said. "Apparently, you're so hardworking, you even work the night shift. When you don't have to."

You released a shaky breath. "I'll..I'll start," you croaked. "I'll start right away, sir."

Secretary Hara folded his arms, victory plastered all over his gaunt face.

"Thank you," he chimed. "I'm glad you understand. It's for your own good too, y'know."

The uniform they gave you chafed against your skin. Tugging at the sleeves did not help, the pristine fabric too coarse and stiff to budge. Your only comfort was the folded paper hidden in your pocket, fading at the edges every time you touched it.

You have to admit, however, that you did look...well, you did look clean. Not as much as him, though. And not just in the sense that he's out of the bandages now. Last you checked, and that had been a few minutes ago, he was still sporting a couple of scars on his forehead.

Despite that, you don't have to look behind you to know what's captured the people's attention as you strolled the capital. Or, who, to be exact.

Some were outright ogling; some happened to glance once and then immediately looked away with a blush; some made the laudable effort to not look.

A mirror of what you're doing right now.

They gilded him with gold, which is a redundancy if you ever see one. He was wearing the most expensive pigment, something that only the Governor's family could own: a deep violet tunic emblazoned with golden vines, swirling from the middle to the collar; paired with dress pants that you could probably trade for a whole month's worth of food.

You kept your distance as you walked in front of him. "Just show him around the city," was what Secretary Hara told you. That didn't mean you had to talk.

And it's not as if he had any complaints, either. He followed you through the rows of glass houses that adorned Governor's lane, not a word spoken about the sights.

Even when you'd attempted to speed through the dizzying streets, he kept his pace, long legs allowing him to stride close to you. By time you'd reached the plaza, you were already out of breath and in need of rest.

But you didn’t.

You remained standing a few feet away from him, the paper in your hand opened to reveal those great trees and thriving field, as he sat under the gazebo overlooking the square; a place reserved only for council members.

The smell of the sweetmeats and oranges in front of him reached your nose (Secretary Hara has a cruel sense of humor, you belatedly realized, when you were handed a bag of food that had a note saying “treat him well”). You fought the itch to cast out what little you’ve had for breakfast.

Children were playing around the sandbox, the staff of whatever family they belonged to guarding them. In a way, their job wasn’t that different from what you have now.

Except, it’s not a child you were threatened to accompany. With the feeling of his gaze burning your nape, it seems like you’re not the one doing the guarding as well.

And you didn’t feel every bit like the adult you are when he called your name.

You felt frighteningly small, as you yielded with a pathetic, “Ushijima-sama.”

He only looked at you. Those green eyes telling you exactly what he wanted.

People are watching. You can’t mess this up.

“Sir,” you said, hand still in your pocket, that frayed paper your anchor. “It is improper.”

Irritation swept through him, his sharp features harsher when dissatisfied. But you can’t give up, even though it’s sending a chill down your spine and he seems like he’s about to throttle in broad daylight. (And he doesn’t have to do much, you know. He can crush you with one hand.)

“Why- why are you here?” you hissed. “R-really?”

You don’t shut your trap when you have to, girl. That’s your problem.

“Because- because I’m not gonna be your..thing.” The paper was dampening in your grip. “While you do whatever it is you do, Ushijima,” you huffed. “...sama”

Ushijima did not blink, his stare unwavering as he turned towards the small crowd strolling below. There’s a part of you that wishes to put yourself in his place, like a king on his throne. What does the view look like from up there? Are the people beneath just multicolored ants moving from afar?

“A few of my kind have suddenly sided with yours,” he said. Then, briefly returning his gaze to you, “I had to see what draws them here.”

He linked his fingers together. “Before I do what must be done.”

You stifled a chortle. “Do what must be done” your ass. Does that include harassing people, too? “God only knows,” you whispered.

“You believe in God.”

You were the subject of his relentless attention again. You groaned, averting your eyes to a small girl, probably around Soo-jin’s age, who plopped down to create a heap of sand, much to the consternation of her nanny.

“No,” you replied in a thin voice.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Where is this question coming from? “Always seemed like a lot of work,” you said.

The little girl was making a castle. It’s apparent to you now that she has little pail by her side, shovel in her grubby hand. The frill of her dress caught most of the sand as she stacked them atop each other.

“And I’m pretty sure God has more fun things to do than worry about me,” you added, just because.

The castle reached her knees when the girl stood up.

"God has left," Ushijima said. "A long time ago."

And then she kicked it. The thing crumbled to a mound, the breeze scattering it back to the sand.

You did chuckle this time. The Northerners sure are strange. "Really? Where’d God go?" you hummed, looking up to the sky.

The sun was blanketed by waves of clouds, as usual. "Somewhere nicer, I hope," you sighed.

You closed your eyes and thought of that nicer place. It would have to be far, far away from here. Maybe it would even have those trees that Granny loved.

"Cherry trees."

You opened your eyes and gawked at him.

He was still gazing at you.

"You are attached to it," he told you, like it's nothing; like your heart's not wreaking havoc against your ribs with each word he utters. "On that paper."

Pulling it out of your pocket, you stumbled to him and unfolded it for him to see. "You- you know what this is? A 'cherry tree.' That’s what you call it?"

"Yes." Ushijima's eyes did not leave yours. "That is the name you people have bestowed upon them."

"Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?"

You didn't let him answer that because, just like the fool that Granny accused you to be, you took his hand in your trembling one and laughed, somehow managing to drag him out of the gazebo.

It took a while before you finally let go.

Much has changed along the way, he felt this as the air grew hotter; the sound of bustling people louder and less constrained with inutile mortal etiquette. You seemed less wary of him here.

The hand that held his tightly was still brushing against him, as you talked incessantly about the pieces of paper plastered across the wall. They all looked the same, yellowed and infested with mold at the edges, but you insisted otherwise.

“See here?” You pointed to the one on the bottom. “Granny drew the leaves differently. They look like flowers don’t they? They are, aren’t they? I knew it! So they are flowers.”

There was a cot in the corner of the room. He sees you there in slumber, surrounded by rocks and scraps of metal and bits of gemstones held together by strings, each strand hanging on the crevices of the roof, gleaming every time they move.

You tapped his arm repeatedly. “Oh, oh. I put these two beside each other. Notice that the shades are different? This one is lighter while this one has more shadows to it.”

"Do you get it now?" you asked him, expectant.

Humans are baffling creatures, Wakatoshi thought. Because when he said nothing, you only laughed (you seem to like doing that) and told him to “follow me; hurry.” You didn’t hold his hand this time (you should’ve, he preferred it when you did).

“My bad. I hadn’t shown you yet,” you huffed as you grabbed a rag and set aside buckets of rainwater that obstructed his path.

Behind a curtain of sackcloth and ashes, draped at the furthest side of the wall, was a crack big enough to let a person through, corroding steel bars protruding along the broken concrete.

Wakatoshi ducked to enter the room next to yours. It was hollow, save for bits of gravel and a window obscured by dust. You paced to it then wiped the thick glass with the rag you brought with you.

“That hill is always there in Granny’s drawings,” you said, taking the paper in your pocket and setting it parallel to the scene revealed by the window.

Your smile was wide, as if you were admiring a land lush with vegetation, or wildflowers at least. When it was far from that. It was a vast desolation, beyond the gates and the brown earth fractured. But, just as you said, there is a solitary hill sitting along the horizon.

“Those trees- cherry trees,” you started, face radiating with mirth. “It’s the same but.. different each time.” Your breathless laugh makes him feel just as winded. “How is that even possible?”

“I know they can’t be just...green.” A finger traced the outline of the leaves. “Because these are real and they actually grow and- and they change.” And, as if it’s a secret, “Unlike the ones at the capital.”.

“If only Granny would paint them for me,” you whispered, the smile on those lips waning.

Wakatoshi couldn’t stand it. So, he grunted, “You are wrong. This one is green.”

He took the paper from your hand. “They only change colors once they bloom. White, first. Then, pink.”

This knowledge is trivial; if it can be considered knowledge at all. It is a speck in the infinite matters that simply exist— have existed, in this world. Yet such a thing has put that look in your eyes.

Perhaps it is not inconsequential at all.

“Pink?” you breathed, grinning incredulously at him.

You turned away and closed your eyes, your voice cracking as you murmured, “I see.”

There's a blood pumping organ within his chest. A vital piece that keeps you humans alive. It beats constantly, never ceasing. If it does then it means you are dead. He is flesh, for now; it follows that if it halts, then he is fodder for the earth.

How is it, then, that he is still here? He’s sure he felt it stop, the air knocked out of his lungs, as you looked back at him, eyes welling with tears when you said, “Thank you.”

Thank you, you told him, smiling.

Ah.

Wakatoshi gets it now.

This is what God must have seen, when your kind looked up and sang, “I love you, my God; I love you; I love you.” And when you knelt and dared to turn those eyes for others that are not God, he suddenly understands why they were ordered to rain fire and brimstone upon your great kingdoms.

Because he, too, would smite anything, burn it to the ground and salt what is left, if it would so much as receive a whit of your sweet, soft words.

“They used to grow here,” you sniveled. “Granny said so.”

“And I thought, maybe if Granny added a bit more color- maybe they'd feel more…I don't know..real..?” Laughter rings in his ears once again, pealing like bells. “Yeah..They'd feel more real...Though, she did get mad at me,” you winced.

“I just thought,” you sighed, your shoulders touching him. “Wouldn't it be nice if I can wake up one day and find them growing again? Right here.”

God created a garden for your kind once. It is gone now, but Wakatoshi wonders what you’d say, how you’d look at him, if he shows it to you. Your head against the grass, fingers laced with the lilies of the field, the taste of fruit on your lips, your thighs dripping with honey and dew—

Wakatoshi felt his loins stir, but he didn't say anything, except, “The soil here is poisoned.”

You snapped towards him, brows drawn together. “I know,” you said.

“A sapling cannot grow on this wasteland.”

“Yes, I’m not stupid.”

“That could have been any hill.”

“I know.”

His throat is parched; his hands a pair of useless things. He can hold galaxies in them, sink ships and level seas by the order of God had this body not trapped him. (He can free himself, but then you’d die). Now he doesn’t even know what to do with them as he rushes out a hoarse, “I have upset you.”

He refused to let you take the paper from him. You didn’t seem to mind.

“No,” you sighed. “No, of course not. Forgive me, Ushijima-sama.”

You bowed again. An act of servitude.

“Please, let me escort you back to the capital.”

He does not understand. He only told you the truth.

But you turned your back to him and the light in your eyes has gone and he wants to chase it back the same way he wanted to run after God when the parting happened, leaving the Heavens mourning until their wails split the firmament open.

Wakatoshi yearns to have you closer. He yearns for that smile and laughter back on your face.

Wakatoshi yearns.

But, that cannot be.

After all, that is just much too human, is it not?

The rain drenched Wakatoshi to the bone, droplets falling from his lashes to his cheeks, when he walked through the nighttime storm.

He didn't bother to dry himself.

After he'd reached your room and shoved the door open, the clap of thunder covering the noise, Wakatoshi decided to undress himself, shedding all articles of clothing until he was naked as the day God created your kind.

Wakatoshi felt the chill bite his skin. But that had nothing on the way you easily dismissed him earlier, by the time you'd reached the abode of this city's leader.

You left him and he could no longer see your face and yet that fierce longing in his chest stayed, creeping to every part of him, making a home in his belly.

Until he recognized the feeling for what it was.

Hunger.

Hunger, he could fathom. And when one feels it gnaw at one's flesh, what does one do, but eat?

You were sleeping on the cot, just as he'd imagined you to be. It's enough to keep him warm: the sight of you, at peace under the glimmer of the trinkets dancing above as a lamp burned lowly.

The mattress sank under his weight when he sat next to you. His much larger hand took yours, locking your fingers together to rest his cheek against it, bringing it beneath his nose, and feeling his heart race as he breathed in your scent.

He remembers the first time he did this so vividly. You tasted like apples and sin; and though there's none of that now, his mouth still waters as he savors your skin, his tongue traveling to your arm, just as he did then, leaving bites along the way.

You barely stirred when he lifted your shirt to reveal your tits, the sheen of sweat along the valley forcing a growl out of him.

Do you feel it, too? When you drag him further down to earth, debasing him and bringing him so low that now he is nothing but a hungry flesh and a mouth made of obscenities.

"Fuck," he grunts, as he took his cock, heavy and hard to touch, and rubbed the head with his fingers.

Perhaps he is lower than human now. Perhaps it does not matter. What is God to this hunger, anyway?

(This hunger is bigger than God.)

The cot was pitifully small as he straddled over your chest, breathing still shallow, and spat on his hand before wrapping it around the thick shaft. The tip of his cock touched your nipple as he fondled with the other one, thumb and forefinger pinching and pulling until you let out a tiny mewl.

Hearing it had him falling to his knees.

Wakatoshi moved off the cot to kneel on the floor, the better to suckle on your tits, to lick and nibble on the skin below it, on your stomach, until he's seeing red and ripping your loose pants down to your thighs.

He pumped his cock harder as he caressed the folds of your cunt. You groaned, arching your back and offering yourself to his mouth, when he started to lap on your clit, sticky liquid coating the swollen bud as he swirled his tongue to spread the juices dripping from your hole.

Your entire body was singing for him, even when all you'd managed were squirms and muted whimpers. He felt your skin twitch beneath his lips, as he cupped his balls and drove his hand faster around his throbbing cock, gripping his fist tighter.

Oh, he sees you on that garden, clinging onto him as he drives himself into you, pounding your cunt as you beg please, just as you did before, please, please, fuck me harder I am yours I am all yours.

But, for now, he settles himself with the violent shudders of your body, flooding his mouth with cream, as he releases his seed on his palm.

Wakatoshi rubbed it against your leaking cunt, quivering still in his hand.

There is something that must be finished, first, before he takes you, in truth. He cannot have you conscious (for now.)

He covered you back in your clothes, after. Then, Wakatoshi lingered on your face.

"Fearfully and wonderfully made," he whispered, a mere guttural sound amidst the rain pouring outside.

Here lies salvation, he thought, as his fingers brushed your closed eyes.

And here, Wakatoshi thought as he brought his lips down to kiss you, here lies damnation.

He wiped his blood on the doorposts and lintel before he left.

You woke up to silence.

Your nether regions ached and, really, the temptation to not go to work today was insanely strong. But the sun was already bleeding through the window and there's a heavy feeling on your chest.

And like wearing a shirt on backwards, you immediately knew that something was not right.

The sound of the door slamming open echoed through the building as you ran outside.

There was nothing.

Not the sound of people going about their day nor of children risking the wrath of their mothers with their games. The only thing you could hear was the buzzing noise of a fly circling around your ear.

You didn't bother knocking on your neighbor's room, rushing inside to shout for Soo-jin and her mom, stopping only when you found them sitting around a small table.

They didn't turn around to greet you.

"There you are," you panted, putting your hands on your knees. "I'm so sorry for barging in like this."

Even little Soo-jin, who never failed to jump into your arms given the opportunity, kept her back to you.

You stepped towards her. "Soo-jin," you whispered, placing a hand on her thin shoulder.

"Soo-jin, hey," you chuckled, your trembling fingers shaking her bit. "H-hey, what's wrong?"

Her head nodded down, like a doll grabbed all too suddenly, then it lolled to the side, rolling until she bared her neck, until you saw her face.

Her mouth hung open.

Inside the cavern were tiny black lumps that took you a second to realize were flies feasting on her molars. And when you lurched and sank to the floor, it was only then that you saw her staring back at you.

Bleached eyes, wide and whitened to the core and pupils like spoiled milk.

"N-no." Your vision was cloudy, freezing dread settling at the pit of your stomach when you saw that the same happened to her mother. "Who- who did this?"

Your voice strained out as you stood, mind moving faster than your legs.

Granny. Go to Granny.

Though you already know, don't you? You don't have to see her to know her fate. Because as you sprinted out of the room, leaping down across the steps, out of the building and into sand and concrete, the smell of sulfur followed you, choking you along with the sight of bodies sprawled on the ground.

Insects creeping out of nostrils and every other orifice, faces that you'll never have the chance of knowing and faces that you'd grown up with, hands reaching to the heaven as if at prayer.

You are alone. You are alone in a city filled with rotting corpses.

There was an uncontrolled animal inside your body, fighting out of its cage in a fit of rage as you craned to look up, further up.

The sky was on fire, the fissure in the middle gaping wider and wider and sucking in a mass of swirling clouds dipped with blood and orange.

And there. There, look. Standing atop the towering walls.

Beyond the heat wave was a figure, burning bright that you had to squint and you wanted to look away, you had to look away, but you can't go out like this, not without a scream and a curse at your lips.

What did you do, you were shouting, Who are you, you were screeching, feeling the veins in your neck stretch and pop as you walked closer and closer.

Wings as far as the eye could see stood atop the fallen city.

Spread out to span the horizon and folded at the middle to conceal whatever it is pointing a flaming sword towards the sun.

You tasted iron at the back of your mouth, but you did not stop. The earth beneath you swallowed your feet as it turned to mud with each step you took.

And with the flap of its wings, the sound of metal banging against each other reverberated louder.

There were children howling in pain, somewhere, behind you, in front of you, beside you. You staggered forward and for the life of you, you do not understand why you keep trying, because the ground below wasn't even soil anymore.

It took another step before you fell.

And it was like one of those dreams.

But this time you don't wake up.

You bawled out and thrashed your legs as water rose above you, slamming against your chest and filling up your mouth and burning your nose until it's all you could see, until you're floating in darkness and water is rushing to your lungs and you were flailing upwards, catching that spot of sunlight, but the more you kicked your feet and swung your arms, the more it tugged at your heavy legs and the less you could breathe and the further it got—

You were sinking, the clanging of a giant bell everywhere still, as the water pulled you down, and in the deep, below the nothingness, was a massive cleft illuminated by the barest of light, slowly opening to reveal an eye, and no sound came out though you know, though you felt your throat release a shriek, horrifyingly small, so, so small compared to that glass green pupil that illuminated the darkness, rapidly contracting and dilating and then blinking as salt and fire streamed deep in your skin, but they were looking at you from all sides, a thousand eyes flanking you and judging the weight of your soul with their unforgiving gaze as you tossed and turned in the waters.

I am going to die here, you thought. I will die here, you cried.

But something was pulling at your waist and despite clawing and jabbing at it, desperate to keep it away from you as you wailed get off me get off me, it gripped you tight, hauling you upwards until you were gulping and breathing in cold air.

Through tears and the piercing cry that ripped out your throat, you felt strong, warm arms cradle you close.

Along with a deep voice, familiar and conjuring a long lost memory.

It lulled you into hiccups and dry sobs, gentle as it whispered.

“Do not be afraid,” he said. “Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid.”

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x female reader #dark content haikyuu

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dear-yandere · 4 years

Text

[ kinktober day 4 — devotion. ]

yandere! dio x f! reader x the world. oneshot.

summary. day by day, he’d fuck you like a man fucks his most expensive whore. a demon masquerading as a God, and you’ve come to realize that there is no true God who will punish him.

— word count: 2313. — prompts: mindbreak + size difference + degradation. — warnings: n/sfw (dubcon, threesome, biting), blood, religious themes, depersonalization. — art credit: @tyonoraora.

“How does it feel, little one?”

Little one—his voice is untouched silk, reserved only for when you’ve been good. Your heart pounds against its cage as if trying to reach him—it shows on your face. He lowly hums and buries his lips against the nape of your neck, easily enticing moans from your throat. The effect he has on you was disgusting at first, hearing remnants of praise for letting him violate you, seeing his body dwarf yours against the bed, feeling his powerful touch trap you against the sheets. You have no control, no freedom here—no one would come save you even if you screamed.

Sharp teeth graze the hollow of your neck, dangerously close to puncturing your jugular. Air’s trapped alongside your throat—you can’t breathe under the full weight of his body and the threat of death on your skin. Fingers hungrily knead and pull at your nipples, twisting when you don’t moan quite to his liking. “Answer me.” He hisses and nips at the skin beneath your ear.

Your throat dries up—his commanding tone enough to knock you down to Earth. “G-good—feels so good My Lord!” You bite back another moan, mind empty and gaze locked onto the snap of his hips against yours. You whimper, half wanting to look away from the way his cock disappears between your folds, the other compelling your hips to meet each thrust. Hips shamelessly and sloppily cant into his, the thrill of knowing that one wrong thrust and he could split you in two. Looking at it now, seeing his dick disappear between your thighs—it’s rapturous, addicting like ambrosia. Deep in the recesses of your mind, the thoughts strike you as foreign—that the image of dying by his hands is exhilarating. You want him to tear you to pieces, to use you as a cock sleeve until he has no more use for you.

Dying at his hands is all you’re good for now.

He says you should consider this an honor, a privilege to be personally fucked by your own God. You’re his favorite toy, he says—the other girls don’t come close, but you can’t help but question why you’re so special. Is it your defiance, your cunning? Is it how easy it is to strip it away, down to your fragile and wary bones? Or is because he gets off on how rewarding it was to break you, to hear your screams blossom from terrified to eager? Because he knows how to get under your skin, knows how to make you feel special, knows how to make you feel wanted as if you finally have a purpose in life, a purpose rewarded to you by the hands of a God himself.

Your purpose is to used.

A comfort, more than anything else. When did it happen exactly? The drugs had grown less potent, weren’t as needed when he was in the mood to take you without complaint. When was it? When did you become addicted to doing this act with him? When did you stop resisting and refusing refusing, stop kicking and biting and clawing at his thick skin? Resist has always been useless, when something so inhuman and inhumane heals before your eyes, when your hard works is all for naught. How do you fight a man who calls himself God? How do you fight a man who may as well be a God?

...You don’t.

“M-more, My Lord.” You shamelessly plead—anything to win his favor—and wrap your legs around his waist.

He stills, briefly, and watches you fall apart. “Oh?” Your whimpers of complaint are a serenade he finds himself indulging in. “How indecent. I taught you better than to beg, didn’t I?”

Your hearts hammers.

He sees the way your eyes widen and he smirks, content with the fear he’s struck into you. He’s made it clear he never liked needy women; you’re an exception only in that he enjoys fucking you most.

“Beg for me more, little dove.” He orders and begins gently rocking his hips.

Desperate for the friction, you throw your head back and eagerly hum out countless, wordless prayers. This isn’t you anymore, not in the slightest; this is better in his eyes. And that is so much worse. But he is content, and so are you when his pace descends into harsh thrusts that leave your pussy throbbing. You take it like a bitch in heat, like a good girl, like a good concubine.

“Little dove...” You drink his praise up like water. His gaze travels downward, enraptured by how small you are beneath him. You could break in an instant. “This is all you’re good for, isn’t it?” He asks—you waste no time anxiously nodding. “So full of my cock, it almost looks like it belongs there.”

Tucked under his large body, pressed flush against the chest of a man who’d sooner leave you for dead — tears spill, but you’re overjoyed for once. He’s always loved making you cry, who are you to rob him of that? Even though your legs hurt from being pressed flat against your torso and your cunt is bruised bloody and raw, you weep and moan like you mean it. His arms are curled under your pretty legs like vipers, large hands pinning each of yours against the mattress as he buries his cock in your womb.

You can’t help but focus on the way his body presses against yours. His cock feels heavy between your folds, and he’s careful to keep his pace slow enough to drive you wild. Each harsh thrust is few and far in between, a perfect cacophony of impatience and frustration building a coil in your stomach. Dio runs his tongue over unused fangs, studying the way your features twist and contort with pleasure when his thick cock would press against your insides. He’s waiting, and you both know it; he wants to see you unfold, wants you see you whine and beg and claw at his arms for more. It’s a feeling unlike any other — his other women can’t compare, can’t beg like you can. You used to hate him, but he doesn’t see that hateful glint in your eyes anymore. You like this, you like being fucked — he’s finally broken you. This once prideful woman is his to do as he pleases with.

There’s no greater feeling in this world.

“Lean into me.” He orders like a king and you comply like a whore. Dainty arms weakly coil around his shoulders, not nearly long enough to touch each other; his body is too big, too monstrous, and the thrill of being torn apart by it only makes you want him more. He praises in hushed tones, allowing you a small, rare moment of bliss. Your face is always particularly cute when he utters such meaningless words to you, like a dog desperate for praise. It’s tempting to defile that innocence even further.

“Look how needy you’ve gotten, gripping my cock so tight I can hardly pull out,” he teases, lies right to your face. Unsheathing himself is as easy as you are, but he keeps that to himself—prefers to get your hopes up. You’re already whimpering at the sheer mention of how needy you’ve become; Gods, you’d feel so empty without him, but it isn’t your place to complain. He doesn’t have to please you, you only exist to pleasure him. And still, you can’t hide the disappointment on your features. Dio smirks condescendingly and utters assurances. “Stop making that face, little dove.” He jests and realigns himself to your cunt, not even so much as a warning when he slams into you once again. “I’m not done with you yet.”

And you did — your eyes roll back into your head when his hips slam into yours. Fangs part your flesh as easily as meat, and droplets of blood quickly well from the incision, but he doesn’t care to lap them up; you always did look better coated in blood. You hadn’t even noticed his stand, The World hovers over the mattress by your head, its cock free from pants you didn’t know could be removed. His dick, thick and grey, is as large as your Lord’s; you already knew it was to go in your mouth, you just weren’t sure if it’d fit. The image alone made you want to come apart, it was already taking all your willpower to not scream with each thrust into your little cunt.

“Suck.” Dio pulls away from your neck long enough to bark out an order. That simple command is all it took to strip you of dignity. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind another cock to please, would you?” He caresses your hips, his thumb sweeping over the raw flesh he’d gripped onto in his earlier reverie. You wince, but maintain eye contact—he prefers it like that. “Look how needy you are, little dove. Sometimes you just need the extra attention, don’t you?” He coos. “Need another set of hands on you, more skin to get your hands on.” Breathily, you nod and lean into his touch. There’s no use hesitating or complaining; you’ve turned a new leaf, after all. You’re a good girl now, and good girls don’t talk back.

Fangs return to your neck, digging deeper, harsher this time. You whimper, the new sensation of pain overwhelming when your thighs were already so chaffed and your cunt already so bruised, skin still raw from this morning’s session. But your mouth fell open anyways, the underside of your tongue pressed taut against your lower lip, ready to accommodate The World’s shaft. The creature grunted lowly, more akin to the growl of a wolf in heat, and slid himself into your tiny mouth. The feeling of being filled from top to bottom was so intense, so overpowering you feared your jaw would come apart. The World was markedly more gentle than his user, but it was hard to miss the excitement rolling off his body like waves; he’s not being gentle for your sake, he’s trying to hold himself back lest his length rip through the back of your throat. He’s excited, even if you can hardly hear his moans.

Dio chuckles but makes no further comment, too busy suckling on your sore flesh. The World stares down at you, locking eyes for only a moment before bucking into your throat. Your tongue instinctively swirls around the tip, drool soon pooling beneath your nose. Deep growls escape the Stand’s lips, and Dio feels every second of it. His cock is buried deep in your cunt and he can feel every lick and suckle of your lips.

Dio licks his lips, already feeling the bulge of The World’s cock inflate the throat he’s mercilessly sucked on. The chuckle that rumbles from his chest and into yours would be enough to send your body shaking if he hadn’t pinned it to the bed with his own. “What a well-trained whore.”

“Mm—”, you struggle to breathe out a raspy response, hardly able to formulate words when your thoughts are filled with cum and his thrusts refuse to relent. His stand’s dick press against your insides, blocking air from entering your jugular or from leaving your throat. The soft, rubbery skin of the stand’s balls stuff your nostrils — you nearly lose yourself in the bliss of being treated like a lifeless fuck toy. You could die right now and they might keep fucking you, and that alone fills you with joy. To be used until the very end... you could think of no better use for the new life Dio has given you. But, he doesn’t plan on letting you die just yet; you still have many more uses left in you.

“Oh? Are you going to cum again? So soon?” His tone is mocking near the end, and he squeezes your hips. Fingernails rake closer to your inner thighs, coaxing you to tell him what he wants to hear. The World leans back slightly to relieve some pressure from your nostrils and throat, and you shamelessly fill your lungs.

“I’ll, aah—” A moan catches in your throat, and his Stand gives you enough space to speak. “I’ll cum as many times as you like!” There’s a spark of boredom in his eyes, but it’s gone so quickly you wonder if you’d imagined it. You...you hope you imagined it, and a feeling of realization and disgust washes over you like a cold wave. You want to cover yourself, to crawl into the deepest hole you can find and die, anything to escape the way he looked at you just now. Like you’re trash on the street. A charity case he picked up out of pity. A pet he’ll discard at the drop of a hat.

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, and before you can ask, your mouth is stuffed again. He watches your shoulders squeeze together and your throat bulge from the sheer size of his Stand. The tip of The World’s cock pushes against the back of your throat, pinning your head to the mattress—you would have thrown up if Lord Dio hadn’t train you so well.

“Then cum.” He orders, stuffing your mouth and your cunt full. “Cum as many times as I want. Cum until I’m done with you.”

You obediently nod. You can’t see his face anymore; whether that’s a blessing or a curse escapes you, so you stop thinking and simply oblige. Your past self would be laughing at you. Chastising you, encouraging you bite down on his cock and fight back. What happened to that girl, you wonder? Did Lord Dio tire of her? Did he dispose of her? Will he dispose of you too?

What a terrifying devotion. When did you lose yourself?

When did he become your world?

#yandere dio x reader #yandere dio brando #yandere dio #yandere jjba x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jojo x reader #jjba x reader #yandere jjba #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere scenario #yandere imagines #kinktober20 #*oneshot #tw dubcon #tw not sfw

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 4 years

Note

Hiiii! I saw you asked for fluffy requests!! I love your writing so i got excited hehe

I just went through a ROUGH breakup, could you write where Levi comforts one of his scouts (or members of his squad) who he likes after she gets dumped?

Thank you!!! Xoxo ❤️❤️❤️

Hey I hope you're feeling better I'm sorry you have to go through this but I'm here if you need anything sweet anon, this really made me write hurt/comfort once again, so I hope you like it.

Pairing: Levi/reader

Tags: eventual fluff, hurt/comfort, takes an unexpected turn that I hope you like

November Sunsets

Levi, ever since he could remember himself, was lonely, neglected by life and stripped of anyone he ever cared about. The cruel unfairness of life was something he was forced to accept from the moment he came out of the womb; whilst other children had a last name to claim themselves with he was just Levi, Kuchel's bastard son.

Thinking back, life was the most unfair for his mother as well. The way he would hear men would treat her, hidden underneath her bed, or sticking his head to her door while supposedly playing with other little bastard children. Children of his fate that he couldn't remember the face of. Did anyone remember his own face? Deemed ugly, unbelievably short, dirty and incapable of being bright, that's what life had set for him from his very first breath.

Everytime he had refused to accept his fate another tragedy would curve it's way on his body and soul, staining him with little reminders of how he should sit back and crawl his way through what was simple meant to be. Indescribable gory deaths had happened before his eyes, taking any blue hue he had noticed and liked away from them. Insufferable agonies in the form of nightmares haunted him during the night, his mind didn't want to let him rest.

His heart had to become cold and hard as stone, but the humane of his nature only managed to plaster this longing of his on his face. Perhaps being human was a punishment everyone endured, whether they were born noble, loved by everyone or in a brothel, with almost no one to want them in this world.

Only two years after he had set foot and is remaining days in the Survey Corps were never certain. He was aware that it was a given profanity at his agreement to join, and egoistically he would have chose this any other day over counting down days in the underground. In that rat hole, he was expected to fall ill and possibly dead at any given time in his late twenties.

He still looked like a phantom in the mirror. Whatever concluded his being was set and done unfairly, from the way his skin was as pale as snow and so sheer that made his purple veins show practically everywhere to his lacking height caused by malnutrition and lack of sunlight. Was it the veins around his lips or the ones under his eyes that perfectly blended with his sacked under eyebags? Was it that his nose was small if looked individually but looked elongated in the context of his face? Maybe it was that he was filled with scars.

Oh, and that he looked atrocious with those dark locks in combination with light eyes.

Despite never doubting his abilities, or letting insecurities get the better of him it was in moments like this that he felt broken.

By setting his clippers down on the sink, after making sure there was no single coarse hair on them, he slipped in his usual light gray button down shirt. He didn't bother to secure any strap of his gear on him yet; it was this early in the morning that no one was probably awake yet, only him and his throbbing head, so strapping himself with the gear could easily be avoided for the time being.

The flames flickered inside his cobblestone fireplace demanding to be fed with fresh logs in exchange for his warmth. His hands worked mechanically, throwing logs I the crevice delicately careful not to fill the room in ashes. With a maneuver stir the flames roared with rage, engulfing the wood almost too pleasantly to eye. He didn't hesitate to plouch down on the wooden floor, legs crossed and hands stretched towards the newfound warmth in an attempt to ease the lingering cold of his fingers.

Usually this was the time for the first tea of the day. Under any other occasion his brain would munch on him for the lack of the hot copper liquid in his stomach, but today was different. He contemplated on weather this mere fire could ever warm up anything other than tea but he refused to seek the therapeutic feeling of hot water entering his body. If he couldn't warm up on the outside why would he put any effort to do so in the inside.

The throbbing in his head ravaged the insides of his skull with striking rushes of pain at random places. When he went to rub on his forehead his ear would screech in ache, testing to see if his patience could handle such tag game.

Refusing to soothe any part of his aching body meant that he'd have to physically suffer throughout the upcoming day. Had he been any more grumpier he would be thinking about assigning everyone with another cleaning task, nontheless it didn't fit the nature of his mood. He felt like locking himself in his office to avoid as much human interaction as possible, he wasn't social to begin with so why shouldn't he be granted some days to recharge his ability to utter anything else than a grunt.

He sighed, head falling to face the floor as his eyes were framed by his ebony locks. He seemed to despise them, today more than ever. Was it because of you? It was a question that puzzled his mind for a couple of days, eating away any spare piece of logic he was ever left with. The only thing he knew, or supposed was that this feelings were probably meant to feel like that, at least for him.

Him, who shall never enjoy a simple pleasure of life such as experiencing the feeling of falling in love and having a lover to tend to his soul's wound. Of course he had to be dense enough to let such opportunity go as only a question arose days after day he'd spent with you. Did he deserve to be loved?

Yet those days with you, those days that he cut absurdly were fidgeting with his mind in the worst way possible, trying to torment him over the memory of your face.

It had started off as a simple admiration of your combat skills. The intimidating brushes oh your skin on his everytime he chose to spare with you out of all member in his squad, the sweat that dripped off of your forehead as your eyes gleamed with the enthusiastic power gathered in your fists.

Then, it was the way your hair flipped off of your shoulder when you would wrap your camel colored jacket on your form under the lingering tingerine lights of the sun setting behind the walls. The way it bounced on your back as you gripped the reins of your horse, leaving small encouraging sounds of victory as it seceeded its training tasks. He had taken notice of how well kept your hair was, always fresh and squeaky clean as it framed your face loosely.

Levi was smitten, wrap around your little finger in the blink of an eye, his nights agonising, his days filled with you mellowy blendind in any scenery and he couldn't get you out of his head. Your affections towards him were meticulously counted at first but he had sat back down and watched as you let yourself go around him, sparring smiles and watery glances to him during meals.

Before he knew it he had found himself longing to be in your arms every single moment of the day, much like a lovestruck teenager. As much as it seemed embarrassing for a man his age to swoon and melt like a candle at the sight of such youthful and sweet woman, he couldn't help it. His loner's manners had started to abandon him in your presence, the persuasion of your soft eyes had him giving in. The sweet touches of your hand on his cheek, allowing his head to rest on your palm as he talked about the enormous work Erwin had assigned him with, curved in his head forever, replaying every time he seeked some form of comfort.

Had it not been for Mike and Hange entering his office unexpectedly that one day he had forgotten to lock, he wouldn't have been forced to leave it all behind to avoid spoiling both his and yours reputation. It haunted him; they way he longed for you as his heart clung into his chest like a prisoner, but his words to you as you cried your eyes out that sunset kept reminding him he was not deserving of anything.

When news spread like a plague in the higher ranks everyone had turned on him and seldomly to you, whispering heart rotting comments. Among them that you were no good for eachother be it due to appearances or the context of your backgrounds. Levi knew the oxymoron of those dynamics, yet why did anyone have to point them out, to make him feel smaller than he was whether it was for teasing or not, he couldn't phantom.

Not only life was unfair to him, he had to strip his own self of the only thing he had a positive effect in his life just to go back to being a what the Scouting Region wanted him to be. Humanity's Strongest. The man with no weaknesses who slaughtered the gigantic beasts with skill and determination. His heart was supposed to belong to humanity, not you, not anyone else.

It hurt. To watch you give out your beautiful giggles to someone else through his office window ached him restlessly. The imagery of your sweet affectionate movements was right before his eyes, directed to someone else this time, during those beautiful November sunsets felt like gunshots aimed anywhere in his vital organs.

You had fallen for someone else, those were the news going around the squad lately. Petra bubbled enthusiastically about Gunther's encounters with you in the small alleyways of Trost on your day offs. Eld would scold you for dressing up appropriately for your dates and Oluo would miserably immitate him, giving you playful comments about reeking shit while biting his tongue. As Petra had informed him, his affiliations with you unbeknownst to her or any other cadet in the picture, Gunther was treating you perfectly, almost too good to be true. Something that made his heart fall into pits of darkness, all masked safely by his humane flesh and skeleton combines.

Would anyone ever treat you like he did? With such serenity? He knew, despite how short lived your fling had ever been, there would never be anyone like him in your life. And for that he had to be the one to punish himself. His fate would be pleased if he turned on himself wouldn't it?

Upon hearing the knock on his door, his mouth automatically spat the familiar inquiry on the knocker's intentions. It felt deaf to his ears; his mind was working on its own while he forced it to torment him with more what ifs. As his fingers brushed brushed underneath his nostril to scratch away any awkwardness that had gathered in the spot with a buzzing feeling.

"It's cadet (L/n) sir" he heard you yelp as you paused, unsure of what to say next. "Personal business if you don't mind!"

When you entered at his command, his eyes didn't dare to spend a second fixated on your bouncing locks. Instead they blinked into your (e/c) ones, staring at the melancholic expression that was plastered on them. Lower on your face, your lip trembled, teeth biting hard not to allow it to show but your efforts had already fell into vain as he quickly noticed it.

He hadn't realised you weren't sitting on the chair before his desk until he got up from his position on the ground, eyes immediately noticing you in his usual spot. You were curled up in a ball with your knees fitted to your eye sockets, silently suppressing what seemed to be the start of a brawling session as he sat there and watched, not daring to touch your back with his hand.

What had happened so early in the morning that had sent you in his office? The two of you weren't much on talking terms nowadays, a restriction he had forced on you from the day that he ended your shared endearments. As potential scenarios chewed on his thoughts your whimpers only grew louder and harsher.

"Don't you dare ask why I'm crying!" You spoke, small hiccups leaving the back of your throat as each time it roared with another wave of sorrow.

"It could be helpful to know."

His steel eyes never met yours as he spoke with his typical steady voice, although this time he had tried to take any nasal sound away from it.

"You're the reason I can't have anything work for me. Gunther said so himself." Another crashing wave of sobs overcame you and he watched frozen, unable to do anything just yet. Confirmation on your status had to be spoken, he wouldn't love to be touchy with another man's woman even if ever cell in his body ached for her.

"You're achingly beautiful, my heart will forever be yours and you knew it. Gunther' isn't fit to be a replacement for you. You get to be the one who comforts me for this breakup, for our breakup up, I can't talk about that shit with anyone else. You're all I ever had and you left me to pretend to be that weapom they want you to be." He had expected you to winch, to flinch or have any negative reaction to his touch on the back of your head, he had prepared himself for it, he had planned the words he'd say but such a reaction never came. You only have in to his lingering touch, hand reaching out for his in an attempt to pull him close.

He didn't feel the pain of his knees hitting the wooden floor as he coarsed you to his neck in full might, he ignored the heart that beat fast at the sound of you admitting you weren't over him, he chewed back at the thoughts that mocked you for calling him achingly beautiful.

The fidgeting of your fingers on the button of his shirt served as an action of your nervousness but all he could care about was that he could feel your heart beating at the right side of his chest almost in synch with his.

"I'm here." He soothed, one hand running through your soft locks as the other one pressed you to his chest. "I'm sorry" he admitted. Whether it was too late was up to your heart's desire to decide.

"You better be." You sniffled the goo that threatened to fall on his shirt.

"You should know by now. I can't bear to watch you thrive with anyone. Tch, I'm a smug runt myself for that."

He fell in silence as you tried to give into his caring comfort. It all felt too familiar, too rushed and too bitterweet to be real. He blinked at the thought and slightly bit his tongue to confirm he wasn't sleeping.

"I thought we belonged together, I thought... I thought I found something in you that was mine."

As your eyes brawled with hit tears once again your fists came to clench onto his shirt. There were distinguishable pauses in your crying; rashes of unspoken pain inside your chest that burned you to think about. It was all too familiar of a feeling to him and it only ever made him press you impossibly closer to his form.

"If it helps, I did so too."

It's only when your face lifts up for your wide eyes to look into his that he realises how much you've cried. Despite the practical darkness of the room your eyes are obviously bloodshot, painted with agony as they burn holes onto his skin, making him shut his in defense of his soul.

"I miss you so much and I can't sleep at night. I can't look at anyone and pretend they are you, they all see through this. I still love you and it hurts. I don't want it to hurt, Levi." Your confessions striked that particular nerve in him that made him numb, frozen on the spot, dumfounded over your words. Had he knew he'd be the reason that love pains you he would have never lead you on, he would have never looked at you with small looks of adoration as you ride your horse's together and most importantly he would have never let his filthy lips touch your angelic ones.

But he didn't find it in him to regret any of his actions.

Not now, not when his lips were begging him to be interlocked with the only pair then had declaired a match.

"I know I came here all of a sudden but it's been nights I haven't slept and I can't do this anymore. J-just hold me and once the sun is out I won't bother you anymore." Even if you tried to speak that nonsense with him you should have known better that it wouldn't work. He could already see the faint purples in the horizon, glazing over the glass of his windows as they lightened by every passing moment.

He knew why you were in his arms, he knew that pushing you away was never an option either. Thus, his hands came to rest under your face your face to tenderly direct it to his. His mouth opened but the words that he spoke took hours, years, eons to come out.

"What if I told you that I still love you, what would you say? Would you press your lips on mine and want to start over?" He inquired as he swallowed the hard lamp that had gathered in his Adams apple. "Would you speak your words in actions?"

The first light of the sky protruded behind the mountains, spreading a yellow light evenly around the sky. As you nodded and tugged your head close enough that your nose touched, your lips faintly brushed against each other's and his heart sped in unimaginable paces.

In the moment he wasn't a doomed underground ugly thug, his nose wasn't misplaced on the context of his head. He wasn't just Kuchel's bastard son that everyone wanted dead. He was that part that you had claimed as yours.

Small victories against his fate didn't always leave him hollow with unbearable loss after all.

My requests are always open, if you want to drop anything I'd be more than happy to write what you want ❤️

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #snk x reader #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk #aot #Captain Levi #x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman imagine #levi x reader imagine

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capri-ramblings · 4 years

Text

It's finally here! The third Installment of my 'Mother's Reluctance'' ✨ Sebek,Deuce and Epel will be featured in the fourth part! Thank you for your patience!

Warning; Toxic/unhealthy relationships. Mentions of substance.

Please take note every work of mine here is purely fictional and meant for entertainment.

Please do not indulge in my yandere works if you are triggered by its dark, heavy themes.

Trey Clover

- Trey had wondered when the question was going to be asked. The two of you have been together for almost five years and he's noticed how you've adapted to his...darker tendencies as a partner

- He'll be honest,he's impressed. When it all first started he thought he'd have to break you to make the whole relationship work,but it seems you've proven him wrong

- Children are a must have for Trey. He grew up with a fairly large family himself and he couldn't really picture a lasting relationship with you without any children. Plus,his parents had began asking too.

- He had no problems with it,of course. He was more than ready to handle a few more children aside from his younger siblings,the only issue here was you.

- Trey was aware that you weren't so confident in parenting as he was,and he also noticed your reluctance regarding it.

- It annoyed him to a certain degree, and with his subtle charisma,Trey made sure you were aware of it.

- And you were. You just thought that as long as you acted like you didn't,he wouldn't get too frustrated over it.

- Oh,how wrong you were.

- Trey's cunningness hides behind a veil of his usual friendliness towards everyone, and by forgetting that, you were bound to fall for his trap.

- The two of you were closing up the family bakery one night when Trey came out of the kitchen with freshly baked tarts settled neatly on a white plate.

- "Were there extras? I thought we sold out everything..."

- Trey let out a small laugh as he shook his head. You noted how pleased he looked and quietly wondered why he was in such a good mood all of the sudden.

- "No,I made these for us. Your favourites too" He took one tart off the plate and plopped it into his mouth in one go, and the corners of your lips twitched into a small smile.

- "Thanks,but I think I'll pass. I just wanna get into bed and sleep"

- The whole day was a chore. You were used to a bustling bakery filled with customers,but today most of those customers were children, kindergarteners who had their teacher bring them all into the town's favourite Bakery because it was one of their friends' birthday. It was a sweet occasion,you weren't going to lie,seeing those small happy faces filled with sweets had you grinning,but the amount of energy those small human beings demanded was exasperating.

- Trey rose his brows,taking in another tart into his mouth. You missed the dark look he gave you when you turned around to flip the shop's sign from outside.

- "You're missing out" He mused, "It could help rejuvenate that tired body of yours"

- You laughed,shaking your head. You should've expected him to treat you like some worn out kid,Trey always had that habit.

- Though, you weren't expecting his body to press against yours when you turned around to face him. His lips suddenly close enough to just hover above yours.

- "Trey—"

- He leaned down to kiss your lips faster than your words could reach you, and in the moment you pressed yourself into him,Trey slipped one arm around your waist.

- His lips tasted sweet, a mix of vanilla and citrus mingling on his tongue that came to intertwine around yours. When you felt him closing the gap between bodies,the kiss deepened and Trey had you wilting in his grasp. The way his heat engulfed your entire being then gave a sense of high you failed to find in anyone else,and when he finally broke the contact,your lips were swollen and aching for more.

- The look in his eyes before he pulled away from you was tinted with wanton fever. And for a brief second,you thought you saw hunger in them.

- You're stumbling on yourself,of course you are. Trey isn't the type to suddenly pull you into such an intimate thing after all, but you regain your composure fast and with a gentle if not wary nudge, you put a space between you and Trey as you walked pass him and towards the scounter.

- "What was that for?" You asked and heard him chuckling before the sound of the front door locking caught your attention. It was meant to be locked,you remind yourself. The backdoor was always how you and Trey left after all. You wondered then why it bothered you so much in the first place.

- "Can't I be mysterious and kiss you whenever?"

- It sounded harmless,how the words just seem to bounce in your head and you paid it no mind.

- The tray of tarts placed beside you caught your eye a second you were about to reach out and take one for yourself, but something held you back.

- Trey is,above all else, a patient person and that patience you found so comforting is what he'll use against you.

- That night, after getting home and finally be able to just throw yourself onto your mattress. You woke up feeling thirsty and decided to slither out of bed as quietly as you could so Trey wouldn't be disturbed.

- In getting yourself a cold drink, you wonder if the tarts he made earlier were still there and to your pleasant surprise,Trey had kept them chilled in the fridge. Somehow feeling giddy about how spontaneous he was today, you take one and pop it into your mouth.

- Oh, sweetheart. Didn't you realize they tasted a bit too sweet? Trey's Doodle suit should've worn off by now but maybe it was just the exhaustion of the day that made you oblivious to the slight tingling sensation you felt after successfully eating three tarts in a row.

- Then again,how could you have known he slipped in a longing potion in them? He knew if it worked too fast it would seem suspicious and so Trey gave you the leniency of time by making it in small doses.

- He's waited years for the moment you'd beg him to have his seed inside you, a few more months is nothing.

- So,he'll wait and watch as the potion sets into your senses and you start wondering why you ever disliked the thoughts of children in the first place.

- They're so small and harmless and filled with joy...and they the way they'd resemble their parents so perfectly...

- How would your child look like? Would they have Trey's sharp gaze and your complexion? His patience and your wits?

- The thoughts circle through your head like a hypnotising lullaby.

- It began to hurt to wake up and see you don't have a kid of your own with your partner.

- Did Trey still wanted them? You hoped did because this house has started to feel a bit too big for just the two of you.

Jade Leech

- Jade can be cunning and cruel when he wants to and that's what made him such a terrifying partner to anger.

- He had control over himself,he knew when to pull back and when to shove fear down your throat.

- Jade is someone you never want to rile up or provoke even when you never really had a way of seeing the earlier signs of it.

- Possessive and sadistic, whenever Jade wanted a certain type of attention from you, he never failed to make you flinch from it.

- He was also very observant of you, and so he already knew from the start that the topic of having children was something you never wanted to delve into

- But, he liked seeing you squirm with discomfort. So, naturally,the topic often came up. Much to your dismay.

- "Say,why don't you want children, ____?"

- The way he curled his tongue around your name at the end made you shiver and Jade fought back the urge to snicker behind your back.

- Your lips pursed, and you tried to calm your nerves, but even knowing fully well what he was aiming at, you always tend to come off snarky.

- And though he adores your fighting spirit, Jade also loves giving you small punishments afterwards.

- Jade is wickedly patient however, so his process of manipulating you into giving him a child is more likely a slow burn. You don't even notice you're leaning into his fantasies until it's too late.

- He starts subtly at first, as always, pointing out the physical differences between him and you. Reminding you that he isn't human and thus the act of making children would be vastly different from how he'd usually have sex with you.

- His eyes seem to flicker when he sees you squirm underneath his scrutinizing prowess, but the conflicting acts of gentleness that comes afterwards has you cornered.

- He was throwing you out in the cold waters only to reel you back up into his arms,so you'd never know the warmth of another. So you'd depend on him.

- And it was working.

- Jade will choose to tire you out from your refusal. Easing you ever so tentatively into the idea of having children. The idea of truly becoming his wife and partner for life.

- Whether he had you as your current self or somehow altered you into one of his own kind is something he doesn't really mull over. As long as it's you, Jade doesn't care.

- You're both facing the mirror in your bedroom when Jade comes from behind you, his arms swiftly snaking its way around your waist. You fit in his grasp so perfectly,how could he imagine losing you to someone else?

- "Have children with me,my little starfish. Can't you imagine them swimming about? Calling you their mother and swarming you with loving hugs and kisses?"

- His words sounds so peaceful,so serene, you can't help but look into your reflection and see the swollen bump growing in your womb. See how easier your life would be if you surrendered yourself to him completely.

- "You'll make a lovely mother, and your brood will be the light of my life. I'll do anything to make you all happy."

- You breathed in his scent,his skin against yours a solid comfort you've come to yearn for.

- Would he always be this gentle if you gave him what he wanted?

- Days when he'll leave you all alone seemed to make you cringe. If you had a part of him, those days wouldn't bother you,would it?

- Jade intertwined his fingers with yours, a knowing look etched into his expression as he hears you murmur your reply.

- "Please be gentle."

Cater Diamond

- If Cater really wanted kids, he'd have cum inside you from the beginning really.

- He looks like a man with plans and at times he is, but when it came to personal things he always gets too emotionally invested to actually plan things out.

- But truth be told, he had to take a few years to sort his thoughts out to finally be comfortable with the notion of having kids.

- It's not that he disliked them, kids were great most of the time but he didn't exactly enjoy the idea of sharing his sweet Cupcake with an infant.

- After all, children required a lot of caring for and that's what good parents do, and what you and him have to face up to.

- But Cater didn't want that. He wanted you to himself. His Cupcake's time and effort should be showered onto him and him alone.

- A child would be a hindrance to that.

- But then a light bulb beamed in his thoughts and Cater came to a conclusion that if he had kids with you then your life would be completely in his hands!

- Unlike his carefree facade, Cater's yandere side is controlling and extremely possessive. If a kid is what it takes to have you forever, then he'll have twenty of them without a doubt.

- and they'll all call him Papa

- And you'd be their sweet,caring, mommy.

- This fantasy of his is a nightmare to you, and chances are Cater already guessed you were against it

- Though if you think that'll stop him, you're wrong.

- He's your capable Senpai,after all. He'll know the perfect tricks to get you on his side.

- You're extremely off the edge with how suddenly gentle and thoughtful Cater's been the last few weeks, how he hasn't played one of his manipulative mind games on you or increasing the 'rent' for staying with him, and you're half believing that maybe he's back to his old self. But there's this sick feeling in your stomach that doesn't seem to budge the more you spend time thinking about it and you keep telling yourself that he's baiting you into some sort of trap.

- So, you keep your guard up. Taking in the smallest gestures and carefully analysing them, making sure you hadn't somehow made Cater upset

- You knew how crafty he was after all.

- But being crafty wasn't his only strong suit,omitting that made you vulnerable to him.

- Cater has his charms, at times you don't even see him get all possessive over you until he has you trembling underneath him on the bed.

- Maybe it was the fact he always hid his true expressions, growing up with bossy sisters gave him the upper hand of disclosing any bitter thoughts and gestures.

- So,no, you don't realize it when he slips in the aphrodisiac in your drinks and snacks little by little everyday.

- No, you don't seem to wonder why you're always hot and bothered when he's not even paying you any attention.

- You don't even know why he hasn't even touch you at all in any way. No hugs from behind or pecks on the cheek. Not even a single wink.

- He's feeding you stuff to throw your hormones into a turbulent storm and he's going to let you starve.

- The doses are so small,so damn meticulous, you'd think it was ridiculous for anyone to even pull off but Cater does.

- Because he's determined to make you beg for it, because he knows that if you beg then you can't tell him otherwise later on.

- He's pushing you into a steep edge of a cliff and then he'll blame you for acting scared and asking him for help.

- Out of the manipulating yanderes out there,Cater is the most shameless.

- He wants you to hear you say it, needs to have a deluded sense of consent.

- You're his Cupcake after all, if you weren't willing, then it's not exciting. He doesn't like seeing you cry with all that sad, desperate pleadings.

- He wants you to welcome him,to accept him.

- When you finally hit your limit, Cater is quick to come to your side and give you whatever you needed from him.

- Thirsty? Oh sweetheart,he already has a glass of cold water for you here!

- Feverish? No problem, he'll stay up to monitor your temperature!

- You're starting to get all grabby and clingy too? Teling him how you didn't want him to leave and that you felt all lonely. He doesn't mind. He'll let you do whatever you wanted to him.

- Those aphrodisiacs can be such a bother, right? Of course. He understands. He won't tell you off for it. Not yet at least.

- "You don't look at me anymore, you don't touch or even hold me...Did I do something wrong? Are you angry? Please say something. It's like you're not even here anymore."

- Your mind's all muddied and scrambled, your skin burning and senses stirred. Half of what you say don't even make it to your own ears but somehow the way Cater looks down at you with such sympathetic eyes gets you all teary eyed.

- "Aw, Cupcake. Don't cry,hey,I'm not going to leave you, okay?"

- "Listen,I'm the one who made you stay with me right? Why would I leave you,hm?"

- "Come on,don't be sad. You know I hate it when you start getting sad..."

- Cater wipes away the tears on your cheeks,the heat from his palms cupping your face sending chills down your spine. It felt so good to be touched. It's as if you've been deprived of a crucial living necessity.

- You even started calling out his name, looping it around your tongue like a mantra as you bury your face into his chest, melting into his embrace.

- Cater's holding back a laugh when he runs his fingers through your hair, his eyes dulled and glazed over.

- Intoxicated.

- "Come on, Cupcake, if you don't stop that I'll have to eat you up tonight."

Silver

- He's surprisingly very straightforward with it.

- One of the mildest yanderes amongst the boys, Silver doesn't resort to violence or manipulation.

- It's not that he isn't good at either one, he is, you've seen multiple times how easily he overwhelmed past suitors who thought they could take you away from him, how easy his tongue told lies that crafted everyone into his scheme, but Silver simply doesn't see the point.

- Why would he put in so much effort into something that could be dealt with normally?

- If he wanted children, he would tell you and then he'll wait for your reply. He'll watch how your body reacts to him wanting to set his mark on you permanently.

- You can tell him no, and he'll nod his head.

- The next day, he'll ask you for your reason, and you can tell him that you aren't ready, that children were hard for you to handle.

- Again, he'll silently let your answer seep into him.

- The third day, he'll give you his answer,his reason and he'll make you choose.

- "If you give me a child, you can stay with your parents until you deliver."

- And then suddenly,your entire world comes crashing down on you.

- You're not sure if you're hearing him right and patiently,Silver repeats his offer and you're staring at him as if your eyes are adjusting to some sort of light you were hidden away from.

- He knows why you're stumped, though. Silver took you away from your family and friends the moment he had you in his grasp.

- You were his precious songbird,his treasured magpie. No one else could hold open the doors to your cage save for Silver himself.

- He lets you think it over, because that's just how he is despite how impatient he seems to look,Silver could wait for over a year for your reply. He won't lay a hand on you, never has really, but the way his gaze seemed to freeze over whenever he looked to you gave you the impression that if you ever came to displease him, you'd be cut down in a second.

- How terrifying it was to not know when a trap has been disarmed.

- Silver was not an easy man to read.

- So,you think and you think and think until your mind is burning from the lack of rest. You're trying to sort out the possibilities of him lying to you but it doesn't add up, because that isn't the sort of person Silver is.

- He doesn't lie. Doesn't need to.

- You're always stumbling on your feet when it came to him.

- He's stirred awake from his nap when you came knocking on his study's door, your dress finely ironed and fitted perfectly to your figure. He admires how lovely you look in his home and Silver reaches out a hand to touch your sleeve, a small smile curled on his lips.

- "Your beauty makes me happy." He coos, somehow as if he's still in a dream. If only you could share his easiness.

- You're fighting the urge to turn stiff from his softness towards you, but are left relieved when he pulls away.

- "You've decided." It's not a question, and you look up to him,brows furrowing.

- "I haven't said anything yet"

- "No. But your skin is flushed, and your eyes are warm. You've already found an answer" Silver sounds so sure, effortlessly charming with how languid and smooth his words leave him. And the way he's able to read out your profile makes you wonder what else he seems to know about the thoughts your kept from leaving your lips.

- Truth is, the reason why Silver knows you so well is that his obsession over you has made him revolve his life around you. From the way you dressed to the very way you sleep,he keeps a detailed picture of it in his mind and they play in his thoughts when he dreams.

- A yandere Silver is one who's immensely enamored by his sweetheart, and ensures that their life is never too far from him to miss out.

- He knows you never wanted children,more so with him, but instead of making it seem like a permanent imprisonment, he'll make it a momentary freedom.

- Have his child and you'll get to see your family,go back to your childhood home and spend your days there until the child is born.

- There would be no lingering gazes or looming shadows watching you, you'd have your old life back if not a glimpse of it before you go back to his suffocating arms.

- But be wary,and be smart. Silver isn't a fool, once you're carrying his child he'll also place a small curse on you which will ultimately harm the life you hold inside you.

- This curse is triggered only if you try to escape him.

- You're only informed of it only after you're well under six months into the pregnant of course, and Silver will have the same calm, almost lazy demeanor when he does so,his gaze never once leaving yours as he watches you break down crying.

- He'll come up to your side though and gently run his hands up and down your back.

- "Don't worry,my love. As long as you keep to our promise, our young prince will be nothing but perfect."

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst Wonderland yandere #male yandere #twst trey clover #twst trey #yandere trey #twst jade leech #twst jade #yandere jade #twst cater diamond #twst cater #yandere cater #twst silver #yandere silver #male yandere x reader

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lostonehero · 3 years

Text

Maxie did not enjoy dwelling on his past, no not the recent past with Gyrdon and team magma, more of his childhood. Archie kept inviting him over for family events and it kept reminding him of his own family in Sinnoh. Nobody really asked they all assumed Maxie was from Honen even if he dressed weird, but that wasn't true. He never did want to go home too many bad memories.

Maxie thought back to his parents they were scientist, he had older siblings but he was never allowd to meet them, you see he was a accident he wasn't suppose to be born. His parent decided that it was great to have an extra child, Maxie didn't even get out of the womb before experimentation started. He shudders at the thoughts of the years of needles his body changing. Then he ran away at 16, he was a angry teen. Years of experiments and abuse woukd do that to him, camomile his soon to be camerupt was another pokemon he managed to escape with. He tried the gym challenge but it didn't truly appeal to him.

That's when he started to figure himself out, he liked men and that wasn't allowd so he started a protest which lead to creating a band. That was the best until the raid, he lost his arm that day and a few inches due to his spine being shattered. He lost his voice and had to wear glasses after pepper spray directly in his eyes and mouth.

He was arrested after a year of physical therapy he only arrived in Honen when he turned 23 after two years in prison. He was still angry so he started to research, maybe that is why he started team magma. He doesn't regret meeting his team and his admins they were like another family to him like his band once was.

Granted that is all over and he now sits next to Archie's father and mother they keep nudging him to ask Archie out. Maxie always refused, but he did have feelings for Archie but he was also 30 years his senior, and he didn't want Archie to bury him. He knows the only reason he survived that raid is what his parents done, and he also knows that his body is in terrible shape so he wouldn't want to put Archie in that position. Granted Archie loved his metal arm.

......

Maxie was zoning out as the conversation turned to background noise until Archie's father gave a slap to his back bringing him back to reality. "Uh yes?"

He snickers. "Archie tells me you're volunteering to help out research for us old me."

Maxie sighs "yeah it will help with my community service, I'm not expecting much its just me heading into a tube while machines buzz." He shrugs. "They didn't really explain things to me, but I don't mind because no needles."

"I see well if it works my son is still pining for you."

Maxie's face goes slightly red "its not that type of device."

Archie's father burst into laughter "ah you are easy to trase no wonder why my boy loves you."

Maxie sighs still conflicted with his feelings for Archie, that man knows barely anything about him and he is so young he doesn't deserve someone on there way out like Maxie. He frowns getting up. "Thank you for tonight but I fear I have an early morning tell everyone I left I dont want them blowing up my phone in worry for me."

He sighs and nods "Maxie im serious just give it a chance."

Maxie says nothing as he leaves

.......

Maxie enters the human sized test tube is what he is calling this. He just sighed Steven was watching excited to see the outcome. He didn't really want to think about this he wasn't really listening when they were explaining what was going to happen. Archie was also watching Maxie of course was red face since he is just in boxers.

Archie gave him a wink as the machine whirled to life. Maxie shivered feeling movement under his skin he always wanted to blame this on what happened during the raid, but he knew it was from his parents. He always hid or took care of whatever mutations he had. Call it self harm but after the raid it stopped probably due to the stress on his body. A pink and gray smoke vapor surrounds Maxie as he looses himself in his own thoughts. Until a burning hot pain enters in his lungs and he starts to cough, his vision blurs and he passes out.

.....

"...just look at him Shelly...... is this how he looked when he was younger...... I can see his muscles...... no I am not drooling."

That was Archie's voice, Maxie focused on that he remembered being in the tube then pain and then nothing. He took a deep breath and gives a heavy sigh no pain with that. Wait no pain? Maxie shot up sitting up straight. "What happened? " he studies his body something clicking in his head. "Why... no what uh where are my clothes."

"Maxie you're awake." Archie was like bouncing off the wall like an excited poochenya puppy. "So the experiment went sideways but you're ok and like 30 years younger."

Maxie was stunned he didn't know what else to say. He still had his metal arm, and he felt fine without pain, but he shivered feeling things move under his skin. "I- I uh I." His mind short circuits trying to process this.

Archie frowns. "Are you ok hot head?"

Maxie sighs smiling at that nickname. "Just let me get used to this."

.....

Its been a few weeks, and Archie cannot handle how good twenty something year old Maxie looks. He loved the older man before and now he can't stop drooling over how good he looks. Granted that hasn't stopped his concerned seeing weird things under Maxie's skin and he swore he felt horns when he messed up his hair the other day. It wasn't as if they were hurting Maxie it just looked uncomfortable.

Archie realized he knew very little about Maxie and how he grew up. He knew Maxie was from sinnoh and he used to dabble in music but thats about it. He sighs to himself he wanted to know more about his hot headed rival turned companion, but he didn't know how to start.

Maybe thats how he ended up bringing a drunk Maxie back to his place to stop him from traveling drunk this late. "Max you really need to limit yourself."

"Pshh Archie I can handle my liquor just fine." He says before puking in the bushes. "Mmh I still have no tolerance." He giggles to himself.

"Maxie I told you to limit yourself." Archie sighs this isn't the first time he has taken home a drunk Maxie. He just noticed Maxie drink more when family was brought up. He just asked if he had any siblings.

"Never met my siblings." Maxie mutters catching Archie off guard. "I was a mistake, I was never suppose to happen." He says cheerfully as of he was sharing good news. "So so so uh...." he giggles "I forgot what I was talking about."

Archie had a sinking feeling in his chest like he wasn't suppose to hear this. "Ok Max thats enough drinking for now." He knew drunk Maxie could not lie, and he also knew drunk Maxie loved to talk.

"But Archie I love you" Maxie giggles clinging onto Archie practically hanging on.

"Maxie when you're sober."

"But Archie."

"No "

Maxie pouts which looks pretty cute to Archie.

.......

Maxie woke up with a pounding headache in a familiar guest room and groans. He really needed to quit drinking. He sighs getting up heading to the bathroom and groans. Two yellow horns poked through his red hair like warning lights. He groans again holding his head knowing what this is. "Only took less then a week of being young again for the mutations to rear there ugly head." He hated what his parents made him. The only good part is that he can talk and understand his pokemon.

Archie was knocking on his door probably with clean clothes.

Maxie internally curses and grabs a towel to wrap around his head and rushes to answer the door. "Hey Archie thanks " he grabs the clothes and slams the door in Archie's face.

"Maxie why do you have horns?"

Maxie looks up and realizes in his rush the towel fell off and he sighs opening the door and pulling Archie inside forgetting how strong he is.

Archie gives a oof as he falls to the floor as the door closes.

"You can't tell anyone Archie, you just can't I haven't had time to file these down. Its only been a week in a younger body and woopdedoo my mutations are back again." He was pacing trying to calm himself.

"Maxie?"

"Im nothing but a freak thanks to them and I can't even do anything about it at least with my broken body older form my body was under so much stress no mutations had a chance to actually occur because they were so focused on keeping me alive."

"Maxie"

"And now you know and I can't just take it back. I wanted to tell you so badly because I loved you but now this and I can't stop it. I always had time to cut them off or saw off the extra stuff sure it was bloody but it worked."

"MAXIE"

Maxie stops and nearly stumbled onto himself "yes?"

"Are you ok?"

"I mean I'm not in pain if thats what you're asking."

"Maxie.... what uh er pokemon are thoes horns from? I don't recognize it?"

This question stopped Maxie he never really thought about that before. What pokemon was the mutations based on more then one? He didn't know. "I don't know?"

"Oh ok do they hurt?"

"No its like uh hair but thicker."

"Why yellow and not red to match your hair hot head?" He smirks

Maxie scowls trying to hide a smile. "I don't know Archie why do you ask stupid questions you water logged baffoon"

Archie stiffled a laugh knowing he succeeded in calming down Maxie. "Come on I'll make you breakfast, you're probably hungover."

Maxie sighs knowing he is right

#hardenshipping #magma boss maxie #magma leader maxie #pokemon maxie #pokemon archie #aqua leader archie #team magma #team aqua

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tomhiddlestonfanfic · 3 years

Text

Post Apocalyptic Love Chapter One

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

NUMBER OF CHAPTERS/ONE SHOT: 1/? WHICH TOM CHARACTER: Doctor Thomas Hiddleston PAIRING: Tom/OFC GENRE: Drama, Romance

SUMMARY After three generations of living inside of vault 181, the era of expeditions into the wasteland has finally come. Young scientist Rory Waters is more than eager to join in on the fun together with her colleague and boss, Doctor Thomas Hiddleston. There is only one problem, Rory is a fertile and childless woman in her mid-twenties. In order to be able to go out on an expedition, she has to promise the research board that she will provide them with a child afterwards. There is only one man in the entire vault that Rory can imagine having children with...

CHAPTER ONE Miss Troublemaker

Most people called her selfish, and maybe she was. But there was something very captivating about her. She was free-spirited and outspoken, which were rare and unappreciated traits within the vault, and something that had gotten her into trouble more times than she could count. Tom smiled to himself as he recalled how he in the past had heard stories about the girl’s escapades and her reluctance to respect her authorities. He had dreaded the day she was to set foot in his lab as his apprentice and he had seriously considered refusing to take her on, like all of his colleagues had before him. But after a lot of consideration, he had finally decided that he would do what no one else was willing to do, and that was to give the girl a fair chance to prove herself.

It had now been almost seven years since he first let the girl into his lab and he felt like he had made the right decision. Of course she was still the same rebellious person she had been seven years ago, but over the years she had proven herself to be a promising scientist and the way she kept questioning things was one of her qualities that brought their research forward. She was like a fresh gust of air whirling things up around her, oftentimes causing chaos, but once the chaos had died down, there were often precious moments of clarity contributing to their research.

“Is it true?” Rory asked eagerly as she burst into the lab, twenty minutes late.

“Is what true?” Tom wondered, giving her a look of disapproval when she jumped up to sit on the counter. No matter how many times he had asked her not to sit there, she insisted on repeating the action almost on a daily basis. Rory took a big bite of the carrot she had brought with her and chewed for a long time before she answered his question. That was another thing about her that annoyed him. She would insist on eating inside the lab even though she knew very well that it was a violation of the laboratory’s code of conduct and safety.

“Are they really sending people out again?” Rory asked excitedly.

“Yes,” Tom replied, having a pretty good idea as to where the conversation was heading.

“Are they sending scientists this time too?” she asked hopefully.

“I don’t know yet,” Tom replied truthfully.

“If they do, will you put in a good word for me?” Rory requested. Tom raised an eyebrow at her. She was a childless, fertile woman in her mid-twenties. There was no way they were going to send her out into the wasteland; her womb was much too valuable for that. She knew that as well as he did, and yet she seemed to believe that she actually had a chance at making the research team.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Tom told her.

…

“Is it true that you are going outside the vault?” Rory asked after bursting into the lab. Tom was startled and nearly dropped the test tube he was holding. She was on time for once. He hadn’t been expecting her for at least another twenty minutes.

“It’s not decided yet,” Tom replied as he carefully put the test tube in place.

“I assume you’ll need an assistant, doctor,” Rory said and Tom sighed. She only called him by his title when she wanted him to do something for her.

“I might,” he told her. “But like I said, nothing is decided yet.”

“Take me with you!” Rory exclaimed excitedly.

“Pardon?” Tom replied, not having expected her to be quite as straightforward.

“I want to go with you,” Rory told him ardently. “I've been your assistant for years now. I'm qualified enough. Please, let me go with you,” she pleaded.

“But you don’t have any children yet,” Tom objected and frowned at her. “You know that it’s not possible for me to take you with me. Your life is far too precious for that.”

“I am a woman, not a breeding animal,” Rory huffed and crossed her arms. “And what about your life? Isn't your life precious?”

“Not as precious as yours. I’m disposable,” Tom told her truthfully. “You, on the other hand, is not. You’re needed here. It is your duty to keep the human race alive,” he reminded her. She was being selfish and selfishness had no place in this new world. It was what they had been taught since childhood; the needs of the human race must be prioritised over the needs of the individual.

“And what about what I want? Doesn’t that mean anything?” Rory questioned. Tom sighed, knowing that she had had this conversation plenty of times before with the ethics committee.

“If your opinion hadn’t meant anything, you would be rearing children right now instead of working in the lab alongside me,” Tom reminded her. The higher ups had been unusually lenient with her about her refusal to have children.

“You don’t have any children,” Rory remarked.

“What are you getting at?” Tom asked her impatiently. He couldn’t work when she kept bombarding him with questions and arguments.

“If you let me come with you, I’ll agree to have your children,” Rory said. Tom looked at her with surprise. Rory was a highly sought after woman, mostly because of her refusal to have children with just about any man. A lot of men in the vault appreciated a challenge in a world where girls were raised to become mothers and having many children was regarded as a status symbol. Tom had heard talk amongst the men about conquering and taming Rory the Rebel, as they liked to call her, and supposed that most men would jump at the opportunity of having children with her.

“You know that’s it’s not for me to decide whether you can come with me or not,” Tom told her seriously. “You know as well as I do that it’s against the rules. If a fertile woman should be allowed near anything potentially dangerous, she has to have at least two healthy children first,” he reminded her. “This is about our race’s survival - you have to put that over your own selfish desires.”

“So you don’t want to have children with me then, doctor?” Rory asked disappointedly.

“That’s not at all what I said,” Tom objected.

“I will refuse to have children with anyone but you,” Rory said and he looked at her with surprise.

“You will have to bring that up with the higher ups,” Tom told her.

“No, Tom,” Rory pleaded, seemingly a bit desperate. “You are well respected and they will listen to you. Please, convince them that you need me to come with you out there. That’s all I want,” she told him ardently. “If I get to come with you, I promise I will be more cooperative and do my part for the human race. But first, I want to see what has become of the world. I want to see what the real sky looks like, and the sun, and if possible, even the sea. If I get to go outside of this vault at least once, then I’ll be happy to do my part for the greater good.”

“So you want to have my children? No one else’s?” Tom asked amusedly, smiling at her naïvety. Did she really think she would get her wish?

“If they give me what I want, I’ll give them what they want,” she argued.

“And what about what I want?” Tom questioned amusedly.

“You have yet to tell me what you want. Of course I don’t want you to do anything against your will,” Rory reasoned.

“It would have been more flattering if you would have wanted to have my children without all those demands,” Tom told her truthfully, causing her to smile one of her mischievous smiles that he both adored and feared so much.

“Well, I’m not here to flatter you,” she said in a businesslike tone. “Do you agree to this or not?”

“I agree to have children with you, if you so wish,” Tom replied with a smile. “I’ll ask the high ups, but I can’t promise you anything, miss troublemaker.”

Next Chapter

#tom hiddleston #doctor tom hiddleston #doctor Thomas Hiddleston #post apocalyptic #post apocalyptic love #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston real person fanfiction #tomhiddlestonfanfiction #tom hiddleston/ofc

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kenzieam · 4 years

Text

Beauty and the Blackheart - Chapter Four

@jewels2876 @moonbeambucky @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @iammarylastar@captstefanbrandt @badassbaker @pinknerdpanda

I know I’m forgetting people, sorry. If you want in, hit me.

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Rating: M

Warnings: Language, general nuttiness, smut, major angst

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We finally learn a little bit of Bucky’s tragic background.....

FEEDBACK IS LIFE, Y’ALL, LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE POSTING OR NOT

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Morning came too soon, and Lev found herself suffering from a dual hangover; both from the tequila and from Bucky’s actions.

What had he meant when he’d said he wished to God he’d done different?

Her head ached and her body throbbed yet the worst, or maybe best, part was she could still feel Bucky’s fingers, gently caressing her nape, the strength in his arms when she’d clung to him, mistaking him for Clint.

Goddammit, it had felt good, he had felt good, his touch settling something deep inside her that had been alone and restless for far too long.

Lev thrust her hands through her hair, then scrubbed her face with her hands. A quiet knock at the door made her raise her head.

“Yeah?”

Clint’s apologetic face appeared. “How are you feeling?”

“I need to leave, Clint. It’s no good if I stay.”

His lips turned down, eyes dropping to the floor, but Clint nodded. “Yeah, Bucky…. Bucky’s had some bad shit happen in the past, it’s… it’s probably best if you...” He trailed off, unwilling or unable to continue then seemed to perk up a tiny bit. “Will you wait until tomorrow to leave? I’d really like to spend one last night with you.”

Lev’s heart warmed at the thought, just Clint and her, brother and sister, spending some quiet time together; what she should have done from the start, rather than getting tangled in the tattoo shop and Bucky. “Of course. Want to order some pizza? Watch old ‘80s campy horror like we used to?”

Clint positively beamed. “Yeah, I’d love that.” He turned to leave then hesitated, looking back at Lev before turning to leave again, but still he didn’t move, shoulders slumping.

“Come here.” Lev called quietly, waiting until Clint sat silently on the edge of the bed, reaching over to take his hand. “I’m sorry. Whatever is messed up between Bucky and I, that’s on me. Everything was good until I got here. I don’t want to come between you guys, or make you choose between us. I was just visiting anyway, so now I’m leaving a little early, that’s all; it’s okay.”

Sorrow flashed briefly in Clint’s gaze but they both knew she was right. “It sucks.”

“Yeah, but you’ll just have to come and visit me then.”

“I will.” He met her eyes and nodded. “We always go too long between seeing each other, that’s going to change. I miss you, kid.”

Lev felt a pang in her chest and her voice caught as she whispered. “I miss you too, big brother.”

Clint swallowed, then cleared his throat aggressively. Big sappy displays were not his thing, and in truth, they weren’t Lev’s either. He stood, almost abruptly and swiped at his cheek. “See you tonight,” a thought seemed to hit him then and he hesitated before adding, “would you mind if Steve came over too? He’ll be upset to hear you’re leaving; he’ll want to say goodbye.”

“Of course, yeah. That’d be great.” Lev sighed, relieved that Clint had thought of it. It would save her having to go to the shop, maybe running into Bucky, to say goodbye to Steve herself.

Clint nodded, threw her a sad grin, then left.

Lev considered mooning around in bed for a while, wallowing in the disappointment of her current situation, then threw the covers back with a groan, forced her feet to touch the floor.

You win some, you lose some. She wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, she knew that, and she and Bucky just hadn’t clicked, there was no shame it that, only if she stubbornly refused to acknowledge it, continued to force herself into his space would it become wrong. Leaving was the best option for everyone.

Then why did it hurt?

If leaving was the right thing to do, then why had she found herself driving by the local hospital more than once, watching the comings and goings of staff and patients, imagined herself working there, part of the rush and crush?

No. It did no good to drown in the ‘what if’s and if only’s’. Her life was a three-and-a-half-hour plane trip away, not here.

She needed a shower and, while the hot water pounded her bare skin, she made herself not think about everything.

Later, Lev found herself in the backyard. There was a small pool that she’d shamefully underutilized, and tall fragrant trees blocking any nosy neighbours from spying. Sprawled on her stomach on the lounge chair, Lev surfed idly on her laptop, having already booked her flight home for tomorrow and now letting herself drift, catching up on friend’s Facebook pages, something she rarely had made time for in the past. A pang hit her as she read, seeing how everyone seemed to have a life, a family, children on the way. All Lev had, all she’d concerned herself with for years, had been her education, her upcoming career.

Had she wasted her life? In her one-track mind approach to everything, had she missed out on all the good stuff?

No, she decided firmly. She was still young, now that her education was out of the way, she could start really living, reaping the rewards that years of sacrifice and discipline had brought.

The sun was warm on her bare shoulders and Lev giggled at herself. She was even starting to tan, something she hadn’t done since junior high, when she’d flirted briefly with the track team to round out her academic record before quitting to take an extra chemistry class.

Pushing the laptop away, Lev rested her cheek on her crossed arms and closed her eyes. She imagined laying on one of the tattoo tables at the shop, getting her first real ink. Would Bucky’s fingers be as soft working on her tattoo as they’d been against her nape last night? Would his breath tickle her skin, the heat of his big body warm her? Would the same tingles she felt every time they’d accidentally brushed up against each other race through her as he drew on her virgin skin? She realized now what had always made her edgy around him, and she wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t experienced it herself, but there was a low-level charge between them, a humming energy that colored and heated the air around them, swirling and tangling and, for better or worse, binding them.

As she lay there, she imagined Bucky’s touch moving lower, trailing teasingly along her suddenly bare back to reach the curve of her ass and Lev shuddered, but not in a bad way.

Even when she’d avoided him at the shop, she’d still hungered for glances of him, quick snatches of his hands, large and veined and tattooed, gentle as he worked yet looking so strong and dangerous. He’d proven that last night, breaking that guy’s nose at the bar and literally wrenching her from her seat before brushing back her hair so carefully, enfolding her in his embrace so securely.

What would it feel like to have him inside her, to feel him grip her hips and drive himself home between her thighs? Lev was not a virgin but only barely, her tentative explorations with a classmate, almost clinical in their detachedness, had been more like studying than anything else and she’d not gotten off, not with any satisfaction anyway.

But it would be different with Bucky, Lev mused. He was experienced, he knew how to touch a woman, how to bring her pleasure. She’d covertly glanced at the sizeable bulge in his jeans more than once, felt her womb clench at the thought of feeling that push inside her. If he kissed her with half as much raw desire and want as she’d seen him suck face with some of those girls then she might ever come from that alone, convulsing in his arms when he hadn’t even really touched her yet.

And God, the thought of those long, dextrous fingers brushing at her folds made her shiver, toying with her clit, spreading her juices-

“Hey,” A deep voice called tentatively, and Lev startled out her daydream, nearly knocking the laptop off the chair above her. She shook her head, peering at the speaker and felt her face go beet-red.

Of course, of course it would have to be Bucky standing a few dozen feet away, looking like tattooed sin himself, probably able to smell her arousal in the air.

Lev scrambled to cover herself, cursing her impulsive decision to lose her pants and lounge in only her tank-top and panties, the blanket she’d brought out too far away to reach.

Goddammit, why had she decided to slut-it-up now?

Sensing her discomfort, Bucky strode forwards and grabbed the blanket, holding it out to her with averted eyes. Gratefully Lev took it, sitting cross-legged and wrapping the blanket around her.

Bucky studied her for a beat, just long enough to make Lev drop her gaze, then looked around. Walking towards the other lounge chair, he pulled it closer and sat with a sigh, scrubbing his hands on his jeans. Lev waited, not at all sure why the hell Bucky was here, and what he was going to say to her.

“I overheard your brother telling Steve… you’re leaving?” He bent over, clasped his hands together, forearms resting on his thighs and studied his fingers, not meeting her gaze.

“It’s for the best.” Lev mumbled. “You don’t like me, and I won’t come between my brother and his friends.”

“I never said I don’t like you.”

Lev snorted with derision, barely believing her ears. Really? He’d never said he didn’t like her? He didn’t need to, he’d shown that he hadn’t, every fucking day.

Bucky glanced up at her snort then dropped his head again, ears reddening as he correctly read her thoughts.

Lev waited, not trusting herself to speak again without flying off the handle and destroying whatever fragile tie brought Bucky here today looking so humbled and studied his form instead. She’d gazed at him time untold already, covertly but, with the reality of her leaving and probably never seeing him again, her eyes greedily devoured him now, committing him to memory for the inevitable dark times of regret ahead. Tattoos crawled his neck to his impossibly chiselled jawline visible even beneath his beard, the colors vibrant and lines strong, Clint’s best work. His left arm, apparently grievously broken some years ago and repaired with pins and screws, was covered in a full cyborg sleeve, right down to his hand. Steve was responsible for it and it blended seamlessly with his musculature, flowing with a startling realism when he moved. The other arm was covered in a full sleeve as well, but as a myriad of images tied together, entailing untold hours of work and resulting in an image that took hours and multiple viewings to fully capture and appreciate all the details, all the way down to calloused and scarred fingers, his touch startingly tender when he wanted, bone-crushing when he didn’t.

He looked like the last person someone like Lev would be attracted to yet, as she gazed at him, a yearning that took her breath away clawed around her heart; a small voice deep inside whispering a plaintive but implacable ‘mine’.

The full effect, of his massive frame, beard, long hair, heavily tattooed body, leather and denim attire and general ‘don’t fuck with me’ aura made him an intimidating presence but, right now, he was making himself vulnerable, showing a side to Lev that his outward appearance made it look like he didn’t have.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “Whatever chance I had…. I’ve fucking lost you now, haven’t I?” His voice cracked and Lev stared in shock at his bent head.

What? Where the hell was this coming from? When had he ever wanted a chance with her?

“I… I don’t understand, Bucky. I didn’t think you ever did.”

“I did.” His voice was so low Lev almost missed it. “God, I did, I do.”

A sudden rush hit Lev, a swell of conflicting emotions; confusion, curiosity, anger and, oddly enough, sympathy for the man in front of her. It would have been so much easier to stay away, wait the few short hours for Lev to leave forever and never think of her again and yet… he’d come to her, looking and sounding broken.

“Her name was Amelia.” Bucky said unexpectedly. “Everyone called her Ami. She was serious, driven, disciplined… she was like you.” He raised his head briefly before dropping it again. “We were night and day, but I loved her. Even back in high school… fuck, I loved her. She had all these plans, you know? This big fancy career, what she was going to do, when and where and I was going to be there with her. I mean, I was apprenticing with Steve, but you can do that anywhere, I could’ve gotten a job in a shop anywhere…. I just wanted to be with Ami, you know? I was happy with just that.”

His exhale was unsteady, and Lev tensed, a sick feeling building in her stomach as she connected the dots. There was no woman named Ami hanging around the shop, no ring on Bucky’s finger, just a steady stream of faceless women.

“I sold my Harley to buy her engagement ring.” He sighed heavily and Lev was shocked to feel the beginnings of tears prick her eyes. “I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me and…. She laughed. Laughed in my face.”

Lev felt a rush of rage at this woman, how cruel, how goddamn heartless, to laugh when someone is making themselves so vulnerable like that? Taking a chance and asking you to share your life with them?

“’Why?’ She asked,” Bucky spat, fists going white at the knuckles as he clenched them. “’Why would I marry someone like you?’” He swallowed hard. “She told me I was crazy, to think we’d ever had a future. She said I was a disappointment, I had no goals, no dreams or ambitions beyond being a loser, that only crooks and druggies became tattoo ‘artists’ and that I needed to get serious and grow up.”

A tear coursed down Lev’s cheek. Even at her most angry, her most hurt by Bucky’s treatment of her, she never would have gone so low as this Ami woman, especially with someone she’d supposedly loved, enough to give him the impression of a potential future between them.

“She left. I haven’t seen her since.” He took a deep breath, let it out with a heartbreaking resignation. “I stayed apprenticing because it was all I had. Steve, Nat, tattoos and eventually, your brother. And I’m not a loser, I have a business with my two best friends, a successful one and I’m content with that… but I haven’t let a woman close since her. I fuck and forget because it doesn’t hurt. I’m upfront with them because Ami wasn’t with me, there’s no illusions. And then you walked into my shop.” He looked up finally and the riot of emotions darkening his eyes made the thin remains of her restraint fail and the tears fell unheeded down her face.

“I thought I’d loved Ami but,” he shook his head. “It was nothing compared to what hit me when I saw you that first time, and… it scared the fuck out of me because it was happening again. I was falling for a woman with the same drive and desire to succeed as her. And I hated that, this… weakness of mine, to get caught in that again, like the first time never happened… and it pissed me off so bad and terrified me at the same time. I did all I could to keep you away, but I couldn’t help it sometimes…. sometimes I just had to be close to you, sometimes I couldn’t hide it anymore. I fought so hard to push you away because Ami broke me but… if I let myself love you and you did the same, it would kill me this time.”

Lev stared, horror and sorrow taking her breath away.

Wow.

Of all the things she expected to hear from Bucky, whatever explanations or excuses he might have offered to maybe justify his actions, she’d hadn’t imagined anything like this because, why would you? Who would ever think that another human being could be that cruel, especially to someone they’d given at least the impression of loving? If Ami hadn’t wanted to marry Bucky, fine; if she’d thought him unambitious, whatever, but she hadn’t needed to crush him like that.

What pain did he hide behind those supernatural eyes?

She was getting a good look at that pain now, coupled with a deep regret.

“I…” He began but trailed off. Fists clenching again he continued. “I just needed you to know that; it was never really about you, you’re-” his voice cracked again. “You’re going to make some lucky fuck really happy one day and this is all on me. What’s happened between us is my fuck-up, not yours. Never. yours.”

Without conscious intent Lev stood and moved to sit at Bucky’s side. She had no idea what she was doing, but his pain cleaved her in two. Bucky lifted his head, turning eyes dark with regret her way. Only a foot away, Lev could see the moisture gathering there, the tightness at the corners of his eyes as he fought back emotion; he exhaled, a long, low sound that wavered as his gaze dropped to her mouth.

Hunger joined the pain and he looked back up into her eyes, the power in his gaze gripping her in place, drawing her closer and their lids fluttered closed just as their lips touched, a tentative brushing before his hand reached up and cupped her jaw, curled around to cradle her head and hold her close as the kiss deepened, grew hard and passionate as floodgates long held close burst open. It was all teeth and tongues and desire and Lev couldn’t stop a moan against Bucky’s mouth, which he answered with a primal sound, low in his chest. Grabbing her waist Bucky pulled Lev to straddle his lap and she moved eagerly, tightening her thighs around his hips, inhaling sharply when he squeezed her leg, growling in barely leashed need.

She could feel him, hot and hard, pressing against her core, one large hand guiding her hip, grinding her against him then the other was rucking up under her shirt, cupping her breasts, thumb rasping over her nipples.

“Fuck, baby-” Bucky groaned against her mouth and he was all she could see, hear, smell, feel and taste, completely capturing and overwhelming her senses and Lev wanted nothing more in that moment than for Bucky to tear her clothes away and drive inside her, make her scream and writhe beneath him, feel him release inside her with a groan.

This is happening too fast.

“Wait-” Lev gasped, heart hammering.

Bucky pulled away only far enough to rest his forehead to hers and panted, chest heaving, eyes closed, and face twisted with pain.

“I-” He began, a heartbreaking crack in his voice then he stopped again, taking a deep breath. “You’re right.” His hand tightened on her hip for an instant before he gently pushed her off his lap, standing before Lev could find her voice to argue, to tell him what her brain was scrambling to form and communicate.

No, don’t go. Not like this, I just meant slow down.

“Bucky-”. Damn her panicking nerves, her flustered heart. Just say it. Spit it out before he got the idea that you didn’t want to continue, that you don’t hunger and ache for him the way he does for you.

If Bucky saw her struggle, if he understood it, he chose to ignore it.

“No, Lev.” He took a step back, fists clenching. “It’s better this way.” He hesitated, then turned to leave.

Lev watched him go, her breath clawing in her throat, torn between wanting to call out to him, and remaining silent. Tears pricked her eyes as she watched his wide, powerful frame, now slumped with regret, disappear through the gate and, when she heard the faint rumble of his bike from down the street, she let them fall.

Why hadn’t she called out to him?

Because.

This was the least painful way to part. He’d explained why he’d behaved the way he had, and while it didn’t change their past, at least it would help Lev lay it to rest. The kiss changed nothing, the fact that it was the most visceral experience of Lev’s life only showed how closeted and sheltered she was, nothing more, nothing as foolish as love or soulmates or passion.

But watching him go right now had hurt worse than anything else, worse than his most venomous, snapped retorts, his sullen silences and the long days without catching even a glimpse of him.

Something inside him called out to something inside her and made the snow globe inside her settle, let her soul take a deep breath. This had been hidden by Lev’s confusion and anxiety, Bucky’s bristling and shields; but he’d peeled a part of himself back last night, dropped the mask of anger long enough for Lev to see the damage beneath, and today he’d fully bared his heart to her, let her see all his grievous wounds. And rather than driving her away, it had cracked something kindred open in her. The load she carried; the balls Lev forever felt like she juggled weren’t so life-or-death; she didn’t feel like she was hanging on by her fingernails and needed to constantly move to stay afloat when he was near her and, while her brain hadn’t yet caught up to this, her heart had.

But it was too late now. The moment was over, he had left, and she was leaving tomorrow.

She needed to drop it.

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Lev yawned heavily, rubbing at her bleary eyes, not caring that she was most likely smudging her mascara. She hoped briefly that the Karen and her spawn would be on this flight, at least her strident complaints would help keep Lev awake.

After Clint got home, with Steve at his side they’d ordered pizza and sat down to watch gory, campy ‘80’s slasher movies and Lev had done her best to stay present but her brain refused to concentrate, Bucky and her pending departure forefront on her mind. The sorrow and misery on his face broke her heart and she’d hardly slept at all, tossing and turning, Bucky’s words, his gentle touch endlessly haunting her; she lost count of the times she reached for her phone, wanting to call him, but pulling back at the last moment.

Stopping at a coffee kiosk, Lev ordered a black eye and sipped it carefully, inhaling the comforting aroma. Due to her broken sleep, she’d left too early and consequently, had arrived at the airport too early as well and now wandered, pulling along her small carry-on and shouldering her backpack.

Clint had clients this morning and hadn’t been able to accompany her and for that, Lev was grateful. It was hard enough forcing herself to step onto a plane without her brother’s eyes on her as well. Their parting this morning, before Lev had gone out to meet the waiting taxi, had been full of unsaid words and choked back entreaties. More than once Lev caught Clint watching her with forlorn eyes, chewing on his bottom lip like he was fighting not to speak up and beg her to stay.

More than once on the way to the airport Lev opened her mouth to ask the driver to turn around, then closed it again.

Sometimes doing the right thing hurt, sometimes the correct path was the rockiest and Lev knew she would bleed for a long time over this, but it was the best thing to do.

Lev glanced up at a large clock on the wall of the terminal and sighed, they would be boarding soon. She pulled absently on the strap of her backpack and tried not to think about what she was leaving behind. The shop, the life, it had started to grow on her as she’d spent time among Clint and his friends, and she was genuinely sad to be parting from it all.

Especially Bucky. There had been something there, between them, right from the start and it hurt to leave without exploring their connection further, especially after that scorching kiss, but it was happening, she was here, she was leaving soon, and that was it.

She looked down the terminal, gaze trailing absently over the various people hurrying to their destinations, bumping into each other, throwing impatient glances at slower ones and was horrified to feel the prick of tears in her eyes as she acknowledged the fact that she was searching, waiting for Bucky to come running to her, to beg her to stay.

But there was no sign of him.

No. She wouldn’t cry. A bird may love a fish, but where would they live?

The intercom above buzzed, then Lev’s flight was being called to board and she turned, closing off her emotions.

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Lev grimaced as she swallowed the mouthful of cold coffee, dropping the paper cup in the nearest garbage with a heavy exhale and a frown. When was the last time she’d had time to stop and pour herself a fresh one? Three hours? Four?

Tonight at the Emergency Department was especially chaotic and while Lev revelled in the crush and rush, in the never-ending movement that made it that much easier not to think about her life, it was draining. Ever since she’s arrived home three months ago and called up her mentor to accept his offered position, Lev had done her best to stay in motion, to stay busy and distracted and while she would be paying off the remainder of her student debts left over after all the scholarships she’d won far earlier than she’d anticipated, deep inside something was missing.

An ache had taken residence in her chest and refused to leave.

The worst part was she knew exactly what that ache was and how to cure it, but she couldn’t.

She’d left, and Bucky hadn’t come for her. He’d acknowledged, like her, that regardless of the pain, staying apart was better for both of them and there was no medication or treatment offered in Lev’s ER to combat that.

“Hey,” Kaylee, one of the trauma nurses and Lev’s few friends, bumped her shoulder gently as they both leaned on the unit’s main desk, conserving their energy for the next emergency. “You going to do it?”

Lev fought not to grimace, dropping her head to hide her expression. Kaylee had been trying for the last two weeks to pin Lev down for a blind date with one of her brother’s friends and while the little brunette sprite was persistent, so far Lev had managed to dodge her.

“I don’t know-”

“C’mon. You need to go out. Ever since you visited your brother you’ve been dragging your ass around!” Kaylee was never one to mince words and they’d formed a close friendship during Lev’s residency here, but sometimes the woman was insufferable.

“I have not been dragging my ass.” Lev hissed, trying to mask her irritation. She loved Kaylee and knew she was coming from a place of concern and friendship, but right now…. especially now, Lev didn’t want to hear it.

“He’s nice, tall, has a good job.” Kaylee continued, deciding to take a circuitous route to her point. “He’s really excited to meet you!”

Lev made a face. She’d had a chance at nice, tall and a good job before, and look where it had gotten her, although Bucky, in truth, hadn’t met the ‘nice’ part until just at the end.

“What’s his name again?” Lev stalled for time, furiously figuring out a way to escape.

“Stuart Pierson.”

Stuart. Levka and Stuart Pierson.

Not nearly the same ring as Levka and Bucky Barnes.

STOP IT.

“Kaylee, I can’t. I’ve got back to back shifts for the next week-”

“You know Trent wants them! He’ll take them off your hands!”

“And I’m still moving in-”

“Damn girl how long is that going to take? You bought a studio!”

“I’m just busy right now, okay?”

Kaylee fixed her with a Look, head tilted and hand on hip. “He’s not worth your time, Lev. Forget the gangbanger, okay?”

Lev winced, not for the first time regretting telling Kaylee about Bucky. She’d kept it general, not given his name or any real details about what had happened between them, and now Kaylee had this Hell’s Angels figure in her head, convinced that Lev had been ‘slumming’ it and the best thing to do would be to jump on the nearest WASP, namely Stuart Pierson.

But Bucky wasn’t a hood, and she hadn’t been slumming it. He’d been a decent guy that she’d gotten off on the wrong foot with and, rather than correct that, she’d left.

“Got a new one coming in.” Agnes, the old battle-axe unit clerk broke in. She’d been running the ER longer than anyone else and even the biggest asshole doctors respected and feared her. In truth, she was a secret sweetheart, as long as you provided covert homemade cookies and Starbucks every now and then.

“Got it.” Lev replied, instantly falling into her professional mentality. Although she was hella young compared to other doctors in the hospital, right now she and Dr. Abbott were the two most senior in the ER and he was sleeping in the lounge, an absolute bear to wake up.

Hurrying to the nearest sink, she quickly washed her hands then reached for supplies. Gown, goggles, booties; the ER could get messy rapidly and, as her heart began to beat faster in anticipation, Lev found her worries melting away. Later, after she’d stabilized the patient, after the adrenaline had worn off, it would be back, but Lev lived for this oblivion now.

Agnes called from the desk, relaying the EMT’s report and Lev listened carefully, forming a picture in her mind of what needed to be done.

“MVA, thirty-one year old male, t-boned at an intersection. Multiple breaks, possible internal bleed-” Agnes continued in a professional clip, reading off the man’s blood pressure, pulse ox, breathing rate and other pertinent information in short jargon indecipherable to the average listener.

“Morphine given on-route, but patient is combative-”

Interesting, most people wanted the pain gone, but others were confused and fighting everything, still tangled in the chaos of their accident.

“Multiple LOC in the field but awake now-”

Head injury? On top of internal damage. Lev would need to page the surgeon on call and get a neuro consult.

The sirens became louder and Kaylee joined her, gowned and ready, all grim attention and anticipation. Suddenly, the bus was there, backing up to the bay as the doors flew open. One EMT jumped out and pulled on the gurney, joined by ER staff to unload it.

Lev saw bare skin and blood, heard the EMT speaking but turned her focus on her new patient.

“Trauma One, let’s go!” An oxygen mask covered part of the man’s face and he was fully locked down in a body brace on the stretcher, standard procedure especially with a potential head injury. Lev got glimpses of denim and a torn t-shirt, but most of the man was obscured by swarming nurses and machines, bandages and tubes.

Grabbing her penlight, Lev leaned over the man’s face.

“I’m Dr. Barton, I’m here to help you. I just need to check your pupils, follow the light please. Can you tell me where it hurts?” The words fell from her mouth, well-rehearsed and practiced.

The man tried to speak but his voice was lost in the chaos. Lev peeled back an eyelid and shone her penlight, searching for his pupil’s reaction. First one, then the other, both equally reactive, good.

With a tearing sound, the remains of the man’s t-shirt were cut from his torso and Lev studied him clinically. Plenty of lacerations and contusions, to be expected, and a troubling shadow in the lower quadrant- Jesus the man was cut, and not just by glass, his musculature was incredible and there was something so familiar about the ink-

Oh Jesus.

“Bucky?!” Lev gasped.

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #au bucky #au bucky barnes #au bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky and lev #bucky x lev #au bucky romance #au bucky drama #au bucky smut #au bucky fanfic #tattoo bucky #au bucky angst

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softboywriting · 5 years

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At First Sight | Part One| Werewolf AU | Shawn Mendes

Summary: You move to a werewolf community with your mom to start a new life. You’ve always dreamed of finding a mate and having a fairy tale romance like your parents once had, and maybe this place is where it’s finally going to happen. [fluff] [mates] [werewolf au] [half-blood au]

Word Count: 3.4k

|Masterlist In Bio|

The second you stepped in to the Lunacasa community you knew you were home. It had been so long since you felt safe anywhere and to be in a place where werewolves were the only ones allowed was something else.

When you were a child your parents home schooled you until you were about fifteen, when your dad passed away unexpectedly in a car accident. After that you went to a local high school because your mom simply couldn't work and teach you anymore. High school was a nightmare, as it was for many young teens. However your case was different. You didn't blend in so well. Werewolves were known to humans and most of them looked like humans with little to no defining features. Your problem is that you look human, ninety nine percent human, until you get to your ears.

Unfortunately you had gotten unlucky in the gene pool. Your mother, a werewolf and your father, a human, happened to result in you having small wolf like ears that stick out from the sides of your head where your normal human ears should be. It's as if you're mid transformation all the time and your ears just got stuck halfway between human and wolf.

It wasn't unheard of that werewolves and humans intermixed, but most often it was uncommon that they successfully had a child. When they did, well, usually it turned out human looking but without the ability to shape shift and maybe some weakened senses if it survived at all. You were...well to put it plainly, one in a million. The doctors think you tried to shift in the womb and things got a little messed up. Your hearing isn't too badly affected thankfully, it's not the best but it's alright. The doctors said its a result of the deformity.

Going to a public high school was torture. People didn’t want to be your friend, they picked on you relentlessly and you weren't allowed to cover your ears with a hat or any head wear, per school policy. Every week without fail, someone pulled your ears and or howled at you. Not even any of your werewolf peers would stand up for you. It was hell.

Graduation came soon enough and then you were free to be yourself in the real world. In theory anyways. Companies don't want to hire a girl with wolf ears. They don't even finish interviews with girls with wolf ears, no matter how much experience you put on your resume, they didn't care.

Thankfully you managed to get into the call center your mom worked part time at, and because it was dealing with customers over the phone only, they hired you. The job was a blessing. You were able to help your mom make the bills and put food on the table. Things were looking up for you...until more werewolves moved into your area. Male werewolves in particular.

The first night two wolves followed you home you knew you were in trouble. After that you refused to go out alone, anytime or any place, someone had to go with you.

For two years you lived like this, hiding in your house or making sure that you were never alone in fear a rogue wolf would take you. You always covered your ears when you went out. Scarves, hats, headbands and hoods, all of them worked and did wonders when you went shopping with your mom.

It wasn't until your mom heard about a community upstate that was hiring a teacher for onsite kindergarten and preschool grade wolves that you realized you had a chance to escape the hell you had been living in.

A community with Werewolves where humans wouldn't judge you and you would be accepted how you were and not tailed by wolves looking for a cute wolf to fuck and forget. It was a dream and you knew your mom had to get this job. For weeks your mom applied and interviewed for the position, often driving several hours to the community for them after work. The job was a golden opportunity. It would mean rent free living because she would be an employee within the community. Combine that with safety and security within the area and you were set for life.

Weeks went by without a word and then one day a woman called and said your mom got the job. A few days later and you are well on your way to the Lunacasa community.

_____________________

You stand in a grand hall that's beautifully decorated with hanging chandeliers and art between every window. It looks almost like a high end art gallery of some sort. To be honest, when you heard the word community you figured it would be just like a gated neighborhood or something. Needless to say your expectations have been blown out of the water.

This community is huge. Driving into the place was like driving through a small town. You passed shops and homes as you drove down the main street toward the massive building you’re in now. It is supposedly the community building but it looks more like a giant mansion and you wouldn’t be surprised to find out it was once a mansion that has been converted.

"Maybe you'll find a nice boy here." Your mom says, elbowing you encouragingly as she takes in the main hall.

"I'd love to Mom. You've always told me how you and Dad fell for each other, it makes me want to have something like that."

"I know honey." She wraps her arm around you and lays her head on your shoulder. "I promise you'll find that special someone."

The sound of heels clicking on the wood floor snaps you out of your thoughts. A short curvy middle aged woman with long black hair is approaching followed by a very young, tall and handsome well dressed man behind her.

“Hello! Welcome! You must be Maria!” The woman says excitedly, extending her hand as she clicks closer. Your mom takes it, introduces the two of you and the woman says her name is Nancy and she is the Community Resources Director.

“This is Sha-” Nancy turns to introduce the young man who had been walking with her, only to find he has stopped a few feet back.

You look past Nancy and you can see he is staring at you. A flush rises on your cheeks. Surely he's spotted your ears. Great.

“Shawn? Are you alright?” Nancy asks, frowning.

“Yeah,” Shawn growls, clearing his throat and walking forward to meet you. “I'm fine. I've just got something...stuck, ahem!”

Nancy looks him over curiously. His behavior is obviously alarming her. “This is Shawn, he's the head alpha here. He oversees the pack, community, I'm sorry. If you ever have an issue don't be afraid to talk to him or myself.”

Your mom smiles and nods, continuing her conversation with Nancy but you don't hear a word. All you can focus on is Shawn. There's something about him that makes you want him. His presence is so inviting, warm and familiar. Never before have you felt so interested in someone. You've met other wolves of course but none that have made you feel like this.

Nancy, your mom and Shawn talk a while longer. Just some basic chit chat about Lunacasa and every few seconds Shawn looks at you, eyes on your face and other times sweeping over your body. His gaze didn't make you uncomfortable, and it holds no ill intent, like that of so many wolves that have ogled you before.

The three of them finish talking and Shawn extends his hand out to you as Nancy says she has some papers for your mom to sign for the new position.

“I can show you around while Nancy gets your mom set up for work.”

“Oh, um...” You look down and bite the inside of your cheek. You're sure it would be rude to refuse him without a legitimate reason. You didn't think you'd be alone with him so soon.

“Please?”

You place your hand on Shawn's and he curls his much larger fingers around yours. You look up and his eyes are alight in a golden amber hue. It takes your breath away. You have never seen golden eyes on a wolf before, its stunning in contrast to his dark hair and lightly tanned skin.

“I promise I don't bite.” He says playfully with a half chuckle.

“What if I like biting?” You cover your mouth, shocked at your own words. Where had that come from? That was not you. No way.

Shawn smirks, and he leans in close. “If you like biting, you'd best let me know.”

"I-I'm so sorry. That was so rude."

He chuckles, a warm smile on his lips. He's clearly brushed it off, or he's just playing along with your outburst as to not make you feel so embarrassed. "No worries. Come on, I'll show you where you'll be staying."

"I hope it's not too far away, I didn’t wear walking shoes." You look down at your slip on flats and back up to Shawn.

Shawn rubs his thumb over the back of your hand in his and suddenly you realize he hasn't let go of it yet. "Most of the housing isn't too far from the main building. Everything is in walking distance currently, but no, your place isn’t far."

You walk with Shawn through the building until you reach a large set of double doors. "Can I ask you something?" You ask as Shawn pushes open the doors to a big garden enclosed by the building and several small homes.

"Anything."

You look around at the garden you've walked into. There are a bunch of kids running around and giggling, running along the stone paths and playing catch with a ball. "How are you the alpha in charge?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're fairly young right? You don't look much older than me."

Shawn hums and leads you to a path that goes toward the back of a small brick house. "If you had to guess, how old do you think I am?"

"Um, well, I'm twenty one. So...maybe twenty three?"

"Close. I'm twenty five. My turn to ask a question."

"Okay?" You stop outside the front door to the house and Shawn runs his hand over your left ear, taking the tip between his fingers to rub gently.

"How did this happen?"

"My ears?"

"Mmmhmm."

You reach up and cover them with your hands. The familiar feeling of insecurity creeps up your spine and your heart sinks, this place isn't going to be different is it. "I was born like this, it’s a defect of being a half blood. Is that a problem?"

Shawn laughs, out right laughs. Not a response you expected. "Absolutely its not a problem. I think they're very cute and definitely unique. I’ve never seen ears like this. Are you a half-blood?"

"Y-yeah."

"That's incredible." He reaches for your hands and pulls them away from your head. "They’re beautiful. Don't hide your ears, they're part of you."

"It's a habit. Having ears like this isn't easy."

"We're going to change that." He puts his fingers under your chin and lifts your head to look at him. Your heartbeat skyrockets. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to find me. I'm always around."

"O-oh okay. So this is my place then?"

"Mmm." Shawn hands you a small key and you close your hand around it. "I'll let you explore on your own now. Remember, I'm always available."

_____________________

"What do you think?" Your mom asks you a few days later after you've gotten everything moved into the house. It's a small place, only slightly bigger than your apartment in the city but just right for the two of you.

You turn to look at her from the kitchen where you're unpacking a box of pans and utensils. "About what?"

"This place. What's your first impression?"

"It's nice. Everyone has been really friendly so far. The grounds look well kept up." You stack pans in the cupboard under the sink. You can't help but think about Shawn. The way he made you feel all warm and cozy with just a look was unlike anything you've felt before. You wonder if he could be your mate.

"How about Shawn?" Your mom says in that teasing, 'I know something you don't' type of voice.

You stand and look at her, wondering if she was somehow a mind reader now. Sure enough she's got a little grin on her face. "Mom, he's the alpha. He's nice I guess."

"Do you like him?"

"Of course. He is very polite."

"Polite hmm?"

"Mom!"

"Oh come on! That boy had eyes for your across the room! Anyone could see he was flirting with you. What did you talk about after I left the first day? Does he like your ears? I heard he likes them."

You flush and you can feel the heat creep down your neck. "Who said he likes them?"

"He did." Your mom walks over and leans against the counter, smirking triumphantly. "He said he thinks you're a lovely young lady and that he thinks your ears unique. We talked a little about how I got pregnant and stuff and how rare it is to have a half blood."

"You talked about me?!"

"Well, not like you specifically! We just talked about how rare it is to find someone like you."

You cover your face and groan. "Mom, I don't want everything to be about my ears here. I want to be me, to be accepted as a normal person and not defined by my stupid ears."

"I'm sorry baby." She lays her hand on your back. "I promise I won't talk to anyone about you anymore. I didn't want to be rude and Shawn was curious. I promise, no more. You're just you, okay?"

"Thanks Mom." A knock on the back door to the garden gets your attention and you look to your mom. "Did you invite someone over?"

"No?" She goes to the door and opens it to find Shawn standing there with a little box. "Shawn, hello. What brings you here?"

Shawn steps in at your mom's invitation and he looks around with a soft smile. "The place looks cozy "

"Thank you."

He extends the box in his hands to your mom. "This is a welcoming gift from Nancy and I. We made them last night."

You walk into the living room as your mom takes the top off the box. Inside is a bunch of mini muffins. "You made these?"

"Mmhmm. I wanted to do something special for the two of you to welcome you to Lunacasa. I know it's not much, and I hope they're good."

You smile at Shawn and he gives a warm smile right back. Your mom says she's going to take them to the kitchen and you step forward so she can go around you.

"How are things going?" Shawn asks softly, looking around the house once more. "You've unpacked a lot."

"It's going alright. We have a lot to work through, boxes and stuff. My bed is still against the wall in my room. It'll be another long night on the couch probably."

"Do you need help?"

"Um..." You look around. You want to say no, but you actually would love some help. It's Shawn and you definitely have a crush on him, so you kind of don't want him to help. "I-"

"Honey, I think I left some stuff in the trailer." Your mom says, grabbing her keys off the table in the dining area. "I'll be right back." She gives you a look as she slips out the door, one that you know means she didn't actually forget anything. She's just giving you space with Shawn.

Shawn chuckles and raises his eyebrows. "So? Can I help?"

"Y-yeah. Can you move a bed?"

"Definitely."

Shawn follows you into your bedroom. Your bed is propped up against the far wall with your box spring beside it. The frame is put together already since it's just a quick slide and bolt together set up. You go to one side of the box spring and Shawn goes to the other.

"Have you lived with wolves before?" Shawn asks as you tip the box spring onto its side and slide it onto the frame. "Or is this your first time?"

"This is my first time living with other wolves. There were some in my neighborhood but they weren't exactly a great crowd."

The two of you flip the mattress onto the box spring and shift it into place. You fall onto it, losing your footing on accident and Shawn sits down beside you as the two of you laugh. "You never answered my question by the way." You say, realizing that the other day when you asked him how he became the one in charge of the community, he didn't actually answer you.

"What's that?"

"How did you come to be in charge of this place?"

"Oh, right." Shawn lays back and his head is touching yours. "My dad founded this place as a safe haven for wolves when I was a kid. He got sick a few years back when I was eighteen. He didn't seem to get any better, he said he was, but I could tell. He taught me everything I needed to know. How to be kind and compassionate, and how to be the support people needed. He taught me, this isn't just a pack, it's a community. He was gone a few weeks later."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, it's been a while now." Shawn looks over at you as you look at him. "Sorry I kind of dumped that on you. I didn't mean to put that kind of weight on your shoulders"

"No, I asked."

Shawn reaches up and runs his fingers over your ear causing you to shiver. "Do you mind if touch them?"

"Not really. Just be careful."

He sits up and you go to sit up too but he stops you, a hand on your shoulder. He moves around behind you on the mattress and sits so you can put your head in his lap. It's intimate, so much so that you're not sure what to do besides stare up at the man before you. Things are happening fast and you aren't sure how to feel. You're not uncomfortable, but you don't think you should be as comfortable as you are.

"Is this okay?"

"Y-yeah. Should we be doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"My head is in your lap. You're petting my ears. We've only just met a few days ago. I shouldn't be so comfortable with you should I?"

Shawn chuckles softly. "I can definitely tell you haven't been around wolves. This is normal for wolves who have an attraction to each other. For humans it might seem a little fast, but with wolves, the sooner we can be physically affectionate the better."

"Is that why you feel so familiar, like I've known you forever?"

"Mmmhmm." He runs his hand over your left ear.

“I wonder if this is what my mom means when she tells me about how her and my dad fell in love at first sight.”

Shawn stops touching your ears and takes a deep breath. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure?"

"Since I saw you I’ve wanted nothing more than to hold you against my chest and fall asleep with you in my arms. Sleeping with someone, being close and vulnerable is my biggest weakness." He's flushed, as if embarrassed to admit this. "I haven't felt this way for someone before, and I just don’t want it to stop.

"What if you don't really like me?"

"What?"

"I mean, what if we get to know each other and we aren't compatible. What if this is just a honeymoon phase?"

He grins and shakes his head. "Wolves don't have that. When we connect with someone, it's not like having a crush and then you find out maybe that person isn't all you thought they were. Wolves are drawn to each other, pulled together by forces unknown. We are connected deeper than surface emotions."

"Like magic? Or fate?"

"Magic, fate, love at first sight, you can call it anything you like." He grabs your hand and brings it up to his to press his palm to yours. His hand is much bigger and it's so warm you can't help but thread your fingers between his. "The bond is unbreakable. We're part of each other's lives now that we've met."

"I think this is definitely what my parents had." You smile, looking up at him. "I've always wanted to-"

"Honey, I'm back, are you-" you look over at your mom standing in the doorway. "Here?"

You sit up, flushed hot head to toe and you scoot away from Shawn. How embarrassing. Shawn stands and offers his hand to help you up. He can tell you're not comfortable with your mom seeing the two of you together.

"I'll see you around then?"

"Yeah."

"Ma'am," he smiles, nodding at your mom as he passes to see himself out.

"Please don't say anything." You mumble, staring at the floor.

You mom is quiet for a second. "I ordered dinner."

"Okay." You turn and busy yourself with a box of clothes. "Thanks Mom."

"No problem honey."

End part one

-------------

I know this is a cheesy and dorky and so cliche soulmate-y au but it was what I wanted to write at the time. I’ll probably post another part soon.

Please Reblog if you read, enjoyed, or just want to save for later!

Thank you again. You’re all amazing and supportive!! - A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

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fanficsbysne · 3 years

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Alternate versions of 2 scenes from episode 52 which I absolutely hated-

1) ReyMir and Hazar-Zehra in the hospital before ultrasound-

Zehra suggests to take Reyyan to Şadoğlu mansion but Reyyan softly rejects the suggestion saying that she is happy at hut right now and it’s not because she doesn’t want to stay with her parents. Miran also softly rejects Zehra’s suggestion saying that he will never leave Reyyan’s side from now on and promises to take better care. Hazar suggests to talk about this issue later and let Reyyan get enough rest as of now which irks Zehra and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Reyyan sensing that there’s something else that’s bothering her mom.

Miran comes out of the hospital room unable to face Reyyan anymore and Hazar follows him. While Reyyan in the room clutches on to her mother’s hands in absolute fear and asks “Anne, please tell me the truth. Did something happen? You will not escape looking into my eyes if nothing happened. Miran wouldn’t be like this if everything is really fine. Please don’t hide anything from me. Whatever it is, please tell me.” continuously sobbing while talking to her mom so desperately. Only Zehra knows how she controlled her own emotions and put up a brave face while talking to her daughter to comfort her saying “Yok, annem yok. Nothing wrong happened. We were all so scared and worried for you. Even if we could see that you and your baby fine, we are all still in shock as to how all this happened and that none of us were with you when you needed the most. We are all angry with ourselves about that and so scared that we’re still in shock. Çok şükür, you and baby are fine but we are still scared and worried.” while hugging her from the side and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. But Zehra could see that Reyyan is still not relieved from her words and right now she needs all of her loved ones beside her to comfort her and ease out her pain, but she knows it can’t be Miran right away as he is still clueless about how to process the bad news they received mere moments ago. She gives a glass of water to Reyyan trying to calm her down as they see Hazar coming back into the room to check on his daughter. Zehra moves aside for Hazar to sit beside Reyyan to comfort her while she slowly went out of the room to check up on Miran.

Miran who couldn’t face Reyyan when he first came out of the room followed by Hazar, fell down on the floor unable to find any strength to get back up on his feet. Hazar quickly followed him and tells him to gather himself and be strong for himself and Reyyan but Miran is clueless how to do it and way too devastated to gather any kind of strength. “I’ve lost a child of mine even before I came a father. How will I gather myself? How will I face Reyyan? I never wanted to lie to Reyyan but look at the state we are in. I can’t even try cause she will easily understand and I don’t know what to do. She has every right to know but I just can’t gather any strength to tell her. What are we living right now?” Miran sobbed like a little kid with his head bent down completely lost. Hazar slowly stroked on Miran’s head himself unaware of how to console his son and how to break it to his daughter. Miran slowly raised his head, started to gather himself and stopped feeling sorry for himself and to act rather than selfishly brood in his own remorse. He told Hazar to go inside and be with Reyyan as she needs all the support she could get right now but it can’t be himself as of now. Miran insists on Hazar going in and staying with Reyyan as she would easily sense there’s something wrong if both the men in her life stay away for long hiding something from her.

Zehra came out to check with Miran and found him sitting on the nearby chair, his head against the wall and him repeatedly hitting the back of his head to the wall very clearly harming himself in his remorse. Zehra rushed towards him and put her hand behind his head to stop him doing this kind of harm to himself and to her horror she also sensed a few drops of blood seeping through his hair. Zehra didn’t know how to stop this child and tried to bring him to his senses saying “Oğlum.... oğlum, come to your senses. Stop doing this to yourself. I know it’s hard, very hard right now, but please stop doing this to yourself and think about Reyyan and your child.” Miran looked at Zehra like a lost child looks at his mom held onto her so tightly saying “How do I do it Zehra Hanim? How? It’s because of me that we lost a child. I shouldn’t have left Reyyan’s side and now because of me not only we lost our child but we are in such a situation that I can’t even straightaway tell her the complete truth. All because of me... it’s all my fault.” Zehra is completely devastated to see the boy in her arms whom she once slapped for hurting her daughter now completely losing his senses and blaming himself for their loss. She put her handkerchief on the back of his and gently stroked his head while saying “Sakin annem, sakin. This is not your fault or Reyyan’s fault. Stop blaming yourself. You are not responsible for this state. Get back to your senses, for yourself, for your kid, but most importantly for Reyyan. She needs you the most right now.” Miran clutched onto her even more tightly saying “I don’t know how to do that Zehra Hanim. How do I gather myself and how do I stay strong for Reyyan?” Zehra seeing the state of both Reyyan and Miran understood this hiding from Reyyan is doing more harm than any good started to convince him saying “You will have to annem, you will have to. Look, I’ve also initially thought hiding this fact to be good for Reyyan but this is destroying both of you right now.... maybe it’s better to tell Reyyan, if you want, I’ll be with you both when you say it to her....” and Miran immediately responded “Yok, Zehra Hanim yok. Not now. But I promise I’ll tell her. Just give some more time. Just a little more time. Let her gather some more strength, and I promise to tell her without much delay. Please agree with me Zehra Hanim, please.” Zehra nodded her head and both of them went back in with a little more braver hearts to face Reyyan.

2) ReyMir in the hut after hearing their baby’s heartbeat recorded on Miran’s phone-

Hearing to their baby’s heartbeats again which Miran recorded in his phone gave Reyyan and Miran some peace in the small little heaven of theirs, the hut. But Reyyan could still sense that there’s something that’s bothering Miran behind the smile listening to their baby’s heartbeats. She just couldn’t hold it any long and slowly caressed his cheek saying “Bak, Miran even though you can’t say it out I can still see there’s something bothering you. Please don’t hide it from me. Please share with me what’s bothering you. You saw it yourself too, me and the baby are fine, nothing happened to us. So, please don’t be scared anymore. But I can understand that there’s something else that’s bothering you and whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone, you have me and also our baby now....” but she was cut short by Miran who finally decided to break it to her “No. We lost one of the babies Reyyan. We had twins but we lost one of them Reyyan. I’m so sorry for hiding this from you until now but I can’t hide it any longer and you have every right to know. I’m so sorry Reyyan. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t save you from this pain and couldn’t save our child. I’m so sorry Reyyan.” Reyyan who’s in complete shock held one hand on her stomach feeling a sudden stab on it and the other hand on her head not knowing how to believe and process this right now. She slightly started to lose her consciousness falling back onto the bed, but didn’t lose her consciousness completely and Miran quickly caught hold of her repeatedly apologising to her for his failure but Reyyan is way too devastated to react in anyway other than crying her heart out holding onto Miran very tightly. Miran held her close to his heart and as she slowly started to getting herself together for the child that is still in her womb, Miran played the heartbeat recording again, reminding her and himself why it is important for both of them to get it together and move on. As hard it was for Reyyan to get over this loss, she still tried to gather herself and the little strength she’s holding onto for the baby still alive in her womb and for herself. Reyyan slowly slipped into a small sleep out of exhaustion in Miran’s arms and Miran didn’t move an inch so as to not disturb her and slowly he also closed his eyes holding both his wife and his unborn child enveloping them in his arms as if protecting them from all the evil in the world.

After a while, they were distrubed by a knock on their door and Miran got up form the bed to see Fırat and Hazar at the door who dropped by to check on them. Hazar bought some food with him sent by Zehra who couldn’t herself come there because of her other baby daughter who’s slightly sick.

Miran nodded to them letting them know silently that he told the truth to Reyyan and they understood. All the four of them sat down to eat. Reyyan who initially refused to eat anything finally sat down with them upon Miran’s insistence for her own health and the baby’s health. After a while Reyyan slowly gained some strength to talk to say “Why did you bother so much at this late hour Baba? Miran is already taking care of me. Besides, the sweets you sent to me in the morning didn’t finish yet.” Hazar surprised about this responded “What sweets Kizim? I didn’t send any. Also, why would I send with someone when I would bring it to you myself?” It didn’t take much time for all of them to realise that Azize was somehow behind this and Miran just couldn’t hold it anymore inside him. He didn’t leave before saying “Baba, please stay with Reyyan. Just please stay by her side.” and Hazar stayed back but sent Fırat behind his son just so that he doesn’t do anything wrong in his anger no matter how right he is in his anger.

As Miran left, Reyyan slowly remembered everything that actually happened in the morning and explained to her dad that Azize didn’t harm her but saved her and her baby. Hazar initially didn’t believe it but soon understood and believed what Reyyan explained. Both of them realised what kind of danger Miran was getting himself into, quickly rushed out together despite Hazar’s initial reluctance to take Reyyan with him. As they stepped out of the hut, they saw Nasuh’s car coming in and all the three of them rushing to the farm after being informed by Fırat that Miran went towards the farm.

#hercai #reymir #hercai fanfic

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