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sl-newsie · 9 months

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Spelled (Carlos de Vil x Sanderson Daughter)- Ch. 13: Chit Chat

“Mom said ‘if a boy can’t see the beauty within then he’s not worth it.’” Jane complains from across the room.

We’re in Mal and Evie’s dorm, with Mal flipping through her spellbook on her bed and Evie sewing a new dress at her desk.

I try to give some comfort. “Believe me, Jane. Magic is not always the answer to getting what you want. If anything it can sometimes make things worse. Trust me, being your true self without magic is the right way to go.” Without using siren magic!

“Boyfriends are so overrated,” Mal says smugly. “You don’t need one.”

“How could you know, Mal? You’ve never had one,” Evie points out, then suddenly gets a wild look in her eyes. “Oh no! I forgot to do Chad’s homework!” She scrambles up to grab her backpack while Mal just rolls her eyes.

“And that is what I mean.”

“Evie, I’m telling you- Chad is just a dumb jock who’s looking for someone to do his homework!”

“But he says that once I’ve got all the work done then we’ll go on a date,” Evie states dreamily.

I throw my arms out. “He’s just saying you might go on a date so you’ll do his homework!”

Evie crosses her arms and pouts, while Mal looks at me with a respected nod of agreement.

“What about you, Magica? Have you ever had a boyfriend?” Evie asks.

I scoff and wave it off. “Definitely no. I’ve never had time nor the patience for love.”

“Really? That is so sad!” Evie runs over and gives me a hug.

“No it’s not. It’s smart,” Mal drones.

“But if you had to find someone now, who would it be?”

Evie’s question comes out of nowhere and takes me off guard. My brain fizzes for a moment and I say the first person who pops into my head, the only person I could ever see making me happy.

“Carlos- wait!” I slap a hand over my mouth just as I realize what I’ve just said. Now Evie has a giddy look on her face while Mal’s jaw has dropped in surprise.

“I knew it! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! You always have that look when he’s around, and-”

“Shush!” I hold a finger to my lips. “You cannot tell anyone! Especially Carlos! It’s bad enough I’m letting these… feelings get the best of me. If Carlos finds out he’ll think I’m a creepy flirt!”

“But what if he felt the same?” Evie suggests.

I roll my eyes. “Do not insult me with such false hopes. I’d sooner be dead than find love, much less be fortunate to have a nice guy like Carlos love me back.”

Now Jane gets into the mix. “Magica, why would you say something like that? You’re such a nice, amazing person! If any guy can’t see that, he’s blind.”

Evie nods. “Just tell Carlos how you feel and get it off your chest, and if he doesn’t feel the same then we’ll bully him into feeling guilty about it.”

I quickly wave my hands in denial, already panicking. “No, no! This is exactly why I shouldn’t have friends-”

The door flies open, and Lonnie comes bouncing in to save me from anymore embarrassments.

“Hey guys! I’m Lonnie, Mulan’s daughter! I heard from Magica that you did her hair, and then did Jane’s hair. And I know you hate us and, well… you’re evil… But do you think you could do mine?”

Mal frowns. “And why would I do that for you?”

Lonnie holds up her purse. “I’ll pay you $50?”

“Good answer, I need more material!” Evie grabs the cash and starts contemplating what new style to give Lonnie while I watch Mal flip through her spellbook again, hoping to catch a glimpse of any other spells- potentially dangerous spells.

“Beware, forswear, replace the old with cool hair,” Mal chants from the book. Sure enough Lonnie’s hair grows into curls with highlights, and when she sees her reflection her smile widens.

“I… I love it! Just one more thing-” She grabs her skirt and rips the edge, almost causing me to cry out in protest. “Now I’m cool!”

In a few minutes she and Jane leave, saying that they had to go show off Lonnie’s new look.

“Ok ok, now… Back to Chad’s homework…” Evie stresses as she goes back to her desk.

I go to stand in the corner and shake my head. “Evie, Chad is bad news. Just let him go!”

“Yeah, Doug tried to warn me too.” Evie sighs.

“Wait, Doug? Hm… So tell me, what do you think of him?” I start to smile.

“He’s… well… Oh, Mal! Doug said that they use the wand at some coronation thing!” Evie completely forgets my question.

The door opens again and Carlos and Jay bound in, with Carlos carrying Dude with him.

“Check out the new jersey!” Jay proudly presents his Auradon Prep tourney uniform.

I clap my hands excitedly. “Fantastic job, Jay! And Carlos, what did coach say?”

Carlos comes over with Dude, and it’s all I can do to avoid looking at Evie’s teasing glance.

“He says I can play! Ben must’ve told him about my training, and Dude’s been helping me with my cardio! Isn’t that right, buddy?” He scratches the mutt’s ears.

“Congratulations! I can’t wait to see-”

“Guys, remember why we’re here,” Mal calls from her bed. “We don’t have time for all this school stuff.”

I frown at Carlos. “What else would you guys be here for?”

All the VKs suddenly get very anxious looks, and I’m starting to think they’re keeping something from me. But what would VKs know-? Oh no. No! They couldn’t… Do they know who my mom is?

“We’re here to… get a better feel of Auradon,” Mal tries to explain. “And… we can’t really do that when we’re trapped in this school, can we?”

“Um, no. I suppose not.” This is freaking me out- what are they hiding?!

“We got this…” Jay tries out the new style of encouragement. “...If we all stick together.”

“And we won’t go back until we’re done, because we’re rotten.” Mal smirks. “To the core.”

“To the core!” The other VKs echo.

At attempts to contribute something and not be another third wheel, I say the first piece of wisdom that comes to mind.

“Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.”

All the VKs look at me as if I’ve sprouted wings, and before I can blab anymore I try to start walking towards the door. But Carlos grabs my hand and pulls me back.

“That’s really good. Where did you hear that?” He says with a curious smile.

I look at the floor and state with a small, prideful voice: “Ecclesiastes 5: 9-10.”

“From the Bible?” Jay asks. “I thought you witch folk weren’t too into that stuff.”

Evie gasps. “Jay? Why would you say that?”

I wave my hand. “No no, it’s fine. I know that sorcery gets a bad rap in the whole religious department, but the Holy Book actually has a lot of good teachings. I’m trying to be a good witch, remember?”

“Why would they let a wicked witch into Auradon Prep?” Mal asks smugly.

“Good point.”

“So what does it mean, trixie?” Jay asks.

“It means that having friends is important, that they’ll always have your back.”

Jay smirks. “Sounds just like what coach said about teamwork. But when you whip one of those out at least try to say it with normal words.”

I hang my head. “I know, I’m sorry. Sometimes I speak differently-”

“I like it,” Carlos interrupts, giving me a kind smile. “It sounds nice. Have you got any more quotes?”

I stifle a laugh. “I’ve got one for Jay. ‘He that loveth silver shall not be satisfied with silver; nor he that loveth abundance with increase; this is also vanity,' from Ecclesiastes 5:10.”

“And that means…?” Jay looks at me with a lost expression.

“Money isn’t everything. When you set yourself with a wanting mind, enough is never enough. You need to accept what you have.” I point a finger when he tries to argue. “Don’t look at me like that! I saw you trying to smuggle things into your dorm!”

Mal slaps her books shut and gets a serious look on her face. “Ok guys, it’s time to talk business-”

“Hey, what about Magica? Maybe we could let her in on this-?” Evie starts to say.

“Zip it!” Mal cuts her off with a harsh look, then gives me a shooing motion. “Ah, trixie? We’ve got some goodness class stuff to work on, so would you mind just closing the door on your way out?”

If I’m honest, I’m a little disappointed that my new friends want me to leave. But after what Carlos said about Mal thinking I’m “too good” then I should’ve expected this would happen sooner or later.

“Are you sure, Mal?” Carlos tries to change her mind, but I know she won’t reconsider.

“No, it’s ok, Carlos. I’m used to being left out. I’ve got some stuff to do for Ben. I’ll just let myself out.”

I awkwardly stride over, open the door, and give Carlos one last smile before closing it. Afterwards I give a deep sigh and lean against the door, and hear a muffled conversation taking place:

“But Mal, she’s got magic!” Jay inputs.

“She could help us-” Carlos suggests.

“No!” I hear Mal state. “She’s a goody-two-shoes with magic! I don’t know where she gets it from, but there’s something about her that makes me uneasy.”

“Think it’s a spell or something?” Evie asks.

“Maybe. For all I know she could be a real witch!”

I give another heavy sigh and start walking back to my room. Typical- even the villain kids don’t trust me! But at least they still don’t know about who my mom is- I hope.

Further down the hall I see Ben coming my way, looking a bit dazed.

“You ok, Brother Ben? You seem a bit… out of it.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah! I was just going to check on the villain kids!”

I grunt. “Good luck. Seems like sometimes they’re just as friendly as Audrey!” I say with cheery sarcasm.

He’s still acting dreamy-eyed, so he ignores my upset mood and keeps walking past me.

“I’ll have the list of family day plans by the end of the day!” I call.

“Um, yeah. Yeah…”

I just shake my head. Great, now Ben’s put me on the pay-no-mind list too.

#descendants carlos #evie descendants #mal descendants #jay descendants #disney descendants #descendants #disney #uma descendants #harry hook descendants #doug descendants #ben descendants #audrey descendants #binx hocus pocus #hocus pocus #sarah sanderson #winifred sanderson #mary sanderson

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josh-duns-abs · 3 years

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Twenty one pilots fans getting ready for whatever the hell is going down between now and may 21st

#Tyler Joseph release music in a non traumatizing way challenge #:) <3 #I’m not smart enough nor do I have the time and patience to go through this but I wish everyone else the best of luck #trash my beloved the only one who matters #Josh is on thin ice

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comfreyhollywings · 2 years

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𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 (𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐈𝐅 𝐈𝐌 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓 )

🌠 oddly enough, from what i've seen from my experiences with capricorn placements in the major three (esp sun), they were always really attracted to water. i’m just throwing a stray dart why this may be, but i have a suspicion that this may had have to do with how misunderstood capricorn placements could be at times? like, it sounds weird, but hear me out. the water can do nothing but to reflect back their behavior - plus w/ them not always being so 'ambitious', they have a place where they don't always have to live up with expectations. they can just be without feeling 'alone'. they can submerge without having to worry nor feel anything. water cools them down instead of driving them to go. plus, because of their ‘senses’, it’s water that appeals to them in all five senses.

🌠 capricorn placements are, on god (personally), so so wise. they’re there to ground you if needed and they’re not afraid to give you a gentle nudge that, hey, it’s not all unsolvable, yk?? if you give them a platform to speak, they have extremely valuable advice to give you practically. just learn to listen to their advice. you don’t have to agree with all of it, but take some bits that they offer. i assure you, your future self would appreciate it.

🌠 despite being a cardinal sign, they’re not necessarily,,, sh*t starters. like. yeah. they do ‘start’ things up to get sh*t done in their work place, but ( keep in mind, this is depending on their moon and other aspects) they’re generally... so f*cking chill personally. they just have?? ambition?? is all???? like guys. guys. ambition isn’t a bad thing. they’re not purposefully razing over people to get what they want, jfc.

🌠 tbh, even as ‘callous’ and ‘blunt, as they can be, they’re pretty sensitive. and i mean, they are on par with water signs with this sensitivity in terms of affection. at the end of the day, they just want affection without impure motives. when they have been shown affection, capricorn placements care so much that they start to malfunction. because. affection?!?! without motives?!?! and yeah. it’s the most precious thing. they’ll remember it and give back to you in quiet, small ways. practical-wise, they’ll catch you if you ever need that extra hand.

🌠very smart, patient people. they know how to garner their way to social-status and use their resources wisely.

🌠 not quite surprised at half the sh*t you may do. dry sense of humor, it’s funny because when they try - it doesn’t hit. but when they don’t try, it hits so hard.

🌠these people. are sensual. not in a ‘oh sexy hurdur’ way, but it’s like,,, they use their senses a lot to navigate through the world bc of their earthy nature. hence, i think most of their love language would be through gifts and little trinkets they can visibly touch.

🌠not necessarily flashy. they hold a simplistic charm to their looks. very classy.

🌠honestly, if they’ve given you patience - please give the same patience back to them. if you don’t, it peeves them that they can’t take their time with what they need to do and they can’t put out proper quality with it. that being said, it’s preferred if you don’t rush these people.

🌠 if you need advice on how to conserve your energy wisely for business usage, these are the people you want to ask to.

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫, 𝐲'𝐚𝐥𝐥.

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐬 𝐢 𝐠𝐨.

#capricorn #caprricornobservations #astrology #astro community #astrology observations

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gyllenhaalstories · 3 years

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YOU WON’T PLAY, YOU’RE NO FUN — PROF!CHRIS

summary: chris evans is your professor with whom you’ve had an affair with since the beginning of the semester. you meet with him over zoom with your fellow teammates to discuss your project, but you can’t seem to get into the right mindset. instead of providing the group with clever comments and ideas, all you do is test the limits of chris’ patience and self control.

warnings: don’t have sex with your prof please, mentions of online classes, smut including: established dom/sub relationship & teacher/student relationship (abuse of power used strictly as a joke, they are both 18+ and consensual), degradation, masturbation & mutual masturbation, edging. MINORS DON’T READ NOR INTERACT.

word count: 1500

notes: rail me daddy :) i’m a hoe for teacher/student if you can’t tell already. i do keep it vague by not mentioning any majors, don’t worry! it’s my first time writing for chris, so please, be kind!!! i hope you enjoy reading this mess!!!! ily <3

gif credits: capsgrantrogers blessing us with this low quality webcam goodness.

“Miss /Y/L/N, would you mind staying a little longer? I need to talk to you.” Chris’ voice resonated as your classmates went quiet before they waved their cameras goodbye and left the two of you alone.

Uh oh.

“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” By the time you were done with your question, you noticed that his face was frozen. “Mister Evans! Chris?! I think there’s an issue I can’t — hear you.” You sighed and rolled your eyes. You seriously needed to get that Internet connection checked. You had your hand on your laptop, ready to close it up when you heard the familiar noise of a video call, but this time it was a private conversation.

“Don’t want anybody to walk in on us, right?” Chris winked and smirked at you. You had a flashback of that one time you hooked up in his office and realized his door was left ajar when you could hear the secretary of the department arguing with the printer. You thanked your guardian angel (who must had been very disappointed) that you were just on your knees blowing him off, and that nothing too serious was going on.

You laughed, for a second you thought you were in trouble.

“What was that all about?” Chris questioned, his smirk disappeared and was replaced by a dark expression.

“I have no clue what you’re referring too.” You shrugged lightly and looked at the screen, wishing he had chosen another shirt that showcased his tattoos. You were lucky enough to see his arms from the short sleeves, you felt as aroused as royal men back in the day when they saw a woman’s ankles.

Chris clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Oh, really? There is no explanation to the attitude you’ve been giving your teammates and me all morning?”

You sighed again, loud enough for him to hear you. “They’re idiots and I’m sick of their shit. They’re not doing anything on the project yet they show off in front of you just to —“

“Got it, they’re dumb and you’re smart.” He put the emphasis on the last few words. “Tell me, Miss, if you’re that smart, how come you’ve made the very stupid decision to be rude to me as well?”

You swallowed thickly. You were just so pissed off, exhausted from the all nighter you had to do in order to complete the requirements for today’s class. “Chris, look, you know it wasn’t about you...” You heard him cough. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I’d call you a good girl, but good girls don’t talk back and they certainly don’t act so bratty. What a potty mouth, you swore in front of everybody. Do I have to teach you manners too? I’m afraid that’s not listed on my tasks as your professor, too bad.”

“I said I was sorry! You know how much I hate them!”

“Do I have to give you a bad grade for not cooperating? Not everybody is as understanding as me, you need to learn that.”

He sounded so arrogant, so condescending. As much as you hated it, it turned you on. You were all squirmy on your chair, and he caught up on that.

“Tell me, what’s on your mind, princess? Why are you on the edge?”

You looked up through your lashes, letting out a complaint. That fucker. The last time you met, which was over a week ago, he had an emergency and had to leave his apartment to go on campus. How convenient, you had not finished and you were left breathless and worked up on his bed. He made you promise not to touch yourself without permission on his way out. He knew just how impatient you could get. All the needy texts you sent him while he was looking over his other classes during an exam; all the begging you did over the phone while he insisted on doing small talk.

“You won’t play with me,” you pouted at the screen. “You’re no fun.”

He chuckled, his voice sounded lower than usual while he sat up on his chair. He loved this game with you, probably as much as you did if not more.

You noticed his arm disappeared out of the frame. You’d do ten other team works with your stupid colleagues if it meant you’d be the one to take care of his hard on at that very moment.

“Oh, baby wanna have fun? Is that it? You should have told me sooner!” He cleared his throat when he heard you sigh again, giving you a warning. “Get those fingers nice and wet for me.”

You obeyed, sucking on two fingers of your dominant hand. You picked up on the back and forth movements of his arm, he was palming at his crotch. You caught a glimpse of him standing up — he was in tight Calvin Klein boxers — and sitting back down, his cock freed from his clothes. “I’ve been good, Sir. So good.”

He nodded slowly, after spitting in his hand and starting to fist his cock. “Oh, really?”

You nodded frantically. “I haven’t touched myself since you left,” you pulled your hand away from your mouth, a string of saliva fell down your chin. “I’ve been so wet for you, Sir. You’re all I’ve been thinking about.”

“Then think about my fingers rubbing your clit.” He groaned, the speed of his arm motions increased.

You jerked on your chair at the contact of your fingers, your panties were soaked from your arousal. “Sir!” You moaned out when you circled faster against the bundle of nerves.

“You’re so fucked up for me, you’d rather cum on your fingers than on my face, huh?” You felt tears pooling in your eyes. “Stop touching yourself and answer me.”

You pulled your hand away, showing it to the camera so he believed you. “I want to cum so bad, Sir! Please, just once! And I’ll wait until we meet again. I need it!”

“And I need to fuck that tight little cunt of yours and you don’t hear me complainin’.” His bicep flexed in his tight shirt, his breathing got heavier. “I waited for you the entire week. I didn’t text you in the middle of the night begging like a desperate slut.” He nodded, indicating you could start rubbing again.

You moaned loudly, throwing your head back. He was edging you, again.

“Eyes on me, Baby. Need to see you.”

It took so much energy just to keep your eyes open.

“Faster.” He growled, he was so close too. You could feel it, even if he was far away.

“Sir, please!”

“Stop, stop right fucking now.” He pulled away from his swollen cock at the same time as you did. “I won’t tolerate attitude like this again, you heard me?” You nodded, mouthed a ‘yes’. “I don’t want to repeat myself. You’re such a dumb little baby sometimes, I’ll probably have to.” The more he mocked you, the more you needed to touch yourself again. “Next time you act like a bitch in my class, you’ll regret it.” You never took his threats lightly. The first, and last, time that you did, you ended up bent over his knee with the belt of his dress pants spanking your ass red like the ink from the pen he used to grade papers

“I’ll count to ten. At ten, you’ll...”

“I’ll cum!” You spoke excitedly.

“Yes, Babygirl. You’ll get to cum.” He licked his lips and stroked his beard, his hand holding his sensitive cock. “Ready?”

You replied with even more enthusiasm and he started to count up.

“Slowly, 1, 2, 3...” He swallowed thickly. “Add more pressure now, 4, 5, 6,” he tightened his grip around his cock. “Faster, 7, 8, 9...” he jerked himself up at the same speed as you. “Now, cum for me. Make a mess like you’d do on my cock. That’s right, cum for me, Princess.”

The knot in your stomach finally snapped and you released yourself on your hand. You were panting and clenching around nothing, wishing you were with Chris right now.

He growled loudly as he released himself on his hand and shirt. “Look what you did to me, Baby.” He sat up just enough to show you, causing you to laugh at the sight of his messed up top.

In exchange, you showed him your slick coated fingers before you licked them clean. Blood rushed to his cock again, but he took a deep breath to calm down. “All good now?”

“Yes! Thank you, Sir.” You smiled, content and satisfied.

He wiped his hand clean with his shirt, after he removed it and let you admire his broad chest and inked drawings. “I’m giving you extra homework.”

Your smile disappeared and you squinted, mentally preparing for more readings or an extra essay on how good he fucked you. It would be your third or fourth, you ran out of synonyms to explain that he made you feel like you were on cloud nine.

“Take a shower and a nap, I’ll get to this meeting and meet you back home, okay?”

Your face lit up again, and you clapped happily.

“See? I can be fun when I want to.”

#chris evans imagine #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you

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k3lynn · 3 years

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mine — katsuki bakugou

yandere! katsuki bakugou x reader

cw: yandere au, 3rd year bakugou, violence, reader got female genitalia, anger, off-“screen” murder, mention of (minor) character death, blood, lucidness, possessiveness, degradation, manipulation, stalking, threats, masturbation, implication of sex, swearing, assault, narcissism, horror, slightly delusional katsuki, panic attack, non con, mention of suicide

- I do not condone any of the behavior here, nor do I try to romanticize it. (definition: make it seem like a good thing) any future/current dark fics are purely for entertainment purposes. Also, I don’t think bakugou would EVER do this- I’m just using some dark traits he used to have and twisting them to fit this situation. Not completely proof read and edited, I am exhausted right now I’m sorry. I say some mean things about some characters but I don’t mean it 💗

words: 1.8k

𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙽𝙷𝙰 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 // 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝚈𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

Look at me.

WHY WON’T YOU LOOK AT ME.

Poor little Y/N. You’ve caught the Big Bad Wolf’s attention. Ready to snatch you up and drag you into the deepest parts of the forest where no one will ever find you.

You’ll be all mine, and I’ll be the only thing you’ll ever have to see again.

You’ve been in the same class for 3 years now- and all he had to show for it is an occasional wave, and a shy little “Hi Bakugou” every morning that made his heart leap out of his chest.

Enough for most, but not for him.

In turn, he would tsk. Facing away and setting his head down on the desk- attempting to hide the roaring blush adorning his cheeks and the subtle shuffling in his pants- the way your voice alone could make his balls tighten in need.

Still- you give him merely a glance. He is always around you, but your attention is given to someone else.

Any extra would overlook his grumbling for typical-Katsuki doing his own thing. In reality, he’s holding himself back from snapping and taking you by force.

He wants you to come to him.

You have no reason not to. He’s perfect. Probably the best student to ever enter U.A. High, and on path to become the best pro hero to ever graduate from it.

Coming first in both the Entrance Exams AND the sports festival- a victory he still denies, holding some of the highest grades in class- 3rd only to some geek girl he could easily out-rank in combat and that shitty half n’ half. Even perceptiveness, intellect, and determination that can rival dumb Deku.

He even possesses great skills in cooking and music- Katsuki is a natural-born genius. Anybody who isn’t conscious towards his incredible talents might as well be living under a rock-

Unbeknownst to you, he’s giving you the generous chance to decide when you’ll be his. But his patience wears thinner every day.

It would have only taken a second to turn around in your seat and notice his piercing red eyes glaring at the back of your head.

So why don’t you notice me.

He doesn’t understand why it’s you he obsesses about. He can’t even remember when this whole mess started.

He tried denying his feelings. But quickly- they built up and festered inside him, begging to come out. Love, possessiveness, same thing.

Whether it be watching your twist and turn in the obstacle course- then running to the nearest bathroom to furiously grip his cock.

Snatching your chapstick when you’re not looking and rubbing it all around his own lips- imagining that’s what your lips would taste like if you just kissed him-

Restraining you during combat training by wrapping his arms around you- squeezing your breast a little more than necessary. Pinning you to the floor until you admit defeat.

Or even sneaking into your dorm while you’re in the shower to grab a new pair of panties from your dirty laundry, adding it to the stash he keeps hidden under his bed.

Stalking you. Keeping you close at all times without you even knowing it.

Indeed, he knows he’s a sick and twisted human being.

But by now he hardly cares- he’s worked too hard to ever even imagine of changing his perfect target. Nobody is more deserving of you than him.

So if he has to confront, threaten, and beat every single person in this stupid school to monopolize you for himself- he gladly will. Anyone who goes againts that is challenging him.

He scoffs anytime a boy approaches you- it’s well known around school that anyone who attempts to buddy up with you mysteriously ends up in a hospital room with no recollection of what happened. People even started seeing you as a sign of bad luck.

He’s nice enough to allow you some friends though. But only ones who will guarantee you’ll be around him as much as possible.

So you sit with him, Kirishima, racoon eyes, dunce face, and tape boy in lunch. No one else. Right in front of him.

You’re chatting away with Mina, but unusually, something special came up in conversation.

He always stays focused on his lunch- switching between listening in and day dreaming about bending you over the lunch table and grinding on your ass-

Katsuki’s stomach dropped. His eyes widened- what did Mina just say?

There’s a boy in the management department, a quirkless 2nd year nobody smart enough to somehow get into U.A.

And he asked you out on a date after school.

Shit.

No.

No no no no-

No- this isn’t how it’s supposed to-

My throat burns.

When did he- when did you-

You’re going to say no, right?

I cant breathe.

You don’t like anyone- I know this

I know everything about you- I-

My chest hurts-

You’re mine.

And if he thinks I’ll share then I’ll-

“Mina stop being so loud please...” your delicate little voice whispered.

The rest of the table already took notice of what was going on- bombarding you with questions that made you flustered.

“Woah woah- Y/n, what’s your answer?” dunce face peeps out, Bakugou swore he could smack that grin off his face right then and there.

Katsuki turns to look at you again- a chill traveling down his spine once he made eye contact, but your stare quickly fell to the floor.

“I’m not sure yet- probably not.. ha.” You shrugged- a light pink dusting over your cheeks. The others, satisfied, dismiss the topic.

Had it have been anybody else observing, they wouldn’t have thought much of it. But Katsuki knows you like the back of his hand. Successfully deceiving him would be harder than taking down All For One.

You’re lying... aren’t you? In front of him too- All because of this quirkless fucking loser-

Katsuki hates lies.

I’m going to kill him.

The walk back to your dorm was disappointing to say the least. But you can’t expect someone to be in the best of moods when they’ve been stood up.

You almost couldn’t believe it either- he had seemed so kind and genuine that you stood there for an extra 2 hours. But that’s your luck with boys-

‘I hope you got a good laugh out of it, jerk.’ You huffed before inserting the key into your rooms lock.

Turning on the lights, you allow your eyes to adjust for a moment before stepping inside and walking to your desk.

“You were waiting for that jackass for so long I almost started thinking you would never come back...”

You let out a startled cry before dropping your keys and whirling around in a flash- recognizing Katsuki’s back as he slowly closes the door.

“Bakugou? Why are you-“

“was he really that special.”

“What do you mean was....“ It’s then you noticed the blood dripping down his arms and hands- your door decorated with the same shade of crimson.

“oh my god.. Bakugou,”

That’s why the poor boy never showed up.

You knew about Katsuki’s “little” crush on you for a while now. His stares weren’t exactly the most subtle after all-

You found his uncertainty adorable, heck, a part of you was waiting for him to confess. But you would have never imagined his infatuation went this far.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. He’ll never love you as much as I do.”

He lifts his head, and your eyes meet his. Bloodshot- as if he’d been crying, but the evident smirk on his face showed nothing but pure malice.

“Not that he’ll ever get the chance to anyways”

He’s too fast, too close to the door, he has all the advantage in this situation. But you have to try. You have to leave this room at this very moment or you may never make it out alive. There’s no reasoning with him.

You clutch your heart. He steps forward, and you instinctively bolt to the door.

A few easy moves and he has you pinned by the neck on the ground, legs bent and used to hold your arms from jerking too much. His free hand is outstretched, creating small explosions that made you automatically stiffen your movement.

“Bakugou please- I won’t ever tell anyone, we can forget about this and I’ll pretend it neve-“

“I don’t need you to be quiet. I’m the boy who rejected a direct offer from the League of Villains, one of the best students in U.A. high- even if you do rat me out, they’ll never believe you...”

His grip on your neck tightened- nails cutting through skin and little droplets of blood start showing up. His hand starts heating up and a panic courses through your veins.

“I’ll kill you before they even begin to suspect me.”

Choked sobs escape your lips from the pain and fear surging through your body- “I- I thought you said you lo-loved me.”

“I do... that’s why you’ll be mine forever.”

He leaned down, low enough for you to feel his warm breath- then used his tongue to sadistically lick off the tears running down your cheek, a salty but satisfying flavor entering his mouth.

“In this life, and the next. It’s up to you when we see the later.”

You nod, hoping he relaxes the pressure on your neck. His face softens, something you swore you would never see in Bakugou. He releases his hold.

“You made me mess up your neck, next time don’t be so mean.”

He tilted your chin up, observing the scratches and bruises littered all around it. As soon as he determines there’s no serious injury, he picks you up to lay you on your bed. Climbing in next to you and wrapping an arm around your hips.

“Couples cuddle like this all the time don’t they.”

You gave him silence, although he didn’t mind. With one glare he had you shuffling to move closer to his chest.

“they also kiss.”

You know that right now, there’s no point in fighting. So you give in to what he wants in hopes that one day, you’ll break free from the hold he secretly had on you for so long. You’ll play along. You’ll survive.

You shudder as his hands reach to cradle your cheek, wiping the blood of the boy all over it. He loved it. It proved he won. He gave a light kiss to your lips before attacking your neck, set on putting a new type of bruise on you.

“You should start calling me Katsuki.”

“Ka- Katsuki.” You barely managed to whimper out.

He caresses your hair, cooing soft whispers into your ear in an attempt to calm your sniffling. An action you would have seen as sweet if it weren’t for the constant threat of death over your shoulder.

Your breath hitches in horror as you feel his warm hands trail down your body, gripping your smooth inner thigh before delicately starting to drag his fingers up.

“You know...

You silently beg for him to stop.

“There’s one more thing couples do.”

-if anyone is interested- should I make a part 2? (Future edit, I’m not satisfied with this, I might end up rewriting in the future)

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universalistotalis · 3 years

Text

Someday

Miya Osamu x Female Reader

Fluff fluff fluff to a little angst

Mention of Mommy Miya and Atsumu lol

2.9k words

Masterlist!!!

You wiped the sleep from your eyes as you were woken up by one of your family members who sat beside you on the bus. People queued in line to exit the vehicle that’s stopped in front of the airport and you can hear the soft chattering of the passengers as they lined up the aisle.

It feels sad really. To be leaving a country that you’ve explored for days on end, enjoying the culture, the view, the food, and all the little details in between. You wrapped the jacket more to your figure as the cold and the sadness crept into you. You welcomed the feelings though, because it meant that you had such a wonderful time that you didn’t want to let go.

Blinding lights made your eyes squint as all of you entered the gigantic airport. ‘Here we are’, you said to yourself. The busy goers walked and jogged past you here and there, some were loading heavy bags trolleys, some were panicking while looking at the schedule, and some were just chilling at the aligned chairs, sipping a cup of coffee.

“So, we’ll go check- in on our flight and we’ll go to the duty- free shop for souvenirs. All right?” You just nodded at their plan because they’ve been repeating that ever since you went out the hotel room where you stayed.

As you had hoped, the duty free shop was so full of things that you wanted. Just packed with all the goodies like the country's famous snacks, the foreign cosmetics that you adored, and even the cool relief patches that you tried and were so amazed at. Good thing you were given enough money to purge on what you wanted so you filled an entire basket! After all, you never know when you can come back to this country again.

“Excuse me.” Someone from behind you cleared his throat.

You were busy looking at the label of one of the beauty products from the shelf that you didn’t notice that you were blocking the narrow column.

“Oh sorry.” You apologized and scooted a little so that the person could pass. You turned to see the man and your whole body froze for a millisecond at the sight. The air felt electric all of the sudden as your gazes fixed on each other. He was the first one to look away and go on his way normally, as if not feeling the surge of adrenaline that you just felt.

“Damn, he’s beautiful.” You whispered. You swore you have never seen someone that beautiful in your entire life... EVER! And it wasn’t helping that his body was so built and tall and that his hair had this ombre gray color going on. No one’s supposed to look good with that hair color but why did he pull it off?! How?!

“Samu! I found your favorite cookies from yesterday!” An loud, excited voice made you jump from behind and you turned around in reflex. You saw the beautiful man earlier, standing at the end of the aisle and examining the pack in his hands while nodding. “I told you we could find it here! C’mon, let’s get more!” A tall blonde man next to him said while dragging him away.

You blinked, trying to process what you saw. Wow.

That’s it! Some people are just god’s favorites, aren’t they? You thought you were having issues with your vision but it was clear that there is not only one beautiful man. But TWO! He has a twin and good god, they were both so fit!

‘Does this store have a sale on these guys because I would like to purchase, please!’ You just chuckled at your crazy, thirsty thoughts and proceeded to checking out the things you bought.

They never left your mind. There were still five hours to spare before your flight but not once did they, especially he, stop running in your head! You scolded yourself one too many times this past hour because of the scenarios flooding in. There were date nights, traveling to different countries, petty fight scenes, cute nicknames, and all the sappy shit that couples do and say. You’re just hurting yourself really, and you had to stop!

The gods just wanted you to have a good one minute of your life and that’s it. You’ll never see him again!

You sighed and excused yourself to get a beverage that’ll quench your thirst from so much daydreaming. The nearest vending machine that you saw was at the other waiting area so you had to walk a little bit further. Your eyes were already set on the juice drink once you neared the machine.

“Hey, y/n!” You looked up questioningly as you saw your family waving and approaching you. “Let’s stay here a bit. People are beginning to flock there and I don’t like it. Besides, we can see if they’re already boarding from here.”

“Alright.” You agreed. “You want anything from the vendo?”

“Anything that you’ll have please.”

You sealed the top cap of the bottle mindlessly while staring blankly at the the vending machine. Your fingers were a little numb from the cold drink but you didn’t mind. You allowed yourself to be overly emotional at the thought of ending the vacation and of not having the boy you swore would be perfect for you. How could a single meeting that lasted for seconds affect you so much?! A small, sad chuckle left your lips because you knew you were so damn whipped but that didn’t really matter now.

“You’re so damn whipped, man! What, you’ve known her for like five seconds and now you think you’re in love with her?” Atsumu hissed, looking at his brother like he had grown two heads.

“Shut yer trap, Tsumu.” Osamu snapped out of his daydream once his brother’s voice penetrated the peaceful area.

“Then stop staring!” Atsumu laughed and shook his head. He took a glimpse of the person behind him to check the girl out and he had to admit, you were pretty even in your simple clothes.

“Hey.” Osamu called, a hint of warning laced in his deep voice.

“What, I wasn’t looking!" Atsumu dramatically puts his hand up in the air. "Stop being possessive of your five- second girlfriend, sheesh!” He teased more as he was met by the scowling face of his twin.

“I’m not in love with her.” Osamu scowled and folded his hands together like a toddler.

Atsumu was trying so hard not to laugh at his state and denial. “Look, Samu. We practically came from the same cell, you don’t have to lie to me. If it makes you feel better, we’ll reduce it to a crush. Now, how does that sound?”

Osamu rolled his eyes but he knew Tsumu was right. When he saw your eyes from the store, he felt a prickling sensation in his whole body that it shocked him a little. He swore all the hairs on his skin stood up at the encounter and that was the first time he ever felt that way! And what are the odds that you came to sit on their waiting area, giving him such a good view?

“Honestly, bro. You’re being creepy.” Osamu massaged the bridge of his nose in despair as his twin clicked his tongue in judgment.

“And you’re being annoying.” He countered.

“Cool down! Why don’t you go get us a drink then?” Atsumu smirked and challenged.

“Get your own damn dr—“

“That would be great, honey! Can you please get me water too? I’m getting a little thirsty from waiting.” They both whipped their heads at their mother who was smiling so sweetly and both melted at the sight.

“Okay.” They said in unison and got to their feet in a flash.

“‘Kay, here’s the plan.” Atsumu announced while acting like he’s warming up for a game.

“What plan? We’re just getting drinks?!” Osamu regarded him questioningly.

“We are just getting drinks but the vendo’s in front of your girlfriend, dummy!”

“Shit!” Osamu's eyes widened as he cursed. He hated that Atsumu was making sense. They do need a plan!

“It’s so hard to be the smart brother. I gotta do all the work!” Atsumu sighed dramatically earning himself another eye roll. “So, the plan is…” He paused for a while, trying to get his brother’s attention.

“What?! What do we do?” Osamu's patience was on thin ice and his frustrating brother is not helping one bit!

“Wow, you’re really trusting me on this, huh?” Atsumu stared at him in wonder. “Damn, what did that girl do to you?”

“God fuckin’ dammit, Tsumu, you’re wasting time!” Osamu strangled and shook him lightly. The other just laughed his ass off while trying to break free.

“Boys.” The warning tone and stoic gaze from their mother were enough to make their way to you. To the vending machine, that is…

“I’ll stay here, lover boy.” Atsumu patted Osamu’s back as they neared the destination which was just meters away from their seat.

“Wait, what? No—"

“Don’t be scared, you dummy. You can do it!” Blonde hair swayed in front of Osamu’s face as Atsumu danced a little cheering dance for him. “I’ll have cola, by the way. Now, go!”

Osamu tripped a little as his back was pushed but he didn’t seem to care as he was nearing your crouching form. You were just so damned focused on that phone that you didn't acknowledge his presence.

"Okay, we're just going to go through this like a normal person, Samu. No big deal." He whispered to himself.

“Y/n.” One of the persons beside you called. “I want the juice again pleaaaase.”

He saw your head perk up and was stunned when you laughed at their plea. “Alright, alright! Same flavor?”

Osamu didn’t realize that he was nearing the vending machine the same time as you were as he was so distracted by your charm. So your name was y/n and you had such a cute voice. And definitely a cute smile. Somehow, that was enough to make his imagination run wild!

It all happened so fast and you became aware of his presence a little too late. All you knew was that there was suddenly a looming figure on your left and you jumped in surprise, not meaning to.

“S-sorry.” He stuttered, a little surprised at your reaction too.

“No, no, it’s okay.” You smiled and bowed your head politely at him, praying to all the gods that he doesn’t see you blushing nor hear the heartbeat from your chest. “You go first.”

He blinked and looked down at you questioningly but he declined gently. “No, no. I can wait. Ladies first.” He gestured and stepped aside.

“Alright.” You smiled again.

Your mind was going a hundred miles per hour! You never thought that going to vending machine would be the hardest endeavor of your life! With hands shaking slightly, you inserted the coins until they reached the exact amount of the drink that you wanted and you pressed on the button that suddenly lit up.

A sense of dread flooded your being because that was it. After you press the button, you’re going to go back to your normal life. You were going to turn around and leave and never see that face again.

But as you stood there, you wondered why there wasn’t that familiar sound of the bottle dropping for you to claim?

“That’s weird.” You whispered and crinkled your nose. Your finger pressed the button again... and again, hoping that it result to something but to no avail.

“Is it broken?” His voice echoed the question in your head.

“I don’t think so.” You pouted a little. “I was able to get the same drink a while ago.”

Both of you just stared at it for it moment.

“Kick it.” He suggested, while putting his hands in both of his pockets and cooly transferring his weight on the right side.

“What?” You asked, horrified.

You were flashed with his laughing grin and crinkling eyes. “No harm in trying. C’mon!” He encouraged.

“If I get in trouble, you’re going down with me.” You warned but then you took him up on his challenge and kicked the bottom of the huge metal.

And truthfully so, the bottle dropped.

He crouched down and fetched the cold drink in his hand while still grinning like a fox. “Okay, I didn’t think you’d actually do it but here you go.” His voice was so heavenly to hear especially when it was still alight with humor. His eyes looked at you so sweetly that you were effectively just stuck there, under his spell.

“Thanks.” You chuckled and took what he was holding out. At the touch of your skin, the both of you jumped at the sudden and strong electricity that coursed through your veins. It was the same thing you both felt at the store but this time, it was stronger!

“Woah.” He said in awe. “I—"

You rubbed the back of your hand as if it stung and gazed up at him to take a good look. He had kind, brown eyes below his bushy eyebrows and thick, plump lips below his pointed nose. His cheeks were dusted pink which was cute. But his jawline contrasted as it was ready to cut your heart open. His gray hair was tousled too which matched his cool look and outfit of dark blue jeans, white shirt, and a leather jacket.

“T-thanks for this, again.” You stuttered. “I gotta go now.”

“N-no, wait.” He stuttered as well while instinctively pulling your sleeve by the hem. Another surge of lightning shot through you but you managed to smile back at him.

“Yeah?”

“W-what if it doesn’t work on me?” He said, sheepishly. “I need your kicks.”

For the first time since you met him, you started to relax so you let out a hearty laugh. “Okay, I’ll be right here.”

Osamu smiled gratefully at you before turning back and loading his coins. His ears rang at your words, ‘I’ll be right here’. He hoped you would be for a long time but that’s just wishful thinking.

One… Two… Three… Four…

“Wow, how many would you take?” Your amused voice made him grin again.

“It’s for the whole family.” He shrugged and crouched for the fourth time to get the drink. “This would be the last.”

“Good thing it didn’t break!” You said and again you were met by the awkward silence and him just staring. “Uhmm…”

“I’m Osamu, by the way.” He blurted out suddenly. “Miya Osamu.”

He tried his best to hold all the four drinks in one arm and extended one out to you.

“Oh… uhm…” Fuck.

“Uhm?” He laughed, still waiting for your introduction… desperate for it, really.

“Y/n L/n.” Warmth spread from your hands to your body as you held his and squeezed lightly. “It’s nice to meet you, Osamu.”

“Nice to meet you too.” He continued to shake your hand, not breaking eye contact. “Really nice.”

You laugh at the awkwardness but it seems like both of you don’t mind. You just want to prolong this interaction of yours and without you knowing, he was doing the same.

“Thank you for waiting. Flight QR 1008 is now accepting passengers on board.”

Osamu’s world crashed as the announcement continued. That was his cue to leave. He didn’t want to let your hand go so he tightened his grip more.

“That’s our flight.” He whispered and smiled sadly at you.

You nodded as your heart shattered in pieces. “Have a safe flight, Osamu. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Same here.” He replied, slowly letting go of your hand. “You take care and try not to break vending machines next time.”

A laugh bubbled inside your chest as he stepped back in agonizing slowness. “I’ll try.”

“Bye, y/n.” He waved and walked back to his brother who you saw patted him on the back.

“Do you know the guy?” You were asked when you went back to the seats.

“No, I just met him.” How you wish you knew him more.

“Well, he’s such a hunk, isn’t he?” They teased but you just laughed and shrugged it off.

You’re going to suffer this heartache for a while.

On the other end, Osamu carried his backpack over his shoulder, looking like he’s carrying the weight of the world.

“Hey.” Atsumu wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “You alright?”

“It’s gonna take a while.” He grumbled.

Atsumu nodded in understanding and tightened his grip on his brother for support. “It’ll be fine, Samu.”

And before they could enter the boarding gate leading to the plane, a surge of courage ran through Osamu’s body. All he knew was that he just had to do it or regret it forever. It's worth the risk!

“Hey y/n!” He shouted, jogging his way to you when they neared the entrance doors.

You were stunned at the mere mention of your name from a baritone voice. The grip of two hands followed and they were heavy on your shoulders.

“Let’s meet again, yeah?” Osamu asked you, full of hope in his eyes. “Someday.”

You nodded your head and smiled. You love that idea. “Someday.”

With that, he waved his final good bye, bowed at your family, and left.

All was well but you never saw each other again.

---

Masterlist!!! Read more here hehehe

I actually enjoyed writing this so much hahaha I'm in love with the twin's tandem and their constant witty comebacks and bickering! I also miss going to airports and travelling and spotting eye candies outside... TAKE ME OUT OF THIS HOUSE PLEASE!

Anw, Hope you're all doing great. Stay safe!

Reblogs are appreciated! <3

105 notes · View notes

elysianslove · 3 years

Note

okay i just need osamu or atsumu (can't decide which one) to comfort me. i got my college exam results and i failed it. sometimes you study hard but it doesn't work, and yeah i'm a little disappointed with myself today so can you do that? i need to read something that makes me smile and your work is so awesome. otherwise, you can totaly ignore that!

hi lovely! i know how demotivating it can be to put in a lot of work for something and not get the result you want, but i promise you, one bad grade really doesn’t determine anything at all. your efforts will be seen soon enough. just try your very, very best not to give up, and continue to pull through. it’ll be worth it all in the end ily so much <3

and yes, of course i can write this for you!!! i didn’t choose a boy though, and left it open for you to imagine who you’d like <3

“ya plannin’ on leavin’ yer personal cocoon, babe?”

at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice, you huff, burying yourself deeper against the mattress and lifting the blanket wrapped around you over your head, obstructing your view.

“don’t do that, you’ll suffocate,” he scolds, but you only whine lowly. “what will the reporters say? ‘cause of death: a blanket and stupidity’?”

“am i?” you mumble. you’d expected the first sound of your voice to have him react differently, to sarcastically rejoice, to taunt you more, but all he does is fall eerily quiet. you hear his footsteps advance you, and behind the thin blanket that covers you, all light suddenly disappears as a tall figure stands before you. you see his dark, silhouetted frame lean over you, until his hands find your covered body, and all of a sudden, his arms group around you, and you’re being lifted up. “hey wha—!”

“i had no other choice,” he dramatically interrupts, and you roll your eyes as he lifts you up in his arms, bridal style. the blanket falls away, revealing your face to him, along with your puffy eyes and pouty lips. “there’s m’pretty baby.”

you frown up at him as he steadies you in his arms, walking across your bedroom over to your door, kicking it open. “where are we going, exactly?”

if he notices how hoarse your voice is, he doesn’t mention it.

“the couch.”

you roll your eyes again. it seems to be a recurring theme tonight.

just as promised, he finds the couch in your living room, sitting you down onto it and snatching the blanket away before you can form yet another cocoon and bury yourself out of sight. feeling vulnerable, you lift your knees up to your chest, hugging your legs close to you. your boyfriend, after folding up the blanket on the chair far from you, finds a seat to your side, and sitting perpendicular to you, leans over, resting his hands on your knees, and his chin on his hands.

“so, what’s got someone as stunnin’ and smart as you so upset?” he asks, smiling softly up at you.

your lower lip quivers slightly, and this time, he doesn’t pretend not to notice. he sits up straighter, all humor subsiding.

“hey, hey,” he starts, shuffling closer to you. he cups your cheek with one hand, thumb soothing against the tear stained skin, a single tear brushed away. “it’s okay, m’here for ya. i promise.”

breathing in shakily, you bite back a sob, and ask, “am i stupid?”

he looks baffled, genuinely taken aback. “what? what do you mean ‘am i stupid’?”

his touch remains soft and gentle on your skin, urging you to keep your gaze focused on him. he’s observing you carefully as you struggle to find the words, eyes watering again. but he doesn’t rush you, nor does he speak. there’s no need to race against time with him. he’s always made it seem like it’s you and him against the world, that something as feeble as time would do little to affect anything. it’s you that has the upper hand, you that has control, over everything, your life, your decisions, the people you let in, the people you let go of, the struggles and hardships you face, the happiness that makes it all worth it. he’s never expected you to always be strong, not when he himself can’t amount to a promise like that. he reminds you constantly that you’re human, you’re flawed in the most beautiful way, you’re allowed to make mistakes, and it’s not the end of you. there’s always another chance.

and he doesn’t need to say it, not ever, and not now, in this moment. he lets you catch your breath, and take your time in doing so. he lets you try and formulate the right words, in the right sentence, to make to sense of your situation, to explain it to him. and even if you don’t, he won’t pester you. all he’ll do is what he does best: hold you through it, maybe run a bath, eat your feelings out with you, take you somewhere quiet where you can scream as loud as you’d like with no consequences. because that’s who he is, to you. a steady presence, your pillar of strength and hope and love.

“you’d still love me even if i failed? once or twice or a hundred times?” you tentatively ask.

“well,” he starts, fingers carefully brushing at your hair, “i don’t think that changes who ya are, does it?”

your chest heaves, and your hand lifts up to wrap around his wrist, tightly. it doesn’t matter if it’s ground yourself, or to ensure that he won’t let go. he lets you.

“i know it hurts, baby, but no one gets anything without trial n’ error, do they? practice makes perfect, never give up, yada yada— point is, it’s somethin’ so small in the grand scheme of things,” he says. “it’s a building block, kinda. it’s important, sure, but it doesn’t mean you won’t ever get a chance like it again. you’ll prove yer worth, i know it. but trust me, yer never not worthy in my eyes.”

managing a smile, you tilt your head, pressing a gentle kiss to his palm. he smiles back, softly.

“with patience, baby,” he adds. “i believe in ya. yer not stupid. yer the smartest person i know— not a very high standard, you’ve seen the idiots i’m around— but still. yer plenty smart, and the fact that you’ve made it this far accounts for somethin’ right?”

not trusting your voice, you simply nod.

at this, his smile widens, and he relaxes a bit, before he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i love ya,” he says, pressing another firm kiss to your temple, then leaning lower to kiss your lips. “always.” he seals his promise by pressing his lips to yours, mumbling lowly about how you taste like the ocean, before kissing you a little harder.

as always, it will be okay. eventually.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #miya twins x reader #miya atsumu x reader #miya osamu x reader #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader

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xenia-cenia · 3 years

Text

Chongyun x Fem!Reader - Strength

A/N - I forget how many days since I finished the Mondstadt part of this series... I had to start Liyue with my boi. My beloved. He <3

Also fan fact: Chongy means gum in Britain so it double works for Chongyun cuz he’s so dang good :)

Trigger/Content Warnings: ghost mention, bad parents, food mention, we hurting Xingqiu today lads, fear, light swearing, kidnapping (kinda?)

Word Count: 2,937

Request: No

Summary: You’ve been plagued by demons your whole life. He’s never seen one. What will happen when you meet?

----------------------------------------------------------------

Ghosts, spirits, and demons.

You were no stranger to the unknown. They often whispered secrets of their lives into your ears as you slept. Many exorcists had come and went. They all charged thousands of Mora, only for their promises to fall short.

Your family was desperate. These whispering strangers grew stronger with each passing day, they began to claw and destroy your family. In one last-ditch effort to keep the (L/N) legacy alive, you were thrown to the streets.

Many weeks passed, your survival depended on the kindness and naivety of strangers. They invited you into their homes, promising happier times and brighter futures.

But just like before, they lied.

The whispers turned into yells, the yells into shrieks. It was positively unbearable. Madness constantly danced at the edge of your vision, you wanted nothing more than to give in.

It all changed, however, when a boy with light blue hair and cat slit pupils paused at your trembling form.

“...are you okay?”

Your head snapped up and you looked the boy up and down. He looked nothing special, light clothes and a melting popsicle in his hand. Your eyes focused on the popsicle and you unconsciously licked your lips as you imagined how good it’d feel to have real food in your mouth after... 4 days? 5? You’ve lost count.

He looked between you and the popsicle for a few seconds, sighed heavily, and handed it to you. As you nibbled on the popsicle, he uncomfortably shifted his weight between his feet and waited for you to finish.

When you were done with it, he cleared his throat and began to rifle through a small bag that was slung over his shoulder. A few moments later, he pulled out a trinket that was engraved in gold.

“You’re (Y/N) (L/N), right?” His voice was soft as he handed you the item. “Take these. It’s a talisman, it should keep the demons at bay.”

Taking the talisman in hand, you flipped it over a few times and considered the boy carefully. Hundreds- no, thousands- of exorcists have tried their hand to free you from the demons who chose you to haunt. What would make this boy any different?

“It’s not like they’ll ever leave.” You mumbled to yourself.

For a moment he looked almost excited, but quickly hid it with a stoic expression, “Can you still hear them?”

You paused. What an odd question. Of course, you could still hear them, why, they were...

“...silent.” You looked up at him, partially horrified, partially euphoric. “They’re silent.”

He sighed to himself, “I see.” The boy stretched and began to walk away, believing his job to be done.

But the moment he left your eyesight, the voices came back louder than ever.

“Why did you try to get rid of us? Don’t you love us? We love you! Stay with us. Stay with us. Stay with us.”

“Stay.”

A scream fell from your lips, you gripped and pulled at your hair, trying to regain the peaceful silence you had mere moments ago.

Cold hands on your shoulders, heavy breathing, and the scent of various herbs and old paper. You opened your eyes and saw the somewhat panicked cat slit eyes staring at you.

“They came back.” You breathed.

He sat next to you and went deep into his thoughts. For half an hour, the two of you sat there in silence. You relished it, taking in and memorizing every hint of life you hadn’t been able to hear before. He hated it, remembering each time his pure positive energy stopped him from performing his job.

“Can I...” you finally spoke, breaking the silence, “come with you?”

The out of the blue comment surprised him, but not a hint of that surprise showed on his face, “Why?”

“They’re quiet when you’re here. I never realized how good the quiet was.”

He considered it for a moment, looked at you, “Fine.”

You sighed in relief, “Oh, thank the Archons...”

“But.”

“Oh no.”

“You have to help me get my friend Xingqiu back.”

You blinked at him. ‘Get him back’? Was he in danger? Was he kidnapped somehow? You knew a bit of fighting but not enough to go raid a camp full of stronger, more trained adults.

“He keeps pranking me. I need to get him back.” The boy shook his head solemnly, “Every day he tells me that I’ll finally see a demon. Every day he makes fun of me when I get back.”

“Oh!” You tried to fight the smile that was building on your lips, “Okay. Yeah, I can do that. I, uh, sure. Okay.”

He stood and shook the dirt off his clothes, “We aren’t too far from Liyue Harbor. That’s usually where he stays. It’ll be about uh... a 12-hour walk.”

“12... hours...” you squeaked. You shook the nervousness away and managed a shaky smile, “You never told me your name.”

The boy paused a moment, “Chongyun.”

You and Chongyun walked in synchrony after hour 3. He kept his distance but always made sure to be close enough so the voices wouldn’t return. Chongyun found you to be eerily calm considering your situation.

Xingqiu told him that you’d been abandoned by your family after years of the spirits gaining strength and losing patience. For the first time, Xingqiu seemed panicked. He begged Chongyun to set out to find you.

Who was Chongyun to say no?

His original plan was just to give you the talisman and leave but... this might work out better. The way Xingqiu had described you, it was obvious you were someone close to his heart. Maybe he’d be happy to see you relatively safe and sound. Chongyun liked the idea of that.

“...yun?”

Chongyun turned to face you, barely feeling your hand grip onto his sleeve.

“What is it?” He internally winced at how cold he sounded.

“Thank you.” You let go of his sleeve and ran your hands up your arms, “It’s been... ah. Just, thank you. Could you tell me more about your friend?”

“Xingqiu? He’s... hm. He’s really smart. He helps me think of ideas to finally see a demon-”

“You’ve never seen one?” You interrupted him. “Why would you want to see one?”

He slightly puffed out his chest, “It’s my duty as an exorcist to continue the family lega-”

“Screw that! You’ve been blessed! I wish I had that.” You kicked a small rock that lied in your path.

Chongyun sighed heavily. He’s seen this reaction many times over the years, “It makes my job harder.”

“How? Just sit still and bam! Demons gone!”

“I have to draw and describe them in The Field Guide to Demons and Beasts. Not being able to see them makes it... hard.”

You exhaled, “I still wish I had that power.”

“It’s...” he shook his head. “Nevermind. We can talk about it later.”

The two of you walked the rest of the way, with some snack breaks, in silence.

As you arrived in Liyue, you caught sight of a navy blue haired boy anxiously pacing in front of the entrance. You paused, narrowed your eyes, thought for a moment and when the realization set in, you cried out in glee.

“Xingqiu!” You yelled. The boy looked towards you and quickly dashed in your direction. As he came to a stop, he gripped your hands and smiled happily at you, “Oh, Archons, how long has it been?”

“4 years? When I heard how your family sent you out, I knew I had to do something!” He tightened his grip on your hands as his smile fell. “Are you alright? Are you injured anywhere? Are they...?”

You sighed and let your grip loosen, “I’ve been better. They’re a lot quieter when I’m with him.” You nodded towards Chongyun who was awkwardly standing while chewing on a popsicle.

“Did you get to see them?” Xingqiu asked Chongyun.

“No,” he spoke dejectedly. “There’s has to be at least one demon who isn’t as strong as it, right?”

“It?” You looked between the two boys.

“My ‘power’.” Chongyun specified.

“Ahhh,” you nodded, “well. I’m utterly exhausted. Xingqiu, can I stay at your place tonight?”

“Su-”

“You can stay at mine.”

You and Xingqiu both looked at Chongyun, surprised by his sudden offer.

“It’s only to make sure the demons don’t come back during the night.” He spoke, digging his toe into the dirt and suddenly very interested in a nearby bush.

“Can Xingqiu stay with us? I just... well, I don’t really know you.” You nervously laughed, “I’d just feel more comfortable if he were there.”

“In that case, let’s just skip the walk and stay at my place. I’m sure Father wouldn’t mind.” Xingqiu looked between the two of you. You looked at Chongyun, who was still entranced with a nearby bush and waited for his response. After a few moments of silence, he nodded his head.

The three of you walked the streets of Liyue, the further you got the more familiar it felt. Dogs who always licked at your heels, tourists surprised at the food, children laughing and chasing each other.

You stopped walking and looked around in awe. The boys, caught up in conversation, hadn’t noticed.

Is this how it feels like? To not be afraid? You almost didn’t believe it. No, you definitely didn’t believe it. They were gone, it was quiet. You couldn’t feel their warm claws digging into your shoulders, nor their cold breaths on your cheek. Anything you wanted to do you could. The voices and demons would never bother you again as long as-

“Why do you keep trying to leave us?”

You gulped, sweat beading at your brow as you spun around. No, this isn’t right.

You got rid of them. They’re gone. It’s been half a day and you hadn’t heard them, you’re free. So why...

“Listen to us. We just want to keep you safe. Don’t you want that too?”

...why were they back?

Why did you feel their nails beginning to pierce your skin as rose petals slipped down your shoulder? Why could you hear their melodic hums in your ears as their tongues tied and twisted around you?

Your eyes were unfocused, your legs were shaking, you swallowed every bit of spit that lingered in your mouth but your throat still ran dry. You could almost hear pounding footsteps; could almost feel a boy with navy blue hair pushing through the crowd until his hand wrapped around your wrist and yanked you forward.

Your feet were moving. That much you knew. Where you were going and why they were moving were two separate matters entirely. Slowly, the voices were replaced by panting and their burning claws melted into cool metal.

“...huh?” you spoke as you gathered your senses. Why were you sitting on the streets of Liyue? You looked around and felt your shoulders immediately relax as you saw Xingqiu. “Xing... Xingqiu?”

He was holding your left hand tightly, trying to manage a reassuring smile despite his panicked eyes. You looked to the boy pressing the cold circular object against your shoulder.

“What’s...” you yawned, “What’s happening?”

“I, uh, we got wrapped up in the conversation. We thought you were right behind us.” Xingqiu looked at the ground guiltily, “You just about passed out.”

You looked up at Chongyun, taking note of the determination in his eyes. “I guess I’m kinda stuck to you for a while, huh?” You laughed sadly.

He froze and looked down at you, his eyebrows knitting together as his lips turned into a tight frown, “I don’t think that makes me stuck to you.”

“True, you could always drop me off at... well, anywhere.” You rested your head against the wall you were propped up against, “It’s not really you who's stuck.”

Chongyun shook his head, “That’s not what I meant.”

A soft blush covered your cheeks, “Oh.”

Xingqiu looked between the two of you and quickly bit his tongue.

“Don’t interfere, Xingqiu.” He chided himself. “Your childhood crush is nothing. It’s been 4 years! They just met anyway.”

He shook the anxiety away and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. All old crushes die out eventually, he’ll be fine.

He was not fine.

It’s been 2 months since your arrival and he’s found himself as head-over-heels for you as he was 4 years ago. He took every opportunity he could to spend time with you. He was jealous of Chongyun, and he hated it.

Chongyun got to spend all day with you. Chongyun spent hours training with you and planning ways to beat your demons.

Chongyun was his best friend! It’s fine! Your just his friend, it’s okay! He’s okay with that!

“Mmm, okay I think I get it.” You spoke, pointing at a book that was spread between you and Chongyun, “This is for healing and that’s why we need it.”

“We also should bless it in pure rainwater.”

“Chongy, do we need to wait for it to rain here? Who knows how long that’ll be...”

Chongy.

A nickname. You gave Chongyun a nickname. Why didn’t you give him a nickname? Xingqiu found he could no longer ignore the feelings building in his chest. He tore through every book in his collection, nearly memorized every declaration of love.

For 20 minutes a day, you were alone. You and Chongyun were testing your tolerance and slowly but surely, it was growing. That was good news all around. Xingqiu took these measly 20 minutes as an opportunity. He knocked on the door to your room and waited for a response. A few minutes passed and he grew anxious. He announced his presence and let himself into your room.

It was eerily clean. Xingqiu called your name a few more times and grew more and more confused as he couldn’t find a trace that you had ever been there. He sat on your bed and jumped when he heard something crunch beneath him.

Right where he sat, a note was lied out.

Chongyun and Xingqiu -

I’ve decided I’m going to try to go back home.

I know you’d try to stop me... so I figured it’d be best to just run for it. I think I’m enough now. Enough for them.

I’ll use the skills we went over and I’ll control the demons! They’ll be so happy.

Thank you for helping me.I’ll write again when I arrive so you know I’m safe. Feel free to visit!

-(Y/N)

Meanwhile, you knocked on the door of your family's home. The entire trip over you’d been practicing what to say to them. Your mother opened the door and gasped when she saw you.

“(Y/N)?” She whispered, her eyes wide. “How are you...?”

“I’m back.” You sheepishly smiled. “I, ummm, I spent a lot of time getting control of them. I think I’m better now. See? They’re not even here!”

“S-Stay here...” she half-jogged deeper into your house and didn’t return. You awkwardly stood around, twiddling your thumbs, not even noticing the shovel about to hit the back of your head and knock you unconscious.

When you woke up, your hands were tied behind your back and you were surrounded by the damp scent of rotting wood. It was dark and your head hurt.

Where were you? This isn’t right. You had been going home. No, you were home. You saw your mother. Why are you here? Are they afraid? No. No, that doesn’t make sense.

You did your best. You thought it was enough... wasn’t it enough? The voices had stopped. You made friends. You...Tears bloomed in your eyes as you harshly bit into your lip.

You thought they’d love you if you came home the way they wanted. Why didn’t they love you? Where was Chongyun? Where was Xingqiu?

You missed them. You wanted Chongyun to sit next to you like he always does. You wanted to hear him enthuse about exorcism. You wanted to lie your head in his lap and tease him. Just like you always do.

“Chongy...” you muttered to yourself. “I lo...”

A loud crash upstairs forced a gasp from your lips. In horror, you sat silently and hoped the house wasn’t getting robbed. The yelling, banging, and screaming wasn’t easing your nerves.

You sat as still as you could, hoping that whoever was up there wouldn’t hurt you. Praying even. Light flooded the room which made you wince and turn away. “(Y/N)?” A familiar voice called.

You looked in the direction of the voice and let the tears fall loose. There, at the top of a staircase, stood Chongyun. The light behind him made him look like an angel.

“Ch... Chongy!” You yelled. He raced down the stairs and looked at you. “Chongyun, Archons, I’m so happy to see you.”

He worked quickly, untying your hands and letting you collapse into his arms. “Xingqiu and I came as fast as we could...”

You gripped onto his shirt and held him closer, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

“I thought... I thought they loved me.”

“I know.” He drew loose circles on your back with his finger, “I know.”

You rested your head in the crook of his neck and let the scent of various herbs and old paper engulf you.

Xingqiu, who had just finished fighting your parents, stopped at the top of the stairs and smiled at you two. It was the first time he’d seen Chongyun able to touch someone without his congenital positivity overflowing...

Maybe you were helping him just as much as he was helping you.

#also some slight xingqiu angst but its cool #chongyun x reader #chongyun x you #chongyun genshin #chongyun genshin impact #xingqiu #xingqiu genshin impact #xingqiu genshin #chongyun #chongyun genshin impact x reader #chongyun genshin x you #fanfiction #x reader #happy endings #oneshot #one shot #saved by chongyun

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haloshornsinkstains · 3 years

Text

Indulge Me A Little?

Mouri Motonari x F!reader

Something of a sequel to "And What if I Bite Back?” though you don’t need to read that to understand this, they’re both just excuses for me to write smut about a sexy pirate lord.

Motonari is a bit out of character, it’s hard to write smut for someone who hates touch, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

CW: NSFW (PWP), female reader, mentions of kidnapping, writer getting carried away with pirate talk

“I can’t tell if yer brave or just real stupid Princess.” The chatelaine just shrugs and smiles, biting back a giggle at the mixture of expressions that flickered across his face. It only serves to deepen Motonari’s scowl, people he glares at do not smile in response. They cower in fear and run for their lives. But the Oda princess is a different breed altogether, just as sweet and wicked as she had been the first time he ran into her. “I thought you had some fabrics to show me.” She chuckles, nodding her head towards the cloth behind him. “If ya believe that was my meaning then yer more of a fool than I thought.” The princess merely shakes her head. “Oh no, I know exactly what you meant. But I also know you’ve brought some truly stunning fabrics into Azuchi with you before, indulge me a little?” Her smile is a little softer this time, eyes flickering between his face and the fabrics behind him, though she doesn’t make a move to get any closer until he sighs and nods. “Merda. Go ahead m’lady, but there’s plenty of better things we could be doing.” He grumbled, staring down at her as the Oda princess bent to look at the fabrics. She hummed. “Oh, don’t worry, we have all day to do better things.” “Then perhaps I might have some fabric on m’ship you’d like to see.” At that her head whipped up, narrowing her eyes at his sly grin, one hand reaching towards her obi. Motonari merely scoffed. “Stop it with that that face m’lady. If I wanted to kidnap ya I’d have had you tied up and shoved in the hold a long time ago.” Her eyebrows pulled together at his words, a soft sigh leaving her lips. “Wow, you really know how to inspire trust.” “Don’t need trust to bed you m’lady.” He chuckles. “Ya didn’t trust me last time now did you?” She hums thoughtfully, “I trusted you enough.” “Then yer head must be full of flowers. You remember I’m the Oda’s enemy right m’lady?” “You’d be surprised how many enemies of the Oda I talk to,” she laughed “and it’s not like I have enough brainpower to tell you any secret tactics when we’re together, nor are you particularly threatening the Oda at present. Unless your idea of a threat is outselling the local fabric traders. I don’t see the problem, unless you really do plan on kidnapping me.” “Not when yer guard dogs are expecting you back Princess. More trouble than it’s worth to have that silver kitsune chasing after me.” Motonari scoffed, motioning with his head towards the street. “Now, d’ya want to see these fabrics?” The chatelaine laughed, nodding her head and gesturing towards him. “Lead the way, Captain.” If she saw the subtle shiver that ran through him at that name, she was kind enough not to mention it as Motonari lead her towards the ship he called his own.

The Oda Princess’ arrival on the ship sparked a ripple of excitement among Motonari’s crew, several of the men on deck turning dark smiles towards her. The Princess shifted slightly, letting Motonari’s body sheild most of hers from their hungry eyes. “You finally captured the Devil’s woman Lord Motonari!” “Aye Captain! Want us to tie her up and throw her in the brig for ya?” Motonari bristled, throwing a glare in their direction that would send lesser men running for the hills. “Any part o’you touches her an’ I’ll be removing it from yer body, savvy? The Princess is my guest.” Ripples of dissent ran through the assembled crew, but one sharp look from their Captain was enough to quiet them before his blood red gaze turned back to the woman beside him. “This way m’lady.” “I didn’t know you could cook.” She grinned, pointing at the small kitchen built into the Captain’s quarters. “Any other skills you’d been hiding from me?” Motonari grumbled something that sounded a lot like ‘I ain’t hidin’’ and gestured towards some fabrics in the corner. “Planned t’get something made with ‘em anyway.” The chatelaine grinned, rushing over to inspect the fine western cloth, her eyes alight with happiness. “Oh, these are beautiful! What were you planning to do with them?” “I dunno yet.” Motonari shrugged. “I thought you were some kind of seamstress?” “Would you like me to make you something?” Her eyes, when she turned back to look at him, were so wide and full of hopeful joy Motonari nearly burst into laughter. Instead he managed a stiff nod, and got a bright smile in return. “I’ll make something wonderful.” “Yeah, yeah. You plannin’ to waste all your time looking at pretty fabric?” She hums, staring at the fabric for a few more seconds before her gaze flits back to him, soft smile sharpening into something more wicked. Enchantress might not be too far from the truth, if the way her eyes drew him in was any indication. But she didn’t move towards him, instead fixing him with those sparkling eyes and waiting for him to make the first move. “Ya gonna make me wait all day?” He growled. “You could have just asked. Or made me.” She huffed, pushing back to her feet and taking a few steps towards him. “I aint in the habit of forcing women into anythin’.” She laughs and shakes her head, eyes fixed on the blood red of his. “Oh, you wouldn’t be forcing me into anything. I wouldn’t do anything I wasn’t more than happy to do, you should know that much at least.” What little patience Motonari had left finally snapped. “Will you stop yappin’ and use that pretty mouth of yours for something better already!” With a smile she finally closes the gap between them, leaning forward so her breath brushes over his lips. “That wasn’t so hard now was it?” He didn’t answer, instead grabbing the collar of her kimono and pulling her lips into his. He could feel the way her lips quirked up against his kiss for a few brief seconds before those lips parted to let his tongue brush over hers. His hands left her collar, reaching down to pull her against him, her hips grinding into his as they kissed, his hand gripping the flesh of her ass. She whimpered, fisting one hand in the fabric of his cape as if it were the only thing keeping her standing.

“Where’s that smart tongue o’yours m’lady?” He chuckled, pulling back. “One kiss and all yer fancy words desert ya?” It took a few moments for her eyes to come back into focus, but once they did he saw her brows furrow, the smallest of pouts pulling at her lips. “Well, if you weren’t so skilled with your tongue maybe I’d stand a better chance.” She huffed, before her gaze sharpened, lips pulling into a sly smirk. “But if you really want to see a clever tongue, I’d be more than happy to show you.” "Oh?" His smirk was just the right side of predatory, eyes sparkling and pupils blown. "Well I ain't gonna stop you m'lady." With one last soft press of her lips to his she sunk down to her knees, slowly undoing his trousers. Each motion followed by a pause, time for him to stop her, but his patience was wearing thin and it took little more than a quiet growl to encourage her to hurry up. In the time it has taken her to undo the first two buttons on his trousers, she had them pushed down around his thighs, her hand gently wrapped around his length. Pausing she looked up at him, and despite the position, and all the filthy things he knew she was capable of, from this position she looked all doe-eyed and innocent. It made him want to ruin her. "That all ya got princess?" She didn't rise to his taunting, only smiling for a brief moment before she dipped her head to wrap her lips around him. Her eyes flicked up momentarily, just long enough to catch the brief flicker in his cocky smirk, before she started to bob her head. She revelled in the sharp hiss of breath between his teeth every time he pressed against the back of her throat. The strangled noise he made when she swallowed around him. His hand found its way into her hair, fisting in the strands as he followed the back and forth movement of her head. Just as she was starting to feel him twitching against her tongue his grip tightened, tugging her off him with a lewd pop. “Porra, can’t have the party finishing too early.” He muttered, nodding his head towards the bed. “Unless ya want me to take you on the floor m’lady, I’d get moving.”

The Princess hummed thoughtfully, as if she were truly considering letting him have his way with her there on the floor of his cabin, before slowly rising to her feet and making her way towards the bed. She slipped her kimono off as she walked, exposing the smooth planes of her shoulders and back, finally letting it fall into a pool at her feet beside the bed. She turned back to look at him, settling herself on the side of the bed so she could watch as he undressed. “You’re staring Princess.” “It’s a very nice view.” She hummed, not taking her eyes of him despite the warmth of her cheeks. He snorted and shook his head. “There are much better things we can be doing.” “Hard to do with you all the way over-” Motonari crossed the room before she could finish, pressing her down into the sheets with the weight of his body. One large hand grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head. Her back arched ever so slightly into his touch, hips pressing against his. “I aint going to be gentle with ya m’lady.” He warned, face hovering just above hers. “Not after that little show.” She tilted her head up, leaving the barest brush of her lips against his. “Perhaps I don’t want you to be.” He didn’t speak, instead focusing on pressing himself inside her. Holding still when he felt her tighten around him, his name a soft moan on her lips. He stayed like that for a while, hovering over her and willing his body to calm down, at least until she started to squirm beneath him, rocking her hips up against his in a desperate attempt to chase some friction. With a dry chuckle he started to move, reslishing the way her expression twisted, mouth falling open on a gasp as her hands flexed in his grasp. Straining against him in an unconscious effort to reach out and touch. He could feel the flex of her thighs against his sides, the way her walls pulled him deeper with every stroke. "Ah, so ya do like it when I'm rough with you m'lady." Motonari smirked, pulling back a little to study her face. The Princess nodded vigorously, eyes so blown and glazed over it was a wonder she even understood him. "Yes. Yes, please! I… I'm so clo- so close. Please don't stop." The words were breathy, slightly slurred with pleasure, but the way she desperately tried to rock her hips against his told him all he needed to know. His hips snapped forwards, free arm pushing one of her legs to the side to let him push deeper. He felt her tensing more under him with each thrust, her breath coming in sharp pants between each moan and scrambled cries of his name. When she finally reached her peak he nearly stopped his movements altogether, sharp eyes drinking in everything about her expression in that moment, memorizing the feel of her walls contracting around him, how her chest looked with her body arched against the sheets, the trembling of her legs around him. He barely managed to pull out in time to spill across her stomach, eyes still fixed on the blissful look on her face when he did.

Some time later, when both of their breathing was even and the princess had cleaned and dressed once more, Motonari shoved the pile of fine fabric into her arms. “Here y’are m’lady, I’ll expect something good.” He grumbled, trying not to focus on the way her eyes lit up at the fine work all over again. “Thank you! I promise I’ll make something amazing! Hmm… what’s this?” She adjusted the fabric, gently lifting a small cloth pouch from the top of the pile and holding it up to inspect. “Nothing really, now come on m’lady. I’ll take you back to town before those guard dogs of yers come yappin’ at my heels.” He pushed open the door to his cabin, gesturing for her to start moving. With a sigh the princess re-adjusted the bundle of cloth and made her way out, ignoring the calls of the crew as she made her way back out on deck. One sharp glare from the captain silenced them, the softly murmured thanks from the woman beside him going ignored. He escorted her all the way back into the markets, neither spoke much, but the silence was comfortable. Once they reached the markets she turned and offered him a bow, the formality of the gesture made him snort given she’d been in his bed less than an hour before. Turning his back to her, he threw a casual wave over his shoulder, turning his head slightly to call back to her. “I’ll be back for whatever you make me in a few weeks. I’m expecting something good m’lady.”

#halo.writes #halo.afterdark #Mouri Motonari #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen motonari #motonari x reader

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lettrespromises · 4 years

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PLAN À TROIS.— TODOROKI, BAKUGOU.

A.N:

❝ dear reader,

why hello it is i, nikki, back at it again. this post was specifically written thanks to @sasukelore’s big brain, meaning that this one is for the boys with the booming system, top down, AC with the cooler system😔✊🏻. it’s my first attempt at writing smut (which means it’s a direct ticket to hell) so please bare with me, i hope you’ll like it! if you have any feedback, please feel free to send it to me! also, my requests are open for business hehe.

sincerely yours,

nikki.

P.S: “plan à trois” has a double meaning— it means “threesome” in french but it also literally means “a plan involving three people” which is the core of the story, both literally and figuratively. ❞

Genre: Smut. (All three of the characters have been aged up.)

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of drugs (but no actual use of drugs), unprotected sex (please use a condom), nudity, spanking, choking, cunnilingus, blow-job, temperature play, threesome, dirty things.

Word count: 6.5k (she’s a big girl, don’t be shy.)

Letter object: One hotel. One gala. One mission. One person to take down. Three heroes. You and Shoto have to play the perfect fake couple to gain your enemy’s trust, the only thing is, Shoto has no clue how to behave as a couple. The unexpected help comes from Ground Zero who seems a bit too impatient and eager to show Shoto how to really treat a lady.

Metaphorically speaking, the heroes are seen as the predators and the villains as the preys, it’s always been that way— an eternal game of hide and seek, which only ends in binary results, either victory or loss. The latest news concerning the hero world had put this little game to a halt: the hushed rise of the anti-quirks drugs were concerning. The enemy was everywhere and nowhere, it was all whispers, a thread of ‘who said what’, mere illusions replaced authentic clues. The rules of the game had been changed into a paradox where the villains became the predators and the heroes were deemed as the preys.

The rule of silence, which could have easily been personified as the ringleader of this dystopic scenario, was cruel— anyone could be suspected of being a link of the drug chain. But fret not, if you were suspected and voices started to echo around louder and louder, a little bit of hush money was the price to pay to reinstate the rule of silence. Anyone could be a culprit, even (or mostly) into the highest spheres of society. Those who are worshipped in an agnostic way, they were on top of the social food chain and, perhaps even, on top of the drug chain. These elites have been very vocal about their will to suppress the almighty authority pro-heroes possess— feeling threatened for their own sake and their own inferiority complex, they were willing to play dirty to be able to rule the country with an iron fist.

The corrupted elites still remained as elites and enjoyed their mondane occupations— galas being one of them. It was a dream opportunity for you as a pro-hero, a room crowded with highly potential culprits served on a silver plate with a cup of champagne to serve as the cherry on the cake.

Stealth missions were highly dangerous if you didn’t have a cover good enough, and treading on the playground of influential people could possibly cost you your career as a pro-hero, but if you managed to succeed, you were bound to bask in glory. Keeping a realistic cover is the number one check on the list entitled “how not to blow up your whole mission and be hated by the rest of the country.” Luckily enough, your agence had already done all the dirty work for you and sent you everything you needed— a flawlessly cut evening attire, a shockingly well-done fake ID and a full file regarding the background of your character, all down to the tiniest details. And I cannot emphasize enough “all” the details...

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” Amongst the myriad of details (and some of them were completely unnecessary, I mean, was your favorite fruit really important?), one of them was impossible to ignore. “Shoto Todoroki, really?” His name rolled off your tongue for a reason, you were supposed to play his pseudo fiancée for the night. Your thumb brushed the surface inked with his name, unconsciously wishing that if you were brushing hard enough, his name would disappear and so would your almost wilted high school crush on him.

Your silent complains were cut short, the sound of someone knocking on your door stirred you from the invasion of your thoughts. Then the knocking sound echoed once more. “Just a second!” Has anyone heard of the concept of patience? Waiting a few seconds for someone to open the door isn’t a inhuman task. Eventually (although it could’ve have been funny to let this mysterious person fume because you purposefully took too long), you opened the door to your hotel room and it just felt like you had welcomed a storm in. Much to your surprise, there were two surprise guests, two U.A alumnis just like you— Shoto and Ground Zero.

“Well, shit, were you planning on letting us fucking die in the hallways, woman?! What the fuck took you so goddamn long, ha?” When I mentioned a storm earlier on today, I meant Bakugou Katuski— his annoyance was transcripted upon his face through the frowning of his eyebrows and the wrinkle sitting between them. “It’s good to see you too Bakugou, glad to see you missed me after all this time.” His hands were shoved in his pockets, clearly not keen on listening to your sarcastic remarks nor wearing a tuxedo for the night. “Tch. Keep your smart ass talk to yourself, dumbass.”

You had indeed let a storm invade your hotel room. But unbeknownst to you, you had also welcomed a hypotizing breeze, the polar opposite of Bakugou, and apparently future fiancé for the night: Shoto Todoroki. His facial expression reflected nothing but pure serinity, a signature stoic face which radically clashed with Bakugo’s scowl. Todoroki was so discreet, almost blending his presence with the newfound silence. He was wearing an evening suit of his own, aquamarine was his color after all, it was a known fact since your high school years.

“Y/N, as you may be aware, I am here for the stealth mission. Bakugou is going to accompany us just in case something goes wrong. It was a last minute change, but considering the household names who are going to attend this gala, too much precaution is better than not enough.” Ohh, so that was the reason why the angry gremlin was here. Although, you wondered how Shoto felt about the two of you acting as a fake engaged couple, was he still serene about that? “Yeah, while you two fake lovebirds will be busy eating each other’s faces off, I’m gonna be around to check if there is any intell on these anti-quirk selling bastards.” Each of his word was accompanied by a hand gesture pivoting between you and Shoto and, of course, the same old look of annoyance plastered upon his face. You and Shoto, on the other one hand, appeared a bit surprised at the use of “fake lovebirds”, it just hasn’t sunk in yet... Denial, perhaps?

“Speaking of kissing and shit— you, half and half bastard, do you still have a fucking stick up your ass or do you know how to act in a relationship?!” His interrogation was accompanied with a daring glance thrown in Todoroki’s direction and an eyebrow lifted just to emphasize the characteristic of his question a bit more. A bold question which immediately found its answer from the mouth of Todoroki, needless to say, you felt this remark coming. “Bakugou, you’re the last person here who could pretend having the knowledge necessary to provide relationship advices.” You couldn’t help but let a laugh escape at Todoroki’s remark highlighted by its bluntness, although you quickly changed your mind once you felt Bakugou’s stare landing on you with such rage causing you to hush your laugh by biting your thumb.

“Ha?! What the fuck did you just say, half and half bastard? Use that fucking mouth for yours for good measure and let’s see if you can kiss Y/N correctly. I won’t let this mission be blown up by your stupid ass.” This time, there was a hint of amusement in Bakugou’s voice, it was hard to distinct if he asked that because he truly cared about the mission or if he just wanted to push Todoroki out of his comfort zone. But the ghost of a smirk drawn upon his face seemed to support the second hypothesis.

“Guys, just a second here. I understand why we have to take care of our cover but it’s not like Todoroki and I are going to kiss all night long.” Your gaze alterned between Todoroki and Bakugou, it became impossible to hold your gaze on a fix structure due to how flustered you felt, and soon enough, your cheeks were quick to adopt a rosy tone. “Y/N, are you scared of kissing me by any chance?” You secretly hated the obvious tone of concern in Todoroki’s voice, he was willing to do anything to make this mission a success but also make sure you were comfortable around him. “N-No! It’s just… I don’t mind it.” What a miracle, you finally managed to look at him in the eyes but the blush on your cheeks was as lively as ever. “Then damn, if you don’t mind it just fucking kiss already we don’t have all night, dumbass.” You could tell by Bakugou’s body language that he was growing more and more impatient by the second, his arms were crossed over his chest— he was getting pissed.

Todoroki captured your attention once more when his index brushed the surface of your skin right below your chin while his thumb was carefully set upon your jawline. His orbs shone by their gleam of reassureance, his eyes met yours, as a silent way to ask your for permission and you fluttered your lids shut as an answer. As if it was some kind of second nature to him, his other arm compassed your waist in order to bring you close to him. His lips finally touched yours. Each one of his actions was so soft, you could barely feel them yet, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. His lips were melting ever so perfectly with yours, as if your lips were the sole one which could fit is, you couldn’t help but to hum as the carefulness of his lips overwhelmed you. The kiss was shy, experimental, and yet so agonizing. He was temptingly and agonizingly slow, which only made you crave for more. However, given the lack of oxygen, you had no choice but to (relanctutly) break the kiss. You opened your eyes and basked in Todoroki’s beauty, still in awe at what just happ—… “Oi! Have you ever kissed anyone before, Icyhot? Fucking hell, what was that?!”

Of course this was bound to be expected— the angry gremlin in his natural behavior. You and Todoroki exchanged a look which held a thousand questions before you felt your wrist being caught by a much warmer palm, and eventually, you were yanked straight into Bakugou’s chest (not that you were complaining.) “Open your damn eyes and look, this how you fucking kiss a woman, dipshit.” The sound of his voice roaring against your eardrum made you flinch in the nicest way possible. Bakugou naturally made himself at ease all while maintaining his gaze upon Todoroki who was looking at him in return with a noticeable disdain in his eyes.

Bakugou was challenging him in a way, he perfectly knew that Todoroki was observing his every move, hence why he took the liberty to let his palm roam over the curve of your derrière as a way to taunt him. However, the taunt didn’t last too long not to make you feel uncomfortable. He quickly settled one of his hand on the small of your back (to maintain you as close to him as humanly possible) whilst his other hand was set upon your neck. He didn’t waste any more time and went straight to business.

Bakugou’s kiss was, as expected, a vivid contrast compared to Todoroki’s kiss. While Todoroki’s felt hesitant, caring, sweet… Bakugou’s kiss was rough around the edges and his sole purpose was to make your knees weak. Once he crashed his lips upon yours, he immediately swiped his tongue over the surface of your bottom lip, demanding immediate access to your mouth. You knew better than to upset Bakugou so you pleased and allowed his tongue to explore your mouth— your tongue was at his mercy for a few instants before finding a steady rhythm for you two. His presence was overwhelming— his smell, how close you were to him with nowhere to escape, his mouth, his tongue, everything caused you to rightfully let a moan escape into the kiss. At the sound of it, Todoroki’s eyes widened while Bakugou smirked into the kiss, he knew he made a point. You, in return, started to tug at his blonde hair— the rough atmosphere of the kiss affected your actions as well. Just prior to breaking the kiss, Bakugou’s teeth dug into your bottom lip and applied a few pressures while you were looking at him with pleading eyes to continue. Once he got what we wanted, he ended the kiss with a surprisingly soft peck upon your lips.

With his hand still settled on the small of your back, Bakugou turned to Todoroki’s direction and offered him his biggest smirk to show his secret victory. You were left breathless by the kiss, a series of uneven hot breaths crashed down onto Bakugou’s skin.

If anyone were to walk in your hotel room, they would be able to feel and even touch the graduating tension in the air which almost felt agonizing. The tension was mostly radiating off of the two men, a silent battle for dominance had been declared through glances, holders of pure will to outbest the other.

Todoroki observed the scene on his chair, and unbeknownst to him, Bakugou had indirectly offered him the best seat in the room to watch the manifestation of his talents. An almost inaudible sigh left Todoroki’s lips which translated into a sign of discontentment. “Y/N, come here.” The tone was strict, cold even, and you felt obligated to do as told.

Detaching yourself from Bakugou’s embrace (you could tell he didn’t want to let you go judging from how his palm lingered on your back), you stepped away and made your way to Todoroki, a quizzical look noticeable in the reflect of your eyes. “What now?” You asked. Todoroki gestured to his lap and you knew what it meant, it was a speech without any word necessary.

Paradoxically enough, Bakugou stared at the scenery in front of him in pure silence, and although it was very unlike him, he was mimicking Todoroki’s actions earlier on- he wanted to witness how Shoto was going to respond to his own deeds.

You placed your hands over Todoroki’s shoulders to gain stability before sitting on his lap, it was a foreign feeling, but goodness, it was already addicting as hell and you were not interested in finding a cure. Both of Shoto’s hands crawled on the same spot where Bakugou’s hands used to linger just a few moments ago, you understood rather quickly that he was using his own methods against him. You were the center of Todoroki’s attention, his gaze graced your frame and he was loving the sound of your uneven breath, he wondered if he could make your respiration even more irregular.

He paid no mind to mind to the silent Bakugou who was already fuming in his corner as Shoto delivered a succession of pecks on the delicate flesh of your neck, and you tilted your head just enough to let him play on a wider surface. He traded the pecks for a few daring bites on certain areas, he needed to find your weak spot. “A-Ah... Shoto!” the sound of his name rolling off your tongue coated in such bliss was enough for him to curve his lips into a smirk.

It was a brief moment of peace before he dug his teeth on the same spot and you failed to prevent any whimpers from coming out by biting your lower lip. He knew you were restricting yourself, prisoning these beautiful sounds of ecstasy, and he didn’t like any of it. He focused on your lower lip and rubbed the oh so soft surface with the pad of his thumb to prevent your from biting it, and thus, keeping your sounds of pleasure to yourself.

“Don’t be shy, love. I’m pretty sure both Bakugou and I can agree on the fact that the little sounds you’re making are too divine to be hushed. Will you be a good girl and let us hear the sounds you’re making?” It was as if his voice was coated with honey, just his voice alone was enough to make you feel weak, and if you paid enough attention, you were pretty sure he purposefully blew a fit of cold air onto the skin of your neck. “Yes, please... I’ll be good, so good.” From that moment you knew you were at his mercy and he enjoyed every second of it. “You’re such a good girl for us.”

And so he continued, but it was rougher this time, a harsh contrast compared to his hesitant kiss from just a few moments ago. His teeth dug into the flesh of your skin harder this time, the sole purpose of leaving a mark on your crimson colored flesh was haunting his mind. To accomplish said purpose, Todoroki alternated between biting motions and a few swipes of his tongue on the newly bruised skin. The whimpers coming out of your mouth shamelessly only added fuel to his fire. He knew what he was doing, and you knew just how sensitive this particular area could get.

Once he judged it was enough, he delivered a few pecks on the love bites, a way to kiss his art into your skin. “You’re so perfect, love, so perfect with my name written over your skin.” He whispered between kisses. Your head was thrown back, fingers grasping at the roots of his hair, your mouth agape- your whole body language testified of the addictive effect he had on you.

Such bliss couldn’t last for long, and quickly enough, another voice was being heard, a roar even. “Oi, oi, oi! Don’t even think for a single fucking second that you can have her all to yourself, half and half bastard.” It was almost a miracle that Bakugou had observed you in silence, but as expected, patience was nowhere near his forte. He had already crossed his limit long before you sat on Todoroki’s laps. Bakugou’s eyes were strictly focused on your frame, he was completely under your spell after observing how your chest would rise and fall unevenly to grasp any ounce of oxygen.

Your knees felt weak already, you could only stare at Bakugou and silently ask him to continue, to make you feel even weaker, to make you experience pure bliss. You wanted to say his name, it was right on the tip of your tongue, but as you observed his figure reducing more and more the space between the two of you, you just admired him in silence.

“Hah? What’re you looking at, brat? You want more? Is that it? You want fucking more? Say no more.” You should’ve known that the wicked smirk plastered upon his face was a pre-indicator of what was bound to happen. He lifted you off of Todoroki’s lap, the latter frowned a bit at the lack of your presence on him, and carried you to the bed before dropping you on the mattress. Todoroki was quick to follow from behind and stood right next to Bakugou, his hands already busy taking off his jacket and unbuttoning the first button of his evening shirt. “I’m sure that Bakugou and I can find a little agreement. After all, we can share, correct?” Todoroki’s rhetorical question found its answer once Bakugou let a discreet chuckle escape from his mouth after throwing his jacket God knows where and messily undoing his tie. “We’re gonna take real fucking good take care of you, baby girl.”

You were refraining yourself from already touching you, it took all the strength in the world not to give in to the most passionate temptations. But deep down, you already knew you were bound to be overwhelmed by pure bliss judging by how they were looking at you. You could only hum in response, unsure of how your voice would have sounded under the heavy influence of desire.

Bakugou made the first move, after all, his poor soul felt left alone when Todoroki overwhelmed you with pecks and bites. He crawled over you, his knees were on each side of your waist, his hands however, assured total domination- his right hand clutched your wrists now pinned above your hand while his left palm settled by force on your throat, needless to say, the pressure was already applied on your windpipe. “You wanna’ play that game with me, hah?! Let Icyhot have all of you to himself and I got fucking nothing in return? Babygirl, I don’t watch, I fucking play.” It was too ferocious to be qualified as a whisper, and yet, when Bakugou pronounced the last bits of his sentence right in the shell of your ear, you felt like you were floating in pure bliss. “Answer me.” His grip on your throat felt a bit tighter. “P-Please... Ju-Just do whatever you want... With my body.” The lack of oxygen felt agonizing, you were deprived of fresh air and you were laying on the bed while Bakugou exuded pure confidence and domination, an aura so thick, you wished you could’ve touched it. “That’s my babygirl.”

As Bakugou’s lips crashed onto yours, forcing its tongue into your mouth while maintaining the right amount of pressure on your throat to offer you a panorama of new sensations, Todoroki had already gotten rid of his shirt. If you paid close attention, you could see shy flames on his shoulders, he was absolutely adoring the scenery unfolding before him. Everything about you filled his senses, the sight of you giving in to Bakugou was nothing short of divine, the whimpers leaving your mouth in cascade whether the reason was the lack of air or the fierceness of Bakugou’s intentions was the sweetest melody he had ever heard. Everything was perfect.

You felt the oxygen become one with your body again once Bakugou broke the kiss and allowed his hand to travel from your neck down to your chest, but his eyes were never leaving yours. He wanted to watch you come undone under his touch, he swore it to himself.

“I’ll take the bottom half. Icyhot, I don’t give a damn about what you do, just don’t fucking interrupt me.” His eyes were already set on the prize, your heat in all its glory. Shoto said nothing in response, you were the holder of all his undivided attention. As Bakugou took a firm grasp of your thighs, opening the way to his newfound purpose, Todoroki took over the top half of your body- he started by planting a succession of pecks from your lips down to your collarbone, passing by your neck, and each kiss was amplified by the cold air he was blowing on the surface of your skin. The contrast in temperature cause you to allow a few whimpers to escape, you already knew you craved for more, it was a way of manifesting it.

“You won’t need that, will you, love?” He said while pointing at your shirt, as his index was already hooking the fabric. It was a rhetorical question of course, you simply answered by humming. Your silent response was the only thing necessary for Shoto to send your shirt flying somewhere in the room. He continued his trail of kisses down to the valley of your breasts, the same cold air following him as he went.

Bakugou, on the other one hand, had already gotten rid off your skirt, but not before letting his palms explore the generous cheeks hidden underneath it, and eventually, leaving a slap right on this area which caused you to yelp in surprise. The pad of his thumb was already brushing against the surface of the fabric, oh what a pleasure it was when he felt the sensation of humidity coming through your underwear. A sensation so good, so addicting, so divine that it brought a sly grin to his face. “Already so wet for us, babygirl? You’re not wasting your damn time, hah?” Your skin was burning under his touch, you could already feel the chills running down your spine and he hadn’t even taken off your underwear yet.

Todoroki took the strap of your bra between his thumb and index, and much to your suprise, he used the right amount of his quirk to burn the fabric and applied the same treatment to the other strap. Before you could even protest about the poor outcome of your bra, he planted his lips on your own to keep you quiet. Now, he focused his attention to your breasts and the bits of clothing left which prevented the upper half of your body from being fully exposed. He took the opportunity given by Bakugou who had gotten rid of your underwear which made you arch your back to unclip your bra. There was nothing stopping him now. He let his gaze fell on you, so full of adoration, while he leaned down and caught the last piece of fabric remaining of your bra between his teeth. His eyes held so much envy, so much desires which reciprocated in the reflect of your own orbs.

Shoto threw your bra out of his mouth, and there you were- your body bare in all its glory. “Fuck, you’re so perfect...” He whispered right against your chest, causing you to let out a sigh you didn’t even know you were holding. He used his mother’s inherited side to trace the contour of your breasts, he knew he was going to earn a moan in return and he was so please to hear such a sinful melody at the clash of his cold fingers against your burning skin. His thumb and his index worked in harmony to twist the bud of your nipple and overwhelm it by Shoto’s cold touch while his tongue delivering hot saliva on your skin was already doing wonders on your other breast, a perfect balance between cold and hot which made your arousal erupt even more and someone was quick to notice...

“Oi, doll face, focus on me, not on this goddamn fucker. Don’t you feel so fucking good when I touch you like that, hah?” His burning jealousy amplified the voracity of his deeds. Every single one of his touch served the purpose of pleasuring you, but also outdo Todoroki’s touches. He needed to be the best at everything, including making you melt under his touch. You struggled to keep your eyes open, the desire to close your eyes and let your body attract all the attention while basking in pure bliss was too strong and yet, Bakugou’s voice roared into your mind, you couldn’t help but lay your eyes on him through half-closed lids.

Once he knew he was the bearer of all your attention, he put his body and mind to work. Both of his hands planted your thighs on each side of his body, you felt too weak to move under his touch and did not dare resist the pressure. You whined in advance because you knew what was coming- and boy, did he look good with his face buried between your thighs.

One long, sharp, vertical lick was all it took to let yet another moan escape your lips once more, and to Bakugou, it was the best reward. The heat of his tongue responded to the heat of your core, it was pure harmony. He licked the your core over and over again, tasting you, loving you, worshipping you even. One time he left lingering kisses to the side of your core, another time he was left licking motions all over your folds because your taste was the best thing he had ever felt. His motions echoed to your whines and moans, he was sure of hearing a sinful melody each time his tongue entered in contact with your skin.

“Keep making these noises for me, don’t be fucking shy.” His hot breath on the center of your heat embraced perfectly the succession of his actions, “Y-Yes... P-Please, I want... I need more.” Bakugou couldn’t help but let a low chuckle leave his lips, in response to your needy attitude, he left a harsh slap on the surface of your butt, to which you whined loudly in response. “Such a fucking filthy mouth you have there, hah?” He smiled to himself, knowing perfectly that what he was about to do was bound to leave you as a whimpering mess. Without any warning, he slid two of his fingers inside your core, and fuck, you were tight. His thumb was brushing against your sweet bundle of nerves which had already been cherished by Bakugou’s tongue earlier.

You clutched the sheets of the bed to release some of the buildup pressure inside, it was as if a tornado, a volcano and a firework were exploding at the same time in your stomach, each of them resulting in a series of whimpers and moans at the overstimulation. Your lids were shut close already, yet, they kept fluttering over the invisible crimson touches left by both Todoroki and Bakugou.

Speaking over Todoroki, he was tasting you in such a different way as he started to get the grip of Bakugou’s mechanic. His mind kept roaming and roaming, he knew that just one mark on your neck was not quite enough and he needed to beat Bakugou at his own game- he positioned himself right over your right breast and blew a fit of fresh air, causing him to smile at himself for being the reason of such a reaction, and dug his teeth into your flesh. Motivated by the the way you kept tugging at his hair, he kept biting the same area over and over again until sucking your flesh just enough to create yet another love bite over your breast, such an intimate area, isn’t it? And now his whole name was written on it.

“B-Bakugou... I can’t take it... Ahh! Anymore, please, please...” His fingers weren’t enough anymore, you were pleading his name, begging him to become one with you because you were unsure as to how you were going to keep the unleashed pressure within you ruin you. “So eager for my fucking cock, aren’t you?! You’re gonna count with me each inch entering your fucking cunt, got it?” You were willing to do anything at this point- Todoroki’s bites and his cold touch, Bakugou’s fingers and tongue, it made you fill dizzy but you knew, deep down, you were slowly approaching a pure state of bliss. “Yes... Yes I will.”

For his own purpose, Bakugou took his fingers off your core and flipped you on your stomach so you could be on all fours. You were giving him the view of worthy of a masterpiece: the crimson colored marks on your butt cheeks, the vivid rosy tone of your dripping core, oh he wanted all of you. “Love, don’t you forget that I’m here too, right? Open your pretty mouth for me.” You did as Todoroki preached, opening your mouth for him to stick his index in there. “Suck.” he commanded, to which you obliged by creating hollows in your cheeks and embrace his finger around your tongue, this feeling was beyond perfect, beyond the wildest fantasies his imagination had to offer. He could only let his subconsciousness roam about how his cock would feel around your perfectly pouted lips.

Bakugou’s hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers turning white in the process while your flesh adopted a reddish tone in response. With the use of the pad of his thumb, he spread the pre-cum leaking all over his length, and so it began: the first inch. “One.”, it sounded more like an order than a statement, “...One.” you echoed, your response didn’t come quick enough to Bakugou’s liking, making you earn a harsh slap on your cheeks in return. Then another inch “Two.” , another faint sound coming from your lips “T-Two...”, yet another slap on your abused flesh. And so it went on, the process remained the same- another inch, another whisper escaping your mouth between sobs, another spank.

On the other side of the bed, Todoroki was stroking his own length at the sight before him. You were on the brim of tears, and Bakugou didn’t show any mercy regarding your current state. “I’m sorry, her mouth is going to be full soon, she won’t have room to count out for you.” Bakugou grunted in response to Todoroki’s taunt. His strokes became gradually faster, like a crescendo if you will. His other hand, however, was placed right underneath your jaw to give you some support and your mouth was already open in anticipation for what was bound to happen.

With his hand to keep your jaw steady, you welcomed Todoroki’s lenght into your mouth and he automatically let a groan as the tip of your tongue caressed his sensitive tip. You imagined how rewarding it must have felt for them to hear your own moans and whimpers because hearing Todoroki’s moan felt like a blessing to your eardrums.

Your tongue circled around his cock, your hand was pumping his length, and Todoroki wondered if this is what heaven looked and felt like. Your whimpers were hushed by the presence of his member in your mouth, but somehow, even these half silenced sounds of pleasure sounded even better to his ears. He felt his lids shut close under the miracle work of your tongue while his hand lingered in your hair to motivate you to keep going.

Bakugou, frustrated by this change of plans due to Todoroki’s own personal pleasure, slid the entirety of his phallus into you abruptly. The shock caused you to remove Shoto’s member from your mouth momentarily to catch your breath and release yet another whine before pleasuring Todoroki again. That came as a surprise to no one, not even Shoto himself, but Bakugou’s pace was rough and almost animalistic.

The sound of his testicles clapping against your flesh testified of the pace and yet, it felt so enticing. Bakugou was not so vocal, but he did leave his fair share of grunts as he buried himself into you more and more until reaching your cervix. It was too much, your core was burning, hell your whole body was on fire. The tears that threatened to fall had put their threat to execution, you knew you were close, the overstimulation was getting the best of you leaving you in a whimpering, trembling mess.

You continued to stroke Shoto’s length with your tongue, but his need to take control took over him. The same hand that rested in your hair suddenly took a firm grasp of your hair and he thrusted himself into your mouth and from there, his grunts became more repetitive. Truthfully, it was the only push he needed to bring him over the edge, the previous work of your tongue had put him under a spell. A spell he never wanted to wake up from. He knew what was coming, you felt it too but how the tip of his phallus was tickling your throat deeper and deeper.

Shoto didn’t even notice the small flames making their apparition on the blades of his collarbone, meaning that it was finally time for him to cum. He set your mouth free and hinted his length towards your chest, letting the drips of cum color your skin, and allowed the most magical moan to leave his already parted lips in satisfaction. “Love, look what you fucking did to me. You’re so beautiful, so beautiful with my cum all over you.” Your first instinct was to fill your lungs with oxygen, something so common yet it was cruelly needed. You looked through your lashes at Shoto with pleading eyes while he looked at you with a glimpse of adoration in his. His digit was carefully wiping the excess of cum leaking down your chin to place it right into your mouth. He could only stare in awe at the sight of you tasting him. He felt so full, and fulfilled. He was finally at peace, soaking in pure bliss.

The grasp Bakugou was holding over your hips became even harsher, which you though was impossible just a few seconds before. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He grunted, trying to keep his volume at bay by digging his teeth into his lower lip but it was all too much to be contained. He knew his climax was close, so close that he could picture it if he closed his eyes just for a second. Bakugou’s name fell on your lips like a forbidden prayer, his name had turned into the only thing you were able to say. “I-...Ah! Inside, inside, fuck, please...”, you felt a wave of pleasure taking over your body, a pleasure so intense, no word could have done it justice. Oh well, that was the sole indication he needed to hear before digging his nails into your sides, causing you to arch your back and bite the sheets, already preventing the cascade of whimpers from echoing in the room. “Fucking hell... Cum with me, now.”

With one last thrust, Bakugou came within you, his face was facing the ceiling as he came undone with you. His cum slid within you and in return, your body thanked him by letting your own juice flow all over his length.

Silence invaded the room. No more grunts, no more moans, no more cries. Pure silence inhabited by the uneven breaths of three protagonists who had just touched heaven by the tip of their fingers. Three victims of passion.

Bakugou pulled out of you, earning a whimper in return at the sudden feeling of vacuity. Your legs were shaking, and you secretly thanked every God for allowing you to stay relatively steady on all fours for this long and be able to endure the bestial-like pace of Bakugou. Needless to say, you were panting, you mouth was agape and you were crying for air. Your body immediately crashed onto the mattress, the soft feeling of the sheets enveloping your skin after reaching heaven made you feel as if you were floating on a cloud.

Bakugou and Todoroki shared a look, a small grin even, before crashing down onto the mattress next to you. You were unable to move, your mind was comparable to a wild blur as a result of your orgasm. A rush of words flew through your air but absolutely none of them was powerful and meaningful enough to qualify how you were feeling. At peace? No, not strong enough. Full? Nope, did not carry enough meaning. It was a unique feeling, worthy of all the praises in the world.

Todoroki draped an arm over your waist and left a trail of kisses upon the flesh of your shoulder, a silent way to thank you for allowing him to experience heaven in a rush. Bakugou, on the other one hand, was facing your back and allowed his index to draw invisible patterns on the skin of your back. Paradoxically enough, the silence carried more words and emotions than an actual speech. Until...

“So... Um, about the mission?”

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hookedonapirate · 3 years

Text

Sneak Peek—Through the Rising Tide

Thank you @wefoundloveunderthelight for the gorgeous graphic ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: So I have this mostly done, just have to add more scenes. And since this doesn't have a lot of context or show Killian's pov, I just want to point out that Killian is not delusional enough to think condoms are always 100% effective, nor is he just trying to make excuses to get out of the situation. There is more to it than what I can show in this sneak peek.

Chapter 10

“I’m pregnant.”

Emma’s heart drops into her stomach and all the air escapes her lungs when she hears the two words that seem to shatter her soul. She knows all too well two simple words can change a life forever. The most traumatizing moments in her life started with two words.

I’m sorry.

You’re fired.

We’re over.

I cheated.

Marry me.

Liam’s dead.

And now, I’m pregnant.

She knows she has no right to be upset, or hurt, even; she keeps telling herself Killian’s not hers, but a huge part of her wishes he was never with this dreadful woman. And it has nothing to do with jealousy. She just thinks Killian deserves much better than this bitch. Emma may not have always felt this way about him, but she can honestly say he’s not the same man she met a year and a half ago.

“Um…” Killian scratches behind his ear, not exactly sure what to say to Milah. “Congratulations?”

Emma has the urge to laugh, but she suppresses it. This isn’t something to joke about. It’s certainly not something Milah finds the least bit humorous. Which is understandable.

She’s carrying his baby.

Kilian’s going to be a father.

No, Killian is a father.

The thought makes Emma feel numb inside.

Milah’s jaw is on the floor as she gapes at Killian in shock and plants her hands on her hips. “Congratulations? That’s all you have to say?”

Killian looks at Emma in sheer puzzlement. But she doesn’t know exactly how to feel, other than disappointment and devastation, so she simply looks at him in shock. Reverting his attention to Milah, he shrugs casually as though Milah didn't just say two life-changing words. “What do you want me to say?”

Milah drops her hands to her sides and sighs dramatically. “Oh, I don’t know,” she says sarcastically. “Maybe what every father-to-be would say. Like for starters, that you’re ecstatic or that this is the happiest day of your life.”

He furrows his brows, the lines on his forehead deepening. “Why would it be the happiest day of my life?”

It takes everything inside of Emma to not give in to the tickle in her throat and dissolve into laughter.

Milah’s eyes almost pop out of her head. “You’re joking, right?”

He doesn't even crack a smile. “Why would I be joking?”

Growing impatient, she sighs again and rolls her eyes. “Look, I don’t have time for games. I’m tired and cranky and hormonal and I don’t need smart-ass Jones right now. I need to know that you’re in this.” She looks at Emma, flashing a deadly scowl as she adds, “Just you and me and our baby.”

Killian freezes, his confusion quickly transforming into something else, his face paling and his mouth falling open in shock.

Does he not think the baby is his?

“Wait, what do you mean, our baby?”

Milah laughs hysterically, like Killian just told her the funniest thing in the world. “Wow, I really hope you’re just playing dumb because I really don’t have the patience for this right now.”

“But that’s not possible,” he says, his words cracked as he scratches behind his ear. “I...I used protection.”

Milah becomes serious again, her eyes narrowing. “Wait, you’re not messing with me, are you?” She places her hand on her belly. “You really don’t think this is our baby, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” Killian answers matter-of-factly. “I used a condom,” he says again.

Milah raises her voice, throwing the very last shred of patience out the window. “Are you an idiot?! Condoms aren’t one hundred percent effective!”

“I know that,” he says through gritted teeth. “But I checked for leakage after I pulled out.”

“Okay,” Emma squeaks, her voice higher pitched than intended. She feels very awkward listening to this conversation. “Maybe I should just go to my room so you two can talk.” They clearly have some things to discuss.

#cs ff #captain swan #through the rising tide #sneak peek

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getoswhore · 3 years

Note

Aisha, I want to start a smut blog but idk how. 😭 do you have any advice or tips for a beginner who’s never written a fan fic before?

hihi! <3

i’m not the best in writing nor the best with advice in writing buuuuut i can try!

here is some simple advice, so first things first is always to remember patience is key! things take time, such as reads and notes/reblogs.. don't rush or force things and worry if you're not getting the recognition you deserve. everyone starts at the beginning and works their way up!

don't compare your writing. when i first started writing i would always see other authors using big-ass smart words and making their writing flow so nicely. don't do that. all writing is good no matter how it's written. only get inspired. >:|

writing takes time, don't force yourself into writing. take breaks. so take time to write out a rough draft of what you want to happen. how it's going to happen and between who and what. write, draft, practice. it's the only way to get ‘good’. don't expect perfection right out the gate.

—

writing smut can be tricky tbh. *nsfw topics below*

what i like to do is to rlly focus on what is happening between the chosen characters. what they are both feeling. like, every time, character bucks their hips up into the reader, (what does the reader feel? do they feel their back arch into the character's hold? does the readers breathing catch in their throat if it's their first time? does the character's grasp on them tighten? or does their bottom lip catch between their teeth?). let your reader know what is happening!!! details, please! there is no such thing as too many details (IMO) i love writing details cause it rlly helps your reader get more intuned with the writing and create the scene your actually aiming for.

example :: this is from current my smut btw.

twisting and turning, fast in movements, toji flicked the tip of his slicked tongue at your sensitive bundle of nerves as his dexterous fingers curled in your gummy walls, occasionally bumping hard against that sweet spot that made your mouth babble out nonsense. soon, the building pleasure broke with a shaken breath in your lungs. you lost complete control of your restraint, shooting your hand down to tangle in his silky hair, pulling him closer as your body caved in around him. jumbled words, not of any real language filled the room along with muffled cries of his name as ecstasy shocked through every inch of your soul, debilitating pleasure pounding from your cunt as if you've been blessed by the gods.

buuut, you can also just trust your readers if you're still practicing with writing details. some don't have to have every detail spelled out.. you can let the reader fill in whatever blanks there are and that can be okay! so don't fret tm!

example ::

toji lapped his tongue around your puffy clit, fingers curling in your gummy walls until you came undone beneath him with a whine following along.

both are good! little detail or going all out still gives your reader the same horn heehee feeling. both examples still have your reader imagine what's happening and understanding. and if you're worried if it's not “smutty” enough.. even though all smut is.. at least include something that would make YOU feel tingly. smut doesn't turn me on while i'm writing it but it does for some others.

—

here are some words to expand your vocab in writing specifically for smut,

m.terms :: erection, length, tip/head, cockhead, the crown of his cock, hardness/stiffness, bulge/tented pants, hole, sticky/messy/thick/creamy/warm/leaking cum, pre/pre-cum.

f.terms :: cunt/pussy, lips/folds, (slicked, gaping) entrance, slit, wetness, gummy/tight/clenching walls, tighter whole/ass (i can never bring myself to writing booty hole in writing skfnw), clit/pearl/nub/bundle of nerves/bud, soft spot/core/g spot.

gn.terms :: sex, core, entrance, hole, opening, heat, groin, intimate parts, sweet spot, center of pleasure.

here's an entire list of other terms as well.

those ^^ helped me a lot tbh.

—

lastly, please have fun. have fun and explore within your writing! don't feel obligated to write, don't force yourself, don't stress yourself, don't make it feel like a chore. write w.e and however you want and have fun while doing so!

hopefully, this helped! <3 msg me if you need any more help, okay?

#this makes me sob you wanna ask advice from ME?!?1!1!1?#pls im terrible sngnskckskg hopefully this helped in a sense :”)#📬.asiah replies.

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jawabear · 3 years

Note

Hello! I have a writing request 🥺 for Javi (Narcos). Can Y/n be a forensic psychiatrist, so Javi's coworker, but like from a different branch in the DEA. And can they be sort of friends, but you know, with the soft fuzzy feelings of something more than friendship. Oh, and if it isn't too much, could you include prompt 110? I'd like some fluff, maybe with some angst in the beginning. I read "Flowers' and I really liked it, so maybe that kind of vibe. Thank you already and happy holidays! 🥺

One Visit (Javier Peña X Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: I apologise for taking so long in writing this Anon. It was a challenge but I really enjoyed writing it. I hope I managed to write something close to what you requested or at least something you can enjoy. I got a little carried away so it’s a bit longer that I originally intended. I took it that the prompt you meant was from my prompt list but I apologise if not. Thank you for requesting! It was an interesting request and I’m glad you like my other story Flowers. That’s one of my favourites. Italics represent thoughts and flashback (I hope you’re able to figure out which is which). I hope you enjoy it. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Fem!Reader, drinking, smoking, Javi struggling with his feelings, Steve being annoying, talks of death

Summary: One visit. That’s all it took for him to remember his feelings for her.

“All I’m saying, Javi, is that it wouldn’t hurt to just try dating” Steve reiterate for his friend as they walked through the halls of the DEA office on their way outside.

This was all Steve had been going on about for the past two week. Javi getting a girlfriend. It wasn’t really that Javier was against getting a girlfriend. He just didn’t think he deserved one. Nor did he think he was boyfriend material. But he really didn’t know why Steve was all of a sudden hell bent on finding him a girl.

“Is there really no in you like?”

“I really have no idea what your obsession is with finding me a date, but can you stop?” Javi sighed.

Finally they made it outside and Javi was thankful to get some fresh air after being stuck inside all day which was really the only reason they had come outside in the first place. But as they were there, they both decided to light up a cigarette.

A little while into their smoke, a car pulled up outside the DEA building drawing both agents’ attention. From out of the back of the sleek black car came a girl. She pulled a bag from the car and swung it over her shoulder. She said something to the driver and gave him a smile before closing the car door and turning towards the building.

“Holy shit” Javi whispered as he threw his cigarette to the floor and stubbed it out with his foot.

Steve noticed the way Javi’s eyes never left her as she walked over to him. She smiled and waved to him and he gave an acknowledge nod and a quick and nervous smile. “Hey Javi!” She said happily as she stopped a little distance away from the two agents.

“(Y/N)” he said, not sound as happy as she did, he sounded a little nervous or flustered. “What are you doing here?” He asked.

“Apparently you’re new boss wants to meet me. I don’t know why she wants to meet me when I’m not the one in charge of the department but according to my boss I’m the “best in the business” or something like that” she said using air quotes.

“As humble as ever I see” he commented making her laugh slightly. Steve stood there awkwardly as the two stared at each other. He could see what was happening even if they couldn’t.

He cleared his throat catching both Javi’s and (Y/N)’s attention. “Hi, I’m Steve Murphy. Javier’s partner” Steve introduced him self knowing that Javi wouldn’t. He held out his hand and she took it with a smile and shook it.

“(Y/N) (L/N)” She said “I’m a forensic psychiatrist for the DEA”

“Well, that a whole load of words I don’t understand” Steve joked making (Y/N) laugh cutely. Javi loved her laugh but not when it was directed at someone other than him.

“Well, I’ve got to go” she said as she removed her hand from Steve’s “it was lovely meeting you Steve. And it’s always a pleasure Javi. I’m sure I’ll see you both around but I really should get going”

“Y-Yeah, bye (Y/N)” Javi smiled softly to her as she walked past them and into the building.

Javi glance at Steve who was smirking at him “what the hell are you looking at me like that for?” He asked angrily.

“No reason” Steve said throwing his smoke to the floor and patting Javier’s shoulder. “No reason at all” he said before walking back inside. Javier let out a heavy sigh and rubbed over his face.

“Of all the fucking people” he mumbled as he looked up. He wasn’t really talking to anyone, unless there was a god up there who was listening and who hated him. He shook his head and followed his partner back inside.

The two agents sat back at their desks, Javi was reading through some files while Steve sat there. Watching and calculating. It was blindingly obvious what was happening and Steve simply found it funny that Javier was either an idiot or ignoring it.

“So it’s (Y/N) then?” Steve said finally after watching his friend for about ten minuets. He was trying his hardest but failing to contain his smirk.

“What?” Javi was trying to ignore him by distracting himself with papers but the mention of (Y/N)’s name always made him listen.

“It’s (Y/N)” Steve said again “it’s her who you like”

“Are you really still on this?” Javier sighed as he lit up a cigarette.

“Well, I’m just saying that she is a very beautiful girl and you two seemed to get on pretty well. Maybe you should ask her out” Steve suggested.

“I’m not a kid, Murphy. And besides, she wouldn’t go out with me anyway” he mumbled the last part but Steve caught it loud and clear.

“Is she single?” He asked.

Javier was losing his patience a little with his partner “as far as I’m aware. Yes, she is single” he answered. Javi could already guess the next words that would come out of his partner’s mouth and he didn’t want to hear it. “I’m not discussing this with you anymore” he said sternly “stop fucking about and actually do something” Steve just made a noise before standing and leaving, probably to go get a coffee.

Javi sighed again and held his head in his hands. He was getting stressed out because Steve was right. Of course he was right. Javi did like (Y/N). He had since the moment they met. But what’s not to like? She smart, funny, caring and so beautiful. It was a wonder to him that she hadn’t got a boyfriend yet. Any guy would be lucky to have her. He just wanted to be that guy.

What the hell is wrong with me? He though angrily as he ran his hands through his hair. Pull yourself together Javier. It’s not going to happen.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) was sat in Messina’s office listening to her ramble on about how things work now she’s in charge and whatnot. But (Y/N) wasn’t really listening to what she was saying. She was too distracted in her own thoughts.

Anyone who worked for the DEA knew about Javier Peña’s reputation. Everyone knew he was the asshole. Everyone knew his way of getting information. And for someone with the right mind, that would be enough to put them off him. But not (Y/N). Oh no.

Perhaps it was just her analytical nature that came with her job role that drew her to the dashing DEA agent. She saw a man who was clearly struggling. A man who was hiding himself from something or someone. Probably himself. She saw someone who by all accounts had dropped most their morals for the sake of a job. But she knew that beyond all that, beneath that cold exterior, was a kind and gentle man who simply wanted to be loved. She knew this because she had seen it.

It was a few months after they had first met. She was still pretty new to Columbia and she hadn’t really made many friends outside the people she worked with closely. Javier was the only other familiar face she knew. They both found themselves at the same bar at the same time, unintentionally of course.

(Y/N) didn’t know whether to approach him but he looked a little run down and she though she could maybe help with whatever was troubling him. She drew in a deep breath and walked over to him taking the empty stool beside him.

“(Y/N)?” He said a little confused to see her in a place such at this. She didn’t at all strike him as a drinker. She was a good girl who always played by the rules and never drank. So he though.

And he was right. She just ordered a glass of water.

“You don’t mind if I sit with you, Javier?” She asked shyly.

“No, of course not” he flashed her a brief smile before downing the rest of his drink, which she guessed to be a whiskey, before he held up his glass gesturing for a refill. “What brings you here?” He asked her as he swirled his freshly poured drink in his glass.

“I um...well I don’t really get out much. Or I didn’t at least when I lived in the states. Believe it or not I’m not a very “out going” person. So I thought that maybe I would try and be different down here, you know, new life and all” she laughed meekly as she circled the rim of her glass “a-and I just needed to clear my head from today...”

“Tough day?” Javi asked, his voice held a caring tone that made her feel warm inside, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was still more interested in his drink.

“The people down here are a lot more...intense than back in the states. I’m not really used to what I’m being given...”

“Well, you must be good at what you do. Other wise they wouldn’t have spent all that money flying you out here to work” he said “don’t worry though (Y/N),” the sweet caring tone of his voice had gone and changed into one of sarcasm “you’ll get used to it and you’ll become the same as everyone else who works in this shithole” he held up his drink and studied it for a brief moment before taking a massive swig “drinking away all your problems...” he mumbled to himself.

“I-Is that what you do?” (Y/N) asked quietly, not wanting to over step any boundaries. After all, they still didn’t really know each other. “You just drink away your problems”

“Yep” he spoke lowly but a hint of humour to his singular word.

“That’s-That’s not a great habit to get into Javier” she said “that’s pretty dangerous”

“Are you trying to get all psychologist on me?” He laughed.

“Psychiatrist” she correct “and no. Not really. But...maybe instead of just drinking, you could talk to someone about what’s going on with you. It might be better, and cheaper”

“(Y/N),” he said flatly as he put his drink on the bar and turned to face her “I haven’t spoken to anyone about my problems since my mother died when I was ten. If anyone cared about my problems, then I wouldn’t have any. But because no one does, I’m stuck with them”

“I care” she said quietly “and not just because it’s kind of my job to care about people but because...out of everyone I’ve met so far in my time being here, you’ve been the nicest to me. And I want to return the favour. So...if you wanted to talk, I’m here to listen even if you don’t want me to help you”

Javier frowned at her words. It wasn’t like a frustrated or fed up frown. It was more of a...sad frown. He swallowed his drink in one go, which was clearly a mistake on his part judging by the sharp hiss he let out from the burn of the drink. He rubbed his forehead as he set his now empty glass down but made no move to ask for another one.

“What do you want to know?” He asked.

The rest of the night they talked and they talked. Somehow, she managed to get him to open up to her. Not completely. She could tell that there were things he was not willing to share with her, at least not yet. But she saw a side of him that no one ever had. A warmer side. A more...vulnerable side.

Javi told her about his close relationship to his mother and how heart broken he was when she died. That was something he had never told anyone. He never spoke of his family, and certainly not his mother. But it seemed after that, he just kept going. He said how much he missed her and how much he needed her.

She didn’t tell him this because she didn’t quite know how to word it without making things seem worse. But in her head she came to the conclusion that his behaviour towards women was most likely a result of not having that female connection in his life. He didn’t have a loving mother or woman in his life like most people might, and the way he described their bond, clearly it had taken a serious toll on his life. But she wasn’t exactly surprised. The death of anyone in someone’s life can cause problems and pain. Especially a family member.

“Does that all sound doable to you?” Messina’s voice cut through her thoughts bringing her back to reality.

“O-Oh...y-yes. Yes” (Y/N) stuttered as she shifted in her seat to look a little more professional. “No actually. My apologies but I...”

“Wasn’t listening?” Messina said with a slight smile “I appreciate your honesty. It’s more then what I get here. All I was saying was that things are going to be run a bit differently from your end. Your work will stay the same but the work load may be different. Less. These people are dangerous and by the way these missions and raids have been going, it’s far more likely that the offenders you are meant to treat end up six feet under”

“Right...” (Y/N) said quietly with a nod.

“And also, if your up for it, I would like you to come down every so often and maybe check up on some of our own agents here”

“That’s not really what my job is” (Y/N) laughed nervously. She didn’t like telling people no but she wasn’t exactly cut out for the role of councillor to DEA agents.

“I know” Messina nodded “but your boss said you were the one must cut out to do it. It wouldn’t be something that you change from your current position to. Just, every so often coming down here and just talking to the agents. I think you can agree that with things happening in the world right now, everyone could use someone to talk too”

(Y/N) nodded but was still a little on the fence about the whole idea. Technically, it wasn’t too big an ask. She was technically qualified to do it, and it was technically what she was already doing. But what she was doing now was a little more advanced and intense then talking to agents about what they have seen in the field.

But she supposed it wasn’t too different to what she had done with Javi.

“But saying that, they probably wouldn’t even except the help. They prefer to bottle up their emotions and take it out on something or someone else” (Y/N) had a strong suspicion that she was referring to Javi, unless that was just something that all DEA agents did. “Especially agent Peña” There it was.

“Agent Peña” (Y/N) repeated quietly.

“He’s one of our agents focusing on the Escobar case, along with his partner-“

“Steve Murphy. Yes. I met him this morning. Me and Javier already know each other”

“Right” Messina said “well, you go careful with him” (Y/N) didn’t really know what she meant by that but she didn’t have time to question it before Messina stood and held her hand out to (Y/N) “I appreciate you coming out here”

(Y/N) stood too and shook her hand “thank you for having me. It was a pleasure”

“The pleasure was all mine. Let me show you out” just then the phone rang and (Y/N) waved off the offer.

“I know the way” she smiled soft before leaving the office and letting out a deep breath when the door had closed.

“Dude,” Steve said as he leaned over his desk to get Javi’s attention “heads up”

Javi turned and saw (Y/N). He wasn’t quite in control of his body as he ran over to her, offering to show her the way out of the base.

“So how was it?” He asked her.

“It was okay. I don’t really know what I was expecting. I wasn’t really told much about why I was coming here other than the fact she wanted to meet me”

“What did you talk about?”

“Not much. She just filled me in on who she was, her background and all that. And our role in helping the DEA. And...my role in the DEA”

“She didn’t fire you did she?” Javi said quickly.

“No!” She laughed “no, she didn’t fire me. I don’t think she has the power to fire me herself” Javi felt a little bit embarrassed after that “she sort of offered me a new job? I’m not really sure what she is planning though. She wants me to come here every so often to check on you DEA agents. You know, talk to you, make sure you’re okay”

“Well, I can’t imagine anyone else being the one for that role” they reach the outside of the base and came to a stop at the top of the steps. “So...where are you going now?”

“Technically it’s my day off so, home I guess”

“Right” he nodded “I’d give you a ride...but the boss said we’re not allowed off base”

“Following the rules? That’s not like you Javier” she chuckled. “It’s fine though. My ride should be here any second now anyway” as if on cue, the same sleek black car from earlier pulled into the gates “see”

“Y-Yeah” Javi said quietly.

“Well I um...I better go. But it was nice seeing you again Javi, even if it wasn’t for very long”

“Yeah. It was nice. Great. Great to see you again..”

“I’ll um..see you some when” she said as she began walked down the steps towards the car. He just waved as she got to the car and got in.

“Fuck” he swore under his breath watching as the car drove off “fuck”

Time seemed to drag on from that point until it was time to close up shop. The base was near empty aside from Javi, Steve and a few other officers who tended to always flitter around.

Steve let out a groan as he stretched his arms above his head “well,” he began “that’s me done” he dropped his arms and stood grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and his gun from his desk drawer. “You staying on?”

“Uh...yeah. I’m just gonna...finish up some stuff” Javi said taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Ain’t got a hot date tonight then, huh?” Steve teased.

“No, I do not” Javi mumbled.

“That’s a real shame, man” Steve tutted as he adjusted his jacket.

“Why do you care so much about it anyway?” Javi asked.

“‘Cause you deserve someone Javi. You should’ve asked (Y/N) out. I’m sure she would’ve said yes” Javi didn’t respond, he just continued typing away at the typewriter. “Well, night Javi”

“Yeah” Javier grumbled as his partner left.

It was painfully quiet in the base. There were other officers still lingering about but none that Javi really knew. So really, he was alone.

He stubbed out his cigarette in the ash tray on his desk and leant back in his chair, running his hands over his face and groaning to himself. He dropped his hands and cast his gaze to the phone sitting on his desk.

Her phone number was basically engraved in his heart. He knew it better then he did his own number. Steve’s words played over and over in his head. Maybe he should ask her out.

But the phone just sat there. Mocking him. Laughing at him for being such a cowards. For being too afraid to ask the girl he liked out on a date. Or at least for a drink so he could see her again.

Javi sat forwards and pulled himself closer to his desk. He grabbed the phone but before he could even dial a number he slammed it back down again.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” He said to himself. He was getting annoyed at himself now. But he was still annoyed at Steve for bringing it up so much recently. Just pick up the phone and call her.

So he did. It all happened so quickly but he suddenly found himself with the phone to his ear ringing. He just hoped she answered.

The phone rang and rang and he began to think she wouldn’t answer. He was about to put the phone down but then her voice came through the other line.

“Hello?” She said.

“(Y/N)? It’s Javi” he tried to calm his voice, hopefully the quality of the phone wasn’t clear enough for her to hear his nervous tone.

“Hey Javi. What’s up?” She asked sweetly making his heart pound and palms sweat.

“Oh...uh nothing. I just um...are you busy?” He asked.

“Uh..well I was just about to get ready for bed but-“

He didn’t let her finish before speaking again “you’re busy, don’t worry about it”

“No no!” She said quickly “I’m not. What’s wrong?”

He paused and swapped the phone to his other ear, his leg bouncing nervously as he worked up the courage to ask her out for a drink “would you...like to go get a drink...with me?”

He squeezed his eyes shut and prepared himself for the cold hard rejection. But that wasn’t what he got “I’d love to” she said filling him with relief. He let out an audible sigh of relief that he hoped she didn’t hear.

“Great. I’ll um...meet you at the bar in say..” he looked at his watch “twenty minutes?”

“Sure thing, Javi” she said. He could hear the smile in her voice that made him smile too. “I’ll see you then”

“Yeah. See you then” he hung up the phone and fell back against his chair. He sat there for a moment just trying to comprehend what had just happened before he stood up and grabbed his jacket. He didn’t bother to tidy his desk before he was out the door and in his car driving towards the bar where he would meet her.

The bar was pretty quiet when he got there, which was strange considering the time. But he wasn’t complaining. He took at seat at the bar and ordered his usual drink, a whiskey. He sat there sipping his drink as he waited, the amber liquid calming his nerves.

“Javi,” came a voice from beside him. He tuned and saw (Y/N) taking the seat next to him. “Sorry I’m late” she said before ordering a glass of water.

It took him back to that day.

“I was early” he told her.

“So why did you ask me out here?” She asked as she took a sip of her drink “not that it’s a problem!” She was quick to add worried she had offended him in some way.

“I Uh, it was nice to see you again today and I just...wanted to see you again” he said quietly. She smiled at him and let out a happy noise as she took another sip of her drink.

He looked at her for a moment. There was something different about her from earlier. She looked at him confused but laughed nervously at his gaze “what?” She asked.

“Are you wearing lipstick?” He asked noticing how her lips were a more bold shade of red than usual. In all the time he had known her, he hadn’t ever seen her wear any kind of make up. But she didn’t need it. She was beautiful the way she was. If anything the lipstick was just...wrong. But not it a bad way, he just wasn’t used to seeing it on her.

“O-Oh. You noticed that” she looked away from him staring into her glass. She pulled a piece of hair from behind her ear to cover the side of her face so he wouldn’t see her. She felt like a complete fool.

He shifted closer to her, the stool he was sat on scraped against the floor as he did. Javi reached out and tucked the hair back behind her ear “it looks nice” he said making her looked back at him, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink at the soft touch “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear make up before”

“That’s becuase I haven’t. But it was something my cousin bought me as a joke for my birthday last year. She said it would help with all the guys I would get with and kiss”

“Has it worked?”

“No” she laughed “so far I haven’t been with or kissed a single person whilst I’ve been down here”

“Well, you may still find some use for it” he said.

A slightly awkward silence fell over the two of them as the sipped at their drinks, Javi finished first but didn’t ask for a second one. He turned back to look at her watching as she rubbed the now empty glass with her thumb.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” He asked her suddenly.

“A drive?” She asked “where to?”

Javi shrugged as he pulled out his wallet “I don’t know. Just a drive” he said pulling out some cash and throwing it on the bar before hopping off his stool.

“Okay?” She said hesitantly as she got off her own stool and followed him out of the bar to his car.

The drive to begin with was pretty quiet as she stared out the window trying to figure out where he was taking her. He did have a spot in mind but he didn’t want to spoil it for her.

“You’re not taking me somewhere to murder me, are you?” She joked “we seem to be getting away from the city a little bit” she noticed he was driving her to a more remote area rather than the open city. And it was slightly up a mountain too.

“No” he laughed “why would I ever want to murder you?”

She shrugged “I don’t know. Sometimes you don’t need a reason to murder someone”

“Well, I’m not bringing you somewhere to kill you (Y/N)”

“That’s what all murderers say!” She pointed out. He just laughed and pulled onto a patch of grass of the overlook he had brought them to. He brought the car to a stop and she examined the location “yep, definitely a murder spot”

“Jesus (Y/N)” he laughed.

“I don’t think he’s going to be much help” she said. “What is this place, Javi?”

“Come on” he said as he took off his seatbelt and got out the car. She followed suit and stood next to him as he leant against the front of his car.

“Oh my god” she gasped. She was in awe of the way the city looked from up there. The sky was completely clear of clouds as was full of beautiful silver stars. The lights from the houses were stars in their own right, but golden ones. She was pretty much lost for words at the sight.

“I know” Javi said “when you’re up here, looking down on this place, it’s hard to believe there’s a drug war going on”

“It’s a shame that a country as beautiful as this one won’t ever be known for...this” she said quietly “how did you find this place?”

“I don’t really know” he said “you get to a point where you just need to keep on going. And that’s what I did. I just kept driving and I ran out of fuel right here. But I’ve been coming back here ever since. It just...a nice place to be”

“It is very nice” she smiled to him. The conversation stopped for a moment as they both just enjoyed the sight. Enjoying how peacefully quite it was. And how fresh it was too.

“How many girls have you brought up here?” She asked his quietly.

“Out of everyone I’ve brought up here, you’re my favourite” he said “but that’s mainly down to the fact I’ve never brought anyone else up here other than myself”

“Well, I’m honoured to be the first” she said “thank you for bringing me up here Javi”

“You’re welcome. It’s nice to share it with someone...” he mumbled the last part but she still heard him.

(Y/N) just looked at him the same way he had looked at her earlier in the bar. She was trying to figure something out. He looked at her giving her the same nervous look she had, “what?” He said.

“Just something Messina said”

“Oh god, what did she say? That I’m a shit agent?”

“That I should be careful with you”

Javi didn’t speak right away, he shifted his stance and looked down “Yeah, I guess she had a point” he muttered “I’ve really made a name for myself. It’s no surprise that half the fucking DEA thinks I’m an asshole, the other half just have no idea who I am in general”

“I think she was wrong” (Y/N) said “I think they are all wrong about you Javier. You’re not an asshole Javi, at least not all the time. You’re just like every other person. And I think everyone is wrong to think so badly of you. Because you’re not a bad person”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to say that. You can tell me the truth. I get that it’s you’re job to make people feel good about themselves and shit like that but you don’t have to do that with me”

“I am telling you the truth” her voice was quiet and made him look at her, meeting her beautiful eyes with his “and my job isn’t just about making people feel good about themselves and shit like that, it’s about making people believe that they are good. It’s about helping people...and I...I want to help you”

“Why do you want to help me, (Y/N)?”

“Because I...” she stopped herself for a moment and looked at him, his eyes baring down on her as he awaited her answer.

“You what?” He pressed softly. He had turned his body to face her completely, standing incredibly close to her. “You what, (Y/N)?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond before he smashed his lips against hers. She felt her knees go weak at the sudden contact. She brought her hands up to grip his arms to hold her self steady as she returned the kiss. Javier slipped his arms around her waist pulling her towards him slightly. With his arms supporting her, she moved her hand up to thread her fingers through his soft hair.

“Because I love you” she whispered when he pulled back from her lips “and I believe you are worth helping, and I want you to see yourself as I see you”

“And how do you see me (Y/N)?” He asked in a low voice as he gently rubbed his nose against hers making her heart flutter as she stroked the back of his head with her thumbs.

“Someone who just wants to be loved” she admitted to him.

“Only if I’m loved by you” he whispered before kissing her again, deeper this time and not so hard. His arms wrapped more firmly around her, drawing her as close to him as possible without hurting her.

“Oh you are Javi” she whispered against his lips “you are”

2/01/21

Taglist: @linkpk88 @phoenixhalliwell @lunaserenade

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfic #narcos #fluff #angst #pedro pascal #fanfic

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crowclubkaz · 3 years

Text

Blood in the Sand (Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth)

read it here on ao3

Bounty hunters don’t work for free. This has been something Din Djarin has been firm with throughout his life – yes, some jobs pay in favors rather than in credits or beskar, but they pay none the less. There are some jobs he takes on because he owes someone something, some jobs he takes on because he can’t stand to see innocent people hurt.

Mos Pelgo has neither credits, nor beskar, nor does the Mandalorian owe them anything. And yet, when a distress call is sent from the town to him, he goes without hesitation. Not because he expects something in return. Not even because he knows the place is filled with nothing but innocents. He goes because of Cobb Vanth.

The distress call had been unclear, rushed and hurried and desperate, and most notably, not from the town Marshal, that much Din can tell. But the people of Mos Pelgo remember the Mandalorian that had slain the Krayt Dragon, the knight in shining armor that had bartered peace with the Tuskens, and so they know that fearsome reputation or not, he is a friend to them. A friend to Marshal Vanth. And although the call is sent out in vain, he is the only person they know to call. A small place in the middle of Tatooine has no desire to deal with the New Republic, lest they have their lives overtaken by pilots in orange.

Before Din’s ship even touches sand, he knows exactly what sort of trouble he’s in for. While Stormtrooper armor might bleed the white snow of places like Hoth, it sticks out clear as day against the browns and beiges of Tatooine. What Stormtroopers are doing in Mos Pelgo of all places, Din doesn’t know – but that doesn’t matter. Their presence means nothing good, only brings with it death and destruction and forced submission. And while one or two Stormtroopers can be ambushed perfectly easily, even by the townsfolk of as small a place as Mos Pelgo, the twelve that Din can see sitting straight along the road through the center of town alone tell him why this is a problem much better suited for a specialist.

Ask questions first, shoot second has always been Din’s motto – he likes to know why he’s shooting before he has to. Wants to make sure nobody innocent is getting hurt before he so much as reaches for his blaster. And while he doesn’t often give Stormtroopers the benefit of the doubt, he does this time. He does this time, because the last thing he wants is anyone getting caught in the crossfire of a fully-armored shootout. It’s just being safe.

The troopers are on him before he’s so much as reached the first building in the town.

“Mandalorian,” Din hears one of them say, and he can’t discern whether it’s spoken with shock, hesitancy, or as a precursor to being shot at.

Din is silent as two troopers approach him, blasters both held across their chests.

“State your business.”

His business. Ridiculous.

“I’ve come to see an old friend,” he says, because it’s not untrue, and it’s the truth that is least likely to result in an all-out firefight. Din wants to speak to Vanth, first. Wants to understand what’s happened, needs to decide what the best course of action is with the most information possible.

“This is an Imperial outpost,” one of the troopers informs him. It makes Din tense, makes him straighten impossibly so.

“And there are still residents here,” Din continues. He can see people staring out of the windows of their homes, with so much hope in their eyes that the Mandalorian is here to save them. But they stay quiet, and stay still, because Stormtroopers aren’t known for their patience or consideration for life.

The two troopers glance at one another, before speaking again. “Who are you here to see?”

At least they’re smart enough not to dismiss someone dressed entirely in beskar steel immediately.

“The Marshal.”

It’s the soft chuckle that one of the troopers makes that has Din turning his head slightly in their direction. Din has been grateful for his helmet more often than not, for the protection and anonymity it offers – he’s grateful for it now, too, because were it not for his helmet, the sharp danger in his eyes would have given away too much.

Though the other trooper doesn’t laugh, there’s a clear amusements in his voice when he speaks. “There are no Marshals here. This village is claimed by the Empire.”

Din’s blood runs cold in a heartbeat, at the notion that Vanth might be—no. No, he isn’t. Din would know if Cobb was dead. He doesn’t know how he’d know, but he would. Or maybe that’s just lingering hope.

“Cobb Vanth, then,” Din corrects, managing to keep his voice steady, emotionless.

One trooper looks ready to threaten Din off, so entirely unconcerned by what irrelevant, useless citizen of this pathetic town the stranger is here to see. But the other cocks his head a bit, before he nods. “Vanth,” he says, and there’s recognition there. Din considers that a good thing. For a moment.

“Isn’t Vanth the one we made an example out of when we arrived?”

And Din goes still. Silent. He fires his blaster square in the trooper’s chest before either of them have even realized Din’s hand has so much as moved.

It ends the way Din had hoped it might. With twenty-two Stormtroopers dead, before a single one of them can make a distress call. No civilian casualties, or even injuries. It’s a good day. When the fighting is done and the noise has all stopped, one lone man dares to venture out into the streets, as though to make certain they’re all safe. And when he’s determined that they are, the rest of the townspeople follow hesitantly out. Some cry in relief, some kick the bodies of the troopers, already taking armor off of them.

The lone man – Din recognizes him vaguely from the battle with the dragon – steps forward, to bow his head and run a litany of praise. “Thank you,” and “we weren’t certain you had heard the call, let alone that you would come,” and “those Imperial bastards have been ravaging the town for weeks.”

Din nods in his understanding, but his mind is elsewhere. He waits until the man has seemingly finished, before Din puts his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Where is Marshal Vanth?”

The relief and gratitude on the man’s face slips into something much more somber, and he drops his gaze to the sand. “Terrible business,” the man mutters, with a shake of his head. “Terrible, terrible business.”

“Where?” Din asks again, and it’s clear it isn’t a friendly query. The man points to a house that looks like many others around it, unremarkable and undistinguishable, and Din goes to it without hesitation.

The inside is as plain and simple as the outside. It would be nearly impossible to decipher who it belongs to, were it not for the red scarf laying across the nearby table. The house has so few rooms that it doesn’t take long for Din to find the single one that’s occupied.

Inside, Cobb Vanth lays on a bed on his side. An older woman, one Din doesn’t recognize, sits behind him, intently focused on the work ahead. When she hears someone enter the room, she gasps, and stands quickly, as though to give Din some show of respect.

It’s only then that Din understands what ‘being made an example of’ looks like. Cobb is shirtless, and his back is a mess of angry, bloody lash marks, some so deep that he thinks he might see muscle. They look a few days old, at least, and that they’ve been well-tended to, but they look painful. It takes Cobb a few moments before he turns his head over his shoulder, his gaze so defeated, like he’s expecting to see a Stormtrooper standing there to finish the job. But he doesn’t. He sees Din, and the way Cobb’s face lights up makes even the brightest sun in the galaxy look dim.

“You came,” he breathes, moving to sit up, but crying out in pain and laying back down when his back protests to the movement. Din moves forward instinctively, kneeling down by the edge of the bed, a firm hand resting on Cobb’s hip to keep him from moving further. Once Cobb catches his breath, he swallows hard, and turns his head to look at the woman. “Give me a few minutes, Retta,” he says, with that soft, charming little smile. She looks at him wearily, but it isn’t because she doesn’t want to leave Cobb alone with the Mandalorian. “I’m not gonna bleed out in the five minutes you’re gone,” Cobb offers instead, and she seems to relax more at that, before excusing herself from the room.

Though, when she’s gone, the first thing Cobb does is move. “Help me up,” he says, and Din would protest to it, if he didn’t know just how stubborn Vanth was. So he offers what help he can, until Vanth is sitting at the edge of the bed, and Din stays down on one knee on the floor. Cobb is pale, in pain, looks broken in all sorts of ways, but has that look about him that still says I’m the Marshal, I’m fine, wrap me up and I’ll be good to go. It wouldn’t surprise Din if those were the first words out of Vanth’s mouth after he’d been abused so badly.

“What happened?” Din says softly, hands resting on Vanth’s knees, rubbing slow, gentle circles with his thumbs. A soothing gesture, he hopes, and it seems to work, because a bit of the stiffness in Cobb’s shoulders seeps out of his muscles.

“Troopers came through the desert, looking for a place to set up a new Imperial base. I don’t give a damn what the New Republic says, those Imperial bastards are still everywhere, if you know where to look,” Cobb breathes, with a shake of his head. “Guess they thought it’d be easier to turn a town into their little outpost instead of starting fresh. So they came in and took over. Didn’t have the firepower to stop ‘em.”

Briefly, Din feels a stab of guilt. That maybe if Cobb had still had Fett’s armor, he might’ve been able to save himself and his town. But that isn’t true, and Din knows it. It took one, fully-experienced, fully-armored, pissed-off Mandalorian to take care of the troopers, and Cobb couldn’t have managed it alone.

“Played along, for a while. Didn’t want anybody getting hurt, or worse. But I been a thorn in their side since day one,” Vanth chuckles, and lightly, Din does, too. They’re both troublemakers, for the right causes. “Managed to duck ‘em for a few weeks. But then they started going after the little ones, trying to poach ‘em, get ‘em to train to be troopers. I wasn’t putting up with that. So when I tried to stop ‘em, they pulled me out into the middle of town and—” Cobb stops, gesturing vaguely to the mess at his back. “Guessin’ you can figure out the rest.”

Din exhales slowly, head dropping a little. “I’m sorry,” he says, after a few moments. But it only makes Cobb raise a brow. “For what, huh? Unless you sent ‘em here yourself, you got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I shouldn’t have left you vulnerable.” Whether that meant letting Vanth keep the armor (which Din couldn’t do), or staying behind to protect Mos Pelgo himself (which Din also couldn’t do). But there must’ve been something he could’ve done to stop this, and he didn’t. And it makes him hurt. Makes him hurt to see Cobb hurt.

Cobb brushes his hands down over the sides of Din’s helmet, pulls him in a little closer until Din can rest his head against Cobb’s chest lightly. “Ain’t your job to keep me safe,” he offers softly, because it isn’t. Cobb can take care of himself, thank you very much. And when he can’t, well—that’s life.

Another moment of heavy silence passes by, before Din reluctantly pulls away from Vanth’s touch, and goes to take his gloves off instead. “Lay down,” he instructs, as kindly and gently as he’s capable. And Cobb does without disagreement, because sitting up hurts too damn much right now. He lets out a relieved exhale when he’s back laying down, facing the stone wall ahead of him, listening to the Mandalorian shuffle around behind him.

“This’ll hurt,” Din warns, before he’s bringing the wet cloth the woman had been using to clean Vanth’s wounds to his skin. Cobb inhales sharply, but it isn’t an unbearable pain. “You even allowed to go taking your gloves off?” Vanth teases lightly, because Cobb Vanth could be broken and bleeding, but he’ll always be charming. Din doesn’t respond, but Vanth likes to think he can tell that the Mandalorian is smiling beneath that shiny helmet.

The movements are slower and more tender than Vanth ever expected a bounty hunter to be capable of. And when the water in the bowl has run red, and Cobb’s wounds are as clean as they can be, Din reaches for the cloth to wrap the wounds back up. His work there is just as steady, just as soothing, and Cobb’s eyes briefly flutter shut whenever he can feel Din’s skin brush against his own. “I’ve taken care of the troopers here,” Din explains as he works. “If you dispose of the bodies, I doubt anyone else will come looking for such a small outpost in the middle of a desert.”

And if they do? Din will make certain that he’s one call away. One signal, one click, and he’ll be there.

“Then I guess I owe you twice over, don’t I? For the troopers, and for playing medic,” Cobb hums, and he hates owing people, but he doesn’t mind owing Din.

“You owe me nothing,” Din says quickly in return, and he means it. He means it. And that doesn’t sound like the kind of tone Vanth was to argue with, so he doesn’t.

When his back is bandaged securely, Din runs his fingers over the layers of cloth strips, wishing he could heal it all with a simple touch. But he can’t. He can’t do anything to make this right.

But he can give Vanth something else.

With Cobb still facing away from him, Din’s hands go to his helmet. And Cobb holds his breath when he hears the thing come off, closes his eyes tight, even though he can’t see Din from where he’s laying, anyways. It just feels—respectful. Right.

Cobb is no stranger to touch, of course. He’s spent a few too many nights alone in the Cantina, after all, just looking for a good time. But when Din’s lips brush so lightly over Cobb’s shoulder, the first piece of exposed skin he can reach that isn’t bloodied, Cobb swears he could damn near cry. It’s such an intimate thing, so much more intimate in ways Vanth can’t even begin to explain.

“I’m sorry,” Din says again, his lips brushing Vanth’s shoulder as he speaks. Another kiss, then, to Cobb’s bicep. And as Din raises up on his knees, he can see that Cobb’s eyes are shut, and the warmth that fills Din is so overwhelming. Everyone he’s ever met has asked about the helmet, has all but begged him to see beneath it. And Din knows Cobb wants to see, too. But Din’s comfort and his Creed matter to Vanth, and he puts that before his own desire, even at his weakest.

Vanth is trembling lightly by the time Din kisses his cheek, and every part of Cobb wants to turn and catch Din’s lips, but he doesn’t. Doesn’t let himself push so far, because this intimacy is a gift he’s being given, and he knows better than to push his luck, or worse, be ungrateful.

“It isn’t my job to keep you safe,” Din agrees, so desperately softly. “But I’d like it to be.” And Din kisses Cobb properly, then, feels those rough lips against his own, and they melt into one another. But Cobb is still hurt, and Din is hyper-aware of that, so he pulls back long before either of them will need to start gasping for air, even when Vanth chases after the kiss in desperate for more.

No one’s ever offered to keep Cobb safe before. He’s always been something of a lone ranger, always keeping other people safe, always the first line of defense. And Maker, he wants to keep Din safe, too, but there’s really not much he can do for a man that’ll jet straight inside of a damned dragon without telling anyone about it first. Maybe the best that they can do is… protect each other. Or do their hardest.

“C’mere,” Vanth says, gesturing with his head to what little space is left in front of him on the bed. And armor and all, Din lays down with Cobb, and brings his hand up to brush over Vanth’s cheek. Cobb chases the touch like he needs it to survive, eyes still shut so tightly, just trying to get a feel for Din without really seeing him. He nestles in closer against all of that beskar, cool to the touch even under the hot suns. It settles and soothes him, makes him relax more than he has in months, let alone since the Stormtroopers invaded.

“Cobb,” Din half-whispers, in an attempt not to disturb the peace he’s created. “You can open your eyes.” Vanth recoils the barest bit, like he’s absolutely shocked, like even though he’s been given permission, he doesn’t know if he’s allowed. It makes Din smile, and he rubs his thumb over Cobb’s cheek. “You can. It’s okay.”

So, he does.

And he studies Din’s face for a long, long time. Takes in every inch of him, like he’s worried he’s gonna have to memorize this now, because he’ll never be able to see it again. “Huh,” Cobb says, after a moment. “Brown eyes.” He doesn’t know why he’d been expecting green.

“Brown eyes,” Din chuckles softly with a nod, still so unused to being... seen. Once the initial shock of getting to see Din has left Cobb, the barest hint of a smirk tugs at his lips. “Knew you’d be too damn handsome for your own good,” he says, just to see if he can get Din’s cheeks to go pink. And they do, a bit. It’s rewarding as all hell.

And this time, it’s Vanth that kisses Din first. And he goes slow, takes his time, brings his own hand up to brush through Din’s hair. It’s soft. Perfect. Just like everything else about him. Cobb knows in that moment that he’d do anything Din ever asked of him, and Din knows he’d do the same in return. Amongst all of the blood, and the sand, and the pain, they’ve found… this. Whatever this is. It’s more than either of them think they deserve, but neither of them are going to complain about having it. And as much as they both wish it hadn’t taken a public lashing to get here, fate isn’t always the kindest thing.

When they pull away, Cobb’s panting a bit, and Din’s trying not to. Can’t let Vanth see him breathless, otherwise his ego might swell too big for his own good.

“Think I could get used to keeping a Mandalorian around,” Cobb smiles.

Din mirrors the expression. “Think I could get used to staying.”

#dincobb #cobbdin #din djarin x cobb vanth #cobb vanth x din djarin #cobb x din #din x cobb #the mandalorian #din djarin #cobb vanth #mine #my fic #fic

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pengychan · 3 years

Text

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt 23

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[All chapters up are tagged as ‘fake priest au’ on my blog.]

A/N: There's Chekhov's gun and then there's Ernesto's poison. You know the rule.

Art is by @lunaescribe and @swanpit!

***

“This way, all of you, don’t make noise.”

“But Sister Antonia, these are your quarters--”

“And you’ll stay here until you’re told otherwise, chicos. Make no noise. We’ll bring you food here until they’re gone.”

“But the girls…?”

“They wouldn’t take them for their ranks. God willing, they’ll leave them be. We’ll keep them safe, too. Now you stay here, all right?”

A few terrified, wide-eyed glances from the boys. No reply.

“Am I clear?”

“S-sí.”

“Can we pray, Sister?”

“... Quietly,” Sister Antonia said, her voice tight in the way one’s voice gets when it’s so close to breaking up, and she closed the door, turning the key in the lock. When she turned to grab the bookcase and drag it across the floor, Imelda stepped in to help her push it. It left deep scratches on the wooden boards, but no matter. They would cover that with a rug.

“Is Miguel still missing?” Imelda asked, her voice as firm as she could make it. Antonia lowered her gaze with a nod.

“He’s the only one who didn’t come back. None of the boys has seen him since they went out to play hide and seek.”

Imelda bit her lower lip hard enough to almost break the skin. “Nor Óscar, have they?” she forced herself to ask, and the slow nod felt like a blow. Where was he? Where had they both gone? Could it be that they had both made it to her parents’ home, that Miguel had followed Óscar there? Maybe he had, maybe they were both safe.

God, please.

“I’m sorry, Imelda,” Antonia’s voice reached her as though from a mile away, and she scowled. Anger came easier than despair, and it was more than welcome. No point in fearing the worst behind the safety of those walls.

“They may very well be safe and sound,” she snapped, and marched to the door. “I will go out looking. If they ask, I’m looking for some of our girls. Make sure they’re all in - if anyone asks, this is a girls-only institution.”

“... Do you know where Sofía is?” Antonia spoke up, fear now showing in her voice, and it made Imelda pause. As much as she rolled her eyes at their antics, poorly hidden behind hastily closed doors and too thin walls, Imelda knew they cared deeply about one another.

“She’s taking care of something important. She will be here soon. Don’t worry,” she added, and smiled in the attempt to convey a sense of calm she did not feel. “She can handle herself just fine.”

Antonia’s own lips curled in a weak smile. “I won’t tell her you admitted that. Be careful out there. I really do want to see the gringo’s face when Padre Ernesto officiates your wedding.”

Imelda, who rather liked the idea of her wedding actually being both legal and valid in the eyes of God, knew they would probably have to settle for the gringo to officiate it, but that was not the moment to voice that thought. Except that, as she stepped out and ran towards the plaza, she quickly found out that perhaps the gringo would be in no position to officiate anything anymore, either.

“What…?” Imelda stopped in her tracks, stunned at the sight of several men quickly carrying a body towards the church on a sheet, dark blood a stark contrast to the man’s pale skin and fair hair. He looked-- was he-- dead?

If they go around shooting priests, none of us is safe.

There was no love lost between her and Father John Johnson, and yet there was a stab of something in her stomach at the idea he may be dead. He had been trying to help, after all. He had left the relative safety of the parish to help its people.

Maybe he just said something stupid. He does it a lot. Only this time they were armed.

“Go call doctor Sachéz,” Imelda heard someone saying as they passed her by, but before she could even voice her question - would the doctor be of any use, was he even still alive? - someone else called out her own name.

“Imelda!”

Ceci’s voice caused her to tear her gaze off the gringo who was perhaps an ex gringo. She was running up to her, hair dishevelled in a way Imelda had never seen it - she had always been dignified, even when they were young girls.

But today was not a normal day.

“They have Miguel,” Ceci panted, grabbing her shoulders. “And Óscar.”

No. No. No.

For a moment, just a moment, the world seemed to spin around her. It was as though sunlight itself faded for a moment, distant screams muffled, leaving the world empty and dark. Imelda’s knees may have buckled, they almost did, but she couldn’t allow herself to collapse.

“Their commander is loco,” Ceci was saying, eyes wide. “He just kept screaming about a deserter, one de la Cruz, and the more we swore none of us knew him the more he lost it. And when Padre Juan stepped in-- Imelda! Wait! Come back!”

Imelda didn’t listen: she just tore away from her grasp and ran, towards the plaza, towards the cries.

They had her brother. They had her charge. She had to go to them.

Whenever she thought about that nightmare scenario, Imelda was so certain of what she’d do: get the pistol she had taken from Ernesto, and use it the second it was necessary. But now that it was happening, she knew that taking out the gun would mean signing her death warrant, and that of God knew how many others in the village. A lone woman with a pistol - she would be killed quickly, and retribution on everyone else would be swift. She would be of no use to anyone dead.

Maybe Ernesto had been right, after all. What involvement she’d had had been from the sidelines. She knew nothing of war; Santa Cecilia knew nothing of war.

But war had come to them, and it was a matter of learning fast or dying.

He just kept screaming about a deserter.

There is no mercy in war, Ernesto had said.

He’s one of our own now. I can’t give him away.

They have Óscar.

I promised we would protect him.

They have Miguel.

We protect our own.

He lied to us.

There must be something we can do. Anything.

As she ran as fast as her robes allowed her, blood rushing in her ears and thoughts going in circles, Imelda could only pray that Ernesto would stay at the González farm, unaware, for as long as possible.

If he returned too early and they found out he was there, and that they hadn’t handed him over, it would spell disaster for all of them.

***

“Miguel!”

Héctor’s scream was loud enough to hurt his throat, and it was still lost under the echo of the gunshot, under the wordless cries of the people of Santa Cecilia trying to back away, the shouts of those calling out for doctor Sanchéz and the stunned cries of ‘he shot him, he shot a man of God ! ’ coming even from the Federales themselves.

It was lost beneath all the confusion, and Miguel’s screams.

“No! What have you done! What have you done!”

“Be still-- be still, brat! Don’t try my patience, there is a bullet for you too if you won’t--!”

“Let me go!”

“I am warning you!”

“Murderer! Let me g--!”

“Wait! Por favor!”

This time, Héctor’s cry was loud enough to be heard. That, and it’s rather hard not to notice someone in a priestly robe throwing himself in front of your horse, gripping the reins and looking up at you with a look of pure anguish on his face.

The commander seemed startled, pistol still in mid-air, and he let his gaze shift from Héctor to the motionless priest bleeding out on the cobblestones, a few men already trying to press on the wound to stop the blood loss, calling for help to take him to the doctor. Héctor didn’t look down, didn’t focus on the fact he had just witnessed a man being shot down, didn’t even think he was putting himself in danger of being next.

All he knew was that the man had Miguel, and he couldn’t have him.

He opened his mouth to plead, but the commander’s eyes were back on him and he spoke up before he could. In his grasp Miguel was shaking, eyes full of tears and skin ashen.

“Are all priests in this village eager to become martyrs? Let go of the reins now, or--”

“I’ll join you,” Héctor blurted out, holding tighter onto the reins. “I beg of you to let him go. I’ll take his place.”

The soldier’s eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline; Miguel, on the other hand, let out a gasp.

“Héctor, no--!” he choked out, only to trail off when the man gave him a shake.

“You know him?”

“He is a warden of the Church. I--”

“Well, go back to the Church. We don’t take in priests.”

“I am a novice, not a priest,” Héctor spoke quickly, and fell on his knees. Blood soaked through the robe, warm and wet, while somewhere behind him Father John was taken away on a sheet. Federales allowed it, most of them probably still stunned at the notion their commander had just shot a priest; many held no more love for the Church than Huerta himself did, but fear of God’s punishment was too ingrained in their hearts since childhood not to hold some weight. “I have taken no vows-- none. I can join the army. I’ll do it right now. I’ll do anything you ask.”

There was a hiccupping sob, tears spilling down Miguel’s cheeks. He was always such a lively boy, so smart, always up to something - but now he only looked like the scared child he was. Héctor desperately wanted to comfort him, but he dared not tear his gaze from that of the commander, whose harsh expression had softened even so slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was… calmer.

“You seem to care about this muchacho an awful lot.”

“He’s like a son to me,” Héctor said, and he realized the truth of it only as it left his lips. Miguel let out another sob, trying to wipe his eyes.

“Héctor…” he managed, and Héctor finally dared smile at the boy. A shaky smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“It will be all right, chamaco, I promise,” he said, trying to sound like he meant it, and looked back at the soldier, who stared back a few moments… and finally lowered the pistol, putting it back in the holster.

“What is your name?”

“Héctor, señor.”

“Héctor and what else?”

“Just Héctor. I-- I have no family.”

“Can you hold a gun?”

“Sí.”

“Shoot?”

“I-- only tried a few times. But I will learn.”

“Mph. I guess it’s something. We can’t be picky these days.”

“You won’t regret it. I swear.”

The man sighed. Much later on, Héctor would wonder if the look he gave him that moment truly was somewhat apologetic, or if it had just been his imagination. To his last day, he would never be entirely sure. “... Very well, Just Héctor. I am Commander Hernández. Welcome to the Federal Army,” he said, and let go of Miguel. The boy jumped off the horse and was in Héctor’s arms the next moment, crying hard, face pressed against his shoulder.

“Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go,” he sobbed, holding on tight. “You’ve got to get married-- I’m sorry I was so mad at you-- please don’t go--”

I’m sorry, Imelda.

“It will be all right,” Héctor managed, trying to sound as optimistic as he could. “I’ll be back once this is over and I’ll have plenty of stories to tell.”

Miguel sniffled, still holding on tight. “Promise,” he choked out.

“I swear.”

Another shuddering breath. “Did you-- do you really--?”

“All right, all right, enough. Just looking at you makes my teeth rot.”

Gustavo’s voice rang out suddenly, and Miguel was torn from Héctor’s arms before he could react. He tried to protest, to break free, but Gustavo had already pushed him back towards Chicharrón, who trapped him in a steely grip the boy had no chance of escaping - Héctor would know, he had been on the receiving end of that a few times before.

As the old gravedigger began pulling Miguel away despite his protests, and Héctor stood - so much blood on the cobblestones, surely the gringo was dead - Commander Hernández gave Gustavo a somewhat weary glance. “And you are…?”

“Gustavo Torres, señor. I wish to join your ranks,” Gustavo said, making a dismissive gesture towards the plaza behind him. “I’ve had enough of this place. I am a good shooter, too,” he added. Héctor knew that was an absolute lie: Gustavo couldn't even hit his own foot with any type of firearm. What the hell was he going on about - and why join the Federales? He was a pendejo, that much was no mystery, but since well did he support Huerta? What was going on?

Commander Hernández tilted his head, seemingly taken aback of for entirely different reasons. It probably wasn’t often anyone volunteered to join. “... Well then. If you’re willing to join, I see no reason to deny you.”

“Uh, Commander…” a soldier approached them, looking a little shaken up. Either he was new to all this, or he found his commander had gone a step too far in shooting a man of God in cold blood - gringo or not. He gestured towards a group of people behind him, separated from the rest of the plaza; all men of varying ages… and, to Héctor’s horror, among them there was a boy. Óscar. “We have the thirty men you ask--.”

“No you don’t,” Gustavo muttered. “What you have is twenty-eight men and a half,” a pointed look in Héctor’s direction, “plus a child. The muchacho with glasses over there? Those two bottle ends on his face are not enough to make him usable with a gun. He couldn’t tell his sister from a donkey. I mean, sometimes no one can,” he added, making Héctor want more than anything to wrap his hands around his neck, thumbs on the throat, and squeeze.

But he could see what he was trying to do, so he held his tongue and his hands. Just barely.

Commander Hernández raised an eyebrow. “If this is an attempt at taking the boy’s place, it is rather transparent,” he said, and Gustavo shrugged.

“Then I can replace anyone else,” he replied. Either he did an excellent job at sounding like he didn’t give a damn either way, or he really didn’t give a damn either way. “Or you leave with thirty-one men. It just seems fair to warn you that the boy’s eyesight is awful and he’d make a poor soldier.”

Commander Hernández turned back to look directly at Óscar, who pressed himself against the wall under his gaze as though trying to make himself feel smaller, all skinny limbs and huge glasses. In the end, the man shrugged. “Mmh. Those glasses do seem awfully thick, and you do look like you’d make a better soldier,” he said, and he gestured for the closest soldier to let him go. Cries of mercy for others rose up from sisters, wives, parents - but none was heeded. There would be no more mercy that day.

As he watched in relief Óscar being pushed away from the lineup, eyes wide and bewildered, Héctor only vaguely heard the commander’s orders for his men to give the new recruit uniforms, get supplies and fresh horses from the village, and be ready to leave within the hour. He let out a long breath and turned to Gustavo.

“Gracias,” he murmured, only to get an annoyed look in return.

“Don’t thank me. If we survive this, I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Let me guess. This is all my fault?”

“Of course it is. It’s always your fault, somehow,” Gustavo grunted, glaring at the ground while they walked to get their uniforms. “We can only hope the puta is going to follow my instructions and get us help.”

A thought crossed Héctor’s mind, unexpected and blinding as the flare of a match in a darkened room. He found himself blinking, taken aback. He had no clue who the puta may be, but the rest was… revealing. “Those messages-- the instructions-- was it y ouch! ”

“Scream it for everyone to hear, why don’t you!” Gustavo hissed, falling back into step after stomping on Héctor’s foot. It caused him to walk a bit awkwardly, but he didn’t protest or say anything more. Only after a folded uniform was pushed into his arms - obviously used, ill-fitting and with specks on it that looked a lot like dried blood - did Héctor dare turn, heart heavy in his chest, hoping to get at least one last glimpse of Imelda before he left.

And, for the second time that day, he got his wish. Imelda stood at the front of the crowd, holding onto Óscar. He was already taller than she was, but she cradled his head the way she did when she was a girl and he was just a young child. Miguel was there, too, having somehow escaped Cheech’s grasp. He was holding onto her robe but, unlike Óscar, he was looking towards him. Both him and Imelda were, his face tear-soaked and blotchy and hers terribly grave, and terribly pale.

I’m sorry, he ached to tell them both. Stay safe. I love you. I’ll be back soon.

But they were too far away, and he could only hope his glance would be enough to tell them that. He could only hope they knew.

When I return, Héctor thought, refusing to contemplate any other scenario, to add any ifs to that. He’d be back, whatever it took. When I return and we marry, Miguel will stay with us.

Only then, with that thought in mind, Héctor was able to give them a weak smile.

***

Had it not been for her brother holding onto her like he hadn’t in years, or for Miguel clinging to her robe while shaking with hiccuping sobs, Imelda may have ran forward. She may have pushed through, to the commander, and screamed to him that she knew where to find the deserter he wanted - that he could have him, if he released everyone else.

One man’s life against thirty. Thirty men, including the one she loved, that could be released in exchange for one.

I could save him. I could save them all, here and now.

Later on she would not be proud of what she came so close to doing, but neither would she be ashamed. She had promised Ernesto she would protect him from the Federal Army if it came to it, and she had meant it; if it came to taking a bullet to keep that promise, she’d have taken the bullet. But letting other people do the same… that was where she balked.

As much as it tore at her heart, she knew Héctor had made his choice. He must have known that giving Ernesto away would save him and Miguel both, but he had decided to take Miguel’s place and keep Ernesto safe instead. The others, though, had no choice at all. Twenty-nine men who knew nothing of Ernesto’s deceit and could not make their own decision as to whether he should be protected with their lives or not.

There were young husbands, young fathers, family men who may never return home, leaving widows and orphans and lonely parents. Who were they to make that choice for all of them? Who was she to do it?

We protect our own.

He is one of ours, too.

One life. One life against thirty.

Héctor may never forgive me.

He can hate me, if it means he’ll be alive to do it.

Imelda watched, her head wrapped in silence, as Héctor took a uniform and finally, for the first time, looked back. Their gazes met, the coldness in the pit of Imelda’s stomach turned to ache, and the idiota did the unthinkable. He had the galls to smile at her, and somehow it was the most heartbreaking thing she ever had to endure - seeing that smile, and knowing it may be the last time she did.

No. No, she couldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t let that smile be taken away from the world a day too soon than it had to, no matter if she would never again see it directed at her. She would live with it. They both would.

With a long breath, Imelda made peace with the fact she may never be able to sleep well again as long as she lived, and gently pushed Óscar away. “Go home,” she told him, stroking his cheek, and went to step forward and go speak with the commander.

Only to stop as Miguel’s grip on her robe tightened and he pulled her back, looking up at her with a tear-streaked face. “Don’t do it,” he choked out, and Imelda’s blood ran cold. It was as though the child had read her intentions on her face, plain as day. “I promised him he’d be safe here. I promised.”

Oh, my little one. It was too much responsibility to put on you.

Imelda swallowed, unable to speak for a few moments. “Miguel…” she managed, her voice barely audible, most of it stuck somewhere in her throat. “This is not your fault. None of this is your fault. Sometimes we need to make-- choices we’d never want to make.”

“I don’t want to choose,” Miguel pleaded, still holding on with both hands. “I don’t want either of them to die. He-- he’s loco, you didn’t see how he shot Padre J-Juan, he… he really hates Ernesto, I don’t know why, we can’t let him have him…!”

She sighed, and crouched down, wiping his face with a sleeve. “Miguel, listen to me--”

“No. You listen before you do something I assure you you’d regret.”

Sofía spoke suddenly before Imelda could say anything more, crouching next to her as though to comfort Miguel as well. “First of all, lower your voice, Jesus Christ. Second, don’t do anything. We can kick Ernesto around for putting us into this mess later, and I’ll be first in line, but no need to see him hang.”

“None of those men has ever been in a battle. If they take them--”

“We’ll take them back.” Sofía pushed something into her hand, a folded piece of paper. “We will have reinforcements.”

“What…” Imelda read the brief message, taken aback. Then she read it again, and again, and again; the handwriting itself struck her as much as the content itself. “Wait… this is…?”

“Same handwriting as the instructions you’ve been getting, yes. It was Gustavo all along.”

Somehow, Imelda may have been less surprised to be told that the Pope himself had been behind the entire thing. Gustavo, of all people? Someone who never cared about anyone other than himself?

Except that he took Óscar’s place just now. I owe him. Oh God, he made me owe him. He will never shut up about it, will he?

“It-- what?” was all Imelda managed to say in the end, stunned. But it made sense, suddenly - how José and his men had known their bell needed repair, and why they had come running to fix it after Ernesto’s unsuccessful attempt, once Gustavo took it upon himself to find a solution. She knew there was something behind it, but she had no idea what. Now she knew.

The bell had always been their means to call for help.

Once they have left, ring the bell to a death knell and don’t stop. Help will come. Tell them to follow the trail. They’ll know.

“Wait, what… what did Gustavo do?” Miguel was asking, confusion overriding his anguish. Sofía smiled, and pulled him close.

“Don’t worry, niño. We’ll fix everything,” she said, brushing back his hair. She smiled, but even her smile was wrong, sharp, teeth ground tightly. “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

Imelda stood slowly, slipping the note in her sleeve, and glanced up. Now all she could see were people huddled together mourning their losses, while soldiers took all that was not nailed down in the small weekly market. The men the Federales had chosen to join their ranks were gone, Héctor with them, without so much a last word between them.

No matter. This is not the end. We’ll bring them back. By any means necessary.

“... Let’s take Miguel back to safety, and be ready to ring the bell once they’re gone.”

“And what do you plan on doing?”

“There is something in my room I need to retrieve, and a horse I need to borrow,” Imelda said, very quietly, as they began walking away from the plaza. Sofía still held onto the hand of a very confused Miguel; she knew she was referring to the pistol, she had to know what she meant to do, but she didn’t say as much aloud or try to talk her out of it.

“Of course,” was all she said. "Be careful.”

“What’s happening?” Miguel asked, his voice small. Desperately wanting to be hopeful, but terrified of seeing that hope shattered. “How… can you really fix this?”

“... I’ll do my damndest,” Imelda replied, getting a somewhat shaky laugh from Sofía.

“If the gringo heard you, he’d have a heart attack.”

“Oh!” Miguel seemed to recoil. “Padre Juan! Is he-- did they get him help?”

“Huh?” Sofía looked down, taken aback. “What happened to the gringo?”

“He was shot.” Miguel swallowed, and tugged at her sleeve. “He was trying to save me and… and… can we go to doctor Sanchéz first? Por favor-- just to see if he’s… if…”

His voice faded, and Sofía looked over at Imelda with a bitter smile. “First one points a gun at me, then they shoot a priest. Our robes aren’t much of an armor anymore,” she said, and turned back to Miguel. “... I’ll send one of the sisters to see him as soon as you’re safe with the others, and let you know how he’s getting on. I promise.”

Miguel protested, but not too much. He was exhausted, still in shock for everything he had gone through in the span of little over an hour, and all things considered it was testament to his resilience that he was not curled into a ball and screaming.

He let Sofía lead him back to the orphanage, and Imelda watched them disappear with a long sigh. He was safe now. He could rest. Her own work, however, had only just begun.

Imelda gave another quick glance behind her, towards the plaza, before she headed back to her room, where a pistol lay hidden beneath a floorboard, waiting to be loaded. She had hoped it wouldn’t come to it; she had hoped the Federales would spare their village until the end of that war. But there they were, and there she was.

It was time to see if the hours spent learning to load and aim had been worth something.

***

All right, so maybe the painfully slow trip to the González farm had been worth it, after all.

Ernesto was almost entirely sure his half-assed blessing had precisely nothing to do with the young bull suddenly realizing what went where and enthusiastically getting to work - too enthusiastically, he had definitely seen more bull than he ever needed to see in his life - but he had to admit, the timing had been nothing short of amazing.

The look on old Manuel’s face had been a sight to behold, and the fresh eggs he had gifted him immediately afterwards were a nice plus. He’d probably been moments away from falling on his knees and declaring him a true miracle worker, which would have been flattering but also rather awkward, right next to a bull and a cow getting down to business.

Ah, he couldn’t wait to tell Juan his blessing had worked, after all. Maybe he’d suggest Manuel González to name any resulting male calf Ernesto and a female Juanita, just to be spiteful. That would teach him.

Ernesto was snickering to himself at the idea when suddenly, on the other side of the hill, the bell of Santa Cecilia’s church began tolling - slowly, with long gaps between strikes. It was enough to make the smile fade from his face, heart dropping somewhere in his stomach as always whenever he heard that sound. A death knell.

What happened? Who died? I was away only hours, what did they do?

It may be nothing, of course; one of the old parishioners may have kicked it, a sad but not really unusual occurrence. With some luck, it may be the insufferable gravedigger. Maybe the sexton had finally fallen off the stairs and broken his stupid neck.

But that couldn’t be it. The death knell would only ring out during a funeral, or… or maybe the damn Pope had died, didn’t all churches do that if news came that the Pope croaked? He was almost sure they did. Or maybe someone had just climbed on top of the belltower to fuck with the bell for no reason.

I was only gone for a few hours. What can possibly happen in a few hours?

Anything, was the answer. He’d learned the hard way that anything can do wrong in a few hours. Everything can go to shit in less than a few hours, and something in his gut told him that was exactly what had happened. Trying to keep a sudden wave of panic at bay, Ernesto spurred the stupid donkey to go faster until he reached the top of the hill, and looked down.

For a moment, he forgot to breathe; it was as though something had taken hold of his lungs, and squeezed all air out of him. From way up there in the distance, nothing about Santa Cecilia looked amiss - but it was not the village itself he stared at. What made his blood run cold was the column of men on horses and carts further west, leaving it behind. Federales.

They’re leaving, Ernesto thought, hands shaking on the reins. It’s all right, he told himself, but it was a lie and he knew it. The Federal Army never left anything behind if not devastation, and the bell kept going on and on and on, the continuous death knell making him want to scream. He could taste bile, stomach clenching.

Dead, dead, dead.

There it was again before his eyes - the men who stood blindfolded before the firing squad, his own rifle gleaming in the sun, the wails of women and children and the elderly quieted down by the deafening bangs once the order was shouted and they obeyed. When they left those villages, too, had he heard the church’s bell ringing to a death knell. Mourning.

Santa Cecilia was in mourning. His village, his parish. His people. His friends. Who did they take? Who did they kill?

Not me. They’re leaving, they must not have been here for me. It’s all that matters, isn’t it?

… Isn’t it?

Ernesto didn’t answer his own question. He shut down all thought the way he desperately tried to shut out the ringing of the bell, and spurred the donkey down the hill as quickly as he could, heart hammering somewhere in his throat.

***

They’re mourning us already.

The thought was enough to almost break him, but Héctor forced himself to keep going, holding onto the reins of the horse he had been given, clad in the too-small uniform that had been drenched with someone else’s sweat and blood. Forcing himself not to turn, not to break, because he knew that if he did he may never be able to put himself back together.

Was that how soldiers got through it? Was that how Ernesto had survived until he'd found refuse in Santa Cecilia - by focusing on nothing but the road ahead, never turning back to look at what they may never see again?

No. I will be home again. I’ll be with them again.

Héctor held tightly onto the reins and followed the horse in front of him, holding onto that thought with all he had.

***

They’ll come as soon as they get the message. They must.

Towards the back of the convoy, Gustavo shot a glance ahead towards the commander. He kept riding, not turning once. Thinking the bells were ringing to mourn them, most likely, or the stupid gringo priest who couldn’t keep his mouth shut, or both. Either way, he would be wrong… but he didn’t know that. He wouldn’t know until it was too late.

Gustavo Torres pulled a knotted-up handkerchief from his pocket, one of several he’d stuffed in, and prepared to let it drop as soon as the column of men turned to another path.

***

With how little he’d lasted in bed the one night she had been dumb enough to spend with him, Sofía had written off Gustavo’s stamina as non-existing. However now, with her arms already aching from ringing the bell no more than a few minutes, she had to take that back.

Not that she would say that aloud, let alone in his presence, but apparently he wasn’t bitching for no reason when he said bellringing was more work than it looked like.

No matter. Keep ringing. Keep going. Help will come.

So she did keep going, letting her gaze wander towards the column of men, their men among them, leaving the village right ahead of her. She kept ringing as she noticed Imelda leaving the parish down below, clearly having recovered the pistol they had taken from Ernesto and heading towards her parents’ home to… borrow one of their horses.

Be careful, Sofía thought, and might have prayed for her safety if she still believed God gave a damn. Instead she bit her lips and kept pulling. Kept ringing, focusing on nothing else.

And thus failing to notice Ernesto rushing down the hill, into the village and towards the plaza as quickly as the donkey - and then his legs - could carry him.

***

“They came upon us like locusts--”

“I turned and they were there--”

“They took my son! My only child, what will I do--”

“Why didn’t God smite them where they stood!”

“Thirty men, my brother among them, I ran but I was too late, I couldn’t say goodbye--”

Ernesto heard all of it, heard the cries and pleas, the anger and pain, but they seemed so very distant. He stood on the spot, reeling, eyes fixed on the ground in the middle of the devastated marketplace.

There was blood. There was so much blood, soaking into dirt and pooling in the cracks between cobblestones. People and carts and horses had stepped over it in the chaos, tracking it everywhere; no matter where he turned, there was blood. A trail of it left the plaza, away from it, towards the church. Only one clear trail.

Only one body.

“Who…?” Ernesto managed to ask. His ears were buzzing, and his tongue felt too large. The reply came like a blow to the pit of his stomach.

The Delgado widow crossed herself, her skin pale as ash. “Their commander knows no God. He tried to take an orphan, the boy Brother Héctor spent so much time with-- Marco, was i--”

“Miguel?” Ernesto blurted out, horror stealing his breath for a moment. He looked at the woman with wide eyes, feeling as though all strength was sapped away from his body. All that blood, it seemed impossible it had all come from a child. It felt like a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare.

No, not him. It can’t be. Héctor will never recover.

“Yes, Miguel… the poor child, he was so scared. Padre Juan tried to save him, to stop that man, but that beast pulled out his pistol and… and… ay, I told you, he knows no God. To shoot a man of god like an animal!”

“What-- Juan?” Ernesto looked around again, at the blood, at the weeping people all around - and back towards the church, where the trail led. Above him, all around him, the death knell kept ringing.

“He shot-- Juan?”

Dead. Dead. Dead.

“Sí. Ah, it was horrible. He fell back, and didn’t move-- so much blood, I couldn’t bear to watch.”

Ernesto staggered back, light-headed, struggling to make sense of what had happened. How had it happened? Only hours earlier, Juan had been alive and well - in a good mood, even. Messing with him by sending him out to bless a stupid bull. He’d chuckled, patted his arm like the insufferable bastard he was, promised there would be no Latin lesson that evening.

And now there would be Latin lessons at all, ever again, because that idiota could learn every stupid rule of an useless dead launguage but didn’t have enough brains not to step between a man with a gun and his target.

Bile rose to Ernesto’s throat, and he closed his eyes. Behind his eyelid the sun still shone, merciless, and he stood in the desert, beneath two swaying hanging corpses, talking to a priest on the brink of death. Left to die for trying to be merciful when the world would not, for trying to put himself between prisoner and executioner.

It was a bad call, Padre, Ernesto had said.

It was my duty, Padre Joaquín had replied.

Stupid priest. Stupid gringo.

High above, the bell kept ringing.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

When Ernesto heard himself speaking again, his voice was barely audible to his own ears. “... And Miguel?” he managed. Had Juan’s death at least been worth something, anything at all?

“Oh, the child is safe-- Brother Héctor took his place, it was heartbreaking to see, but at least he has a chance of coming back alive.”

Ah, of course. Of fucking course Saint Héctor had taken the boy’s place. What was it with that village that made everyone so damn inclined to martyrdom? What was it about Santa Cecilia that made those who lived there so eager to die a stupid death?

God damn you, stop dying on me. Stop leaving me behind.

“Padre Ernesto, will you pray to God for our men’s return?” a voice spoke up, and Ernesto turned to face a small, scared crowd. It was the first time he got to linger in a village after the Federal Army left it behind, and he found he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the anger, the pain, the pleading looks. He couldn’t stand how the first thing they chose to do was praying to a God who would not hear, or chose not to listen.

God had never been any good to Ernesto. He had long since learned that if you want a job well done, you have to do it yourself.

Ernesto gave a kind smile, seething with anger behind it. Anger was good, though. Anger would get things done. Anger was something solid to cling on to, so that he could ignore that other thing gnawing at him, threatening to undo him if he let himself acknowledge it.

He knew what he had to do.

“Of course,” Ernesto said, still smiling. “I will immediately retire to pray for their safe return in the chapel. If you’ll excuse me.”

He rushed towards the parish before any of them could say one more word - and before any of them could mention anything about the deserter they were looking for. He followed the blood trail for a distance and then diverged towards the back of the church, the death knell unbearably loud in his ears. He did his best to shut it out, to focus on the small voice in the back of his head. Juan’s voice, back when they had only just met.

“As the founder of my order said, todo modo para buscar la voluntad divina.”

Any means to find the divine will.

Ernesto had seen the wisdom in de Loyola’s words then, and he certainly saw it now. By the time he reached the small shed where holy wine was stored, among other things, the blood rushing in his ears almost covered the incessant ringing of the bell. His hand closed around the cold metal key in his pocket, and bared his teeth in a smile that was almost a snarl, jaw clenched so tightly his face hurt.

He had no idea what the divine will was, and neither did he care. He knew his own will, and he would see it become reality.

“Todo modo,” he gritted out, and turned the key in the lock.

***

“... Do you think he has any chance of pulling through, Doctor Sanchéz?”

The man didn’t reply right away, washing his hands in a bowl of warm water that had by now turned almost completely red, as had the towels strewn about. For several moments all Antonia could hear was the quiet splashing of water, the distant echo of the bell ringing outside - what was Sofía doing? - and the painful-sounding gasps as Father John Johnson struggled to draw in each breath, eyes shut, skin pale and clammy, covered by a sheet.

“Mph. I stitched up all I could, but my guess is that he’ll be the gravedigger’s problem before sundown. I have never seen a man lose as much blood as he did and live to tell the tale.”

Ah. Antonia nodded, folding her hands. There was no love lost between John Johnson and… any of the sisters, really, but this was not something she would wish on anyone.

He tried to stop them.

“I see,” she finally said. “We will pray for him.”

“Getting Padre Ernesto to come as soon as he returns would be a better use of your time. He will need the final rites,” Sanchéz muttered. Antonia barely had enough time to open her mouth to let him know she would when she was cut off by a groan. They both turned towards the bed; the gringo was still unconscious, but stirring weakly. Or was he regaining consciousness? Had he heard them? Or--

“Er-- nest--o,” he choked out, and that was it. His head fell back on the pillow and he made no more noise except for a weak, low whimper.

After a long silence, doctor Sanchéz sighed. “... Go get him, for Christ’s sake, so he can give this poor bastard his final rites.”

Antonia nodded, something heavy in her chest, and went out to do just that. She was told almost as soon as she stepped outside that Padre Ernesto had indeed returned, and headed to the church to pray… only that he was not there. He was not in the chapel, not in the living quarters - not in the yard, nor in the orchard, or in the orphanage to comfort the children, or even back at the plaza. No one had seen him since.

Padre Ernesto had returned, they told her... only that now he wasn’t anywhere.

***

Chicharrón needed a drink.

It wasn’t that the events of the day had left him shaken, that he had felt powerless, or that he was terrified out of his mind of how quickly Héctor would die in battle, after a lifetime learning how to handle a guitar and barely touching a rifle. It wasn’t that he worried about Miguel’s state of mind, or that he was generally so upset even Juanita looked crestfallen.

No, of course not. He was too old for that nonsense. He needed a drink for reasons unrelated to the day's mess, that was all, and he knew just where to find it.

But it seemed someone had found it before he did, because the shed’s door was open and what caskets of holy wine had been left were gone.

Of course, better of them to have found the wine rather than any weapons or other supplies hidden away - that would have probably made them decide to burn Santa Cecilia to the ground - but that was the last straw and Chicharrón was suddenly too furious to even try and see a silver lining to anything.

“Those bastards! Even the wine! Is nothing sacred anymore?”

Chicharrón would have kicked the door, if not for the fact he would have probably lost his balance or even broken his peg leg, so he did the next most reasonable thing, and punched it.

“YOWCHGODDAMNIT!”

He punched the door again for good measure - his hand already hurt, anyway - and limped inside. Maybe they had left at least some wine, at least a casket; it wouldn’t hurt to check.

As luck would have it, there was one casket left, but Chicharrón didn’t pick it up right away. For a long time he could just stand frozen on the spot, staring at the empty space where something else had been stored. Something that was not wine at all.

Well, look at that. Had those damn idiots taken the rat poison, too? God, he hoped they thought it to be sugar or something or the other. He hoped they would eat it and choke on it.

Chicharrón limped right out of the shed with the remaining casket under his arm, slamming the door shut behind him and getting ready to toast to that wish - entirely unaware of the fact that a priest who was not a priest at all was currently clambering up the hill with two donkeys, one of whom carrying nothing but caskets of wine, hellbent on making that wish come true. By any means necessary.

High up in the belltower, the bell kept ringing.

***

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#pixar coco #ernesto de la cruz #hector rivera #imelda rivera #miguel rivera #coco #fake priest au

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