#anyways if you just only look at the sunset its okay right... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kyber-crystal · 10 months

Text

midnight rain || benji dunn

summary: 4 times you realize you love benji dunn and 1 time you finally told him you loved him (it’s him, it’s always been him, and it always will be him)

words: ~2.4k

warnings: angst, mentions of violence, did i mention angst. but there's a happy ending i promise. also a fair amount of crying cause we love a reader who’s not afraid of being vulnerable in front of the man she cares about. feminism Yes

a/n: can you tell this is literally my favorite trope ever. also this is my first ever full length mission impossible oneshot…so if benji seems ooc then pls keep that in mind LOL. i promise i’ll get better w the more i write. i tried my best :) anyway enjoyyy

dedicated to @the-multiverse-of-fandoms who wanted basically anything benji/imf team related, i hope this did your wish justice!! & to @ilsastrenchcoat for giving me that lil push to branch out & write something new :)

i. what happens in budapest stays in budapest

“So when are you going to tell him?” Luther’s voice cuts through the buzz of static.

You flinched, with your earpiece nearly falling out at the sudden motion. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She knows what I’m talking about. Right, Ilsa?”

“What? That she’s in love with Benji?” Ilsa laughed in reply. “Oh. Of course she does. I thought everyone knew.”

“Can it,” you snapped, face feeling red-hot. “Last I checked, we were trying to track down an arms dealer. This isn’t the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.”

“London,” Luther corrected. You could practically hear him smirking. “This is burning slower than that damn White Barn candle I got on sale two years ago.”

You rolled your eyes and slid your gun back into its holster. Children. You worked with children.

But you knew they were right. They always were, but you would carry that admission with you to the grave if you had to. They knew you had fallen long before you did yourself—eight months ago when you were crammed into a tiny motel room in Budapest for a layover. The walls were so paper thin that you could hear Ethan snoring on the other side, and there was only enough room for one measly bed.

“I think the springs are broken,” Benji had pointed out.

“Very broken.”

“Did they forget to give us another pillow?”

“I think so.”

“Okay, you can take the pillow. I don’t need it anyway.”

“Benji, just take the damn pillow.”

“No, you take it. I don’t want you to complain in the morning that you don’t feel well rested.”

“…Fine.”

Just as you were about to drift off, you felt a warm hand squeeze yours and a familiar voice whisper “Sleep tight, I’ll bomb all the bed bugs and bad dreams for you.”

That ended up being the first nightmare-free, peaceful sleep you had in eleven years.

ii. home is where the heart is

Marrakesh right after sunset was unusually peaceful. The lively chatter of the bazaar below was calming down; and the weather wasn’t too hot nor too cold.

You had never seen so many stars like this in your entire life.

“You’re telling me that in all these years of living, you’ve never seen a sky full of stars?” Benji had asked you one evening during a team camping trip. “That’s not called living, it’s called dying.”

“I grew up in a big city, Dunn,” you sighed. “I would do anything for an unpolluted sky.”

“Benji’s inside, if you were wondering,” Ethan explained as he pulled out a seat next to you. “He just got back a few minutes ago.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He exhales and gives you a knowing look. “How long?”

“Ethan, you know I can’t…”

“What’s holding you back?”

“I don’t know, the weight of the world, maybe?” you guessed. “And when you’re constantly moving from place to place it’s hard to settle down and tell someone how you feel. It’s hard to find the perfect time…”

“There’s no such thing as the ‘perfect’ time, Y/N. You just need to find the right time.”

“But I don’t understand. It’s…for the first time in my life, I finally feel like I’m home…he makes me feel at home. But I can’t even say it. What if he doesn’t get it?”

“He will know. Trust me.”

“Who will know what?”

It’s impossible for Ethan to miss the way your face lights up as Benji steps out onto the balcony. He takes this as the opportunity to quietly step away, leaving you two to yourselves.

“Hi,” you say shyly, hands in your pockets.

“Hey, yourself,” he replies.

You step towards him and lean your forehead against his shoulder. He’s surprised at the sudden action but wraps his arms around you anyway, feeling grateful for your presence.

“Thank you,” you mumble against his shirt, though he’s not sure what exactly you’re thanking him for.

“Anytime.”

iii. he definitely is a fallen angel, right?

God, he had to be unreal, you thought as the Seoul skyline reflected off his face and washed him in a glowing gold. He could have just gone through hell and back and still look as if he had descended straight from the heavens.

You couldn’t look away. It was damn near impossible for you to.

You weren’t sure what you did to deserve him; he was far too precious for this cruel world. You walked through the doors of the IMF with eleven passports and a knife tucked against your thigh, not knowing what your future held. Benji, on the other hand, strolled in with the widest grin known to man on his face and eyes sparkling as if he had discovered the eighth wonder of the world. Polar opposites, and yet you’re drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Benji’s brows furrowed in concern. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just thinking…I really need a drink.”

“Nonsense, you can’t even walk straight,” he stated as he glanced down at your ankle, which had been wrapped up in bandages. “You don’t need the soju to be walking around like a madman.”

“Yes I do.”

“No you don’t.”

“I…”Letting out a shaky sigh, you bite the inside of your cheek until you could taste blood. “They almost got away. I almost jeopardized everyone’s safety and ruined the whole damn operation.”

“No, you didn’t,” he reassured you, “they didn’t get away. And besides…I think you did pretty damn great out there. Taking names, kicking ass, beating that one dude to death with the butt of your pistol…”

Your eyes shone with tears as you glanced over at him, a small smile now on your face. “You really think so?”

“Yeah,” he said softly as he brought a hand up to your cheek. You lean in to his touch and try to ignore the sparks that ignite as his skin brushes against yours. “I really think so. And you know what else?”

“What?”

“I think this calls for a celebration. How does charcoal-grilled KBBQ sound? Then we…we can go to that super cool design plaza north of the Han River and we’ll pretend we’re in another dimension. One where the IMF isn’t sending us on death-defying missions in which bad guys are out for our blood.”

The crinkles around your eyes make their first appearance in what seems like forever, and Benji’s heart warms. “You know me so well.”

“Well, of course. I’ve been trying to.”

He shrugs his jacket off and wraps it around your shoulders before pulling you close. You sink into him even deeper, and for a moment, you can pretend that everything is right with the world.

iv. as the world caves in

You don’t think you’ve ever cried in your life. Not even once.

Okay, maybe once. Twice. The first time was when you passed the field exam and you were so happy that you shed a few tears of joy.

The second time was right now: you watched as a strung-out Benji fought for his life in the hospital. You don't know how long it’s been since you got here, and all you could do now was pray to God that he would wake up.

You felt someone put a soft hand on your shoulder. “Sweetheart, you’ve been here for ages.”

Luther gave you a sad smile as he sat next to you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and closed your eyes.

“Why did it have to be him?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “but he’s going to be fine. He always is.”

“I hope…”

“Why don’t you go get some rest? I’ll let you know when he wakes up,” he offered. He could tell you desperately needed sleep. “Try to relax.”

“Okay…”

It’s a solid four hours later when Benji finally stirs awake.

He blinks and rubs his eyes. “Luther…? Hey.”

“You’re awake, that’s good,” he stated. “Your blood pressure has gone up a lot since Y/N gave you her blood. If she didn’t, we’d be shipping your ass off to the funeral home.”

“She did what now?”

“She gave you her blood. Doc asked around but none of our types matched yours, except hers.”

“Oh.”

“I told her she’d pass out if she kept crying after the blood transfusion, but she cried the whole day. She first cried when you didn’t wake up. And now she’s going to start crying because you woke up. She worries about you a lot, you know. So much so that she often neglects her own well-being.”

A strange feeling works its way through Benji’s system. You cared… “Can you tell her I want to see her now?”

“Sure.”

A few moments later, you walk through the door—obvious tear tracks on your face—and sit by his bedside. “Benjamin Dunn, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t. Sorry…”

“You almost died.” You looked away and hastily wiped at your eyes. It didn’t help. “I watched you bleed out on the pavement and almost lose your life.”

He doesn’t know what else to say, so he simply reaches out and intertwines your fingers together, squeezing tight. More tears slip down your cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m just glad you’re not in a body bag,” you choked out. “I’m just really glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too. Now come here,” Benji says, and he moves over on his bed to make room for you. You rest your head against his chest and close your eyes, and he drapes an arm across your waist. “Thank you for waiting.”

You end up falling asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

+i (v). it's always been you

It's hot as hell outside, your clothes are sticking to your skin, and you're sure that one hit would set you on fire.

“Why did we have to go into the middle of the damn Arabian desert?” Benji yells over the howling winds into his comm. He coughs as some sand gets into his mouth. “You can’t even build a sandcastle with this crap. I regret everything I said about disliking being in the van.”

“No idea!” you yell back. You wrap your protective scarves tighter around your head and mouth, and adjust your goggles. A loud bang! makes you flinch, causing you to quickly whip around and pull out your gun.

“Woah there, it's just me,” Ethan raised his hands in surrender. You slowly lowered your weapon. “Did you get the flashdrive?”

You nodded and quickly handed him the small piece of metal. He stores it away in his pocket before zipping it up. “Let's go.”

It takes another hour and a half to round up the whole team and escape safely. The sandstorm was worsening by the second and you would be incredibly lucky to escape relatively unscathed.

You’re breathing heavily as you board the helicopter and take off your equipment, leaning against the wall. You could still feel the man’s hands around your throat, trying to squeeze the life out of you.

The look of fury in Benji’s eyes as he pulled the trigger was permanently burned into the back of your mind. You’d never seen him that angry before—he was nowhere near what you’d call short-tempered. The most upset you’d ever seen him was when Ethan ate the last of his favorite potato chips a month ago. And even then, he didn’t raise his voice.

Benji crouches down in front of you and brings a cold towel to your face. It comes away stained a light crimson, and he tries not to panic. “Are…are you okay?”

“I'm okay,” you exhale. “Thanks for saving my ass out there. If you hadn't gotten there in time…"

“You're welcome,” he replies. “Why is it that we always take turns saving each other from near death experiences?”

“It's all part of the job,” you crack a grin. “Welcome to the IMF, where you go on suicide missions all the time but you're not allowed die. Pretty ironic if you ask me.”

“I know, right?” He sounds like he's going to say something else, but then pauses. Upon peering closer, he sees a series of blue and purple handprint splotches on the sides of your neck. “Y/N…”

“I'm okay, I promise,” you say quickly. “Don't worry about me.”

“I don't get how you can stay so calm in situations like this,” he says, exasperated. “You scare me sometimes.”

“It's no big deal, really.” But your voice cracks, and that's when you finally break down and burst into tears. “I’m used to danger. I just—”

“Hey hey hey, it's going to be alright,” he murmurs as he moves closer to bring you in for a hug, arms snaking around you and holding on as tight as he possibly could. Your tears slowly begin to stain his shirt with dark spots, but he couldn't care less. “You're safe and you're going to be okay. You are going to be okay because I'll be here for you. Always.”

“You promise?”

“Pinky promise.” He holds his pinky out, and you wrap your finger around his. “I swear on my life. I’m here to stay whether you like it or not.”

The words slip out before you could even realize what you were saying.

“God, I love you,” you mumbled against his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. “More than anything. I should’ve…I really should’ve told you a long time ago. I don’t know why I waited so long to tell you. You felt like home to me and I found comfort in that and I loved you so much for it, Benji. I still do.”

The air suddenly feels heavy and that’s when the weight of what you had said finally sinks in. It feels like an eternity of awkward, strained silence all around before he opens his mouth to reply.

“I love you too,” he says, “Always have.”

And as your lips touch, all the aches and pains and barely-recovering broken bones seem to disappear. You can’t even remember why you were so upset in the first place because you’re safe here with him and he’s finally, finally kissing you, and all you really need to think about is the fact that the man you truly loved and needed more than anything had been right here all along and it was perfect.

The ride home is a long one, so you allow yourself to relax in his comforting arms and drift away to a distant dreamland. Ethan gently nudges Luther in the shoulder, motioning for him to take a glance back at the sight.

“You owe me twenty,” he reminds him with a toothy grin.

tags, including ppl who may be interested (lmk if you'd like to be added, or you can add yourself via this form!): @kenobismullet @voguesir @fl0ating @lady-elena-adeline

once again, my taglist has not been updated in a hot second, so i'm not sure which users are still active/if they've switched to another url. i apologize for any potential inconveniences !!

#benji dunn #benji dunn x reader #mission impossible #mission impossible: dead reckoning #mission impossible au #benji dunn x you #benji dunn imagine #mission impossible: fallout #mission impossible: rogue nation #mission impossible imagine

158 notes · View notes

mystic-writings · 2 months

Text

remember the nights | chapter four — the willow tree

WORD COUNT — 2,390

WARNINGS — talk of parental death and parental abandonment, cheating, and divorce

NOTES — god i love this chapter with everything i have i'm not kidding

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Since your first ‘official’ group hang out last Friday, you’d nearly been jumping at any opportunity to hang out with the group. Sure, when you read into it it sounded borderline creepy, but you couldn’t help it. You’d never had that much fun with your friends before, even in the city, where pretty much anything and everything was at your fingertips.

You could only compare it to the high you felt the first time you’d ever watched a musical in a theater. You were a freshman at the time, and your dad surprised you with tickets by calling you out of school in the middle of the day. You’d never forget the magical, light feeling that filled your chest throughout the show, watching everything happen all at once and so quickly, admiring the performer’s work in real time. It had been such a rush that, for the following four days, everything felt dull, and all you wanted was to relive that night over and over again for the rest of your life.

Today was Thursday, and although everyone would be hanging out again tomorrow at Mickey’s, some of the group had decided to hang out at the park again, anyway. All of you did have some form of curfew for weeknights, so it would be bordering on sunset when you would meet at the park, before one by one, you’d all have to head home at one time or another.

When you’d left school, it was agreed — everyone would meet at 6pm by the gate. But as you got home, and the evening crept onward to the time you were supposed to leave, the texts began trickling in, and before you knew it, almost everyone had canceled. Whether it was family obligations, chores, or — in Harriet and Sonya’s case — couple time to themselves, everyone who was involved in the initial plan had canceled, aside from Newt.

Not long after the final cancellation text came through — Minho, saying that his parents had family coming into town and needed to help get the house ready — your phone began to ring from its place on your bed, where you sat writing the last few sentences of your history homework.

You pushed the textbook and workbook from your lap, reaching for the phone only to see that Newt’s contact was the one lighting up your screen. You prepared for another cancellation excuse before pressing the bright green ‘accept’ button and holding the phone to your ear. “What’s up?”

Newt’s voice filtered through the speaker almost immediately. “We’re still hanging out tonight, right?”

“Yeah, we are,” you said, “but it’s just gonna be us, if that’s alright. Literally everyone else canceled.”

“Really?” Newt asked, and you muttered a confirmation in response.

You sighed, leaning back on your bed frame. “I know we were supposed to go to the park, but Minho has the key, so… is there anywhere else you’d wanna hang out?”

“Actually, yeah,” Newt replied. “I’ll be there to pick you up soon, yeah? Half an hour.”

“Got it.” You nodded. “Half an hour.”

With Newt’s final goodbye, you picked your book back up and finished off what little you had left of your history homework. As you did though, you thought about spending time with Newt, just Newt, and how you haven’t had the chance to do so since he gave you the tour of the school. The thought seemed to bring an untameable smile to your face.

By the time Newt’s car appeared in the driveway, and Newt at the front door, you had packed all your schoolwork away, pushed your hair back (after attempting four different styles), and grabbed a hoodie to wear. Whatever makeup you’d put on at the beginning of the day was mostly worn off now, and you didn’t see a point in reapplying anything, because as long as your mascara and eyeliner weren’t majorly smudged, you were okay with how it looked.

Newt came in after you greeted him at the door, giving you time to gather up what you needed to and to slip your shoes on, and he talked with Maggie and your dad as they watched a movie in the living room. When you finally stepped out of the house, the sky was painted with an array of oranges, fading into various pinkish red tones, and finally, a beautiful purple that got deeper and more rich the higher in the sky it went.

“So, what are we doing tonight?” You asked as Newt reversed out of the driveway.

“I was thinking we’d grab some food from Mickey’s and hang out over on the field by the school?” Newt suggested, turning onto the main road. “Nothing extreme, y’know? We have all night tomorrow to do that.”

You nodded and told him that it was a great idea, looking out the window as he drove. It was getting visibly darker with every passing moment, and the lights on Newt’s dash and radio were glowing a bluish green when he parked in front of the diner. When you stepped out, you were met with a subtle breeze, which was quickly overtaken by the warmth of the diner.

It was quiet inside, with only a few straggling patrons scattered around. Mickey greeted you both at the counter with his usual bright smile as you sat on the stools, ready to order. “Aren’t you two supposed to be here tomorrow?”

“Yeah, but you know me, Mickey.” Newt smiled cheekily. “I just can’t get enough of your amazing food.”

Mickey laughed before taking your orders — you, another loaded burger meal and double chocolate milkshake, and Newt, a crispy chicken burger and vanilla milkshake. Newt ended up paying for the food, but only after you argued about it and settled on you paying for his food tomorrow.

You admired the retro style of the diner as you sat and waited for your food to arrive, noticing all of the pictures on the walls, the vintage clocks, and achievements the establishment had seemed to receive over the many years it’d been running. Through the order window, though, you noticed a boy your age, frying up your burger.

Newt seemed to read your mind and follow your line of sight, because not long after you noticed the boy, he told you, “That’s Frypan.”

“Hmm?”

“The cook, back there.” Newt explained. “His real name’s Siggy, but everyone calls him Fry or Frypan. Even his parents, and Mickey. Frypan’s Mickey’s grandson.”

You only nodded, waving at Frypan along with Newt when he caught sight of you and smiled politely. Once Frypan was done with your orders, he bagged them up and brought it over to you at the counter.

“What’s up, Newt?”

“Hey, Fry,” Newt said, scratching at the back of his neck. “Things good?”

“Yep,” Frypan nodded, handing over the bag of takeout, before looking over to you.

You smiled at him again and said, “I’m Y/n. Thomas’... step-sister? I think.”

Frypan laughed and nodded, his smile wider than before. “Nice to meet you, Y/n.”

“I think step-sister’s the right word,” Newt said. “Tommy told us about her, remember?”

“I remember,” Frypan nodded as he leant against the counter. “Said a lot about you when you guys would hang out and stuff. Didn’t you get him lost in Times Square once or something?”

You scoffed out a laugh. “I think he got that story mixed up. He was the one who got us lost. Dumbass thought he could get us around New York without a map because he’d been there a few times before. And he didn’t even go to Times Square any of those times, by the way.”

Both boys laughed at your retelling of the story as you smiled, watching Mickey place two to-go cups next to the bag of food. “There y’all go. I’ll see y’all tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow, guys. See you later, Fry.” Newt nodded, waving goodbye before standing and grabbing the bag of food.

You waved the pair goodbye happily as you grabbed the drinks and slid out of the stool, following Newt out the door, blinds clanking on the door behind you, and back into the car. The sky had darkened exponentially since you’d been inside, and the brief breeze you felt when you arrived had taken a more permanent residence in the air, cooling your skin.

As Newt headed over to the school, staying on the main road, you snacked on fries from the bag that rested on your lap. A song filtered through the speakers, muffled by the static of a distant radio tower, and dim street lamps lit the way for you. You would’ve been perfectly content simply sitting in the car and driving around until curfew, but Newt had other plans.

He parked in the school parking lot, in one of the spaces closest to the field. It was unusual to see the parking lot empty, to see the school devoid of light and students lingering around. You and Newt stepped out of the car, and you followed him as he rounded the back, opening the trunk and pulling a thin blanket from it before heading out to the field, blanket tucked under one arm, a milkshake in hand and the bag of food in the other.

Soon, one milkshake became two, along with a heavy bag filled with food, and you ended up handling a minor juggling act while Newt laid out the blanket at the base of the willow tree he pointed out to you on the first day. When he was done, he took his milkshake and the bag of food from you, allowing you to sit next to him on the blanket while he sorted out the food.

For a little while, there was nothing but the sound of the wildlife at night while you enjoyed your food together. This, however, gave your mind time to wind down several paths of thought, and it didn’t take you long to put your burger back in its wrapper and face the blond to your left.

“Why doesn’t Sonya have an accent?”

“What?” Newt asked, still chewing his food.

“You have an accent.” You stated. “And Sonya’s only a year younger than you, so she should have an accent, too, right? But she doesn’t, so, why not?”

Newt swallowed his food, took a sip of his milkshake, and cleared his throat before speaking. “We moved here from London when we were pretty young. I was eight, and Sonya was almost seven. Small town people can be quite… harsh, but I didn’t quite mind what the kids in school were saying about how we talked. Sonya did, though. I guess kids in her grade were harsher toward her. Anyway, she started to train her voice to sound American, and now she doesn’t have an accent.”

All you could think of to respond was nod. It seemed like a simple enough answer, despite how heartbreaking it really was, and so you left it at that and went back to eating your burger. No more conversation occurred between the two of you until you were cramming the empty wrappers and fry containers into the takeout bag.

“Why’s your dad marrying Maggie?”

Confused, your face scrunched as you looked at Newt.

“You got to ask a question, so now I’m asking one.” Newt shrugged. “So, why’s your dad marrying Maggie?” After a moment, it seemed like Newt realized what kind of question he’d asked. “If you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to. I’m just curious.”

“No, no it’s fine.” You assured him, taking a deep breath. “It’s not his first marriage, or anything like that. And my mom wasn’t some horrible, evil woman he was just dying to get away from, either. He loved her. A lot. They met when they were teenagers and everything. She was a ballerina. A really beautiful one, too.” You explained. “When I was about seven, though, she got diagnosed with breast cancer. I can barely remember it anymore, but I know she was a great mom, and a great wife. She died when I was ten. Maggie’s the first woman I’ve met that’s been able to make my dad laugh like my mom used to.”

Newt stayed silent for a few moments, the heavy atmosphere you brought to the conversation settling in your chests. He picked at a loose thread in the blanket before speaking. “I wish my mum could find someone like that.”

“Why?” You asked, your voice soft. “What happened to your dad?”

“He’s an asshole,” Newt snapped, tilting his head all the way back to look at the pieces of sky that poked through the leaves, leaning on his elbows for support. “He moved us halfway across the world, away from my mum’s family, away from her whole bloody life, for a job offer, only to quit and chase some bleach blonde woman who’s half his age to Florida and mail my mum divorce papers. He didn’t even have the decency to sign them in person.”

The anger and resentment Newt held for his father was clear in his tone, rolling off his words in harsh waves.

Hesitantly, you placed a hand over Newt’s twisting your body to fully face him. “You’re right, Newt. Your dad is an asshole. And he missed out on watching you grow up, on seeing you turn into one of the kindest, most caring people I’ve ever met. But that just means that you didn’t need him to be the person you are today.”

Though Newt’s eyes remained on the sky, you could see tears gathering along his waterline, the gleam of the stars reflecting within them. For a moment, you both stayed that way, until Newt shifted and pulled your body into his, arms wrapping around your neck as he gripped you in a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him a little closer. The heavy atmosphere felt a little lighter, now, and you did, too, knowing that something between you and Newt had shifted, that you knew each other better now.

After the mood lifted, you both finished your drinks and laid back on the thin, cold blanket, hands on your stomachs as you talked and looked at the sky through the drooping curtains of the willow tree’s leaves.

series masterlist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine (open!)

#remember the nights #newt x reader #newt tmr x reader #newt x you #newt x y/n #newt series #newt tmr series #newt angst #newt fluff #the maze runner fanfiction #the maze runner x reader #au fic #high school au

29 notes · View notes

littlemisslipbalm · 9 months

Text

Demonology

Part 3: I Think There's Something You Should Know

Series Summary: A new demon has come to Nashville. Josh and Jake's ways of life have been thrown off by her arrival. The angel and demon have lived with an understanding of one another, but with Y/N stirring up trouble and asking questions, they're forced to work out a new normal. And why is she so powerful for a human turned demon anyway, that's unusual, right?

A/N: Hiiiii! Part 3 is here. Keep adding yourself to the taglist or catch up on the rest of the parts from the masterpost. I think this story is looking like maybe 6 parts...we'll see. oh boy lots of plot in this lol enjoy hopefully and lmk what you think :)

Chapter Summary: Two demons walk into a bar and an angel greets them. What on Earth could they be talking about? There's actually no good punchline to this.

Word Count: 4.0 k | Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, horny demons and angel, 18+ maybe some brief descriptions/mentions of sex - still no explicit smut (next chapter tho...), dubious understanding of demonology in reality

Taglist | Series Masterpost

Part 3: I Think There's Something You Should Know

The wind rustling her drapes woke her up in the middle of one evening when she hadn’t gone out or seen anyone beside Rori all day. It had been a good day.

The moon was almost full and was one of two lights illuminating the street below the window behind her bed. She didn’t have to sleep anymore, but she still liked to. She stared out hazily for a moment and hurriedly closed the window, feeling a human sense of nerves and dread before calming down, remembering that the things that went bump in the night were now scared of her.

Jake had been teaching her ways to skirt Hell’s system. How to get the job done without doing much. Which she was thankful for. And she’d finally run into Josh briefly a few times, but not as many as she’d like. Not for as long as she’d like. She knew he was keeping his distance. ‘Avoiding temptation.’ That’s what Jake always said when she asked after Josh.

Tonight, she was annoyed the wind had woken her. Her dream had been extra sweet tonight. Josh had sought her out, giving her sweet gifts and feather kisses all with the backdrop of the Sunset Strip. The warm sheets were kind of like his warm chest beneath his clothes.

The next night, the night of the true full moon, Jake was at her door. He knocked when the moon had reached its peak for the evening.

Jake had also kept his distance in the way that mattered since that first night together. He had deemed it a moment of drunken vulnerable weakness not to be repeated. It only happened because she’d whispered his favorite fucking poem in his ear—how weak was he? Practically human in that moment. He didn’t bring it up and she felt the heaviness of his silence when she had joked about the hook up the next time she’d seen him. He was to be her mentor only.

Leaning against the doorframe, an arm on his hip and his wide-brimmed hat on his head, he spoke lowly. “Come out with me.”

She can’t see his eyes, just his lips and jaw moving.

“I’m not at your beck and call,” She rolled her eyes, a defiant crossed arm look staring back at him. A black tank top and sleep shorts sat low on her hips, she was happy to get wine drunk in her home now that she knew she didn’t need to go out all the time.

He leveled his head with her, making eye contact now. “Come.”

“I’m not a dog.” She remained unmoved. Rori slinked around her legs, sniffing at Jake unamusedly. The actual dog had had to warm up to Jake these last few weeks and Rori was begrudgingly okay with him since he could feel the power the demon exuded.

Jake rolled his eyes and greeted the dog. “Don’t growl at me. I didn’t even bring my familiar…”

Rori had not been a fan of Jake’s crow that he kept around. Y/N wouldn’t even deem it a familiar since he was really only around so Jake could shapeshift into a bird if he really wanted but Jake insisted they were close. Sure.

After a minute of heavy silence, Jake got the final word. The stare down not really going anywhere. He flashed his yellow eyes and she hated how it made her fall in line. Jake’s true nature was malevolent despite his serene facade he often operated under. She didn’t want to ever see him truly angry with her. She’d seen glimpses of it during some of their outings together. It wasn’t anything like the man she had seen inside his mind.

“I’m your mentor. Be a good mentee. Go get dressed.”

She got dressed, grumbling the whole time to Rori and forcing Jake to wait outside as she blasted Fleetwood Mac—for some reason, Jake’s least favorite band from her time. He rolled his eyes as he heard Stevie Nicks’ voice turned up to a fever-pitch.

“Jake.” Y/N sniffed as she pushed past him out of her door. “Altar boy name, by the way.”

He chuckled under his breath and shook his head, falling in step with her and locking her door with a flick of his hand when he noticed she had forgotten.

When they arrived at this unfamiliar almost empty room that Jake refused to give her information on, her eyes cast around taking it all in with a vigilance she’d never applied as a human. Now she liked to know her exits, note any potential men who might try and cause her trouble, potential targets, etc.

It was an old dark and gloomy bar, lined with wood that had been worn down by glasses and hands over many years. It seemed it had been loved once, now a shell of its former self. Maybe 10 people in total in the entire tired place.

A bright light cast in the corner that caught her eye after a moment. Josh. He was perched on a chair at a four-top, patiently tapping his fingers along the table, nodding his head to the live music from a lone guitarist.

He glowed like anything but no one else seemed to notice. Maybe it was just for her. She thought about asking Jake if he could see the glow. His bright white long sleeve tonight fell over him, perfectly fitted and pushed up to his elbows. The same blue jeans on his legs that she dreamed about feeling beneath her thighs every other night or so.

She wet her lips, watching his angelic face, eyes shut nodding to the melodies. His lips slightly parted and she missed them. How soft and sweet they’d been when she’d licked into his mouth, giving him the show of his life. Forget that. She needed to be cool. She straightened her posture, looking like a killer about to pounce on her prey.

Jake cleared his throat, watching Sal watching Josh, looking jealous that she looked at his brother with more desire than she did with himself. Not that he actually cared. She was his mentee.

She rolled her eyes at him and followed him over to the table.

“Brother,” Jake spoke first, hands leaving his pockets to grip the back of one of the chairs.

Josh smiled, standing, and touched his brother gently on the shoulder, “Jake.”

Then a silence fell between the three of them. Who was going to be the first to acknowledge her? She stood exactly between the angel and the demon and she wished that Hell’s mouth would open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole. Rori could stay on Earth if he wanted, she didn’t even care so long as whatever the tension was passing between them stopped right this instant.

She widened her eyes and opened her mouth to greet Josh before losing her nerve. “I’m gonna go get a drink!”

“You don’t have to do–” Jake starts, but she’s already disappeared in a flash of crimson and black.

Jake raised his brows at Josh while blush crept up the angel’s face and ears, the two men sat. Y/N knocked back two shots on her own at the bar while waiting for three beers. She didn’t know what they wanted and she didn’t care. Beer would have to do.

“So,” She drawled, attempting a more cool and collected approach now that she was back. Afterall, she was a demon who was meant to thrive in situations with sexual partners. She knew how to be cool around people she was attracted to–except, what didn’t come easy to her was behaving normally around someone she actually might potentially teensy weensy care about. She didn’t even want to think that it might be two someones. Especially when her heart was supposedly dead.

She huffs a slick smile onto her lips, slinking into her chair evilly placed between them with the beers. “What are we all doing here? A Celestial+ Committee meeting? Immortals anonymous…bit of a problem, though,” She leans forward and whispers. “I think we all know each other?”

“Sal,” Josh starts, his tone measured. He was trying to be kind, but she felt the tightness in his throat.

Jake flashed his eyes to the angel, a warning. He set his hat on the table, making it crowded with the three glasses.

She settled into the uncomfortable chair, widening her legs and taking a gulp of the beer. Her top might as well have been nonexistent, the deep red lace sheer and showing off her torso and breasts. The black tight vinyl pants caused both beings to flicker their eyes to her movement as she pushed her hips towards them. Josh cleared his throat and averted his eyes, taking a grounding sip of the pale ale she’d gotten for him.

“We’re here,” Jake starts, giving an unamused look to her as she wiggled her hips and smirked in triumph. “Cut it out, sometimes the slut schtick isn’t cute. We have something real to talk about, Sal.” He widened his glowing yellow eyes at her and she sat up, immediately shrinking again. Just as she was feeling more confident, his accusatory eyes scared the absolute shit out of her.

Josh shot a look at his demon counterpart, unhappy with the word he had just used, even if it was to describe the demon who had led him into temptation. He had been repenting for the last three months, bathing in holy water twice as often, and an extra time whenever his mind wandered to Y/N and what she’d shown him.

“We need to find out why you’re so powerful. Who you are.” Josh says calmly.

“I told you already.” She insisted. “Why does it matter anyway?”

“Okay, well maybe you don’t realize this but the way you’re treated down in Hell is not normal,” Jake sneers condescendingly.

“What he means,” Josh intervenes again. “Is that, perhaps, you don’t know who you really are either. We’re worried…”

“No!” She immediately shoots forward, eyes blazing with hellfire.

“C’mon Sal, you know how fucking powerful you are. That’s not normal! You’re not normal!” Jake doesn’t sound smug anymore, he sounds a little…scared. He didn’t like not knowing.

Josh reaches a hand out to Jake’s shoulder, his touch somehow calming even though an angel’s touch should’ve been repulsive to a demon.

“Listen, Sal,” Josh smiles, trying to bring peace to this strange situation. “Nothing is going to change. It’s okay to be scared, but Jake is right. You are far too powerful for even a run-of-the-mill average demon and you believe you were a human turned demon. You’d have even less powers then.”

She gulps at her beer, more than half-way through it. “Why does it matter? Why do you two care?”

Another silence falls between them. The tension returns and she can tell there’s something they’re not telling her.

“Fucking tell me,” She spits. “Or I’ll…I’ll, fucking…I don’t know, I’ll fucking kill everyone in here. Since I’m so fucking powerful.”

“There’s not that many people in here, Sal. You wouldn’t really be making much of a point…” Jake shrugs. “Also, why would I care?”

“Because I know you, Jacob,” She seethes, staring darkly into his eyes. Her eyes had been black since the hellfire had left them, she was in defense mode. “Should I share with Josh what I found in your mind the other night?”

Jake sat up straight and instantly Y/N’s mouth was shut. Not by a look, but by Jake’s powers. It felt like he was crushing her windpipe. His voice was in her head. ‘Do not say another fucking word. How dare you. You promised.’ She immediately felt meek and her humanity seeped back into her. Regular eyes flickering back to life, she slumped in on herself, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort. She was scared too.

Josh watched the interaction, only seeing the physicality of their two bodies change. He looked up to the ceiling, lord give him strength and please don’t let anyone die tonight. “We think you might be a cambion.” He rushes it out before he loses the nerve or before Jake stops him.

She stays silent, staring up at the angel with red-rimmed eyes–not technically demonic, simply because she had begun to cry and she wasn’t allowing the tears to fall. Jake grunts unhappily and finishes off his beer, getting up to get a refill and pointedly telling them not to discuss further until he returned.

He came back five minutes later, silent and nodded his head gruffly for them to continue. She stares between the angel and demon again, confused and upset with both of them.

“What does that mean?” She asks, her voice soft and child-like, shaking slightly. Had her whole life been a lie? It couldn’t be possible. Why did they want to flip her life upside down or sideways or something? This second life was already confusing enough without an identity crisis.

“It means you were half-human, half-demon in your first life.” Josh speaks softly, barely strong enough to keep himself from pulling her fragile body into his own just to attempt to comfort her. He knew how scared she must be, he’d seen people crumble through history at the realization of their lives being built on lies. “Usually cambion are offspring of an incubus or a succubus and a human.”

“That would explain your special treatment in Hell,” Jake interjects, feeling more subdued after walking it off and two shots of ‘Jamo’ himself. “But it doesn’t explain the powers. At least, not fully. It’d have to be an ancient–older than us–and powerful one to have been one of your parents and that’s just almost unheard of, even 70 years ago.”

“Okay….” She tries to absorb the information, eyes still flitting between the two figures before her, feeling a weird sense of unreality that had never happened to her. Given all the weird shit that had happened to her since dying, it was surprising this was so hard.

“That’s why we wanted to talk to you about it. See if you knew anything or could think about anything abnormal about, maybe, your upbringing or parents.” Josh tries, even gently soothing his hand over the one Y/N had shakily rested on the tabletop. “Anything at all.”

Jake’s eyes watched them. The way her body relaxed at Josh’s touch. How her eyes sparkled as she looked from their touching skin to Josh’s face. Even her smile was softer with Josh. Josh’s eyes were aglow as well, an angelic white instead of a black pupil.

“Okay,” She says, looking between Jake and Josh again, feeling calmer but also, admittedly, terrified for the first time since she’d been back. “Can I think about it for a few days? I don’t think I’ll come up with anything with you two staring me down right now.”

She didn’t understand why it mattered to Jake and Josh still but the amount of energy and emotion running through her had made her forget momentarily. Her mind was like static, the thoughts running into one another and jumbling until nothing was coherent.

“Yeah, of course,” Josh moves his hand to rub over her back. He couldn’t help himself, he was a healer and a helper. Even with her. Especially with her. “Write things down as they come to you. It might help.”

“Whatever,” Jake rolled his eyes, downing his beer and heading for a third. He needed to be drunk and as a demon it took a lot more work. He thought that was unfair but there wasn’t really anyone he could complain to. Maybe the big one Upstairs, but his key card didn’t work anymore.

This night had gone about exactly as he expected when Josh had continued to pester him about it. When he returned, Josh had disappeared and Jake hoped he’d left for the night. “Can we get plastered now?”

“Please,” She sighed, taking the second beer from Jake’s hands. “I need to dance and drink off this stress. Fuck you for this by the way.”

“Did Josh leave?” Jake ignores her complaint about the night, looking around. It wasn’t like he’d wanted to be here either.

She shakes her head while gulping at the beer, already moving to the dance floor that was scuffed up and empty. The live musician had left during their conversation so Jake wasn’t surprised when the old stereo turned from 2000s indie rock to 1970s hard rock. “Said he was coming back. Bathroom or something…You gonna dance with me, cowboy?”

She grinned at Jake, already pushing the anxiety of the evening away, utilizing her favorite coping mechanism: drunken debauchery.

He shook his head at her and sauntered closer, abandoning his beer and allowing her arms to rope him closer, pressing her hips into his. He hummed with mild satisfaction, staring at her down the tip of his nose. She stared up at him, thinking back to when he had tumbled in the sheets with her. How surprisingly kind and tender he had been to her and how she’d never seen it again. She wanted to see it again. She’d do anything to see it again.

She ran her hand up and down his torso, taking inventory of his warmth with teasing fingers, “You owe me. That was worse than Hell on Earth.”

Jake leans his head down, lips heavy on her ear. “I don’t owe you shit, Sal.”

She threw her head back in laughter and Jake’s arms held her waist more firmly, just to keep her from falling. Returning upright to stare into his eyes, she spoke with a saddened sort of lust. “You love talking rough to me don’t you, Jake? Just admit it.”

“It’d be a big help if you could remember your real name while you’re writing down all your feelings later.” Jake ignores her again, allowing himself to drift his hands over the curves of her ass as she sways against him. He indulges in how the press of her breasts into his chest feels and the intoxicating scent of her perfume as he traces his nose up her throat and over her jaw.

She whines against him. “Just shut up and kiss me if you won’t fuck me right now. I need a distraction.”

Jake chuckles darkly, his eyes casting around the room as he tightens his grip again making her hum with a grin on her face. “You’d like that wouldn’t you, little one? In front of an audience? Sick little freak.”

She looks down for a moment, a flicker of shame at Jake’s condescending voice before she feels the energy seeping off of him. He desired it too. She wasn’t the only sick freak.

Jake makes eye contact with Josh at the edge of the dancefloor. The angel had been watching for the last few moments after returning from wherever he had disappeared to. He shifts his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

Jake decides to lean down as Y/N leans up with parted lips, awaiting his touch. He teases her, licking his tongue out past his lips but not quite touching hers. She breathes out a whine and pulls his head closer by the back of his neck and he obliges, sinking his tongue into her mouth. She melts into him.

Josh watches on still. He can’t tear his eyes away, how their bodies snake around one another so perfectly. How she fits into him, how Jake has no problem claiming her body, touching her and alighting her skin with desire. Josh shuts his eyes for a moment. He wants to leave, he knows he should’ve walked out the door and not come back, but he can’t. She’s still here and he hasn’t seen her in so long. He knew it was a sin to be consorting with her, but, Jesus, he was already there, what was another hour or two of it?

She pulled back from Jake’s lips, chest heaving for air that Jake didn’t seem to need. He smirked and licked his lips, moving his hand away from the back of her delicate neck.

“C’mon, let’s go back to my place.” She tries. Her hand tightens in the collar of his shirt, needing this to make her forget her distress.

Jake shakes his head. “I’ll dance with you and I’ll kiss you till you drop, but we’re not doing that again. Never again.”

She twirled a piece of his hair that had come free from his low bun. “Why not? We had a lot of fun.”

“Too much fun.” He removes her hands from himself, beginning to step away. It wasn’t the fun he was worried about, it was the feeling. “I’ll see you soon, kid.”

“Fuck you, Jake.” Anger masks the painful stab to her heart, or whatever it was that felt inside her still, at his rejection. Kid.

“Keep dreaming,” He winks, turning on his heel and patting Josh’s chest as he goes to make his exit. “She’s all yours. Nice and fired up. Good fucking luck, brother.” He plucked his hat from the abandoned table, strutting out of the bar and disappearing instantly, as if he’d never been there in the first place. Except he had and she was pissed.

“Thanks,” Josh murmurs under his breath, eyes downcast. He stops Y/N from running after Jake with a hand around her waist when she went to move past him, knowing that whatever fight she tried to start wouldn’t end well.

“Hey, hey, hey,” He gets her attention, the fury fading from her eyes with one look at Josh. “It’s okay. You don’t want to fight him tonight. You’ve got a lot on your mind and it’ll only come to no good.”

“No good is what I’m supposed to do,” She stomps her foot, petulantly but resigning to Josh’s hold. The drunken debauchery wasn’t going well and she was starting to feel depleted and depressed. An identity crisis, one rejection and likely another on the horizon with the way Josh was looking at her.

She felt herself beginning to cry again. This time she couldn’t stop the tears.

“Oh, god,” Josh whispered quickly, ushering himself and the demon to the sidewalk outside of the bar. The darkness of the night would cover up the sight that would raise human eyebrows. “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry. Please.” His voice is soft, feathery and concerned. Pleading.

“What’s the point? Why’d they even send me here? Who am I?” She wailed, her eyes streaming tears of blood. “Why the fuck do I cry blood? This is so unfair!”

Josh wanted to curse Jake, but he knew he was already eternally damned so it really wouldn’t do anything. He shushed the crying demon who really just looked like a young drunk girl except for the red tears. Josh held her as she sobbed, blood staining his white shirt. It didn’t matter to him. He offered soothing words to her and eventually, after back rubs and deep breath exercises, she pulled it together.

“You can come see me whenever you need, Sal. How’s that?” Josh offers as he rubs soothing patterns across her clammy back.

She wiped at her face and her hair that was now all over the place. “Thanks, Josh. Thank you for being kind to me. Even though…I am who I am.”

“Of course,” Josh’s voice is full of emotion. He couldn’t help it. She needed him. “Take care. I’ll see you soon.”

She nodded and sniffed, holding her head high again, the bloody tracks on her face looking horrifying in the dark light but Josh tried for a hopeful smile. She waved and then she was gone, disappearing into the dark and empty night. Jake must have taught her his trick.

She’s not sure what made her decide what she did next. But she was a little drunk and confused and dejected and needy for attention. Rori was asleep on her hardwood floor when she walked in the door, dead to the world till the sun came up hours from now. So after 30 seconds in the empty silent apartment she turned back around, leaving again.

to be continued

taglist: @ofthecaravel @gretavanfreaky @sinarainbows @jaketlove @mysticalstarcatcher @whiterosekiszka @sacredjake @beingextraisfun @malany-gvf @joshysgirl

64 notes · View notes

errythinisblue · 1 year

Text

Baby steps.

Ruben Loftus Cheek x Y/N

Summary: You and Ruben have been friend from quite a long time, what if some feelings change betweenthe two of you?

Warnings: SMUT. (Oh and it’s awfully long, I’m sorry! Blame it on John Legend’s song!)

gif credits to @mercedesjpg

“Hey, wait for me!” you heard Ruben shout, as he jogged towards you in the parking lot.

“Jeez Rubes!” you jumped out of your skin, immediately turning to face him, “I swear you’re gonna give me a heart attack sooner or later!”

“My bad, it wasn’t intentional…” he sheepishly said as he came to a halt, standing in front of you, or better towering over you, “It’s just, I haven’t seen you all day and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” he admitted, as he looked strangely nervous while he adjusted his sports bag on his shoulder.

His words made your heart flip, but you quickly tried to dismiss the feeling. It wasn’t unusual for Ruben to show how much he cared for you, as a friend of course, so why were you reacting like this now?

Surely, you two grew pretty close right from your very first day here at Cobham. That was almost two years ago, and you could easily say that he was the closest friend you had in your workplace ever since, meaning that during all this time he saw you at your highest, and even at your lowest. But that was it, you were friends and nothing more.

Yet, something changed in the way you looked at him and it’s been like this for a while.

“I am,” you told him, sighing, “it’s been a long day… nothing a couple glasses of wine can’t fix though…”

“That bad?” he chuckled as he walked by your side as you approached your cars.

“Yep. For a second, I was afraid today was never gonna end, I swear!” his laugh was adorable, and oh so infectious that it had you smiling in a heartbeat, “I had a lot of projects to work on, and the hours seemed to go by so slowly! I’m exhausted.” you groaned.

“I can see that…” he whispered in your ear, bumping his arm against yours, “…you definitely look the part!”

“Why thank you sir!” you faked being shocked for a second, stopping in your tracks as you crossed your arms, “Way to add insult to injury!”

“Okay okay, I’m sorry, I was joking!” he giggled as he raised his hands in the air in surrender.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling merciful,” you told him as you playfully rolled your eyes, “I’m gonna let you off the hook this time.” you added as you smiled at him.

“Damn, I really am lucky!” he chuckled as his dark brown eyes stared into yours just that little bit longer than usual; his stare so intense it burnt straight into you, right before he lowered it to the ground. “Uhm, anyway, I wanted to see you because I needed to ask you something…”

You loved this never ending, playful bickering between the two of you, but this time something was different. Ruben seemed different, and you didn’t know if he actually was or if you were so tired you were seeing things that didn’t exist.

“Well, take advantage of the mercy I’m showing you and ask away!”

Ruben’s heart picked up its pace as he looked into your eyes, the way they shone in the sunset light was making him unable to think straight. After almost two years of pining over you he finally worked up the courage to ask you out, but now that he was standing right in front of you the only thing he wanted to do was kiss you. In his mind, it was the easiest way to show you his feelings, but it took everything in him not to do so as he wanted to do everything right.

“You know it’s match day tomorrow so I’m not really allowed to do anything crazy,” he started, “but since we didn’t have the chance to see each other today, I was thinking you could come to mine… we could watch a movie and eat something together, like we always do… we could, like, make up for lost time if you want to…” he almost stuttered as he waited for your answer.

“Are you asking me on a date??” you couldn’t resist the urge to tease him a little even this time. Your game quickly backfired though, as you didn’t expect him to answer the way he did.

“Well… it’s a date, if you want it to be.”

Your heart stopped in your chest, before it started hammering again.

Was he for real? He must be, you thought as you snapped out of your trance-like state. You knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, not after he knew how badly things ended up with your ex a little over a year ago. He knew how bad that break up was for you, that’s when he saw you at your lowest indeed.

And that’s the reason why you knew you could trust him. You trusted him with your life by now, so you decided to trust him even more with this “date” thing and give him a chance.

“Baby steps Rubes,” you softly smiled at him, before you stood on your toes to press a kiss on his cheek, “but I’ll be there at 7. It’s a date.”

As he finished preparing some snacks and drinks on the coffee table, without forgetting a bottle of red wine and two glasses, Ruben heard the doorbell ring.

“Hey, you’re here…” Ruben greeted you with a hug as soon as he opened the door.

“Hey,” you relished in the feeling of warmth radiating from his body, humming as you inhaled his already familiar scent, “I’m sorry I’m a little late but I stopped on my way here to buy some cupcakes, you know-”

“I know what you like to have after a long day at work… alcohol and something sweet, I know.” he chuckled as he moved to the side to let you in, “Give them to me, I’m gonna put them in the kitchen while you make yourself at home.”

“Such a gentleman!” you joked as you gave him the cupcakes, right before you hung your coat on the coat rack and left your shoes by the door.

“I’m always a gentleman.” Ruben answered you as he saw you approaching him in the kitchen, “The sweater you’re wearing kinda proves my point.” he said as he pointed at your top.

“True.” you smiled, blushing under his gaze. You watched his eyes move up and down your body: you wore black leggings, white Nike socks and one of the many Adidas hoodies you borrowed from him but never returned, “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

“We should definitely start with cooking something for dinner,” he said as he leaned his lower back against the counter, “do you fancy anything in particular?”

“What are you gonna eat?” you asked him, perfectly aware of the strict diet he was supposed to be on before a game; but asking him questions was a good enough distraction from your thoughts: he looked good enough to eat with a pair of black Adidas shorts and a matching sweater that hugged his body in the most perfect way.

“No carbs for me tonight,” he shrugged, “I’m gonna have some meat and veggies but I can cook anything you’d like.”

“I’m okay with meat and veggies too,” you stopped him, “it’s okay really, don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am,” you assured him as you walked to the fridge right behind him, trying not to drool over his broad back too much, “Rubes where’s-”

“The wine’s on the coffee table…” he winked at you after he saw you examine every surface of his kitchen out of the corner of his eye.

“Is it that easy to read my mind?!” you exclaimed as you immediately made your way to the living area, making Ruben laugh at your antics.

A delicious dinner and a few glasses of wine later, it was finally time for the movie to start.

“What is this??” Ruben whined, already starting to regret his decision to let you choose what you were going to watch.

“Don’t judge me.” you pointed your finger at him, “I love ‘Think like a man’! And since it’s one of my comfort movies we’re gonna watch this. End of discussion.”

“Okay okay,” he started the movie as he moved closer to you on his sofa, “Let’s see what this is about…” he said before he grabbed some popcorn from the bowl you were so jealously guarding on your legs.

“Hey!” you protested, “These are for me!”

“Who said that??”

“You said that,” you pouted, “You told me you prepared all of this for me!”

“So what if I want some?”

“Oh now you want some??” you smirked, grabbing a handful of popcorn and placing it directly over his mouth, “Then have some!”

Ruben couldn’t laugh even if he wanted to as his mouth was so full with popcorn he couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t help but laugh at him as you looked at the faces he was pulling. The fear of the date disappeared, as in his eyes you could see he was the same Ruben as always, nothing had changed. And the fact that you were acting like the dorks you’ve always been was a pretty big proof of that.

“You know the movie’s playing right?” he asked you, once he could speak again. He was looking straight in front of him, his eyes fixed on the screen; but then he took the chance to steal a glance at you all the same.

“I know, you smartass.”

“Then why are you still looking at me?” he smirked.

“I just want to make sure you’re enjoying the movie.”

“I’m enjoying something else at the moment..” he took your hand in his as he looked at you, and you instinctively scooted closer to him.

“And what is it?”

“I’m enjoying your company.” he simply stated.

“Are you?” you were almost out of air, but your face inched closer to Ruben’s all the same, until you could feel his breath against your lips.

“I am, but what about baby steps?”

“A kiss is a risk I’m willing to take…” you smiled before you pressed your mouth against his, while his arm circled your waist as your lips moulded together.

When you parted your lips from Ruben’s, he pecked your cheek sweetly.

“Perfect.” you murmured against his lips, “I had my dose of alcohol and now I had something sweet too…”

“You’re so cheesy!” Ruben laughed out loud, as his pearly whites and the dimples on his cheeks were on full display, and you couldn’t help but be enchanted by them. He then wrapped his right arm around your shoulders, “Come on, let's watch this movie now…” he added, holding you tightly against his toned body and letting his left hand rest on your thigh.

You didn’t know if it was because of the wine, because you finally had a taste of him, or because of the movie’s soundtrack; but being this close to Ruben in that moment was making your head spin.

Sure enough, John Legend’s song “Tonight” was playing in your favourite movie scene, and God only knows how many times that song made you think about Ruben in the dirtiest of ways. That must have been the reason why you were feeling restless, and like you were short of breath.

Ruben noticed you shifting, and held you closer, trying to mask the fact that he too was on fire on the inside. He turned his head to peck your head that was resting on his shoulder, but as he slowly did so you raised your head to look at him.

“Uhm, do you like the movie then?” you asked as you cleared your throat.

“Yeah, yeah I do…” he said as he couldn’t decide whether to look at your lips or in your eyes, those eyes that looked darker all of a sudden.

“Great…” you breathed, licking your lips afterwards, “I’m happy you like it…” you continued before you pressed a kiss to his cheek, letting your lips linger on his skin just that little bit longer.

But as soon as your lips detached from his bearded cheek, Ruben slowly turned around to look at you. His eyes were fixed on your mouth, and yours were doing the same as his full lips were calling you in, inviting you to have a taste once again.

It only took another look in your eyes, before the hand on your thigh tightened its hold, betraying his feelings right before he kissed you this time. His kiss was slow, he was savouring you, testing the waters. But he was always paying attention to you and your body language. He wanted tonight to be perfect, and if “baby steps” was what you wanted, he would gladly give you that.

“Is this okay?” he asked you as his left hand moved to the side of your neck, while his right one was on your left hip.

You didn’t answer his question, you just nodded your head as your mind was too clouded by your lusty thoughts. The fact that he was the one kissing you this time gave you the little extra courage you’d need to kiss him back and deepen the kiss.

Ruben was taken aback by your actions, his mouth agape as he watched how you straddled his hips.

His hands immediately went to your waist as your mouth found his once again. A soft moan escaped your lips as you felt his grip on you strengthen, and you rolled your hips over his out of instinct.

“Fuck Y/N…” Ruben panted as he grabbed your face in his hands, he looked straight into your eyes as he tried to distract himself from the situation that was making his shorts tighten dangerously “…what about baby steps?” he asked you as his thumbs stroked your flushed cheeks.

“I want you Rubes…” you whimpered, already feeling him getting hard under you.

“I want you too,” he said, shutting his eyes tightly as your lips kissed the side of his broad neck, “I just want to make sure you’re okay with this…”

“I was wrong, I don’t want baby steps… not with you.” your voice came out as a whisper as you looked into his brown orbs; he relaxed under your touch as you ran your hands on his chest, and around his neck, “I want everything with you, I want you, all of you…”

“Are you sure about this? I’ll never let you go once I make you mine…” Ruben’s voice was deeper than usual, so deep it had your willpower crumble completely, it was then you were sure you would have done whatever this man wanted you to do.

“Good. Because I don’t want you to.” you said as you stood from his lap, sliding your leggings down your legs and leaving your body in just a matching Calvin Klein set.

“Come here.” he rasped as he grabbed you by the back of your thighs and pulled you down to straddle him again. His lips found yours in the blink of an eye, like he kissed you for his whole life and not just for the third time that night. But this time his kiss was hungry, he was hungry for you. This time he didn’t stop the roll of your hips, quite the opposite as he helped it with his hands.

The warmth radiating from his touch made you shiver; and seeing the effect his touch had on you only spurred Ruben on, so his hands slowly travelled up to your breast. His touch was soft over your bra, so delicate yet so possessive it had your head roll back.

“You’re so fucking beautiful babe…” Ruben said as he looked at you on top of him, “So fucking beautiful.”

“Babe?” you smiled down at him, “Pet names already? ‘What about baby steps?’” you asked, mocking him.

“I think we already threw them out of the window.” he smirked at you, as his thumbs stroked the smooth skin on your hips.

“Did we?”

“Oh yeah we did…” he breathed, sitting up and sliding his hands from your back to your bum; he closed the space between your bodies even more and let you feel the effect you were having on him once again, “…I’m so glad we did.”

“Less talking, babe.” you told him, as you started to undress him from his sweater.

He didn’t need to hear any more words, as he quickly changed your positions, placing himself on top of you without letting you go, without separating your bodies at all. And he kissed you, you could feel his lips everywhere on your upper body: from your lips, to your cheeks, to your neck and collarbones.

“Ruben…” you sighed, running your nails at the base of his neck. As you moved your touch to his shoulders, you groaned at the feeling of his muscles tensing under your touch.

“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted this…” he stated as he removed his body from yours just to remove his shorts, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“I’m right here…” were the only words you were able to say, as your brain was fogged with the image of his sculpted body, “…come here.”

“Not before I let you out of these…” he smirked down at you as his fingers tugged at your panties.

“Ruben…” you breathed as you felt his fingers move to your inner thighs, before he slowly removed your underwear.

“What is it?” he stopped his movements to look you in the eyes, as he threw your panties somewhere on the floor before he started leaving kisses on your neck once again.

“I want you, please…” you raised your hips, rubbing against his still clothed crotch and earning a soft moan from him, “Please.” you pleaded again, directly placing your hand on his cock and whimpering at how big he felt under your touch.

“Do you?” he hissed, already feeling inebriated by your touch, “Let me see…”

His lips trailed from the sensitive spot below your ear, to your chest. As he made his way down, his hands made quick work of removing your bra before he placed his big palms over your breasts. He took his time to caress them, while his lips kissed the soft skin of your stomach, going lower, getting closer and closer to where you needed him the most.

“Stay.” he rasped as soon as he noticed the way you moved your hips to match his kisses on your body, before he stopped your movements with his own two hands.

He was licking his lips as he stared down at you: your naked body sprawled out on his sofa, your soft pants and the way your chest rose and fell, the way your hooded eyes showed your desire for him were driving him crazy.

“You’re making me go insane babe…” he breathed, murmuring a low “fuck” then as he could feel his cock twitch in his boxers at the mere sight of you.

He couldn’t wait any longer to have you, so he removed the last piece of clothing from his perfect body in a haste; he stood naked in front of you, and you couldn’t help but moan at the sight of perfection in front of your eyes.

“Let me taste you.” he rasped, “Please.” he begged as he kissed up your inner thigh, softly biting your skin here and there.

“Fuck Rubes…” you whined, already feeling lightheaded, “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t need to hear anything else, as he moved his face higher and higher, until he started eating you out slowly, gently, lovingly. You knew he was passionate and caring, yet you only knew that as a friend. Knowing that as a lover was a completely different matter.

His tongue worked wonders on your sensitive skin, but he wasn’t rushing anything; he was taking his time to taste you, to make you feel good, and while doing so he always kept his eyes on your face.

“Oh my God babe,” you panted, as the look in his dark eyes was making your head spin, “you’re gonna make me cum if you keep this up…”

“Is it bad if I make you cum?” he asked, kissing up your body as he was laying between your legs in a second.

“Of course it’s not,” you said before you bit on his lower lip this time, “but I wanna cum with you inside me.”

As you took him completely by surprise, you pushed him, making him sit back on the sofa, and ended up on top of him. It wasn’t like you not to return the favour, so you started kissing him, and slowly descended down his sculpted chest while pressing kisses on his toned body.

Ruben was squirming under your kisses, as he was already desperate to be inside you. But he’d have to wait as you had other plans, and he soon understood what you had in mind, as soon as he watched you kneel between his parted thighs.

“Fuck babe…” he hissed as he saw the way your hand wrapped around his dick.

“Shh…” you pressed your lips on his inner thigh, making him moan, “I wanna make you feel good.” you were the one to lock your eyes on his this time, as you took him in your mouth.

“Oh God…” he breathed, “You’ll be the death of me.”

You batted your eyes at him, and he had to close his eyes as he swore. Many times he thought about you in the dirtiest way; now, seeing you like this, with his dick in your mouth, was making him doubt his willpower, his strength, as he was sure that if he looked at you one more time he was going to cum straight away.

“Come here, I need you.” he growled, as he removed himself from your mouth, helping you sit directly over his hips, “Do we need any protection?”

“There’s no need for that,” you told him, “I’m on the pill, and I’m clean so…”

“Fuck, I was hoping you would say that,” he smiled up at you, “I’m clean too, so…”

“So…” you breathed as you took his cock in your hand and guided him to your entrance. He moved his hips upwards, pushing himself inside of you completely with a slow, deep thrust.

“God, you’re amazing, you look stunning on top of me.” he moaned in your ear, as he let you adjust to his size.

“Fuck baby you’re so deep…” you whimpered as you slowly started to ride him, already clenching down on him as you were still sensitive from earlier’s ministrations.

“I am love,” he groaned, guiding your movements with his hands, “you’re taking me so well, fuck…”

“Fuck Rubes, I want more…”

The movie was long forgotten by now, it only played in the background, overshadowed by your soft moans and heavy breathing.

“You want more?” he asked and you yelped as Ruben suddenly stood with you in his arms, before he laid you down on his sofa, slamming his dick into your wet core once again, forcefully this time. “Is this more?”

“Fuck yes!” you moaned out loud as you could feel your body burning under Ruben’s powerful thrusts, “Oh my God Ruben!”

“You know I’m never gonna let you go right?” he asked you, his voice strained both from the effort and his self control.

“Yes Rubes, fuck yes…” you panted, your high already making your skin tingle.

“You’re mine now.” he said as he gave a hard thrust, as if he wanted to make sure you’d understand, “Mine, all mine.”

“All yours!” you whined, running your nails down his back as he hissed, increasing the rhythm of his hips.

“God, you love it like this don’t you?” Ruben growled as he could feel how close you were to your high.

“I love it, oh fuck Rubes I love you even more…” you panted, panicking for a second upon hearing your own words, “I’m so, so close!”

“Fuck baby, I love you too,” Ruben smiled down at you, dissolving your panic in a second as he pressed his lips to yours, “Cum for me now, you’ve done so well baby…”

“I want you to cum with me, please…” you begged him, touching his face and running your nails through his beard as you looked deep into his brown eyes, “Please…”

“I’m right here with you love,” he said out of breath, as he ran his hand up your outer thigh while he pushed faster and faster into you, “Cum with me baby, let me hear you…”

“Fuck Ruben!” you shook under his thrusts, it was like jolts of electricity ran through every inch of your body, sending you over the edge as you came around him.

It didn’t take long for him to reach his own high, triggered by the sight of you coming undone right below him. Of course after that he was fully spent, both your intense working days were catching up with you as you just laid there in each other’s embrace.

“When I said I love you earlier, I meant it…” Ruben mumbled against your sweaty skin, “You didn’t scare me away if it is what you’re thinking…”

“How did you know I was panicking?? What is it with you and always reading me like an open book??” you giggled, as your nails gently scratched the back of his head that was currently resting on your still naked chest, “By the way, I know you meant it, I just panicked because it came out unexpectedly I guess.” you admitted as you heard him chuckle.

“But you do mean it?” he snapped his head up to look at you.

“Of course I do, I love you, you dork!” you giggled as you watched his features relax while he sighed in relief.

“Good.” he stated, wrapping his arms around you so tight you couldn’t breathe, “Because I’m not letting you go.”

“Rubes, I have to go and clean myself up!” you laughed at his sudden clingyness.

“Okay okay…” he sighed, letting you go and watching as you wore his sweater instead of the hoodie you had on earlier, that was always his but that was irrelevant.

He too got up from his spot on the sofa and put his boxers back on, before he started rearranging the room a bit as he waited for you.

“Hey, do you want something from the kitchen? I think I’m gonna eat a cupcake…” you pondered while you walked back to the living room.

“What?” he frowned, “I thought I was your sweet treat!”

“Who said that??”

“You said that!” he was pouting like a kid now, and you swore that was the sweetest thing you ever saw.

“Aw baby, of course you are sweet,” you reassured him, walking to him and standing on your toes to kiss him deeply, “but you’re not a cupcake.”

“That’s mean!”

“What can I say, Rubes?” you shrugged, and as you walked to the kitchen you winked at him over your shoulder, “A girl has her needs!”

171 notes · View notes

am-i-obsessed---maybe · 5 months

Note

hello!!! sosoosososo sw rebels. gn reader and ezra and reader have a sibling relationship. in my mind its like zeb and ezra but tamer .. if you can somehow fit hurt/comfort into the story thatd be fun!!! but ty for reading and doing this request if you do!!! 🫶🫶

I don't know if this is tamer than Ezra and Zeb but it's kinda like a mashup of Ezra and Zeb and Ezra and Sabine. That being said be ready for my favorite Star Wars ship and the parents of the Ghost family to be very good parents.

Also Hera's voice actress also voices Black Canary on Young Justice and between this and the Shadow Of A Bluejay series I think you can tell I want her to be my mom.

Am I slightly projecting? Is the reader Autistic coded? Who knows but I found myself projecting my own communication issues on Mandalorians so...

Platonic Ezra Bridger x Mandolorian!Reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

Masterlist

"Y/N"...

The doors to your room opened but you didn't look up, you were after all very comfortable on your top bunk polishing your blaster.

"You know one micro movement and I can splatter your insides on that wall right?" You asked, still not looking up from your blaster.

"You wouldn't do that" Ezra said confidently.

"I might not mean to, seeing as you keep coming in here without knocking" You told the slightly younger boy. He rolled his eyes.

"I was calling your name" Ezra said.

"And I wasn't listening" You replied.

"Well that's not my fault" He said.

"What do you want anyway shorty?" You asked and that got to him.

"We are the same height!" He exclaimed.

"No we're not" You said calmly.

"It is by half a centimeter, it's the same height" He insisted.

"No. It's not" You reiterated.

"You know what, forget it" Ezra said, storming out of your room.

"Oh come on, you know I'm joking" You said, finally putting the blaster away and going after Ezra.

It had only been a few months since the kid joined, maybe you were a bit too comfortable with your teasing but you thought it was a game.

"Ezra come back here!" You yelled after the little streak of blue hair you saw running out of the open hull of the Ghost.

"What's going on here exactly?" Hera asked, she'd heard yelling and saw Ezra run off.

"He just ran off!" You told her but she raised a brow in question.

"Okay, maybe there was some teasing but he came into my room without knocking. That's against the rules" You told her.

"You gotta let up on him, he's not used to... well to you yet. And you can be a lot sometimes kid" She said. You supposed she was right. She was far from the first person to tell you that.

Still you looked out at the direction that Ezra ran to. You were parked by a mountain with some caves on Lothal, decently far from any major cities and very much in the middle of nowhere so he had to come back sooner or later... right?

Later came and he still wasn't back. It was getting closer to sunset and you were getting worried.

"He'll be back before sundown, don't worry so much" Kanan told you as you paced the hull of the Ghost. He still wasn't back. He must have been really mad at you.

You grumbled, "I didn't mean to upset him so much, really I— I just—"

"Hey" Kanan said, lightly shaking your shoulder, "He'll come back and you'll tell him just that." he said.

Do you really think he'll come back?" You asked.

"It's not like he'd spend the night in a cave" Kanan said. Well nighttime rolled in and Ezra still wasn't back.

"That's it. I'm going to find him" You said, grabbing a flashlight and walking out.

"Aren't you going to stop them?" Zeb asked but Kanan just shrugged.

"They're big kids, they'll figure this out themselves" He said, "Besides when was the last time it was this quiet on here?" He asked, kicking back and laying his feet on the holotable.

Chopper beeped sassily.

"Yeah well no one asked for your opinions chop" Kanan retorted.

You started by going in the direction you saw Ezra run in hours ago but it's been so long he could practically be anywhere.

"Ezra!" You called out.

"Ezra! It's me! Can you please come back?" You yelled out into the mountains and heard it echoing back.

"Great" You grumbled. You kept walking, the flashlight and the stars being the only ones lighting your way.

You eventually found Ezra, sitting in the entrance of a shallow cave carved into one of the mountains.

"Ezra?" You asked and he scooted away from you.

"What do you want?" He asked and you stopped. Every step closer to him you took he kept scooting away on the floor of the cave.

"It's dark..." You said, trailing off.

"Yeah, and what do you care?" He asked.

"Well you weren't back and everyone was worried" You answered.

"So where's everyone else?" He asked.

"Well..."

"Just leave me alone." He said.

"Look, I get it, your mad at me and maybe a crossed a line but can you please just come back to the Ghost? It's dangerous out here" You tried to tell him.

"I'm fine. I made it out here all on my own before and I can do it again" Ezra said.

"Yeah but you don't have to. Come on Ezra, let's just go home and—"

"The Ghost is not my home!" He yelled and it echoed through the cave.

"Ezra"

"I get it, you don't like me, you don't have to pretend. Just go away and leave me alone" Ezra said, turning his back to you.

"You know what? Fine! Die alone in a cave for all I care, I'm going back to the Ghost! You do whatever you want" You said and stormed off.

When you came back to the Ghost alone Kanan looked a bit worried.

"You didn't find him?" He asked.

"Oh I found him but if he wants to be a jerk he can be a jerk in a cave." You said, walking past him and straight back to your room.

Hera, who had been sitting beside Kanan looked at him.

"Do you wanna take the moody teenager or the runaway kid?" She asked and Kanan sighed.

"I'll take the kid" He said and went out to find Ezra meanwhile Hera went to knock on your door.

It didn't take Kanan long to find Ezra, still holed up in the cave where you found him, throwing pebbles at the walls of the cave in frustration and grumbling to himself.

"Hey" Kanan said.

"Hey" Ezra replied and Kanan took a seat on the ground o the cave.

"You had us a bit worried back there" Kanan said.

"Yeah well I only go where I'm wanted." Ezra said.

"We want you on the Ghost. You know that" Kanan told him.

"Y/N obviously doesn't" The boy replied.

"Sit down" Kanan told him and Ezra turned around.

"What for?" He asked.

"Just do it" Kanan said and Ezra eventually did, sitting down beside the older Jedi.

"Why do you think Y/N doesn't want you around?" Kanan asked his padawan.

"Cause" Ezra replied.

"Cause what?" Kanan asked.

"Cause they're always such a jerk. I mean, I just wanted to ask if they wanted to hang out and they were—" "Being Y/N?" Kanan asked.

"Well yeah" Ezra replied.

"Listen, I'm gonna tell you something but you have to promise not to tell anyone I told you" Kanan said.

"Why?" Ezra asked.

"Cause if Y/N found out I told you they'd have my head" Kanan replied humorously before clearing his throat a bit.

"Y/N's a bit rougher around the edges than the rest of us, well except maybe Chopper" Kanan began.

"You're telling me" Ezra grumbled.

"But there's a good reason for it. They lost everything when they were really young and the Empire took over Mandalore." Kanan explained, "They survived by being tough. By not showing any weakness and the verbal sparring just came along naturally"

"So they're trying to show me they're tough?" Ezra asked.

"No, they're showing you that they think you're tough and that they care about you" Kanan explained.

"They don't talk that way to people they aren't close to or that they think are weak. And sometimes they take it too far but if anything that's because they think you can take it" He continued.

"So what? All those things are jokes to him? Cause they're not funny" Ezra told him.

"Then tell them that." Kanan told Ezra.

Meanwhile on the Ghost Hera knocked on your door.

"Y/N? May I come in?" She asked.

"Don't bother" You told her but the door still opened and Hera still came in.

"Kanan went to go get Ezra" She said.

"Good for him" You grumbled.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" Hera asked and you sighed.

"He hates me" You told her.

"Ezra doesn't hate you, he's upset but he doesn't hate you" Hera said. climbing up to sit beside you on your bunk.

"Yes he does. I went too far again and he hates me" You told her and she sighed.

Ezra didn't reply, he stared off into the dark sky outside the cave.

"They went looking for you when you didn't come back. They didn't mean to go too far" Kanan told Ezra, "And sometimes Y/N doesn't always know how far to take it but trust me kid, they care about you. Heck, they care about you enough to go after you and bring you back. That's not nothing"

"Yeah, I guess" Ezra relented.

"And you care about them too" Kanan said, "Otherwise this wouldn't have bothered you so much so come on, let's get back home"

"Yeah, alright" Ezra relented.

When Kanan and Ezra got back you were awkwardly sitting beside Hera on the couch in the Ghost's lounge. Ezra didn't look particularly confident either as he walked in with Kanan.

...

"Hey" You said after a decently long silence.

"Hi" Ezra Ezra replied.

Kanan and Hera looked at each other. "Alright, we'll be in the cockpit if you need anything" Hera said, dragging Kanan along with her.

"So..." You said and Ezra took a seat beside you.

"Yeah" He said.

"I'm sorry" You both said at the same time and you chuckled.

"I didn't mean to go overboard on the teasing" You said.

"And I didn't mean to be so mean in the cave" He said.

"It's fine, I kind of deserved it. Besides I didn't actually want you to die alone in a cave" You told him.

"You know we're kind of like the siblings in this weird crew" Ezra told you.

"I've never had a younger sibling sibling before" You told him.

"And I've never had an older sibling before" Ezra said.

"So, siblings?" You asked and put your hand out.

"Siblings" Ezra agreed and shook your hand.

#gn reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #star wars #ezra bridger #ezra bridger x reader #platonic #the ghost crew x reader #kanan jarrus x hera syndula #hera syndulla #kanan jarrus #hera and kanan are such parents #sibling behavior but make it we actually haven't lived together our whole lives #possibly autistic reader #is this autist?#at this point I am questioning myself so much

30 notes · View notes

mackeydoodledoo · 2 years

Text

What I’ve Always Wanted

Pairing: (Human) Rosalie Hale x (Vampire Wife!)Reader

Original Request: Hi could you pleaaaaasee do a Rosalie Hale x wife reader were reader get's Rosalie pregnant

Summary: Rosalie Hale wanted a child for the longest time. But, she worried that her martial status to a vampire would end up conceiving an immortal child... But, maybe her human status would also conceive a hybrid or a full human.

Warnings: NSFW

Key: Italics = Thoughts, +*+ = Time Skip

Theme: Only Want You - Rita Ora [Marina Diamandis Cover]

A/n: Okay, I have a dilemma: Vampires in Twilight physically cannot conceive a child, so I decided to make this one a roles reversed kind of scenario, but an AU from my “Bear the Pain” story

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

Rosalie walks into the house you were both renting out for quite some time: to get away from the rest of. the Cullens. She finds you at the kitchen, cleaning the dishes and utensils used to make dinner.

“Hey you,” Rosalie smiles, wrapping her arms around your freezing midsection

“Hey Rosie,” You smile, turning to her to place a kiss on her lips, “How was the stroll?”

“It was refreshing,” She says, “Sunset was beautiful... But, it was boring... You should have joined me for it...”

She was right, you did feel bad that you declined on joining her in the sunset stroll. But something in you fought against the idea.

“Maybe another time,” You smile, leaning in to kiss her again

Once you cleaned up the dishes you had used and begin making your way up the stairs to go read.

“Where are you going?” She asks

“To read,” You say, “Feel free to join me if you want...”

You weren’t sure how long your nose was in the book until you felt silk-smooth hands run underneath your shirt. Your arm curls underneath Rosalie as she curls up to your side.

“You were curled up in here the last couple of hours,” Rosalie sighs, nestling against your shoulder

“It’s a good book,” You finally break away from the tiny book text to look down at your blonde wife

“Better than spending time with your wife then?” Rosalie pouts

You could hear it in her voice.

“No, I didn’t say that,” You chuckle, “You never came up here to drag me away from the book. I also said if you wanted to join me you could have.”

You place the bookmark in its spot and shut the book, reaching over Rosalie to place it on the nightstand. Just as you were about to readjust yourself onto the best, Rosalie curls both her arms around your midsection and locks her fingers together; pressing your body right on top of hers.

“What are you doing Rosie?” You jokingly sigh

When you look down at her, she gives you an alluring lip bite; tempting you to bite it for her. You take one of your hands and trace Rosalie’s cheek with it as you lean your face closer to hers. At first you place a gentle kiss upon her lips, but began to get heated one kiss right after another. Your hands explore Rosalie’s body as you both adjust around the bed.

“Do-do you want... to?” Rosalie asks

“Are you sure?” You ask

She nods, “I’m sure... I’m sure that I want you... All of you...”

“Not sure how much ‘all of me’ you can get,” You joke, chuckling

“As long as it’s you,” She smiles

Rosalie was human, you were a Vampire. Let alone the both of you were females.

“Wanting a kid... With me... A vampire... Are you sure?” You ask

You never sought it to be possible to impregnate a human with Venom-turned-to sperm with the help of Carlisle.

“It’s what I’ve always wanted,” Rosalie states

You smile, beginning to insert the sperm into a strap. You look over and notice Rosalie already stripping her clothing away.

“Hey hey,” You stop her, “That’s my job...”

Rosalie giggles as she patiently waits for you to finish setting yourself up. Just before you could begin stripping your clothing away, Rosalie gets up.

“Allow me,” Rosalie smiles

“A little impatient are we?” You ask, smirking

“I can’t help it,” She smiles

You allow her to strip you down anyways as you put the strap on. Rosalie looks up at you as you adjust your straps.

“Are you sure about this?” You ask again, “There’s still time to-”

“Yes I’m sure,” She answers before you could finish, “Be as rough with me as you want...”

“Slow down Rosalie,” You say, tucking your knee between her thighs

You press your hands on the bed between Rosalie, slowly closing the distance between the both of you.

“Now, I can’t go full on,” You say, “My strength alone could hurt you in a way you’d end up going into the hospital... Now you... On the other hand, you can hurt me all you want, scratch me, bruise me up... It won’t be a big affect on me.”

Rosalie presses her palms against your cheeks as she drags your face to hers, catching your lips in a searing, passionate kiss. She leans back, hitting the bedsheets with you on top of her. You felt her arm hands brush underneath your shirt as she runs her hands higher up your shirt, firmly grasping at your breasts. A growl escapes your lips as you help her remove your bra. You discard it off to somewhere along the floor as you pull away.

“What now?” Rosalie pouts

“Oh don’t give me that, I’m merely prepping to put a baby in you,” You smirk, walking over to the nightstand, applying lubrication to your fake dick

You don’t break eye contact with Rosalie as you stroke the silicone rod as you walk back over to the position you were in not even two minutes ago.

“Are you ready?” You ask her, hovering the strap over her already dripping entrance

She nods as you slowly thrust your hips forward. You hear Rosalie squeal as she digs her nails into your back.

“Are you okay?” You ask

“Y-yeah...” She takes a deep breath

“I’m going to go slow okay?” You tell her

She nods as she whimpers with every slow thrust. You felt her legs lift to hoist them over your hipline. Her whimpers became louder as soon as she rested them.

“Faster,” She whispers into your ear

You look down at her as she opens her eyes and looks up at you.

“Did I stutter?” She asks, digging her nails into your shoulder

You chuckle, “You were very clear my lady.

You smirk as you firmly grasp her ass as you adjust your legs. You thrust again however, it was slowly pacing faster with every thrust until you found your rhythm. Rosalie brings your upper body down to rest on top of hers as her moans become louder.

“Y/n...” She moans, “Come in me...”

You smile as you kiss her whilst still screwing her to oblivion.

“God Y/n I’m gonna come...” She moans into your ear

“Come baby,” You kiss her again

She claws at your back as you use one hand to reach over to the syringe and press the plunger; secreting the venom-made sperm into her system. You growl as she scratches at your back, reaching her climax.

“I love you,” Rosalie smiles, slowly coming down from her high

“I love you too,” You smile back, closing the gap between your faces, catching her lips in a slow, tender kiss

+*+

The both of you returned to the Cullens estate after taking the entire week away. You were in the kitchen, fixing Rosalie something to eat. However, you hear rushing feet, you look up to see Rosalie rushing over to the sink; throwing up. You dropped everything that you were doing and rush over to her and hold her hair back.

“Hey hey Rosie are you okay?!” You ask her

She looks up at you and you freeze; her facial structure began deteriorating... She looked like she was a rose... Beginning to wither away.

“Carlisle!” You call out to him

You pick up Rosalie and begin to bring her into one of Carlisle’s makeshift operating rooms.

“The fetus is draining her energy levels,” Carlisle notices, “The fetus-”

“Baby,” Rosalie corrects him

“The baby, is growing at a fast rate,” He adds, “She could give birth in the next couple days to weeks.”

“Is she going to live through this?...” You ask

“I don’t know,” He says

“We have to get some food into her system though...” Esme suggests

“I’ll try anything at this point...” Rosalie sighs

You and Esme attempt to fix up some food for Rosalie as she waits patiently on the couch, attempting to take deep breaths as she waits for anything you and Esme bring up for her.

“Hey, try this,” You come over with simple chicken noodle soup

You take the spoon and begin stirring the soup in order for the steam to let up. Without making a single spillage, Rosalie opens her mouth as you carefully put the spoon into her mouth.

“How was that?” You ask her

A trash bin is at your side in case Rosalie pukes. However, no such thing occurred after she had swallowed the broth.

“It’s good,” She smiles

You sigh in relief as you continue spoon feeding her soup.

+*+

Rosalie’s completion seemingly returned to normal after feeding her human food. Carlisle continued to do research and watch for the baby’s growth.

“Mysteriously, she's been getting a lot better...” Carlisle turns to you

He had been checking Rosalie weekly just to see for any changes to her health and appearance.

You were helping her get out of her day’s clothing to help her get into the shower; her baby bump was growing bigger.

“Join me?” Rosalie asks

“I gotta cook you up food,” You say, “Both you and the baby.”

“That can wait, I’m not that hungry anyway,” She says, “Plus, I just want you to be with me right now...”

You let out a relieved sigh as you reach over her shoulder to turn on the shower head. You help her strip down to her bare skin as the water begins heating up. Just as you remove your shirt, you felt water hit you in the back.

“H-hey!” You turn to Rosalie, feeling the uncomfortable feeling of your clothes and undergarments sticking to your skin

“Now you have to join me,” She smirks

“Sometimes I don’t know what to do with you,” You smile, stripping your now wet clothing

After fully stripping your under garments away, you take Rosalie’s hand as you lead her into the shower.

“I got you Rosie,” You say

Although you didn’t necessarily need the shoer, the heat was kind unbearable however, if it was for Rosalie, you were willing to bear the pain.

+*+

You were in the kitchen fixing ‘Rosalie another plate of food however, you hear something thump from upstairs.

“Esme, keep an eye on this,” You say

You rush up top where the thump was and see Rosalie on the bathroom floor, groaning in pain.

“I think the baby’s coming...” She groans

You fill the bathtub with warm water as you lift Rosalie into your arms, gently placing her into the filling tub.

“Carlisle!!” You call out to him

He rushes into the bathroom as you tell Rosalie to begin pushing...

“Smart thinking Y/n,” He praises you

“Save the praising for later, help her!” You panic

“I won’t be able to properly help her if you are panicking Y/n,” He calmly tells you

You attempt to compose yourself however, when Rosalie began pushing, you already smelled her incoming blood. You felt your eyes darken as well as your throat beginning to go dry.

“I’m sorry Rosalie,” You croak

You practically force yourself to leap onto your feet.

“Y/n...” Rosalie calls, while groaning in pain

She attempts top reach for your hand just before you could reach the door however, Carlisle holds her hand.

“It’s best that she steps out,” Carlisle says, “Just keep pushing...”

You sit outside the doorway, trying to keep your mouth and nose covered in an effort to contain your thirst for Rosalie’s blood in particular. Although your self-control was decent, however, when it came to Rosalie’s it was damn near impossible to keep your cool; when she lets out that amount of blood.

Even simply hearing her scream in pain made your ears seethe with pain; and yet you lost your pain receptors.

The both of you were suffering differently... However, the both of you were willing to go through the pain. Rosalie could have a child; like she’s always dreamed, You simply wanted to be there for her in any way you could, even if it was from a distance.

+*+

You sat with your knees pressed against your chest for awhile, even after Rosalie stopped screaming. You were still suffering from your internal fight for self-control so you didn’t to walk in and end up giving in to your primal needs.

“I’ve cleaned up as much as I could,” Carlisle explains, “She’s waiting for you.”

You stand from your spot and slowly make your way back into the bathroom; Rosalie lays in a newly made bath; a small child wrapped in a towel.

“We have a daughter,” She smiles

You could hear her heartbeat, and see the flush in her cheeks. she was Human. You slowly fall to your knees as you listen to your child’s internal structures. You were crying. Although you can’t produce tears, you knew you were deep down.

“Do you want to hold her?” Rosalie begins lifting her to you

You carefully take your new child into your arms, making sure to not accidentally injure her in any way.

So warm...

As you were carefully moving your baby’s hair out of her face, Rosalie reaches up to cup your face. Your head sinks down Ito her warm touch as you turn your head to kiss her palm,

“I’m sorry I left the room...” You sigh

“You were waiting right outside,” She says, “So you didn’t technically leave... I can’t imagine the pain you were going through while you waited...”

“And I can’t imagine the pain you were going through either...” You sigh once more

“What matters most is that we now have a family,” She smiles

“You’re right,” You sigh into a smile, still taking in the warmth of Rosalie’s hand, “Do we have a name for her yet?”

“I was thinking... Luna,” She looks up at you for approval

“Luna... Hale... I like it,” You smile, “Has a nice ring to it...”

+*+

Carlisle kept Rosalie bedridden for a few extra days to gain her strength back.

“What perplexed me is that how Luna developed fast like a hybrid but is... Human?” You tell Carlisle

“You are not the only one who is also perplexed by this,” He says

You decide to visit Rosalie upstairs, bringing her a snack. As you open the door, you see her reading a book. You crawl into bed as she unconsciously wraps her arm around you as you carefully lay on her side.

“I’m practically fully healed at this point love,” Rosalie smiles

“Still, you're pretty fragile,” You say

“It’s okay,” She says, “I wanted to feel you anyway.”

You smile as you slowly allow your body sink into Rosalie’s touch as she continues reading.

“So... Now that you’ve had your kid... With a vampire wife,” You begin, “Have you... thought about becoming... Immortal?...”

“I have,” She answers, not making eye contact with you

“And?...” You ask

You only asked because her life was definite; yours was the opposite.

“I want to watch our kid grow up first,” She says, “I don’t want her questioning how her moms aren’t aging but she is.”

“That’s... Understandable,” You say, sighing

Rosalie could tell the hurt in your voice. She puts a bookmark in-between the page she was on and pushes your back into the bed, topping you.

“But, that may come sooner than you think,” She smiles. “I know you don’t like the idea of losing me to my mortal life... I wouldn’t want to do that to you.”

“I’m not in a rush either,” You say

Rosalie cocks her eyebrow at you.

“Okay... Maybe a little,” You duckle

#Rosalie Hale #rosalie twilight #rosalie hale imagine #Rosalie Hale x Reader #female reader #twilight saga

309 notes · View notes

bridgetotheskyyy · 2 years

Text

Apprentice.

Summary: Deidara visits an old friend. Rating: 18+, smut Warnings: Stalking, psychological trauma/drama/abuse, violence, blood, abuse, implied dacryphilia, noncon, dubcon, panic attacks, insomnia, dark themes, darkfic Word count: 12k

They say how you meet someone is how they leave you. But, as you swallow the thick of your terror, you realize he might have never left.

“Oh gods,” your friend gawks, inching closer to the artwork. “Is this one of yours, (Y/n)? It’s amazing! I didn’t even know you did self-portraits!”

You do not answer her. Fear wraps around your throat like a physical hand. The sculpture is, without a doubt and objectively, beautiful; its ivory color stings your eyes. It is you in art form; from the precision of your knuckles to the accuracy of your eye shape; to the planes of your calves to the curves of your waist. The depiction is uncanny.

But it does not stop you from becoming delirious with dread.

Your friend raises a head to the sculpture. “How did you do it?” she asks with admiration.

As your friend draws closer to the piece, you back away, hyper-aware of your surroundings.

“… I didn’t.”

“Hm?”

A beat. Your friend faces you, curiosity raising her brow.

“Then …” her attention returns to the piece. “Who left this for you?” Then, she gasps, delighted. “Is it a gift? Do you have a secret admirer?”

You release a shuddering exhale. It is a long while before you breathe again.

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

You start calling him Deidara-sensei ironically at first, no matter how true it becomes later.

You hold up the tiny clay bird for his view. “What do you think of this, Deidara-sensei?”

He always scoffs at the honorific, but you know he likes it — he enjoys being admired.

Because that’s how it started, didn’t it? You had elbowed the group of kids laughing at Deidara’s work and defended him, told him how amazing his art was and expelled the other kids, told them to get away, fuckheads. You would never forget the light birthed in his eyes at your appreciation. But why? You couldn’t have been the first to tell him this?

… Right?

Deidara glances at your little bird — the shape meant to flatter him — made from the clay he allowed you to borrow. He scoffs at that now, leaning against the little nook on the rooftop.

“It’s all right — for a beginner, anyway,” he says.

You lower your offering to him, analyze your bird, hope deflated.

“What’s wrong with it?” you ask.

Deidara’s ringed gaze lingers on the novice sculpture. You follow his gaze; you certainly can’t tell what’s wrong with it — and perhaps that’s the experiential gap between your talent and his — with its fat little physique, its folded wings, now coming to glow in the dying sunset light of day, the detail of the feathers at the fringes of aforementioned wings. It seemed perfect to you.

You look back to Deidara — only to catch him gazing at you instead of your creation.

He turns promptly, huffing. “The head and body aren’t even proportioned,” Deidara rises a second finger like he is counting down the list of your offenses. “And the whole thing would tilt over if you weren’t holding it in your palms — amateur.”

You roll your eyes, hugging your utter monstrosity to your chest. “Geez. You don’t have to be so mean about it, Dei.”

“You said you wanted my help.”

“Still, You could’ve been nicer about it …”

A pause. Deidara leans against the railing of the rooftop with a sigh.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” Deidara says. “It’s good and all, it just needs work. You dedicate yourself to art for long enough, you learn that everything does. There’s no such thing as the perfect piece, but it can always be better. Never forget that.”

“Okay,” You say. “Understood.”

You let your bird settle on the ground — and, sure enough, the creature dips on its side, waddling to stillness.

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

“You seem excited.”

Deidara pauses. In retrospect, he should’ve known; his partner knows him too well, at this point, to not notice the tremble in his fingers, the rise of heat in his blood, in his veins.

When Pain greeted them that day with a new assignment, he had his share of offers, but Deidara usurped them all; Deidara was adamant to be the one to go, and their fierce leader had no objections — no one did, once there was time for consideration; the Stone Village was Deidara’s turf. No one knew it better.

He was going back to Iwakagure.

“Hm,” was all Deidara said at first, eyes and hands on the things essential for the trip. I already blew it — might as well not make him more suspicious. “It’s been a long time.”

“I would’ve thought you’d consider it a drag to go back,” Sasori says against the wall. “Scheduling a little detour while we’re there?”

“Is that any of your business?”

“No, I suppose not,” Sasori let the silence, the rhythmic drip, drip, drip, in the great cavernous space speak for him before adding, “I’ve just never seen you so … enthusiastic about our assignments. About anything really — except that damned art of yours. I wondered what was up.”

Deidara let the moment hang himself. Sasori wasn’t wrong — he was planning a detour. Several, in fact, if all went well. He narrowed his eyes at the wall as he felt Sasori’s gaze on his back.

Ah, what’s the trouble with letting him know.

“Well, You’re right, anyway,” Deidara said. “I do have something planned.”

“… Oh?”

“… Yeah,” Deidara said.

“… I wonder what?” Sasori replies in a tone that implies he very much wants detail.

Deidara raises to stand. He turned to face his partner. “There’s someone I need to see.”

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

You’re just so earnest about everything.

When he and you first become friends, everything he makes excites you. He’s not surprised when you come to him one day, asking for him to teach you how to do the whole “art thing,” as you call it. He has to teach you everything, which is both frustrating and oddly liberating; you know nothing about depth or the right utensils to use for what or negative space when he begins teaching you.

“Am I gonna have to teach you how to use a fucking pencil, too?” he quips one day, face-palming.

“You’re such an ass sometimes, Dei,” the insult sits between giggles.

“Draw one, why don’t you — oh, that’s right —“

That earns him an elbow in the stomach.

But, as much as Deidara complains about your lack of knowledge, it is more liberating than frustrating. It is almost like returning to the beginning himself, seeing art through virgin eyes. He falls in love with art twice as he introduces it to you.

As he falls in love with you.

His sessions with you are private, sacred. While you’re scribbling, following his aid with your pencil or the bareness of your hands, he studies you — he’s given an excuse to do so. He sees the intensity in your gaze as you shade or trace or highlight. The way your jaw works when you hit a snag, the way your fingers steady the paper or pinch or twist clay to accentuate detail, to create some kind of flair. You never even seem to notice how close he stands or sits or leans toward you. Sometimes he plays a game with himself: how close before you notice? Before you feel his breath on your skin. He’s ashamed to admit how much it turns him on to see it; someone who is as passionate as him at the very thing he loves most.

He’s struck by how beautiful you are. Art seeks art.

He appreciates it. He appreciates you. But he doesn’t tell you.

You become the highlight of his day, but he doesn't tell you that, either. Instead, he sends you back to the literal and figurative drawing board with more complaints, more "constructive criticism" so you'll seek the perfection he tells you doesn’t exist, so you’ll hunger for more.

Hunger for him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You know Deidara will come. It is only a matter of when.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You lower your tea cup, face the concern in your friend’s eyes.

“It’s nothing, just … just nightmares again.”

“So that’s it,” your friend says, hand gingerly caressing your back. “You definitely don’t look like you’ve been getting any sleep.”

No, you haven’t. What little sleep you’ve gotten constitutes simple cat naps, and always you wake, expecting to see Deidara standing over you, incubused around you …

You flinch away from the thought’s touch.

“(Y/n) …” your friend coos.

“I’ll be fine,” You assure, smiling faintly. “Just like all those other times, I promise. You know how they come and go.”

This is not your first rodeo; everyone who knows you with the slightest intimacy knows about your tendency to have nightmares. You have a lot to fear, but you have never shared Deidara with anyone. Your … friendship, apprenticeship. Too much guilt hangs on his name.

And it would link you to his victims.

I couldn’t stop him, you reassure yourself, to no avail. You massage your temples. No matter what.

The drawing was meant to antagonize you. I’m watching you and I can do what I want.

If he so much as lays a finger on my kids, you glare at the thought.

“Where do you think they come from?” your friend asks, eyes concerned. “Your nightmares?”

From Deidara, you so wanted to say — long had it been since you called him Dei. The nickname was dead, turned to dust on your tongue ages ago, and from the very big debt I owe.

“Well,” your friend stands, “I’m not going to let you suffer like this. Let’s go out, get you something to help you sleep.”

You comply, but the last thing you want is something to help you sleep. Sleep itself was hard enough, but the idea of aided sleep, where anything — anyone — could occupy your physical space without your knowledge, was a horrifying prospect.

The mountains nestling Iwakagure cast long afternoon shadows over the stony structures. The streets are thick with people and heat. The swarm is wild and disorienting; you hold tighter to your friend’s hand, fearful you may lose yourself at sea.

This village is a fucking hole in the ground, (Y/n), Deidara’s words rise up in your mind like smog. And its people are the fucking moles.

Why did you hate them so much, your eyebrows furrow. And what was so special about me?

“Here we are~” your friend sings, twirls in front of the corner store.

You manage a small smile as she goes in, an airless laugh as she pulls you with her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Sasori’s laugh is a deep, rich cackle. Loud and heavy, like the puppet he lumbers around, and for a second Deidara believes he was mistaken and accidentally brought the fucking fishman in his place —

“A girl, Deidara?” Sasori says and, utterly fascinated, adds, “Really?”

Deidara’s eyebrow twitches. If he didn’t respect his partner so much, he would have obliterated him by now. Instead, Deidara swings his head toward the patio doorway where Sasori’s puppet sags.

“You followed me.”

“I followed you,” Sasori’s voice still tinges with amusement. “Curiosity got the better of me; I just had to see what this little detour was all about.”

“And now?”

“I can’t believe it,” Sasori says. “For a second there, I thought you might’ve had a lead you didn’t want to share. But now … hehhehe —“

Deidara scowls. He can’t have Sasori up here making such a raucous. The streets are thick, gross with people, but he can spot you anywhere; his eyes follow you as you turn with your friend toward the corner store.

“So, is she an old sweetheart of yours?” Sasori continues.

“… Yeah, something like that.” He lets Sasori think it because it is what he likes to think.

Sweetheart.

Even from here, he detects the bags under your eyes. You haven’t been sleeping, your gait unhurried and abetted by the compelling of your friend.

You’re every bit as beautiful as the last time he saw you.

But, he has to admit, there’s something even more beautiful about you losing sleep over him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Hello~” she sings again, this time at the cashier who waves her down.

You’re startled by the stark contrast between the heated streets and the cool, refreshing store air. Rows of snacks form aisles; you feel your stomach roar.

“Heard that,” your friend winks. “I’ll get something for you, go grab somethin’ to eat.”

She releases you and you drift away.

“Hello? Do you have any sleeping pills or something …?”

You walk the chip aisle, scan the options. You see extra salty potato chips, your eyes widen —

Those are disgusting, Deidara says.

They are absolutely not disgusting, you say, practically throwing a chip in your mouth. They’re delicious!

Maybe to you, Deidara’s gaze lingers.

You charge away from the aisle, near the sweet snacks.

The world whirls around you, makes a mockery of your vision as you fight for air. You kneel to the floor, hands trembling to hold the shelf opposite you.

How was it you never noticed how he looked at you? How long had he — or had he always —?

Had you led him on? Were you the reason he killed people —?

Thoughts hurry up your arms and legs. They spider through the cracks of your fragile mind, intrusive and gross. You gasp for air, call out to your friend with hitched breaths.

Your heart trounces in your chest, frighteningly alive.

I’m going to die …!

“(Y/n)!” your friend’s voice travels through several depths of water.

Hands on you — you jerk. Reality becomes a jumble of clips. Grainy. Undefined. The chilled corner store floor, the cashier, ruffling of paper bags, the crowded streets …

You struggle to breathe throughout it all. Your vision tunnels, Deidara’s face at its center.

Deidara’s gaze lingers.

Lingers.

Lingers …

I’m going to die. He’s going to kill me.

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

Deidara watches from his dingy apartment-turned-hiding place. Your friend ushers you out of the store. He can hear your sobs from where he stands. You’re crying.

Fucking crying.

He smiles.

He shouldn’t get this much pleasure from seeing you pant and sob in your friend’s arms, but he does. He shouldn’t feel his cock twitch at the cries his trained ears pick up — even in the dense summer crowd — but he can’t help himself.

He shouldn’t even be here at all, risking his plan just to get a glimpse of you, but he is glad of his lack of restraint.

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

You’re advancing fast.

You say (in a moment of vulnerability, Deidara guesses) it’s only because you have such a good teacher — and he doesn’t argue, but he also doesn’t tell you how his heart flips at being the one to coax the genius out of you.

There’s so much he doesn’t tell you.

You frustrate and fluster him, frighten Deidara in the places he refuses to go.

Deidara knows you’re naturally gifted; the talent inherent within you will carry you wherever you wish to go, just like the birds you carve for his approval. He also knows he has nothing to offer you save his knowledge.

You won’t need him for much longer.

He lets you share his apartment and his art room — one you’ve presumptuously banned him from until you’re done with your current piece, and Deidara has just enough artistic integrity not to peak, not to disturb you while in the act. He’s tickled by your determination. On the last day of its construction, you take his couch. In the midst of night for many nights, he hears you tiptoe in and out of the art room, working all hours decent and not. He doesn’t tell you how much he loves it, to hear you accompany his space in such an intimate way, how your passion carries you into his special room, how what’s his is yours and what’s yours is his.

Once it’s done, he forces you to get your rest — insists he will take the couch and you take his bed, and you’re actually too tired to argue. You don’t even grow suspicious of his intentions, so he doesn’t even have to overthink about how he wants to be able to smell you on his sheets, feel the ghost of your body heat against the mattress.

Now, you remove the sheet from the sculpture, baring it to the world of only him and you.

“So, what do you think?” you ask him, earnest as always.

This time, it’s not a cute little thing that can fit in your lap or in his hands — it’s a giant sculpture, once again of a bird. You have depicted it mid-soar, its wings spread about its body as opposed to cuddled into its side.

You step away to give the piece space to breathe. You turn to him, gouging his reaction.

“So?” your voice is high with hope.

Deidara forces his face into neutrality. His eyes travel down the sculpture. He takes in every feature, every purposeful blemish and meaningful dip of the clay, once again borrowed from his stash to give your creativity its breadth.

It’s beautiful.

But he can’t tell you that. He can’t.

Beautiful, Deidara works his jaw, resisting the thought, just like you.

He scans the bird a few seconds more, eager for a flaw to reveal itself. Finally, he turns to you, eyebrows furrowed. “Why a bird?”

You perk. “Huh?” you say, clearly thrown by his inquiry.

“It’s always birds with you.” Deidara clarified. “They’ve always been my thing; why do you like them so much?”

C’mon, he thinks achingly. Give me a reason — anything, anything.

You shrug. “I don’t know — I just think they’re pretty, is all. They have … a very inspiring shape that makes me want to work with again and again.” You look to him, and your expression is so innocent, shy even, he has to swallow his fondness for you. “And … they remind me of you. You understand, right?”

Warmth spreads throughout him. His gaze locks onto yours; you’re just so kissable at that moment. He clenches his fists, resisting the urge to grab you and make you his.

Two orphans, brought together by a hobby — no, a passion. But, ultimately, you could go on; he had found a home in you, but your home could be anywhere. What did he have, if you were called away?

All the more reason why I have to tell her no. If she knows how good she is, she’ll leave.

His gaze lingers on you before returning to your piece. “Yeah, I do.”

A beat passes. Your enthusiasm is punctured. Your shoulders depress, your face falling.

“You don’t like it.”

Another beat.

“No, I don’t.” Deidara says. “You’ll never get anywhere copying somebody else, (Y/n).”

“I know,” You say hurriedly, as though you knew it was something he could say. “But — but the actual sculpture is okay, right?”

He closes his eyes, pinches the space between his eyebrows. Your desperation thrills him, but he disguises it in feigned exhaustion, shudders a sigh. I got her. “No, it’s not all right, (Y/n). It doesn’t matter how nice it is if you’re just imitating. Imitation is flattering, okay? But it’s all anyone’s gonna see if you don’t stop.”

Deidara savors the disappointment in your expression, despite your acquiescence. “I get it, yeah, you’re right. I don’t want anyone thinking … I understand.”

He begins to walk away. “Do it again, something different this time. And another thing — we need to work on your dimensions. It’s obviously supposed to be in the third but parts of it look like it’s in the second. Seems like I have way more to teach you.”

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

You feign normalcy as much as you’re able to your friend and sleep at her house, leaving your own. Does he know where you live yet? It’s only a matter of time.

When you brave the trip home, you close all the curtains, but you know it won’t help.

You also lock — double, triple lock — the doors, but you know it’s also futile; Deidara is a shinobi, a rogue one, at that. You’re a civilian. The full extent of his powers are completely unknown to you.

And, you know no one will believe you.

You’re the zany art lady who sees shapes in the shadows and ghostly voices down hallways. All the children you grew up with who knew Deidara — not knew-knew Deidara, but knew of him — had married away or ventured far from the village of stone. No one could vouch for you. You were alone.

The only place you didn’t fear Deidara appearing was the art studio — ironically. There were so many beautiful pieces in there, some made by your students, some by your own hand. Would he risk destroying all these, just to get to you? Plus, would he want to make a scene? You had only the memory of Deidara’s view of art as sacred, never sacrificial.

His sociopathy frightened you most, but … something told you he cared little for an audience; nothing could shame him, that wasn’t it. If you knew anything about him at this point, it was that he wanted you alone.

So you go on teaching and laughing, feigning normalcy as much as you’re able. Your students, their bright smiles and inspired souls work to calm your own from the horrors that seeks to unmoor you.

“Hey, (Y/n)-sensei?” one of your students, a pretty petite blonde, approaches you after class.

“Hm?” you speak through giggles — despite the paranoia you feel, it’s been a good day; one of your funniest male students managed to both master a technique and make you laugh, and he and his friends are entertaining you from your desk. Truth be told, you’re not much older than the pupils you instruct — perhaps a good three years apart at the oldest — but you see them as so much smaller than you. “What is it, sweetheart?”

She hands you a piece of yellowing paper. “Someone told me to give this to you.”

Your eyebrows crinkle as you take the paper, unfold it.

The hand returns to your throat, clenching.

It is a drawing of a pretty ivory bird, with a fat little body and wings tucked at its side. Beautiful detail of its feathers at the fringes.

And at the paper’s bottom, mingling with the aged yellow, one word:

flattered.

“Do we have a new student coming to class? Or already here?” your blonde student asks, oblivious and arm akimbo. “Like, I know I skip a lot of classes — like, a lot — but I swear I’ve never seen him here before.”

You feign normalcy as much as your able, which is not much.

“Mh,” You swallow, smile up at her through the terror. “W — what did this person look like?”

She averts your eyes, a blush tints her cheeks. “Oh, Just some blonde guy. Well, I shouldn’t say that — after all, he was gorgeous.”

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

You cancel classes indefinitely.

Deidara corners you like a rat.

Mole, you remember, taking a swig from your liquor bottle. He’s made me a mole, just like the others. I’m even living in total darkness now.

With the lights off and the curtains closed and enclosing you in the sweltering Iwakagure heat, you feel as though you have returned to the womb. But if this must be, it must be; you will not put your friend in danger. You will not put your students in danger.

A part of you wonders, however … Maybe you could say something. There were no civilians to remember Deidara, but surely the shinobi did. How could they not? Deidara, domestic terrorist. How many had his explosions killed? How many lives lost to the euphoria of his passion? And now he was back in the village, ready to cause more havoc?

But, to tell them about Deidara, you would have to explain what he wants with you. Why would the rogue ninja choose to stalk a simple art teacher such as yourself?

How, exactly, are you involved with him?

Fuck.

You know, in your heart, this is what he wants: to torture you, to make you seek him out. But … a part of you wants to seek him out. You yearn for closure of some kind.

Even if it kills you.

Especially then. The guilt of being inflaming Deidara’s ire and inspiring his explosive tirades across the village gnaws at you always, never letting up.

Your resolve becomes as hard as the stone walls surrounding you and you shoot out of bed. If he kills me, he kills me. You snatch the sleeping pills, untouched since your trip to the store, and shove them in your bag, dress, and head out the door.

The bruised purple of the sky alerts you to imminent nightfall. You open the door tentatively; the art studio is quiet, ghostly. Abandoned art projects, all in various stages of construction, scatter the room, watch you as you ease in.

You slump into your teacher’s chair with a contented sigh, relish in the silence. You retrieve the pills.

The likelihood of anyone disturbing you was minimal, and, despite your previous premonitions about Deidara not daring tread this place, you hope your presence changes his mind. Surely, he scans the streets for you. Surely, he’s already seen you walk here.

You count on it.

You tilt your head, slip the pill through your mouth and swallow. You lean into the chair.

If he wants me, he can come get me. I’m not running anymore.

The room and its pieces reduce to a colored haze. Your lids droop. Your head lulls and, at last, the drugs pull you into nightmareless sleep.

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

You trust Deidara, more than you could ever trust yourself.

He’s vespine and ephemeral and mean, but he also protects you as though you were his own flesh. He’s always there, sharing food and washing your battered, paint-stained hands. Even as he berates and diminishes your talent, his concern glares like the sun. Maybe you saved him, all those years ago, from the group of kids hounding him. Weird blond kid. He saves you just as much every day.

You cannot imagine a reality without him. There is none.

When he tells you about his desire to become a ninja, it doesn’t surprise you; his nonchalance toward violence makes him, you think, perfect for the job. Meanwhile, you flinch so easily. It’s admirable, it’s a quality you wish you possessed.

But …

But it also frightens you, how little concern he shows for anyone who is not you. You’re scared — but not necessarily of him hurting you.

“Stop!” you squeak. “Get off me!”

Hands fondle your crawling skin. You wrestle but begin to wither; you’ve never been touched this way before.

“Calm down,” your attacker hisses in your ear. “Just a little, c’mon, don’t be a bitch —“

It is just the wall on one side and your attacker on the other. Panic pumps your blood, sends your heartbeat in your ears. No, no no. You’ve heard it before — the rapid footsteps, young girls screaming in the dark — but you had always thought you wouldn’t …

Wouldn’t …

Your attacker screams; his hands are ripped from you. Your eyes dart to the sudden new action.

Deidara is there, thrusting the guy to the ground, standing over him.

You hurry away from the wall, breath catching in your lungs. Your chest heaves but you cannot seem to get enough or any oxygen.

Your attacker props on an elbow, glares.

“Hey, what the —“

Deidara stomps his mouth in with his foot. You gasp at the unforgiving craack of impact, the way the guy clutches his bleeding mouth in pain. A white shim falls between the gaps of his finger. A tooth.

There’ll be more where that came from, you’re sure.

“Dei —“ You start.

Deidara faces you and again you step away.

“What did I tell you?” he says. “What I tell you about going out after dark?”

His anger catches you by surprise. Your eyes flicker to your attacker, who is now Deidara’s victim — Deidara’s foot is planted on the guy’s head, never letting up.

“You’ve gotta find a hobby besides being a dumbass, (Y/n)! What if I wasn’t here —“

The guy groans, catching Deidara’s attention. Deidara rears, anger shifting from you to his new victim.

“You got something to say?”

Stomp.

“The fuck you think you’re talking to?”

Stomp.

“Think you can come after her?”

Stomp.

Stomp. Stomp.

“Deidara!” You shout. “Deidara, stop, you’re going to —!”

But Deidara’s deaf to his bloodlust; his foot falls on the guy’s face again and again, again and again. You watch as his face bloodies, turns to slick pulp with each blunt hit.

You draw away as Deidara relishes in the blood. You retreat against the alleyway wall and slick against it.

Finally, it stops. Deidara kneels before his fresh kill as the blood leaks from the guy’s head. He is — was — probably only a bit older than the two of you. The trauma disorients your sense of time. You do not know how long the scene lasts, but suddenly you blink and there is a long scarlet stream that leads to your shoe.

You have never seen a dead person.

Deidara notices the small river. He leans forward, swipes some of the blood up with his finger.

“Gods, Dei …” You breathe out. “You didn’t — you didn’t have to —“

“Save it,” Deidara bites. He rises, fingers manicured with blood. “Don’t waste your breath.”

“But —“

“He was street trash,” Deidara reaffirms, gaze hard on you. “He tried to hurt you, think I’d stand for that? Besides …” Deidara’s gaze trails back to the body. The corpse. He will be cold in a few hours, you realize. Cold even though the night is warm. “Remember what I told you?”

You are silent as Deidara draws shapes in the ground with his new paint. Weak streaks of blood stain the rocky floor.

“Anything can be art,” Deidara says with a smile, dead body forgotten. “And art can be made from anything. Even trash like this. Remember that.”

You do not know what to say, so you comply. “Ye — yes.”

He did it to protect me. He wouldn’t ever let anything happen to you. Not ever.

But …

Deidara rises after a few seconds with a sigh. “Now, let’s search his pockets. I meant to tell you, we’re running low on money.”

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

Shick. Shick. Shick.

Reality totters before your eyes. You blink against the strange sound busying your right ear. You allow your head to lull to its source — and freeze.

You are another sculpture, motionless and tight, as the figure by the window tosses a kunai in the air, it landing perfectly in their hand each and every time, garbed and obscured in a black cloak patterned with scarlet clouds.

You straighten in the chair, swallowing dry.

“Deidara,” You warn.

Deidara turns his head, admires the way the moon’s light grazes the metal of the weapon.

“You know what I notice, being back after so long?” Deidara begins, enamored still with the kunai. “So many peasants … They’re fucking everywhere. If this is how they treat the adults, I can’t imagine how the orphans are doing, the street trash.” Finally, he looks to you. “Tell me, is it just as bad as when we were kids?”

Silence.

The smile he gives you is from long, long ago. A familiar quirk on a monster’s face.

It’s not him. He hasn’t been him for a long time.

“Uh,” Deidara leans, expectant. “Hello? Am I talking to myself here?”

He insists on playing coy; you’re even more disgusted than you thought possible.

“What do you want with me?”

Deidara waves his hand with a ‘duh’ expression. “I came to say hello to my old student. What? Is it a crime to miss you, hn?”

“No,” Your tone is stony. “But it is a crime to fucking blow up people.” You retort, “and kill them because you like the way your explosions color the sky orange. Bastard.”

This does not faze him; your fire is what he expects, after all. “Because I missed you,” his voice is low, eyes locking on yours. “I miss that passion. Remember the way you used to follow me around like a fucking lost puppy? I guess that’s what we were, huh? Lost.”

You’re expressionless. You remain where you are, simply because you do not want him to think you fear him — and in that moment, you don’t. For some reason, his appearance zaps the fear from you and replaces it with something else, something sharper. You retrieve sketches left on your desk and place them in a drawer, just to busy your hands.

“You want me, is that it?”

Deidara ticks the kunai against his face. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

“When have I ever not been forward with you, Dei.”

You hear him chuckle and, again, it reminds you of better times — of wrestling with him on the couch, sharing the most intimate of inside jokes, watching suns recline into the horizon. Life has become a funny mirror.

“I’ve always wanted you,” Deidara answers. “Did you like the drawing?”

“It was sick. Just like you.”

Deidara feigns a wince. “Ouch, that hurt. But,” he laughs. “I can’t believe I’m asking you for approval now — guess the tables really have turned.”

“You know,” You begin coolly, “it’s not every day a domestic terrorist comes strolling back into the village.”

He doesn’t like that; his eyebrows twitch — a blink and it is gone.

“They must be looking for you.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” Deidara spits. “Think a bunch of village anbu are gonna make me start shaking in my boots?”

You kick yourself inside. You suspected as much, but it was worth a try.

“But, hey,” Deidara continues. “Let anybody try to intrude on my visit with you. I’ll blow them to pieces. Speaking of which …”

Deidara’s mood changes as he leaps from the windowsill, sheds his cloak. The darkened skin of his arms catch your eyes. They are patched at the elbow.

“The fuck happened to your arms —“

“Nevermind that,” he hurries. He steps down the stairs of the auditorium, glares to you. “You didn’t open your mouth about me to anyone, did you? Better not have — this is about me and you.”

The edges of your lips tick. “I thought you weren’t scared, Dei —“

“Hey!” Deidara’s voice echoes off the high ceilings of the auditorium. “Think this is funny? It’s not. This is about you and me, and what we have. No one else!”

“Fuck!” You shoot up, your voice cracking. “Fucking hell, Deidara, I know what this is about, okay? This is you not getting what you wanted from me years ago. I get it, okay? Just take what you want and FUCK OFF!”

You blink and he is there, his face inches away from yours. You gasp, lean away — but his hand grips your wrist. He advances, leaving you no choice but to back into the chalkboard behind your desk.

“You mean that, don’t you?” Deidara’s voice is barely audible now. “Don’t be coy ...”

You wrench away but Deidara is stronger, yanking you back in place.

“I’m not,” You insist. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You refuse to face him. You feel him read your face.

“I love you,” he says, grip painfully tight. “I always have.”

You resist the urge to spit in his face. “You don’t know what love is, Deidara.”

“How could you say that?”

You push him away.

“I rejected you,” You press. “I rejected you and you got mad and blew up shit.”

“So?” Deidara says. “I kissed you and you disappeared! I didn’t know what to do with myself! All I had was my art to comfort me!”

You laugh from sheer disbelief. “You can’t even hear yourself — how psychotic you sound. You’re willing to destroy and hurt people in the name of art,” You hissed. “It’s obsession and it’s gross.”

You conceal a whimper as he yanks your arm again; his grip is bruising.

“Love is the greatest form of art, (Y/n),” Deidara says. “How dense can you be? Love is — it’s meant to be an explosion! It could only be my love for art — my love for you — that inspires me to go on to design such displays of affection. This?” he shoves his hand to his chest, “it’s love.”

“It’s arson.”

“It’s a lot of things,” Deidara advances. His hold mercifies as he soaks you in. “Gods, the things you inspire in me.”

You recoil from his breath, his attempt at caressing your cheek.

“My perfect student. My eternal muse.”

The gentleness in his voice causes you to release the whimper you held. You grimace, eyes stinging. There was once a time when you would have been elated to hear him praise you, to see your worth. Now, it sickens you.

“It can never be the way it was,” You tell him, resist the pang of sadness in your gut. “I don’t think there ever was ‘the way it was.’ We’re not friends anymore.”

His breath clips with desperation.

“That’s not true — I could go into hiding; I could take you with me.”

You scoff. He’s totally gone. “Okay, Deidara. Let’s imagine —“

“Yes, let’s.”

“You have me,” You continue, tone harsh, “then what, Deidara? Am I supposed to follow you to … only the gods know where? You’re a fucking criminal. You’re wanted everywhere — you think I want to be affiliated with you in any way? I’d rather have you kill me right now and never breathe again than go anywhere with you.”

Once again, Deidara’s demeanor shifts; he glares. “Fine. Then I want you admit it.”

“Admit what?”

His eyes narrow.

“That I created you. That everything you have — this,” he gestures around the auditorium. “— is because of me.”

You scoff, look to him, utter disbelieving. “Is that really what you think? Is that honest what you believe?”

“That you were my greatest masterpiece?” Deidara says. “Yes.”

You flinch as Deidara flexes his thumb over your lips.

“I want you, and I want to be wanted by you,” Deidara says softly, mesmerized. “That’s what I’ve always wanted … that was what I wanted that night.” His breath is hot on your skin as his voice dips to an even more intimate timber. “Do you remember? That last night …?”

You remember. As much as you wish you didn’t — as much as you don’t want to … gods, you remember.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Dei. Dei, wake up!”

His arm visors his vision. Deidara removes it, cracks an eye open.

“What is it?”

You are there, body dangling on the couch’s arm, tilting backward and forward like a drinking bird. Your smile rivals the morning sun and wins.

“It’s done!” You enthuse. “It’s finally done — you’ve gotta come see.”

Deidara groans, rising off the couch halfheartedly. He never was a morning person — you should know that by now.

“See what, brat?”

“My art, what do you think?”

You giggle as you raise from the couch. He watches you bounce and your passion wanes some of his irritation.

“All right, fine, I’m coming.”

You leap, clapping.

“Fucking hell, are you on something?” Deidara annoyance mingles with a chuckle. “Or are just a fucking five-year old?”

You ignore him, taking his hand and pulling him. “Come on,”

He allows you to lead him to the storage room, uses his other hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes as he stumbles past the threshold with you.

You let go, to find the lights probably; they’re off, thank the gods, and the room is dim. Deidara shuts his eyes, ready to open them once he detects the glow behind his eyelids.

He hears you pull a lamp chain down.

“You can look now.”

Deidara “hmphs,” opens his eyes.

And widens them.

Before him are two life-sized figurines, one that looks exactly like him, the other exactly like you.

“Tada!”

The significance of the figures don’t strike Deidara for a few seconds, then lightning bolts him in the chest. The figures are verbatim replica of a photograph the two of you had taken; your figure’s arm is wrapped around the neck of Deidara’s, two cheeky smiles blazing into a non-existent camera.

He scans the two figures with his eyes, determined for a flaw. There are none. Every line, every graze, it’s all the same. Even your legs — though the photograph hadn’t pictured it — are crossed against each other, the exact pose you had taken seconds before the camera blazed white in two sets of eyes.

It’s perfect.

He … he hasn’t even thought of doing something like this.

“So?” You wait on him, expectant, “do you love it?”

Deidara examines the pieces for a few seconds more. There’s something intimate in the way your figure holds to his, the perfect rendition of skin on skin. How had you managed to remember so vividly? He feels a blush coming on. She’s sending me a message …

“I thought about what you said,” You began. “About being more original. I’ve never done human pieces before, so this was a big challenge … but it was a lot of fun, too. An artist should always accept a challenge, isn’t that right, Deidara?”

“Ri … right,” he trails stupidly.

There is a pause. Deidara finally tears his gaze away from your work and toward you. Your enthusiasm is gone.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, roll your eyes. “What did I do this time?”

Deidara’s eyes dart to and fro. “Nothing.”

Your shoulder fall. “Wait … Nothing?”

“Yeah, nothing,” Deidara says.

“Then why are you looking like that?” You say. “Stop looking ‘round like that — gods, I thought I was the one meant to be on something.”

“I … I just don’t like it.”

“What?”

“Do it again.”

“What?” Your confusion tumbles into laughter. “Like is … It’s subjective, Dei. Be specific.”

“I …”

“What?”

“I just …”

“Okay, now you’re scaring me. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I just don’t like it, okay?” Deidara shouts, waving an arm at you. You startle. “Your work is always so … so needlessly melodramatic. Why — why are so you fucking sentimental about everything? It’s so tiring! First the shitty birds, now this? You need to get a grip!”

“What are you talking about?” You challenge him. He backs away. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked, everything you’ve advised! What’s …”

You trail off and it allows Deidara to retreat into his head.

“Are you … are you jealous?”

He can’t hear you anymore; his thoughts drag him under.

She loves me. She wants me. This is what this is about — what this has always been about.

You laugh at him, sickened. “That’s what this has all been about, hasn’t it?” you press a hand to your head. “The pupil surpasses the teacher, and you can’t handle it. That’s why your complaints have gotten more and more ridiculous. You can’t handle the fact that one day I may better than you!”

She doesn’t even know it yet. It’s all in the subconscious.

“You know what?” he hears the tears in your voice, looks up to see how the lamp’s light heavens down on you. “Fuck you, Dei!”

She’s so beautiful.

“I don’t need you!”

She wants me.

You rear on him, inches away from his face.

“I’m never taking your advice again!”

And I want her, too.

And Deidara smooths his lips to yours.

You are lost. Your body is frozen. You hum despite yourself and all it does is encourage Deidara further. Deidara doesn’t wait; he cups your cheek, pulling you gently toward him.

“(Y/n),” he breathes your name down on you.

As you pull away his hand travels from cheek to neck just in time to keep you hooked to him.

“Mm! N — n — o!”

You pull from him, hurry away from him. Deidara’s eyes open wide, his gaze following your scurry.

You press yourself to the wall, chest heaving.

“I …” Deidara’s voice lives and dies. “I … I thought …” He is mesmerized by his hand. He clenches and unclenches it, as though he cannot understand how you are no longer there.

You say nothing. Silence bridges the gap between the two of you. At last, you part your lips to speak; the ghost of Deidara’s lips shadow yours.

“I’m — I’m sorry, Dei, I …” You say as you begin to recover. “… I don’t feel … I don’t feel that way.”

You apologize again and again, but you don’t know who to or what for — because this isn’t Deidara. You don’t know who has slipped into his skin, who has just kissed you. The Deidara you know, who has sheltered you, mentored you, chastised you endlessly, cannot be the same one who has just kissed you so desperately.

And it was your first.

But as Deidara rises his head to fix you with his beautifully rimmed gaze, reality sits inside you, refusing to move.

It’s him.

Did I ever really know him?

The two thoughts triple with a third, one even more dangerous.

Why didn’t you ever say anything?

But you don’t say it. You don’t dare say it — because Deidara’s stare changes, hardens. You freeze as he moves in a swift move and charges to you —

You brace yourself, breath sharp —

But Deidara passes you. You follow his back as he storms down the hallway.

“Dei, stop …”

He stops only to fit into the nearest pair of shoes, then heads to the nearest window.

“Dei, c’mon …”

“Forget it,” his growl fails to conceal the hurt. “Just …”

He doesn’t finish. He leaps to the windowsill.

“Wait, Deidara —!”

He whirls on you, eyes wild.

“They’re beautiful, all right?” Deidara shouts.

You pause again, blinking surprise from your eyes.

“Your work is always beautiful, okay?” he says. His gaze lowers to the floor, pained. “You don’t need me to say tell you that.”

Deidara leaps from the window, parkouring from roof to roof until he’s out of your sights.

You watch his departure long after he is gone. You don’t know how long you stay there, tracing the ghostly dirt tracks of his shoes left on the windowsill.

You had gotten your approval, your approval from him, but at what cost?

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

Deidara doesn’t return. Not the next day or the next or the next.

Everything startles you, from creaking doors to the rumbling feet of downstairs neighbors. Everything sounds like Deidara come back to … you don’t know what.

But it is never him. Worries storm your thoughts — is he okay? Where is he? Is he coming back? When? How? In what condition? Food becomes impossible to keep down so you allow yourself to run out of it. Soon both the lack of sustenance and the thought of it send you reeling over the toilet, retching until you lack the strength to lean away.

You check yourself into the hospital. It is all you can think to do.

The doctors cannot find what is wrong with you and you do not tell them.

“Nerves, it seems …” your doctor says absentmindedly one day, looking over your sheet. “Coupled with loss of nutrients. How many days has she been like this?”

“I’d figure about a week, not counting the days she’s spent before coming here,” says a nurse. Though their voices are kept low, the door is adjacent and you catch every word. “She won’t speak to anyone.”

“Do you think she’s …” your doctor’s words teter off. “You know …?”

“I didn’t find any fluids on her that weren’t her own.”

“I’m not a fucking prostitute,” You hiss quietly, before turning over and falling back into sleep.

Sleep full of paint like blood, blood paint — no, blood. Sculptures and oils, sketches and the sound of paper tearing. And Dei. The ink black of his shoes on the windowsill. Dei. Dei’s hands and his ringed eyes. Dei’s lips falling on yours. Dei Dei Dei.

When you wake, reality feels like a dream, too.

The next week is a blur of feeding tubes and blood tests, nurses and doctors wraithing in and out of your vision. Things only grow clearer as you nutrition improves. Your mind remains the same, however.

When you are well enough to walk unaided, you wander. The hospital is labyrinthine and crowded with the injured and dying and sick. Your guilt compounds; someone else could use the bed space you currently occupy, yet you laze about, desperate to escape, the hospital a fort you use to hide from Dei.

Dei.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” one of the nurses says one day, concern dipping her eyebrows.

She’s sweet. It’s been a long time since anyone has cared for your wellbeing — well, except …

You offer her an eye-closed smile. “It’s fine. And yes, I’m sure. It’s about time I step out into the wild again.”

A second nurse behind the counter holds her arm akimbo, suspicious. “Are you ever going to tell us what brought you here? I mean … you were in dire straits when you came to us. You never explained.”

You understand; to her — to everyone — you’re just a girl with no name, no past or present, who checked herself in from nowhere and is now out to disappear again.

You wish to throw them a bone, so you attempt to be as vague as possible.

“Guy trouble,” You say.

“Ohhh,” the nurses sing in unison.

It is hilarious, how quickly they catch your meaning. You gather your things — and by things, you mean the clothes you had worn on your back when you had checked in — shed your patient gown, dress and bid your goodbyes.

“Just … be careful okay,” one of the nurses say.

It won’t be long before you catch her meaning.

The air outside is fresh and it takes you a moment to adjust to it all; the air, the sun, the bustle of people.

You look around; the familiar stone architecture of Iwakagure enclose you in like a mother’s hug. Your gaze lifts, toward one of the bigger buildings ahead —

Your breath stops.

An entire section of a tower is gone — chewed out and blackened. It is a building you have passed many times over, hardly recognizable in its current state. Workers climb the infrastructure like ants to repair it, but are swallowed by the tower’s giant gap.

You ask around, ignorant and hurried for answers. It doesn’t take long for you to piece together what has happened since your hospital recess.

Someone has been supplying terrorist groups with explosives.

You don’t go back Dei’s apartment; you don’t make it that far.

You are too distracted by the wanted posts plastered everywhere.

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

You never asked Deidara what he did for money.

There just always was money. For food, for the apartment, for art supplies. Somehow. Some way.

In only a matter of years, Deidara’s artistic acumen had become widely acknowledged; his art was exquisite, the envy of all the underground art groups that huddled in the dark of Iwakagure. When he had made enough to rent out a personal studio for himself and supplant it with painstakingly-detailed sculptures towering like gods, you didn’t ask.

You had always just assumed he sold his art — and turns out he had.

It was … just not all he sold.

Deidara’s a genius. Way smarter than you. He found a way.

Explosive clay, bombs, torques — all of them found in bulk in his apartment, a small supply found in the studio also.

You should have asked.

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

He is so close now; he smells like you remember; wet clay and fire.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” Deidara says this and nothing more.

Now, in the auditorium, you want to scream. You wish to repel so successfully away from him you cease to be. You eye his kunai abandoned on a the windowsill and dream of using it to open your throat.

None of your dreams come true.

Instead, Deidara touches his lips to yours.

It is nothing like the dire, fevered kiss he bestowed on you all those nights gone passed; you’re surprised with its tenderness, with his gentleness. He kicks your chair way to afford him more room. His arm rides the curve of your back and once a hand presses into your spine, he secures you to him.

“Mm,” You pause, try to pull his arm away — only to step farther into him as he yanks you. “Stop.”

Deidara peppers kisses against your jaw, lowers to your neck. “No.”

You grunt and twist, flail out your arm for help, but Deidara presses himself into you, planting you to the durity of your chalkboard.

“Deidara —“ You emit a pained hiss as you struggle, “Ah, Stop —!”

He grips your chin, forces your gaze to him.

“Hey,” he says. “I thought we had an understanding, hn?”

You stare into the blue pastel of his eyes, shudder in his grip.

I thought I could let you have your way. I can’t. I can’t with you.

“Just —“ You continue your struggle, “just let go — ah! Stop!”

“Shut up —“

He forces a kiss on you and you squeal into his mouth, wrestling for control. You wrench your head away from him, but he captures your lips again — you take his lower lip into your mouth only to bite —

“Ah!” he grunts. “Bitch!”

“Get off!”

Deidara covers your mouth with his hand. Your eyes are on him, strained with hatred, glaring. But it softens when you smirk against his hand; a part of him is afraid help will come. Big bad criminal ass, he is. The delight is dark in you.

“I can make this good, all right?” Deidara bargains quietly. The hand on your mouth settles on your cheek, petting you complacent. “I can make this good for both of us.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

Deidara glares. “Fine. Scream again and I kill them.”

Them.

… Them.

You breath hitches.

It is Deidara’s turn to smirk.

“Every single one of them,” he continues.

You are silent. The sweet faces of your students flash into your mind, their smiles, their futures in your hands.

“You can’t.”

Deidara’s tickled by the challenge. “Oh, really? They don’t mean shit to me, (Y/n). You’ll have them on your conscience. You want that?”

You think of the poor souls that have come before them, blown to smithereens by Deidara’s fanatic ambition…

I can’t do it again.

Your muscles relax. You settle against the board, slip to the floor. Deidara lets you.

Deidara kneels, both hands traveling to the intimate realm under your skirt. His fingers hook under the band of your panties. “Good girl.”

You settle your head to the side as your panties are slid from your legs. You hyper-focus on the broken sculpture, having been knocked over by the chair, its parts scattered across the floor like chunks of hail.

“Hey, eyes on me.”

Reluctantly, you turn to see Deidara’s face between your legs, eyes hard on you.

His eyes flutter, close as his tongue parts his lips and offer an experimental lick at your womanhood.

“Mmm,” Deidara hums. His fingers spread your lips, lapping at the juice simmering from your cunt. “You taste just like I always thought you would.”

You resist a shiver born of disgust and pleasure. Fuck, how long has he imagined this?

“Wanna taste you everywhere …” Deidara raises his hands, where the lines of mouths form and smile, widening to —

You scream —

“Hey!”

Deidara’s glare freezes you, the horror freezes you as tongues on his hands trail the sides of your hips. You look away — freak! — and feel one of the tongues tease the nub of your nipple.

The fuck is he now? What’s he done to himself?

You cannot resist a second shiver, neither ignore the mortifying sounds of Deidara’s moist tongue — tongues — against your skin and wet pussy. You arch, but Deidara’s hands press hard into your thighs, restraining you. You twist your head, grimace. You refuse to admit how good he is making you feel, nor how experienced his tongue. Deidara dances patterns on your excited clit, lapping up the juices flowing from your aching core, while his companion tongues tickle you with flicks. Who else has he done this to? You’re sick by the jealousy grazing you like a knife.

You relax. Deidara’s hold is gentler now as he brushes the span of your thighs. One of his hands tuck under the your hip, the other sucking the tender pink of your nipple into its mouth. You feel the light graze of his teeth tickle your clit and —

“Ah — hah!”

Deidara stops. He finds your eyes with his eyelined ones. He lifts his head enough to let you see his smirk.

“Someone’s enjoying herself, hm.”

You glare — wince with pleasure as he resumes. You lay back, defenseless. You have a plan but you hate how it means you must lay there and receive, enjoy the pleasure he gives.

It would be so much easier if he was bad at this, but, like all things, he is expert; Deidara’s tongue is lingering and smart with each flick and roll, lick and swirl. When he abandons your entrance for your clit, he replaces his tongue with the light probe of his finger.

“Ahh …” You squeeze your thighs against his head.

“We could have this all the time, you know …” Deidara murmurs between licks. “If you weren’t so stubborn, come with me — more ways than one — I could give this to you all the time …”

He is so good at this, you allow yourself to imagine it. Every day and night, Deidara in between your legs, making your cunt sing with his trio of tongues. You breathe out, feel your orgasm rise. With begrudging instinct, you reach down, grab his head and press him to your pussy. You feel him smirk into your lips and you want to slit his throat, but for the time being let him eat you out as though he’s still a starving orphan and you are the only meal he’s ever had.

You gasp, squeeze a hand in his hair. His finger goes beyond your entrance and into you, his tongue flickering at your clit.

You arch. This time, he lets you.

“Deidara!”

You hear Deidara grunt with so much pleasure, you wonder if he’s found his climax as yours clouds your senses. You suffocate him with your cunt, which he does not stop tormenting with his tongue and learned fingers, lapping up your excited juices until you overstimulate — and long after.

You tremble against him, fight to find breath.

“Deida — Deidara, stop!”

But he doesn’t; like a machine at your womanhood, continues to push you into a second orgasm. A scream rips through your mouth and in your clouded haze you wonder if anyone can hear. Deidara lifts your lower half into his arms and hungry mouth. His tongue latches to your clit, rides you through your second release of the night.

An eternity passes before he sets you back down. The cold floor shocks you alert. Deidara stares down at you, now gasping himself, mouth glistening and shoulders undulated from the effort. His eyes chase your flushed form.

“You said my name … just like I wanted you to …”

Your head falls back. Your eyes find the door.

You ignore the soft kisses Deidara butterflies on your skin, focus only on regaining the lost breaths stolen by him in this room. If I’m gonna do it, it has to be soon.

Pressure at your waist brings your attention back to Deidara; he’s shirtless and crawling up to missionary you, planted between your legs.

He dives for a kiss. Your lips are dead to him but you don’t fight it. Your hands graze the plains of his back but not to hold him. His hand hooks behind your knee. You wait for the last ounces of dizziness to erode away before you try anything. Deidara presses into your neck, bruising hickeys into your humid skin. You finally speak up —

“Mm, wait, wait — Dei …?”

You are clever with your wording; you have not called him Dei in only the gods know how long, and it gets his attention immediately. He comes up for air, meets your eyes.

“Yeah? What?”

You swallow. Your hands scale his shoulder pads, his neck, until his head is in your hands. Life shifts in the funny mirror and you imagine another world where Deidara is still your friend about to be your first. Your only.

You blink and reality returns. The criminal is above you, waiting.

Reality causes you to choke — you use it to your advantage.

“I … I don’t want it to be like this,” You pull him closer. “Not on the floor of my auditorium. We can’t.”

Deidara’s eyes glance around the room. He catches your meaning and his eyes fall back on you.

“My desk,” You brush a thumb against his cheek. “Take me there.”

Deidara’s face softens. His weight lessens on you.

“All right,” Deidara says. Your suggestion brings his tongue to his lips. “Good idea …”

You struggle to collect yourself as Deidara sits on his knees. You prop up as he stands. He offers you a hand and you’re struck by the hilarious politeness of the gesture.

You take it, though, and stand. The sharp brown mahogany of your desk comes into your view. You sigh, let go of Deidara’s hand as he approaches the desk.

And you book.

“What the fuck —?”

You leap over broken sculpture pieces as you hurry to the door. You land a hand on the door frame, feel yourself pass the threshold —

And yelp as a hand mats in your hair, pulling you back.

“So that’s your game,” Deidara hisses, dragging you to your knees.

You whimper, mewl. You’re practically scalped as Deidara drags you to the table, forces you up and slams you into its face. You twist to face him and come to meet his hand. The slap sends you falling, but Deidara grabs you again, forcing you to look at him.

“Deceitful little bitch,” he says.

You glare at him, glance at his lower half.

“Says the little bitch —“

Slap .

“Shut up!” Deidara seizes your face with one hand, the other tugging his pants down.

You hold your face, the sting grimacing you.

“See what you make me do?” he says. “You think I want this? For that little stunt, I got a punishment for you.”

His cock springs free, inches from your face, hungry and red. You open your mouth to speak but he doesn’t wait, directing his cock into your surprised mouth.

“If you bite me,” Deidara growls, “you and all of your brats are dead, got me? Last warning.”

His cock chokes you. You stutter, grasping it. You can feel Deidara looking down at you, monitoring you for good behavior. You pop him from your mouth.

“The fuck —“

“I just gave you the best head of your life, so return the favor,” Deidara growls out. “Least you can do. I know you can … aah …”

I hate you. You take him. Deidara shudders as you hollow your cheeks, grasp the length of his cock to cover whatever cannot fit in your mouth. You bob, create a rhythm with him; his hips buck, fucking your mouth whenever you lean in. Deidara’s hand comes to cup the back of your head and scoots you on his cock, choking you again. You glare.

“Yeah,” he breaths, lids laze over his eyes. “Glare at me with those pretty eyes. Don’t pretend like you don’t love this. Ah, your mouth is the perfect place for my cock.”

He bucks deep and miraculously, you don’t choke. But his little laugh temps you to bite —

“’Cept one other place.”

You grasp, hard.

“Got a problem?”

You freeze, your cock-stuffed mouth silencing you. Maybe for the better. You apologize with a hard suck and continue your subservient bobbing.

“Didn’t think so … You were made for this, hah,” Deidara’s spite bites into every word. “My cock in your mouth — ahh …!”

You pull away to swirl at his cock head — anything to get him to stop talking. You swallow him again and hear him grunt above, hand tight against your sore scalp. Deidara’s rocking quickens, the motions becoming sloppier, less pronounced.

He pulls away and his cock leaves you with a firm pop. You stare up at him. His hair grows dark shadows on his face, his breath shallow.

“Take those tits out,” he orders under his breath. “I want to see all of you.”

I hate you. Just when you thought you would be allowed some dignity. A huff escapes you as you work to remove your shirt and throw it elsewhere. A scream threatens your throat. You reach behind as Deidara strokes himself, unhook your bra and let it fall. Your breasts teardrop as the garment falls in your lap.

Silence. You dare to look up, feel utmost disgust at how Deidara admires you.

A smirk. “You’ve really filled out.”

You return to his cock so you don’t have to look him in the eye any longer.

“Let’s just finish this.”

“Yes, let’s.”

You swirl your tongue at his head before taking him into your mouth. It scorns you to give him any pleasure, but Deidara’s moans catch on the air and you hate how good he sounds. You feel a sinful ache below and mentally kick yourself for it.

Deidara scoops your head, rocking harder, deeper into your mouth. You squeeze your eyes —

“So good,” Deidara huffs. “So —“

Deidara’s voice dies. His cock twitches, pulses in your mouth as it ends. His seed spills on to your tongue and you release him, turning away.

“No,” Deidara jerks your head up. “Swallow.”

Hate you.

You do as you’re told, throat undulating as his release fills you.

Deidara moans, admiring your fucked face, only for his gaze to trail downward to your skirt, the only garment keeping you decent.

Deidara has you on your feet and on the desk. Deidara fits between your legs. His hand caresses your pussy and you twitch from the sudden contact, covering his hand with yours.

“I thought you didn’t like this, hn,” Deidara trails kiss down your exhausted neck as you squirm. “So wet, mm …”

You tightrope between begging him to stop and submitting. “Fuck, Deidara …”

“Call me Dei, like you used to,” he demands against your earlobe. “Remember …?”

Deidara hugs you tight as he explores your wet folds. You wonder why you aren’t instructed to remove your skirt, before realizing it is probably intentional; you feel his new erection probe your inner thigh. He rock his hardness into and you gasp —

“Ah …!”

“Gods, you’re beautiful everywhere,” Deidara runs hands over your sides, squeezes the fat of your thighs. “A work of art yourself …”

You groan as his hands imprison your wrists, pins you to the desk. You don’t remember him being so strong; years as a shinobi have strengthen him and weakened you to him. There is nothing you can you as he positions himself against you, the weight of him crushing you once more.

The head of his cock invades your cunt; your shrill cry mingles with his blissful moan as he finds his home in you.

“Perfect,” his breath hits your face. He kisses the side of your nose. “Absolute perfection …”

There is no easing; Deidara thrusts and a moan escapes you as you clench around his cock. Deidara’s lips cover yours, tongue finding yours as he rocks messily into you.

The tongue of his left hand licks and trails one side of your neck as his right plays at your clit. With each thrust, Deidara’s cock sheathes into you, dizzying your mind. You hold on to his stitched arms to give your hands somewhere to land.

“Let them come in,” Deidara breaths. “See their precious teacher like this —“

He pounds you, robbing a cry from your throat before circling his hips and hitting back the way he was. Your hands crawl up his arms to his back, bite his skin with your nails. The desk creaks, threatens to give as Deidara’s thrust quicken.

You twist your head as Deidara returns the favor and sinks teeth into your abused neck. His thrusts are rough and horrible and not enough — you bite your lip, hating both yourself and him for what you are about to demand:

“Harder.”

You see the tease in his eyes as he lifts his head to look at you in his peripheral.

“Heh,” a smirk. “As you wish.”

Skin stung as Deidara slapped against you. Air knocks from your lungs. You threaten to fall back but Deidara hooks you to him, driving into you with immense force.

“Would love to turn you over,” he says before grabbing your face, forcing your attention on him, “but I wanna see that pretty face when you cum.”

The tongue of his hand flicks happily at your clit. Deidara hammers you. Your desk whines. Your stomach squeezes, the end near.

“C’mon,” he says. “C’mon …”

He leans down to bite and drag your lower lip. Deidara last few thrusts force a singing moan from your throat as you fall into his embrace. He follows you, roaring as he pumps weak thrusts into you.

You hug him with your legs without thinking. You feel the warmth of Deidara’s seed pump into you. The tongue of Deidara’s hand insists on flicking you until Deidara’s too weak to continue with it and retreats.

You hear nothing but your breaths and his, voices mingling once more as the relief kicks in. You daren’t move, lest the desk finally chooses to give underneath you both. You are humiliated enough.

It’s over … thank the gods …

For a second, your mind swims, but lucidity returns and stings like an open wound. Deidara crooks into your neck and settles there, cock still warming itself in your cunt. Fury overtakes you; he is weak enough to push away. He stumbles as you rise, grunts in protest.

“What’re you doing …?” he slurs.

“You had your fun,” You hiss, dipping back and forth to retrieve pieces of clothing. “Fuck off.”

Deidara’s expression morphs, the fatigue gone in an instant.

“You’re kicking me out?” he says. “After we just made love?”

“That’s what you thought this was?” You say. “You’re even sicker than I thought!”

“Hn,” Deidara’s glare is deadly. “What a cold-hearted bitch you are.”

“We’re done, Deidara,” You cover yourself with your bundle of clothes. “I don’t know you. And you don’t know me. I’ve worked hard to rid myself of the stink of you, what you did. All you do is destroy shit. You’re proud of it. You destroyed us. Be proud of that and go.”

Deidara’s eyes widen in their fury.

“We’ll never be done,” he says. “Shows how much you know; you’re never getting rid of me. I don’t care where you are, or who you think you are, I’m the only one who’s ever known you. Who’ll ever know you. That’ll never change.”

To say more would encourage discussion. You turn away. He can kill you if he wants to, but you close your eyes, tune out the aggressive tussling of clothes, try to block out the feel of Deidara’s skin, his tongues, him.

When you dare to look back, Deidara is gone, and finally you can breathe.

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

The note is crisp, new and blindingly white in Deidara’s grip.

“What’s that now?” Sasori says. “Another note from your little girlfriend?”

Deidara is silent for a good while.

“Yeah.”

Deidara turns over the note, reads for the umpteenth time.

Come find me.

Since his last meeting with you, he has visited the auditorium, but you are never there.

But upon his last visit, a note was.

“Just what have you been up to with her …?” Sasori asks, considers the inquiry. “Nevermind, I don’t think I want to know.”

Deidara closes his eyes and sees the hate he saw in your eyes. Your moans mutate into cries. A dull pinch of guilt nags at him.

Not my fault. She should know by now we belong together.

Guilt is replaces curiosity as Deidara toys with the note in his fingers. A mouth forms to devour the note.

Fine, (Y/n), I’ll hear what you have to say.

Deidara rises. The Stone village comes into full view from the valley where he and Sasori stand.

“I’ve got one more thing,” Deidara says. “I’ll be back.”

“Suit yourself, ladies man.”

Deidara poofs, opens his eyes and he is in an alley, two buildings squeeze the heat in.

A part of him wants to return to the auditorium, find you there, but another part of him is equally as convinced you are home. Deidara licks his lips at the thought of having you again in a more intimate setting. He transforms himself into the first random man he sees and begins his way through the village, passing the debilitated buildings and ugly apartments.

The village is as ugly and depressing as he remembers, and he feels the urge to just blow it all away in one fell swoop.

But that would include you, so he grunts and moves on.

A gangle of street kids giggle and pass him by, immersed in their game.

A trip down memory lane. Deidara thinks. He remembers you and him at that age, and nostalgia runs its hand over his heart.

A complex. This is it. It is a ghost town, silent as the graves ghosts come from. He travels to the first floor until he gets to your door. A wild thought occurs and he twists the nob and his theory is confirmed; open.

The door invites him in with a creak. He releases the jutsu masking his identity and closes the door, walks through your small living room. It smells like you. Deidara recalls the scent of you on his sheets in a different world, a smell so profound he will recall it as he dies. He travels into the hallway —

“In here.”

Your voice sounds from what must be the bedroom. Deidara’s heart quickens. He travels to the end of the hallway, opens the door.

Your room is a haunting mirror of his all those years ago; clay sculptures decorate the room. Illustrative watercolor paintings are stringed on the walls. You are on the bed in a simple white shirt and shorts.

“Long time no see,” Deidara murmurs.

It’s meant as a joke but you don’t laugh — neither do you roll your eyes or glare, only offer a light smile, though it is heavy enough to assuage his conscience. A little.

“I thought about what you said,” You say as he nears the bed and sits by you. “About … us.”

Deidara conceals his nervousness as well as he can manage. “… Yeah?”

You look to him. The light of the sunset plays in your eyes. “You’re right, Dei — I mean, I’ll never get rid of you and you’ll never get rid of me … For the longest time, we were all we had.”

Dei. You're saying it again. He feels like he is home.

Deidara risks a hand reaching up to shift hair behind your ear.

“That’s still true.”

Your gaze is locked on him. “I don’t even remember anyone before I met you. You taught me everything I know. You’re my beginning, and you’ll be my ending, too.”

“I feel exactly the same way …”

Deidara caresses your face. You hold his hand there.

“I’ll never forget you —“

Your grip on his hand tightens, though your face is clear.

“and you’ll never forget me.”

A sense of wrongness comes over Deidara. His brows furrow.

Something’s wrong.

“I’m going to make sure of that,” You say.

He smells it then.

Sulfur.

He pulls his hand away — but with difficulty, you hold on.

“What did you do?”

You’re silent. You smile.

“(Y/n)!”

Your face is frozen in his mind. Forever.

“I told you, didn’t I?” You say. “I learned from you.”

Deidara senses it before he see it; heat, fire blazing at his back. He disappears, lands. He is back before the Stone village, Sasori behind him.

“What happened —“

Deidara doesn’t hear him — he hears nothing.

The explosion is all there is.

Clouds of fire bloom, raging red and orange, mocking the colors of the sunset with its own. The apartment is devoured in flames.

It deafens Deidara, momentarily blinds him before it is all he can see.

“Deidara,” Sasori’s voice is slow. “What did you do …?”

It is a while before he answers. “’S … it’s not me.”

You’ll never forget me. I’ll make sure of that.

The explosion meets with the sky and becomes the new sun.

“It was … it was her.”

Embers brush and burn his skin, kiss his lips.

… It’s perfect …

She is … art …

#deidara #deidara x reader #deidara x y/n #deidara smut #deidara naruto #naruto x reader #my work #💕.nsfw

210 notes · View notes

lumine-no-hikari · 1 month

Text

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #111

I went with my best friend B and her sister to a place called Lowville to see the solar eclipse. The trip was around 2 and a half hours long. B drove. Many silly and hilarious shenanigans were had along the way. I haven't laughed this much in a long time; my stomach kind of hurts, I was laughing with them so hard for parts of the trip.

…More than anything, if just for today, I wish you were here so you could experience this, too. The laughter. The joy. The love. Even if you get confused because you're not used to it, and even if you need someone to hold your hand to feel safe. I wish you were here to experience this for yourself so badly that I could almost cry.

…But that's silly; you don't exist as anything but an art form here. And even if I did allow my emotions to overflow from my eyes, it's not as though most anyone would understand anyway. Maybe they'd even think me deranged. So I won't. I'll pretend to be normal and okay for just a little while longer. Why not. Another 34 years or so really isn't that long, right?

…It's so heavy sometimes, though…

…

Well. I know you love nature. So I took as many photos for you along the way as I could. But I was in a moving vehicle when I took them, so I saved only the best ones. Here:

We got to the place early. Just enough time to eat a simple lunch at a Stewart's Shop, and… incidentally, enough time to check out a cheese shop! Cheese is one of my favorite things ever, and so I asked if we could go, and so we went!! Here, I'll show you what it looked like; maybe you'll see a little bit of my reflection in some of the glass of the display cases, haha:

I got a variety of nice things to bring home for M, J, and Br!! I'll show them to you!

In any case! After that, we found a very sparsely-populated hill in the middle of a parking lot. Not a glamorous place to watch the eclipse, I know. But it's all right; the clouds rolled in very thickly just when it was beginning, anyhow:

I tried to take a picture through the fancy glasses we got. Here's the result of that:

And in this one, you can see the way that the sun and the moon begin their slow dance in the sky together; I had to turn the brightness of my camera all the way down to make it work:

Because of the clouds, I wasn't able to get a very good picture for you. But in this one, if you'll look closely, you'll see the moon fully and lovingly embraced by the sun:

And, while the sun so tenderly encircled the moon within its light, the sky was a gloriously prismatic sunset in every direction, no matter where we looked; my camera COULD NOT do this justice, but... here:

Hey, Sephiroth? Please don't imagine you're unlovable, or that you're some kind of monstrosity, or that you're something that shouldn't exist. Because… Sephiroth… I am still alive only by virtue of the fact that I am looking for you in every little thing in my world that I can. I look for you in every delightful sip of tea, in every meal I share with the people around me, in every nifty thing I find at the grocery store that I think you might like. I look for you in every nice-smelling soap, in every warm, pleasant breeze, in the scent and colorful petals of every blossom, in every feather I happen to find and pick up from the ground. I'm looking for you within the way snow crystals refract light into kaleidoscopic prisms, within the tendrils of every wispy cloud, within the sound of leaves rustling in the wind, and in the sight of the sunlight streaming down from their leaves to dapple the ground. I'm looking for you in every melody I hear, in all the laughter I share with my friends and chosen family, and within the tears streaming down my cheeks (despite my best efforts to keep them in check…) as I write this to you.

You are the sun to at least one person, and I know this because if you can look at me and see someone who shines, you have to know that it's only because I am reflecting the light that you gave me so many years ago; it came from you. Your light breathed life into me when I felt dead inside, and it bade me to rise up from my knees even when I thought I couldn't go on, in the same way that our sun bids saplings to break through the confines of their seeds and rise up into truly living. You gave me the strength to continue when my surroundings were painful and wretched, and now everything that surrounds me is beautiful and full of love. You have been my guiding light and my reason for keeping my eyes on the distant horizon no matter what gets thrown at me.

And for all that, I could write letters to you like this for all of eternity, and still, it wouldn't be enough to thank you. I could trade my life for your safety (I would do this proudly, happily, and without even a fraction of a moment's hesitation), and it still wouldn't be enough to thank you. Even if by some miracle I had the power to create with my bare hands a whole world for you that has everything you could possibly ever want or need, it STILL wouldn't be enough to thank you. So don't… please…. please don't call yourself a monster anymore. Please don't be mean to yourself anymore. Okay?

On the way home, there was a crow flying over a rainbow-colored mosaic; we can only see its right wing from here...

Maybe it's ridiculous, but... you know, it doesn't hurt anyone if I can look at the one-winged thing dancing in the sky over some sparkly, beautiful, and prismatic thing, and think to myself that maybe, against all odds, you'll be safe somehow. Somehow...

My body uselessly threw what little water I drank today away, through my eyeballs. So I guess I had better stop writing in favor of rehydrating. How silly, hahaha… I wonder if I'll ever get used to inhabiting a flesh-vessel and all the quirks that come with it…

I love you. I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

8 notes · View notes

mysteryshoptls · 1 year

Text

SR Lilia Vanrouge Beastly Garb Personal Story: Part 1

"I've decided on this!"

Part 1 (Part 2)

[Sunset Savanna – Market]

Lilia: I set out to the city with Kalim, thinking I'd capitalize on the time we had left before Catch the Tail, but…

Lilia: Because of that performance we threw, we amassed a large audience.

Lilia: This must all be thanks to my genius playing abilities.

Lilia: I was able to slip out, but it looks like Kalim's still stuck in the crowd. Now, what to do…

Lilia: …

Lilia: He looks like he's enjoying himself with all the townsfolk, so it doesn't look like I should drag him away.

Lilia: Okay, while I wait for Kalim, I'll look around the shops here!

Lilia: The real charm point of a bazaar is how all the different smells intermingle with each other from every direction.

Lilia: Oh? Look who's over there…

Vil: Hello, Lilia. You're here too, I see.

Lilia: Thought it was you, Vil. You're shopping, too?

Vil: Why, yes. I was completely inundated by the shopkeepers just now… I was finally able to break free of them.

Vil: Oho? The hibiscus and baobab mixed juice we drank yesterday seems to be available to take home as well.

Vil: Perhaps I shall buy some for myself. I did hear that it was good for my skin, anyway.

Lilia: Aha. So you're looking for souvenirs, hm.

Vil: Are you, as well?

Lilia: I am! You can never give enough away, don't you think?

Lilia: Oh? Oooh! This warthog figure… It's beautifully crafted.

Vil: I see it’s made to be a piggy bank. I've seen a few of them at other stores as well. Looks to be a common item in Sunset Savanna.

Lilia: Common, hm. It's not a bad choice, but I think I want to look into something more unique.

Lilia: Oh! This doll has some kind of mechanism inside it. Its movements are odd.

Vil: Its colors are quite lovely, too. I wonder what kind of paint they used for it.

Lilia: I once bought Malleus a battery-operated toy for children, which he enjoyed mightily.

Lilia: Maybe he'll take a liking to this too.

Lilia: But… The more I look at it, the more I realize just now delicate it is.

Lilia: I wonder if this doll would be capable of withstanding Malleus's overwhelming strength.

Vil: Would you really be expecting anything from a children's toy?

Lilia: Hm. Then I suppose I should rethink this.

Lilia: It's always a difficult task to find a good souvenir for Malleus, which makes it all the more fun.

Vil: I completely understand. The harder the challenge, the more it compels you to rise above it.

Lilia: But with all these choices, there's no way I'd even have any time to pick the right one.

Lilia: Especially since I need to find a gift for not only Malleus, but also Silver and Sebek.

Lilia: Kufufu. I do remember we had a few incidents with gifts that I've bought those two as well, though.

Lilia: For a little while, I would always go out of my way to purchase the traditional outfits of the countries that I visited for Silver, but…

Lilia: That boy would just throw on a top and bottom from two completely different regions and leave the house with no sense of cohesion at all.

Lilia: I absolutely couldn't believe my eyes.

Lilia: The two patterns would conflict with each other terribly… I remember my eyes hurting so much…

Vil: What a waste. He only needs to wear something simple, that would be enough to show off the quality of the fabrics.

Lilia: Once, when I purchased some high-end, flashy clothes for Sebek,

Lilia: He said, "I am not worthy of wearing such a thing. This is more suited for the Young Master!!"

Lilia: He wouldn't wear it at all, what a bummer.

Lilia: So then after that, I just bought them both a regular shirt with the same pattern on it, and by coincidence, the two of them ended up wearing it the next day.

Lilia: Seeing them dressed alike was outrageously hilarious. They didn't seem to like it, though.

Vil: You've got story after story, don't you. Does that mean you buy a souvenir for them every time you travel?

Lilia: Yep. I'd traveled outside of Briar Valley many a time.

Lilia: I just wanted Malleus and the others to get a feel for the cultures in other countries, even if just through these souvenirs.

Lilia: …However, just once, I caused Malleus disappointment over a souvenir.

Vil: Over a souvenir?

Part 1 (Part 2)

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #lilia vanrouge #vil schoenheit #twst lilia #twst vil #twst translation #twst tamashina mina #mention: kalim #mention: malleus #mention: silver #mention: sebek

143 notes · View notes

abbofff · 1 day

Text

Chapter One

masterlist

Hi, my name is Ada Williams. I, like many other unfortunate souls, am a daughter of a Greek god. Yes, those exist. No, I'm not crazy (at least not that much). I could go on and on about of my particular childhood and the struggles I got from seeing and experiencing things that adults said were impossible. But I might as well start with one of the very few moments that being a halfblood wasn't that bad.

So this set us up a couple of years ago in September. I had just turned 10 years old a couple days before and I was coming home from my new school I was at because I got expelled from my last one due to some trouble I got into that wasn't my fault. I mean, how could I have knocked the wind out of a bully if I didn't even punch him? I mean, yeah, sure, I really wanted to, but I wasn't going to do it and, of course, no one believed me.

Anyway, on the way home, I saw an oddly large Tibetan Mastiff walking down the street, and for a second, I thought it was really cute until it started barking and chasing me. I ran through the streets of Manhattan until my legs felt like they were burning and my lungs hurt, which led me to an alley with a very rabid dog on my back a couple of meters away from me. On my last hope of not being torn apart, I grabbed a rusty metal rung that had apparently fallen off the damaged fire escape next to me. My grip on the step was slippery thanks to sweaty hands and that I felt more scared than I had ever been.

I didn't know why God was so determined to make me his best warrior, but I tried to ask him to please let me go home to my mom. The dog (who had grown a lot compared to a few moments ago) jumped towards me and I felt a surge of adrenaline and a tingling in my hands with which I managed to grab the metal tightly and as soon as I was going to hit him with the piece of metal a thunder hit the ground and my back hit the wall of the candy store next door. The last thing I saw before I fell unconscious was the dog disintegrating into dust and a lady in a red, white and blue uniform running towards me.

When I woke up I was siting in a chair on a corner with the left of my head rest against the grey bricked wall with a blue coat covering me. I was on what it seemed a storage room filled with a lot of candys and the best smell ever. In front of me, a couple meters away, blonde kid who looked my age was resting his right side against the open door with his arms crossed.

- Mom! The strange girl is awake! - He said as he was looking at me with the most stranged look.

- Percy! Don't say that. - Said a woman appearing behind her son.

- Hi, little one. My name is Sally and he is Percy, my son. How are you feeling? Don't worry, I have already called the ambulance a couple of minutes ago, so they must be on their way already, and when they get here, they can find your parents. -

I loved her voice. It made me feel at ease, it reminded me to my mom. Oh no, my mom. Trought the open door I could see a glass window that view to the street bathed on a sunsets glow. Mom must be home from court already and worrying sick.

- Im feeling good. Thank you for getting me into safety, ma'am. What time is it? - I asked as I got up and grabbed the coat off of me, the boy that now I know was Percy grabbed it and put it on a shelf.

- It must already be past 5pm, I believe - Sally said. - But don't worry, sitting still its the best thing to do now. Listen, I'll wait outside for the ambulance, ok? - She said in a reassuring tone. Then, she looked back at her son -Percy, stay with her and see she's okay - She demanded as she walked trought the door, the boy nodded in response.

- What's your name? - He asked while tilting this head in curiosity.

- I'm Adara, but its kind of weird name so everyone just calls me Ada - Only my mom calls me Adara, and that was she was really serious. And when she was that serious, she made that dog look like a puppy.

Oh damn, the dog, it just couldn't disintegrate. I must have hit my head very hard or something. And with the way the back of my head was kinda sore I assumed that was what happened. Now, about the freaking thunder? I really have no idea, maybe a bare wire. Yes, yes totally what happened.

- Well, if we are talking about wierd names, then i win. My actual name is Perseus, but its very greek and very odd and never really finished liking it, so i just go by Percy. -

I let out a little laugh.

- What happened to you? - That damn curious boy asked.

He grabbed a chair that was behind a shelf and sit next to me and grabbed a plastic bag of blue candy. I didn't actually knew how to respond without ending up in a mental hospital.

-I got chased by a dog and I think I touched a bare wire or something and past out-

- And you are not hurt? Yeah, you are wierd but maybe in a cool way. - He said. Oh, I thought. Nobody has ever called me cool, and I was called a lot of adjectives by my dear fellow classmates.

Percy opened the bad of candy - Want one? - He asked kindly.

- Of course. -I grabbed a couple and put them in my mouth. - They are so good!! I didnt even know they selled all blue jellybeans. - He smiled fondly.

- They don't, me and my mom separated them. My stupid stepfather said blue food its not a thing. We want to prove him wrong. -

- Yeah well, he can shove his words up his butt. - I laughed and he did too. Maybe Percy wasn't that bad after all.

- Are you 10? What school do you go to? - it was my turn to ask something.

- Yup, I turn 10 in august. I don't go to school right now. I got expelled of the last one and same with the other three schools before that one. So its getting hard to find a new one. - He said like it was the most common thing in the world but he still seemed pretty sad.

His face didn't show it, it must probably be because he is used to it, I would know, I have been in his spot a lot of times.

- Oh, I'm sorry.- I smiled kindly at him, I knew exactly how he felt.

- Well, I think you are pretty cool too. So maybe you could shoot a shot at my school. -

He looked very confused.

- If you haven't already been expelled of that one at least - We laughed again.

It would be nice to start the year with a real friend. I wasn't exactly disliked in school but I was the kind of person that was kind to everyone but friend of no one. I never fit in enough to have a real friend. But I had a feeling he was different.

I told him the name of my school, and after 15 minutes waiting, his mom came back with two doctors. They checked me up and said it was nothing to worry about. After the doctors where gone Sally asked me my mom's number so she could call her. And left the room again.

- Hey, do you wanna hang out some day? We could try to make blue food If you like. - I said.

I know we just met, but I really liked him. He felt familiar, not in a way that we already had met but in a way that somehow I knew he was a good guy.

- Yeah, sure! I would love to - He responded. He sounded very exited and I was to. Then, Sally got in the room.

- Your mom's on the way, she sounded really worried but I got to calm her down. You sure you are fine, right kid? - She said pretty preoccupied.

- Yeah ma'am. Thanks a lot for the help - I turn back to look at Percy - and for the amazing blue food. - I laughed.

Suddenly my mom came in the store shouting my name. My mom's name is Amelia Williams. She was a beautiful blonde with green eyes that held the kindest of looks, although they seemed to held a worried looked almost half of the times they looked at me. I hated to make her worried, I knew life as a single mother wasn't easy but I always seemed to manage to make it a lot harder despite my tries of being good.

I came out of the storage room looking for her. And I saw her, she was still on her blue suit with stripes. She must have got off court late and on her way home when she got the call. She wrapped me in a tight hug and let out a heavy sigh.

- I'm so glad you are ok. That thing didn't bite you or anything thing? - She asked worryingly

- No, mom. The doctors said I'm good to go. - I said with a smile in hopes to calm her down.

We separated and she looked behind me. Sally and Percy were out of the storage room too now.

- Thank you so much for looking out for her. I don't know how I could ever repay you - My mom smiled fondly at Sally, and she responded with one of her own.

- Don't worry, I'm a mom too - Sally was smiling at Percy now and he was looking at his mom with a embarrassed smile.

- Well, I have an idea. - I said, and now all eyes were on me. - Could Percy come home someday? - I asked my mom with pleading eyes. Then she looked back at Sally.

- If that's alright with you, I believe we can arrange something. - My mom said.

Then Sally looked at Percy, and he gave her his own set off pleading eyes.

- Yeah sure, you already have my number anyways. - She said smiling.

After that talk and a hang out planning, my mom and I said our "see you soon" before getting in the car. And while we started making our way home, Percy and Sally waved goodbye from the candy store door while smiling.

And that's how a met my best friend, my brother.

#clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue x you #dior goodjohn #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue #percy jackson #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo spoilers #pjo show #original character #fanfic #fanfiction #clarisse la rue fanfiction

6 notes · View notes

theevangelion · 2 years

Text

Alpha Daddy: Chapter II

The days passed. Friday came quickly, though Lena wouldn’t tonight. A night to settle and adjust and see if things felt comfortable seemed more appropriate, Kara wanted to get all of this as right as she could.

Sunset this high up in the city loomed burned orange through the windows, felt aesthetically pleasing in a way that superseded Kara’s ability to string words and explanations why, but the place laid in comfortable disarray like a penthouse doing its best impression of a loft, there were books stacked everywhere, paintings propped and leaned, mismatching antique furniture and restored brass furnishings and all of it sat bathed in terracotta dusk. A wave of honey dulcet quiet in the air. A Friday evening doing its best impression of Sunday afternoon.

All the dust in the air sat trapped and visible like it should, like one expects from hot early Autumn evenings and homes filled with antique brass and mismatching woods overlapping, and so without words to explain why it was all so quietly clean and exactly as it should be, everything felt right regardless, and Kara’s anxieties unwound from the day and took their thumb off tight muscles in her jaw.

Kara pottered around Lena’s place waiting for her to reappear from the shower. She disregarded conversations several blocks away and sirens that could cope without her tonight, fully aware Alex would call if help was needed, half-suspecting that her sister actually probably wouldn’t call at all.

Thinking about it, missile silos could fire nuclear bombs either direction. Alex would still insist she needed some semblance of an ordinary, normal twenty-something year old life—girlfriend included.

So Kara stood there mindless and blank headed, in her girlfriend’s kitchen but out of her body, listening to the running order of cabinets opening and closing in the bathroom, a peeled banana in one hand and a glass of cold white wine in the other. She wasn’t convinced the combination worked. Another bite followed by a sip confirmed her hypothesis. It didn’t stop her, she nibbled and sipped, expecting a different outcome each time, then wrinkling her nose and slapping her mouth from the taste.

It was thick with heat in the air, the warmth kicking out from vents that left sweat prickled on her back and awkward clinginess to her boxers, but Lena liked the place stifling, liked the grey boxers and the shape of her shaft, the sway, the bounce, the absence of tight panties that smoothed and hid away a part of her body that, no matter how many times Lena saw, she always looked then looked again with wide eyes.

It was sweet. It was textbook adorable baby girl behaviour, a clinical symptom of Lena’s softest layers of subspace stirring and nibbling at her bottom lip and slippering pretty panties wet and damp. Lena never liked to admit it, Kara always asked anyway.

“You look so pretty when you squeeze your thighs together. Does it always make you wet, or only when I wear the grey ones?” Kara beamed with quiet confidence and all the correct answers in her back pocket.

“I…” Lena laughed nervously and looked everywhere and anywhere. “I just…”

The blush always went cherry-coloured, and Lena would stutter and stumble and get so embarrassed she couldn’t speak. Around this point, Kara decided it wasn’t adorable or funny and put her out of her misery.

“It’s okay if you’re shy with explicit words. You can just say you like the grey ones, baby.”

The pandering got to her. Kara saw it clear as day when Lena’s jaw went tense, tight and clenching. She loved being managed so softly, she hated being managed so softly, and while the war was going on within her brain, Kara often reached down and briefly stroked her cock over the material of her boxers—adjusting herself a moment too long to be decent.

Something would change in Lena’s eyes.

It wasn’t the same as heat, not even close, it wasn’t frantic or cracked or so desperate that Lena ever looked as though she were fighting against her skin. But Lena would exhale softly between her little crimson lips, then wind the corner of her mouth in her teeth, antsy and chewing and smirking into a primal subspace she felt inadequate and embarrassed about.

“Daddy I like the grey ones,” Lena always managed to quietly rasp the words out.

The rasp got Kara every time—shattered her each and every way. The husking, textured need in the back of her voice. If she wasn’t hard, which she usually already was, then the embarrassed little voice sent her up like a flare.

People rarely guessed her assignation right away—not correctly at least. Everyone had an opinion about that kind of thing, whether it was pertinent, whether it was important to conform and conduct and present. What was an Alpha supposed to look and behave like? She was polite and mild-mannered because that was inherent and earnest. It was Alpha to be those things because Kara felt the statement correct and true.

She didn’t bristle or flare her nostrils or speak crudely.

Except sometimes—usually in grey boxers.

There was something inexplicable about it. Lena would look at her, all green eyes and blushing cheeks, feeling things in parts of her body that she didn’t know how to hide or be discrete about despite wanting to be. Kara growled in those moments and felt her nostrils flare because how could they not?

Lena called her Daddy.

Game over.

No resolve or restraint or mild-manners to be found anywhere.

Daddy. Kara felt that word, felt it everywhere in her body, like all the dumbest stereotypes and cheesiest romance novels were scientific research studies. And so she would growl and clench and touch her like a woman, babytalk her like a little well-behaved good girl. Take her thighs back with warm palms and kiss her dripping cunt and swelling little clit, some nights, slip her tongue inside places that left them both too embarrassed to mention about the next morning.

She handled Lena in precise, dominant ways that were sometimes a little cruel and sometimes abundantly adoring and always so connective that, for days after, Kara felt if she were expected to present publicly in a way that accurately communicated her identity?

White sneakers and the crispest socks.

A baseball cap.

Her phone secured to her belt in a holster and her shirt rolled up her forearms.

Kara wasn’t sure what being an Alpha had to do with anything out there in the world, but it had everything to do with who she was in the small four walls and quiet warmth of privacy. She was Lena’s Daddy—that was that.

The shower ran, the water went in loud splashes off limbs and shoulders and edges of bones. Kara heard it and that was enough, she imagined dripping jet black hair and gleaming pale skin and damp clean freckles, and she smiled wider, thinking of all the places she wanted to kiss and suck and nibble in long trails going back and forth nowhere and everywhere. Little sensitive pink nipples that needed to be bitten and sucked too hard. Lena broke every time and whimpered through croaking rasps where her pronunciations usually sat prim and ladylike.

Kara loved it, loved touching them, loved the feeling of a warm nude body careening into bed on Friday night with a movie on the agenda, Lena’s lips coming up to kiss and peck along her jaw innocently enough, and Kara slipped her hand up a push-pulling belly and grazed fingertips over little puffy nipples that stiffened on her lightest touch.

“Daddy…”

It always came so shakily out of her mouth, so quick and responsive and desperate.

Kara would coo over her always, push her on her back, kiss little stiff nipples in a flurry of pecks and grazing teeth and swirling tongue. A bounce in her upright cock, it stiffened awake with rushing blood flow and webbing precum.

A shower and grower, Kara was humble about it, maybe only because she had felt so ashamed when she was younger. It wasn’t fun being a shy, awkward introvert adolescent with changes and development that sat so at odds with her demeanour. Her cock spilled out of her panties, rarely behaved, hung low and heavy and threatened the hem of her skirt with foreskin and accumulating inches she wanted to slow to a halt. It took time to be okay. It took time to know it was more than okay to feel good and care about girls feeling good, that she was capable of making them feel good. Kara got there, in her own time.

Older and alright with herself, Kara had ten thick solid inches that took up space between her slender legs and could not be avoided or glanced past. She wouldn’t care if she had five, but she had ten, and she wouldn’t push them inside Lena even if she did ask.

Even if she wasn’t a virgin, even if the stars aligned and Lena’s pink lips pressed open on the stretch of her reddened slippery gland, nudging at the little pristine hole, dribbling and webbing from the end of her cock with desperation to fuck the first blood out of her, Kara still would not give leverage and break her way slow and steady inside.

Lena hadn’t proved a heat and Kara would hurt her.

Not intentionally, not saviour-complex overanxious worrying, nor in some arrogant assumed way by virtue of her size and overbearing thickness. Lena hadn’t proved a heat and the little hymen in her cunt was rigid, tight and hypersensitive as a result. A single finger inside, Lena whimpered and winced in pain and puffed the kind of moans that had to be pressed against Kara’s pulse point in order to feel safe and grounded and okay.

If Kara pushed with her cock, Lena would break not as a temporary burning pain giving way to shared pleasures. She would squeal and scream and break the way a dress seam rips under duress and can never be whole or healed after. Kara would never and could never.

It would hurt Lena.

Gentle as she was, Kara made her take the steady slipping finger, hushed and cooed and told a woman four years older to be her brave good girl, relax her muscles then let her little cunt hurt regardless.

There was something about the tight oversensitive hymen barely stretching, sucking so tight on her knuckle that Kara could imagine the burning achiness with clarity. A sudden and constant shifting in Lena’s hips and legs from the pressure. A gasp and wince. An outreach of needy arms thrusting forward that needed Daddy, that slipped and clung tight on Kara’s shoulders.

There and then, Lena’s lips craned and pushed and pressed rapid moans and struggling whimpers into the pulse point of Kara’s throat. Sometimes, more often than she felt proud about, Kara spurted and emptied and glugged out a ruined orgasm that didn’t feel ruined at all.

“Daddy it hurts,” Lena croaked and moaned into her jawline, some nights that always led to ruined orgasms dribbling out of her cock. “Daddy it’s burning—your finger. Inside. It’s stretching and it’s making me sting.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No Daddy. No, you don’t—you’re not understanding. I want more?”

“Well you can’t have more.”

“Please just break it?”

“Break it? Honey, no, it will hurt you.”

“I’m not a silly little girl.”

“You don’t feel like a big greedy one. You really want me to pick you up and force my cock inside? You can’t even get your hand around it, princess. I would have to press you against the wall and slam at your little pinprick hole with everything I had just to break into your cunt…”

“Daddy. Daddy fuck please? You can hurt it. Kara, please—”

“No.”

The pressure alone from a single finger moving in and out, slow and careful and so gentle through her tight hole, had tears dribbling and strangled pain in her whimpers.

“Please Daddy?”

“Remember how much it hurt when I pushed inside your asshole? You begged me to fuck you in your ass, you begged for weeks, told me just how good you had gotten with your fingers, remember what happened that night?”

Lena’s expression slackened and her moans grew loud and close.

“Your head popped inside my bottom too fast, and it hurt and I couldn’t take you any deeper and started to cry, but you kept your head…”

“Kept my head where?”

“Stuck inside my bottom, Daddy.” Lena couldn’t remember it without a flood of arousal dripping her thighs. “You kept it stuck there and made me reach back and stroke your shaft until you came inside of my…”

“Your very pretty, very sore, very stretched asshole.” Kara could count her down like clockwork. “You cried like a little girl. Do you remember after I finished inside of you?”

“Mhm.”

“If you make me ask I will stop and put your panties back on myself.”

“Daddy kissed it better. You kissed it better and rubbed your finger over and round the edges, in circles, until I went to sleep.” The moans went high and warbly and gasping. “Kara please push inside?” Lena always tried one last time.

“No baby.” A little come hither and quickening on her clit was all it ever took. “Sweet baby girl. You look so pretty when you cum so hard that it makes you cry. See, you didn’t need more. You just needed to hear Daddy say no.”

Kara loved rewarding, loved kissing and sucking on little pink nipples, loved the way Lena trembled and rose up and wailed into the feeling of a suddenly lavished clit and French kissed cunt.

Daddy loved saying no.

Daddy loved Lena’s good, cathartic loveliest tears. The whimper when her sensitive little nipples were bitten a little too hard. The croaking, rasped and textured wail when Daddy bit harder anyway. The wide helpless arousal in her green eyes when Daddy twisted and pinched her nipples, cooing the little good girl, twisting and pinching past the tears, past the useless slaps drumming rapid and quick against everywhere and anywhere, focused only on the bucking little cunt lips grinding a puddle on Daddy’s knee until the request came.

Daddy loved saying yes too, sometimes.

Daddy whispered reassurance, permission and praise that swaddled orgasms into happy little baby girl tears and subspace calm. Daddy loved a sore, stretched and hypersensitive little hymen on her finger.

And of course, Daddy loved edging Lena’s pretty fat cunt lips, all swollen and spread and dripping the sheets puddled and damp, to then pull Lena’s panties back up too quickly and pat at her puffy little cunt twitches like she was a sweet, cherished pet, to then feel the frustrated tears dribble on to her hips with a lapping tongue and suckling mouth bobbing her straining cock.

The chastity belt would be on the top of the list of things she loved.

Kara knew it.

She heard the bathroom cabinets open and close. The deodorant. The faucet gushing to brush teeth and gargle. It wasn’t quick enough. Kara wanted to hurry it along and burst in and take her to bed like a little girl to be thrown over her sturdy, solid and strong shoulders. She wanted to be all the things Lena needed. She wanted to rub a nervous, push-pulling tummy, feel the lock click and the belt stay tight and secure on Lena’s hips and waist and denied little sex, smooth on her fingertips running each and every way along the steel straits.

She wanted to hush the inevitable tears.

She wanted to hold her close.

She wanted to ask, just to be sure, and then soften with relief at the inevitable answer.

“Feels good Daddy, I don’t want to take it off. It’s just different. It’s new and it’s a lot.”

Kara half-planned out the things she might say, probably would say, if the words came as she expected, and the moment felt as sweet as she hoped.

“It’s new and it’s a lot and that’s a big deal. It’s not chastity for denial baby, it’s for Saturday mornings curled up eating breakfast in bed and Sunday afternoons pulling my fingers down to your pretty parts at the movie theatre and…all of quiet, perfectly ordinary moments during the regular day that you can feel me there whenever you want to feel close and held…”

In Kara’s mind, she absolutely saw it as earnest truth.

It wasn’t a reason to avoid intimacy. It was a way to embrace it, keep it present and constant, find more reasons and ways to touch and be close and navigate what it meant to be intimate like other couples and yet, somehow, never intimate like other couples despite both craving it.

Kara wasn’t trying to be gross with her runaway thinking, she couldn’t help it, but she heard the faucet turn off and the running order of the bathroom draw to its end, and she tried to not be consumed with the wrong things—tried at least.

The banana had gone straight to her head.

It was the excuse in the absence of needing one. The one that made her laugh to herself. In her comfiest grey boxers and nothing else, Kara stirred back to life and topped her wine glass and poured one for Lena.

“Kara, baby?”

The bathroom door creaked wider, Lena slipped the towel around and Kara smiled at the way she smiled. Dripping black hair, gleaming skin, damp freckles and a thousand other perfectly good reasons to take her mouth and kisses in slow directions and lose herself in the little clean wonder of her girlfriend’s shape.

“Oh. You’re being naughty, uncouth and unsavoury” —Lena’s eyes flew open, then she laughed with the widest grin despite her exasperated and slumping posture— “Do you know how loud your dirty thoughts are? The neighbours complain, Kara!”

Kara snorted into the sip of her drink.

“Sorry baby,” Kara whispered with a smile.

Lena glanced to the empty waiting sofa then back to Kara’s eyeline.

“Wine and cuddles and nauseatingly sweet kisses over trash garbage television?”

“Afterwards.” Kara took Lena’s wine glass from the counter and carried it for her. “Bedroom first. I want you to be a good girl with an edged little pretty cunt under lock and key, and you’re going to be a good girl and take it like I tell you, Lena…” Kara stopped and turned her head as they stood parallel in the hallway, her voice as lavender calm and ordinary as it ever was. “I like it when you cry on my shoulder because you’re feeling things between your legs, baby. I’m going to love holding you tonight in your pretty little new belt and tomorrow I’ll take it off and suck the frustration from your little clit, and we’ll go for breakfast and talk about how it all feels.”

Lena stared like a lame rabbit in headlights.

“Daddy—”

Kara didn’t hang around for the conversation.

“Bedroom, Lena,” Kara whispered sweetly.

Read more, read all my things, come little one.

#supercorp #supercorp smut #abo #omegaverse #supercorp omegaverse #omega lena #alpha kara #daddy kara #lesbian daddy #dom kara #sub lena #d/s supercorp

87 notes · View notes