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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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Merlin accidentally becomes Legolas/Katniss/Merida… you know the type;

He may be shitty at sword fighting, but Merlin begins to use a traditional bow and arrow and… actually becomes very good at it??

I imagine the first time he does it, it’s a complete fluke.

The five knights, The King, and Merlin are on their way back from yet another (frankly, ridiculous) quest.

They have been, of course, ambushed by a group of bandits, twenty to their six (six plus Merlin, though no one bar Lancelot knows about his magic, so he isn’t counted as a fighter). Though the knights outweigh them in skill, their sheer numbers makes it a… challenging, fight (meaning that they are winning, but far too slowly for their liking, and no one wants to admit it).

Now normally, Merlin hides behind a tree or in a ditch, and performs his spells quietly without being noticed, slowly helping and speeding up the fight. Except this time, the Gang was in the middle of a barren, open field, the bandits had disguised themselves with magic until the moment they attacked, and Merlin was right in the middle of all the action.

Everyone worried for his safety. There was nowhere for him to hide here, so they had to keep an eye on him, lest he get hurt (and Arthur sulked, or kicked off, depending on how badly he was hurt).

With nowhere to hide (and no branches to drop, or roots to trip people with), and one of the knights throwing a glance his way every ten seconds, he couldn’t use his magic.

He was currently on his hands and knees, Leon directly in front of him, Percival to his left, holding off four attackers between them (Merlin would marvel at how impressive that was if he weren’t otherwise preoccupied).

He keeps trying to get to Arthur, crawling between legs and over the groaning, injured bodies of bandits (he made a point to land sharp elbows and harsh knees into the more… sensitive areas), but with everyone moving around so rapidly, and the vicious swinging of swords and axes and maces inches above his head, he kept getting side-tracked and blocked and almost knocked out.

With a frustrated huff, he notices yet another bandit rounding on The King. Said huff turns into a pained gasp when he realises that Arthur hasn’t seen him yet.

The bandit raises his weapon in the air, seconds from bringing it down on Arthur’s back, but Leon is right there, and there are no branches to drop on him, and Arthur still hasn’t noticed!

The noise is too loud, grunts and yells and clashes of metal drowning out any sort of warning yell that Merlin could throw Arthur’s way, and he scrabbles around on the floor desperately; hands raking through sharp grass and over bloodied bodies as he stares in horror at the triumphant smirk on the future-King-killer’s face.

Time seems to slow (no magic, just adrenaline) as Merlin’s hands find purchase on a smooth, curved piece of wood. He picks it up without looking, at first intending to throw whatever it is as hard as he can in the bandits direction, before something (magic, instincts, periphery vision, who knows) tells him to look down.

He obeys, and widens his eyes as he sees the longbow gripped tightly in his right hand, and a stray arrow on the floor next to his left.

Merlin is no expert, only having actually hunted once or twice back home in Ealdor, when he was younger, but that was just enough knowledge for him to know roughly how to notch the arrow and fire. He pulls the two up quickly, a plan formulating in his head:

Step 1) Notch arrow.

Step 2) Close eyes.

Step 3) Magic? Hope?

Step 4) Come up with some sort of lie that explains how he managed to make the shot from sixty yards away, through a crowd.

Thankfully, it would appear that Merlin’s bad luck has given him a rest today; the first three steps go off without a hitch (the fourth will come a little later, when the battle is over), but he doesn’t have time to congratulate himself before he’s thrown into the fray, the bandits now obviously seeing him as some sort of threat.

Arthur finally defeats his own attackers, looking behind him in shock to see his unknown enemy lying on the floor, gurgling up blood and grasping weakly at the arrow through his neck. His head whips to the side, trying to find whoever had made the shot; his bewildered gaze meets Merlin’s for only a second before the servant is dragged to his feet, and promptly punched in the face.

He stumbles back and can just about hear Leon yell something from beside him but he pays it no mind, righting his balance once again and swinging his arm back, before bringing it down harshly on his newest attackers head. The resounding crack echoes over the field as the wood of the longbow splits in two on the bandit’s skull, and he drops like a sack of potatoes.

The fight doesn’t last much longer, each knight taking advantage of their enemies' fatigue, and Merlin using his now broken longbow to whack them in the shins or trip them up when they weren’t paying attention.

He was sad to see it broken, but two of his closest friends literally owned a blacksmith's, and he had easy access to the Castle’s armoury; he could get a hold of another one easily enough, as long as he survived the journey back home.

The battle finally came to a close. Everyone was exhausted, and each of them was sporting more than one hefty bruise, but they were all alive and there were no serious injuries, so they could be grateful for that. After Arthur had counted his men, and generally taken stock of things, he traipsed tiredly over to Merlin, who had abandoned his broken bow in favour of cleaning a still weeping cut on Elyan’s temple.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Merlin.”

The servant ignores him at first, biting his lip in concentration as he carefully wipes the grime away from the wound. It was small, so an infection wouldn’t be too worrying, but it wouldn’t be comfortable and would make the scarring worse, so best to avoid it if at all possible. He hums in satisfaction as he leans back on his heels, Elyan gives him a grateful smile, and Merlin finally throws a glance Arthur’s way, before focusing back on threading the needle in his hands; it would only need two or three stitches, thankfully:

“Hmm. I'm not fond of hunting, but we had to for food back in Ealdor. Except we didn’t have fancy crossbows or hunting dogs, so we had to make do with hand-whittled longbows.”

Arthur nods, frowning slightly:

“Still, if I’d known you were that good, I would’ve demanded you had a bow of your own; that way us lot wouldn’t have to spend so much time making sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

Merlin smirked and quirked an eyebrow, but doesn’t look away from Elyan’s stitches, whispering an apology at the man’s wince before he speaks slowly, concentrating:

“Careful Sire, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

Elyan snorts out a laugh, but Merlin tuts and lightly slaps his leg disapprovingly, and he stills again. Arthur rolls his eyes with a huff:

“As if. Hurry up, I want to get moving as soon as possible.”

Arthur wasn’t the only one that noticed Merlin’s outstanding shot, and over the course of the next few day’s journey home, he received a multitude of compliments from the other knights.

Including an hour long excited infodump about the history and use of longbows from Leon, which Merlin eagerly hung onto every word of, a fond smile on his face (Leon was a noble, and had it practically beaten into him to not ramble, so Merlin always did his best not to discourage the man. That, and the fact that it was actually very interesting, and useful, if he were to keep up this charade that he was an expert marksman).

When Merlin finally had a moment alone with Lancelot, a few days after they had gotten back, he burst:

“Please please tell me you know how to use a longbow??”

Lancelot raises his eyebrow from where he was sat on the bed in Merlin’s room. Merlin was staring at him with unconcealed desperation, and the knight chuckled as he answered:

“Why? It’s not like you need any more training, that was a cracking shot.”

Merlin huffed loudly, running his hands through his hair as he looked back at the knight:

“I used magic!! I closed my eyes so no one would see and I guided the arrow with magic! Now everyone thinks I’m some master marksman! This is bad. What if next time I can’t use magic, or what if someone notices that I have my eyes closed when I fire?”

Lancelot clamps a hand over his mouth in a poor attempt to stop himself from giggling, but he gives up quickly, bursting into laughter at the younger man’s panic. Said younger man fumes, sputtering as he picks up one of the knight’s discarded boots and throws it at him:

“It’s not funny, Lance! I’m being serious, this is an actual issue!”

Lancelot calms himself, rubbing the mirth from his eyes as he takes a deep breath:

“Ok ok, sorry. Yes, I can teach you to use a longbow properly. Have you ever actually used one before, or was the hunting thing a cover?”

The red fades from Merlin’s face slightly as he realises the other man is intending to help him, his panic lessening:

“Sort of. Yeah, I went hunting with a bow a couple times, but not enough to be that good at it.”

Lancelot sighs fondly and nods his head:

“Well, that’s a start at least. Come on, I’ve not got patrol until after dinner, and Arthur thinks you’re busy helping Gaius, so we’ve got a few hours.”

So I imagine that’s how it goes for a while.

After their last big adventure, Arthur was reluctant to head out as a group again, wanting to give everyone time to recuperate and get back into the swing of things.

Merlin’s skills with a bow were bought up constantly by everyone, news had even reached Gwen (who gave him a proud smile and a cute little dance to congratulate him) and Gaius (who raised an eyebrow, and had much better skill than Lancelot at holding in his laughter).

Gwaine, Elyan, and even Percival were desperate to set up targets and watch him shoot shit (their words), Leon wanted to talk about the specifics of technique and crafting, and Arthur... well. Arthur sounded like he was taking the piss, but there was something else in his tone that Merlin couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Affection? Pride?

Probably not, probably jealousy and annoyance that Merlin is so effortlessly good at something that Arthur himself was average at at best.

Merlin manages to avoid it for a while, showing his “skills” off, but he and Lancelot are running out of excuses, and Arthur is starting to accuse him of being a fake who got lucky. Normally, things like that didn’t bother Merlin, and technically Arthur wasn’t wrong... he had got lucky, and cheated with magic, but that wasn’t the point. It was nice for Merlin, to be good at something, really good.

He was good at plenty of other things. Magic for starters, though not even Lancelot knew the full extent of his power in that area. But he cooked well (shown by the fact that the knights always scoffed the lot), he was a good physician (shown by the fact that the knights trusted him just as much as Gaius when it came to treating injuries and sickness), and he was a BRILLIANT servant, if he did say so himself.

But he never got any actual praise for that. Merlin hated to think badly of the knights, his friends, but they only complained when Merlin wasn’t there, never praised him when he was. Well, apart from Lancelot. And that had just started a bunch of rumours that they were... uh... boinking.

(False. Anyone with more than two braincells could see that Sir Lancelot was head over heals in love with the newly-promoted Housekeeper, Guinevere, and that The King’s Manservant had an affinity for certain a blond prat-King.)

ANYWAY

It was nice for Merlin to have a skill that others thought worth complimenting, and with Lancelot monitoring his practice sessions, correcting any mistakes and offering congratulations whenever he did well, he hoped it wouldn’t be too long before he no longer had to come up with excuses.

Luckily, Merlin picked it up very quickly.

Despite being clumsy by nature (though Lancelot is starting to suspect more and more that it’s all for show), the dark haired servant can consistently hit bullseyes from fifty yards within a month. The further away from the target he got, the less astounding his aim was, but that was to be expected, and another month later he could successfully hit a moving target from seventy feet.

A training session, around three months after he started properly practicing, he finally “gave in” to Gwaine’s begging. Lancelot helped him set up a bunch of targets, and fetched a bag of apples to throw.

Merlin put on quite the show, grinning at the uproarious applause he got from the knights when he hit every single bullseye, and every single thrown target. Thankfully the knowing, proud smiles between the servant and Sir Lancelot went unnoticed, and even Arthur gave him a clap on the back and an impressed nod.

The first time Merlin met the knights in the courtyard to find Leon holding a longbow and quiver of arrows out to him, he panicked slightly, but one reassuring smile from Lancelot boosted his confidence, and he took them with a quiet thank you.

(After the fifth time, Arthur huffed, and told him to just keep them. He was the only one that regularly signed them out of the armoury anyway, so it would just be easier if he just took possession of them.)

It settled everyone’s stomachs, knowing that not only did the group have a master marksmen, hiding in the trees and taking out enemies that they didn’t see coming, but that Merlin personally now had more than his frankly horrifying (or... horrifying as far as they were concerned) stealth skills to keep him safe.

And that (a master marksmen in the trees) is exactly what happened.

In the early days, it involved a lot of bruises; Merlin could fire well, but firing and balancing at the same time? Took some getting used to, and involved a lot of falling out of trees at inopportune times.

The knights, Gwaine and Arthur especially, laughed endlessly at that, but quickly stopped after a particularly tired and irate and bruised Merlin fired an arrow so close by Gwaine’s crotch, that it stuck his trousers fast into the tree just behind him.

At first, it was meant to be just as back-up; Merlin was no knight. He still refused to wear armour, and Arthur didn’t want his manservant to make himself a target... at least that was his excuse.

Really, it was because (as far as Arthur was aware) Merlin had never deliberately killed before. Even now, years into his Kingship, and even longer into his knighthood, Arthur hated killing; it made him sick, and took a lot of practice at compartmentalization before it no longer bothered him as much.

Merlin was his manservant, his (best) friend, the love of his life (secretly). He was not a warrior, he was not meant to kill, he was meant to be protected from that.

But alas, Merlin did not get the memo, and the first patrol he went on with his bow and quiver slung over his shoulder, he killed at least five bandits.

After the fight, it was Leon who approached him first, a concerned look on his face despite Merlin’s nonchalant expression as he checked over the string for wear and tear:

“Are you feeling alright, Merlin? You got a few good shots in there, you’re not feeling sick?”

Merlin looked up at the hand on his shoulder and the soft words, a confused look on his face:

“Why would being good make me feel sick?”

Leon tilts his head in sympathy, which just makes Merlin even more confused:

“The man you killed the other month was spur of the moment, protecting your King. But you... you killed a fair few men today, Merlin. I know that can be incredibly difficult at first, I just wanted to check in.”

The others had finally walked over to join them; Percival, Elyan, Gwaine, and Arthur looking equally concerned, whilst Lancelot hid his proud smile. Merlin just raised an eyebrow at them:

“You seem to be under the impression that I’ve never killed anyone before?”

Everyone (bar Lancelot) looks taken aback at that, and Arthur frowns whilst Leon drops his hand in shock. The King speaks slowly:

“Merlin, are you telling us you’ve killed people before?”

The manservant clenches his jaw at that and looks back down at his bow, resuming his checking of the string and its knots. He speaks lowly, and the knights can tell it’s not a topic he’s fond of:

“Hmm. It’s a tough world, Sire. I’ve done what I had to, to keep myself and the people I care about safe.”

At his dark reply, conversation stopped, and didn’t resume for the rest of the day as everyone contemplated Merlin’s words.

That is, until he was the first one to successfully catch dinner later that evening. At which he got an incredulous look from Arthur when he made it back to camp with his half of the patrol:

“I thought you despised hunting??”

Merlin didn’t look up from the hares he was skinning, and the rest of the knights tuned in, curious:

“No. I hate hunting for sport; it shows hubris and cruelty. Hunting for food is not only necessary and natural, but humbling, if you do it right and honour every part of the creature.”

Arthur, ever the eloquent one, stared at him blankly, and said, rather dumbly:

“...What?”

Merlin huffed, finally looking up:

“Going after helpless animals on horseback with crossbows and hunting dogs is like giving yourself a huge pat on the back for winning a tournament against an unarmoured, unarmed, unconscious opponent, and then calling yourself strong and brave for daring to fight in the first place. It’s an egotistical act of violence for no other reason than cruelty for the sake of cruelty.-”

The knights looks on him with shock, Percival and Leon at least having the decency to look a little ashamed. Merlin looks back down to the hares, and everyone notices the careful way he cuts at the fur:

“I’ve taken these lives to feed us as a necessity. The meat will be eaten, but that isn’t all. I’ll take the bones home for Gaius, the marrow is useful in a lot of medicine. The fur can be repurposed for winter gloves or socks. The organs and other bits that we won’t eat: I’ll take for the pigs in the farms, or the dogs up at the castle. In using every part of them we are... honouring them, in a way. As a thank-you for their... sacrifice.”

Arthur looks a little dumbfounded. As royalty, he of course had never really considered the waste that comes about with hunting, but Merlin, a farm-boy from a rural village who barely scraped by every winter? Of course he saw a deeper meaning in hunting. He would have to.

Elyan is the first to break the silence:

“You almost sound religious, Merlin.”

Merlin looks up at him, a strained smile on his face. As magic incarnate, he has a particularly strong, temperamental relationship with nature and her creatures, a bond that some might call faith. To be wasteful or cruel in any way hurts him in more ways than one:

“Not really, I just have respect for nature, is all.”

No one mentions the thinly-veiled insult, but everyone creeps closer, wanting to see the way he disassembles the creatures for future reference.

It’s been eight months since that first, perfect shot.

Merlin’s skills with a longbow had become a normal, expected part of The Gang’s experiences, but the knights never stopped praising and thanking him when he saved their lives (something that Merlin still hadn’t quite gotten used), and The King had apparently not stopped thinking about it for barely more than a second.

Yule was approaching quickly: Merlin, Gwen, and the Steward being constantly busy with preparations in the castle, the knights being run off their feet escorting emergency aid to the border villages for the harsh winter, and Arthur himself having every minute of the day taken up with speech writing, invite sending, and his other general King-during-Yule duties.

That however, was all to be expected, and of course did nothing to keep Arthur and Merlin from their annual traditions.

It wasn’t official, it wasn’t even spoken of, but the last evening of Yule, the night before the new year, the two of them always spent together.

The last feast of the year would finish, Arthur would stay to see his guests off, thank the staff for all of their hard work, and finally retire to his chambers, his tired manservant barely a hair’s breadth behind him. They would sit in front of the lit hearth (in comfy chairs that only they used), work their way through a jug or two of wine, exchange small gifts, and fall asleep in front of the fire. Their hands, dangling over the side of their chairs, seem to be creeping closer and closer with each passing year; though have yet to become entangled by morning.

This year was somehow no different, and very different, at the same time.

The King and his Manservant settled in their chairs, tired and already a little more than tipsy from the wine drunk during the feast. Arthur looked up at Merlin, the fond smile dropping from his face when he sees the other man’s features pulled into a contemplative frown:

“What’s on your mind, Merls? I don’t think I’ve seen you this serious since the start of the celebrations.”

Merlin looked up at him suddenly, his eyes wide, but he smiles and shakes his head:

“Nothing, nothing. Just thinking is all.”

Normally, Arthur would raise an eyebrow and let a scathing tease on the state of Merlin’s intelligence fall from his lips, but not tonight. This is the only night of the year that The King allows himself to entertain the idea that perhaps he and Merlin were more than friends, or at least could be. So instead he resumes his smiling, and looks back to the fire, taking another sip of his wine before responding softly:

“What about?”

Merlin hums, copying Arthur’s wine-sipping, before taking a deep breath:

“The future, mostly. You, me, Camelot. Secrets and truths, and when one might turn into the other. Soon, I think... yeah. Soon.”

Arthur huffs slightly in amusement. He knows that Merlin hides a great deal of himself, but he always becomes more cryptic after a few glasses of wine, like he desperately wants to say something and doesn’t have the power to stop himself from hinting at whatever it may be.

He asks his next question good-naturedly, a smile sweetened by wine gracing his face:

“The hell does that mean?”

Merlin lets out a short laugh, looking up at the other man:

“Oh, you know. Thinking about spilling all my deepest darkest secrets to you, at some point soon.”

Arthur snorts, saying, only for the sake of keeping up the charade they’ve built:

“You don’t have any secrets, Merlin. Certainly not any that are deep or dark.”

Once, Arthur would have believed that. Then, when he stopped believing it, he was angry about it, and now? Now, he finds he doesn’t mind so much. He is confident, he has faith, in both himself and in Merlin. He knows that those secrets are there, and Merlin knows that he knows, but that’s ok. Nothing either of them could reveal would tear them apart, at least not for long, so Arthur was happy to wait until Merlin was happy to share.

Merlin chuckled at Arthur’s response, shaking his head slightly before reaching down and picking up a small wrapped parcel that he’d stowed away before the feast:

“Come on, I’m a little nervous about your gift this year, so let’s get it over and done with.”

Arthur nodded, accepting the change in subject, and set his wine down so he could pick up the (much bigger) parcel by his own chair.

Merlin raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. After the first gift-exchange happened, Merlin had put his foot down and made Arthur swear to not go overboard on the expense side of things. Arthur may have been a prince, and now a King, but Merlin was still just a servant/physician; he could hardly afford anything worthy of a King.

He had a feeling that Arthur might’ve broken his word this year, but where Arthur had likely gone overboard with expense, Merlin had definitely gone overboard with sentimentality.

They swapped parcels, Merlin placing the large, heavy box carefully at his feet as he gestured Arthur to open his first. Arthur got to it, tearing the paper off without a second of hesitation, and Merlin allowed himself to smile fondly at the child-like excitement on the blonde’s face.

Arthur’s brow creased as he dropped the paper to the floor, stroking soft fingers over the worn leather of an old, well-loved book. Merlin took deep, fortifying breaths as Arthur carefully opened the first few pages, butterflies in his stomach as Arthur’s eyes wandered the yellowed paper in curiosity.

The King looked up at him, amused confusion on his face as he asked:

“Is this yours? I didn’t know you could draw, Merlin.”

Merlin gulped, and shook his head as memories of the exquisite sketches filled his mind; detail-perfect renditions of the castle, the town square, waterfalls and knights in action and people that Merlin didn’t recognise (for the most part. Arthur evidently hadn’t gotten to any of the pages with young Uther on them).

“No, not mine. This one requires a little explanation-”

Arthur nodded, carefully closing the book and holding it protectively in his lap as he gave Merlin his undivided attention:

“-I mentioned off-handedly to Leon a few months ago that I thought the lack of... of paintings of the late Queen in the castle was odd.-”

Arthur gulped at the mention of his mother, but nodded with a small smile when Merlin paused:

“-He said that when she passed, The King had everything to do with her moved to the vaults. He couldn’t force himself to destroy any of it, but looking at it, day in and day out, was too painful. We found the keys, with the help of Geoffrey, and went down to have a look, see what we could find. We didn’t tell you about it because we didn’t want to disappoint you, in case we couldn’t find anything.-”

Merlin once again looked a little nervous at this, and reached a hand out towards Arthur. When the man didn’t flinch away (if anything, he leaned into it), he moved to grip his shoulder blade, running his thumb over the exposed skin at the base of The King’s neck.

“-We found... a lot. Old clothes and paintings mainly, some jewellery. But then I found that;-”

He nodded at the book in Arthur’s lap, and tightened his grip on his shoulder. Merlin spoke his next words so quietly that Arthur almost doesn’t hear him, a soft smile on his face:

“-your mother was quite the artist, Arthur. I knew you had to have it.”

Arthur gasped softly, his eyes widening as he looked down at the book:

“You... you think my mother drew these?”

Merlin smiled at him, moving his hand to squeeze Arthur’s wrist slightly, before dropping it entirely:

“Check the back page.”

Arthur took a deep breath before doing what Merlin said, handling the book with even more care than he had before now that he knows who it belonged to. He turned to the very last page, to see an inscription written in beautiful cursive. Merlin recited it aloud, having memorised the words weeks ago:

“My dearest son, my silly sketches are able to hold only a fraction of our Kingdom’s beauty. I know one day that you will see what I see, treasure it just as much, and make it your own. You have my support, forever and always, your loving Mother.”

Arthur bites his lip harshly, lifting the book to press his forehead against the words as he shuts his eyes tightly, though that does nothing to stop the tears. Merlin replaces his hand on The King’s shoulder as the man shakes. He sniffles slightly, putting the book back in his lap, though keeping his hands wrapped around it securely, as he looks to Merlin:

“Merlin, I... I don’t even know what to say. This is... amazing. I... Thank you.”

Merlin smiles, shaking his head slightly:

“Technically, it wasn’t even mine to give, it’s always been yours. But I thought it might make a nice surprise. There’s plenty of other stuff down there, I’ll show you in the morning.”

Arthur nods his head, wiping his tears as he carefully places the book on his side table and gestures to the box at Merlin’s feet. He was itching to scour through the book, dedicating every single line to memory, but whilst Merlin had been nervous about Arthur’s gift, Arthur was buzzing about Merlin’s, and he was desperate to see the man’s reaction.

Merlin huffs out a laugh, but picks the box up, noting once again how heavy it is. He sets about removing the paper, much calmer and more methodical than Arthur had been, with his face pinched in concentration.

He frowns in curiosity as he sets eyes on the wooden box. It had a hinged lid, and a logo that he’s certain he recognises burned like a brand into the corner. He can feel Arthur bouncing in his chair slightly, and looks up at him in amusement, laughing once again when he nods excitedly back down at the box.

He lifts the lid, and takes in a shocked breath.

Inside was a beautifully crafted long bow; the wood smooth and varnished and carved, and a leather quiver. The patterns embossed in the leather and carved in to the metal at the base, match those carved into the wood of the bow, and Merlin traces soft fingers over the intricate swirls, stopping with a teary smile at the Pendragon crest, carved just next to a Merlin bird.

He lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding as he looks up at the excited King:

“Arthur this is beautiful. Gods I almost don’t want to touch it, I feel like it should be on display behind glass.”

Arthur lets out a laugh, obviously pleased with Merlin’s reaction:

“Nope. It will be going with you every time you leave the city, and considering how much trouble we always seem to attract, I have no doubt that it will see a lot of use.”

Merlin laughs, closing the lid carefully and setting the box back on the floor, before launching himself bodily at Arthur. The blonde laughs, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s middle with no hesitation as the other man mutters endless thank-yous in his ear.

The servant finally pulls back, settling in his own chair again, and the two of them hope that the other puts the flush on their face down to the wine, and nothing else. They look to each other with wide grins on their faces, and Arthur breaks the stare first, taking another gulp of his wine before laughing jovially and speaking:

“Well. Here’s to an amazing year, and hopefully an even better one, starting in a few minutes.”

Merlin nods, lifting his own goblet to tap it against Arthur’s:

“Here’s to the past, that guides us-”

He gestures to the book on Arthur’s table:

“-and the future, that calls to us.”

He gestures to his new bow, and they both finish their wine off, a healthy flush to their cheeks and fond smiles on their faces.

They fall asleep in their respective chairs, the same as every year.

In the morning, they wake with pounding headaches, a promise of a golden future, and hands intertwined.

THE END!!

We love a cutesy/hopeful ending😌

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huenjin · 3 years

Text

soulmate bruises.

you could have been stuck with any other soulmate mark, so why specifically did it have to be the soulmate scars theory?

"That looks like a real bad bruise," Haknyeon mumbles. His thumb traces the corners of the bruise and you wince, the pain scourging through your nerves, tingling and rushing through your brain furiously.

"Your soulmate must have gotten hit badly," Chanhee chuckles, looking through the photographs in your camera. You frown and curse under your breath. Haknyeon looks through the papers by your side and you look around the photography club you started with these idiots for the school magazine.

"I’ve got an idea," Changmin's eyes glint mischievously as he walks up to your table, having overheard your conversation. "Let's hit Y/N to inflict pain on her soulmate for having hurt her. It's the perfect plan."

Chanhee raises an eyebrow at Changmin but Haknyeon seems to be all in for the plan. Your forehead scrunches in annoyance, your eyebrows furrowing together as you pinch the skin to distract yourself. You groan, mumbling, "Shut up for a second, will you?"

"Fine, spoilsport," the one who suggests the plan says, pressing his lips together in disappointment. He soon began, "My idea was great. All you low lives will never understand."

"I'm going to find this nasty motherfucker," you stand up, determined. The chair pushes back and the table jerks forward as you press your hand down on it firmly. "And he's going to pay for hurting me so much. These bruises take forever to fade away."

Haknyeon stands up soon after, "We just have to find another individual in this city that has the same ugly bruise on their face as she does."

Chanhee and Changmin follow suit, albeit reluctantly. The latter chuckles sardonically, "This is going to be easy. How many people do we even have to search? Yeah, just mere tens of thousands in this city."

Chanhee digresses, "Let's cancel all the nice-looking dudes because our girl here doesn't have good luck."

"You're an arsehole, dude. An arsehole, I say."

"What's with the weird We're Avengers formation you guys have on?"

Younghoon walks into the room with a cup of coffee and Ray-Bans like he's making an entrance and you roll your eyes. He places the glasses on the table and sighs, "It's cool and everything but Juyeon's hurt, Chanhee. He won't tell it out loud, but yeah, he's hurt and he needs help. The nurse isn't in yet."

"He's hurt?" Chanhee asks, concerned.

"Hurt, oh yes. This is perfect." Changmin chirps and Younghoon raises an eyebrow.

"You're Team Rocket now?" He furrows his eyebrows and glances over at you disappointed, almost as if it is your stupidity that has nurtured them into these. "Anyhow, Chanhee, follow me. The rest of you stay put."

Haknyeon, Changmin and you listen because Younghoon was a mere acquaintance. He was, however, Chanhee's childhood friend, and since he is Chanhee's friend, you have seen Lee Juyeon around — at parties, at the basketball court, in the hallways. And that is it.

So, why would you care if this man was hurt?

Unless he got hit like a bitch on his face.

Later that night, you hold yourself close, tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes. It feels like your ribs are being slammed into something and the pain is unbearable. It leaves you breathless and a little shaky on the ground. You scream at one point and slow winces leave your lips as you try to hold it in.

Haknyeon knocks and walks into your room when you don't reply. He shifts you slightly, his hands rubbing your back slightly as you lightly cry, "I hate that bitch but he must be in so much pain if I'm feeling this much."

Haknyeon's angry. In all honesty, he gets the soulmate mark and how that should help people be happy but never has it led you to your soulmate, only providing pain along with the entire experience. Soulmates are not supposed to bring pain.

Your teeth clench in pain as you sit up. Your feet dangle for a while before it touches the ground and you stand up, ignoring the pain that seers through your body.

"I'm finding that motherfucker, that's it."

Haknyeon chuckles at your resilience. He helps you stand well and watches your determined expression, mumbling, "The boy's dead meat for sure. Either in your hands or the one that's hurting him."

Finding him is easier than you expected. Haknyeon helps you and the two of you leave the house in pursuit of the man with injuries — a bruised face and now, bruised ribs. You have always wanted to meet your soulmate for, a) he was nasty enough to get himself hurt without bothering about your well being, b) he is your soulmate, and deep down, you want to care for him, heal his wounds, and. . . slap some sense into him because it's a connection and he should respect it.

You message Chanhee, knowing if you should start anywhere, it's the closest person you know who has an injury.

You: chanhee? [11:23 PM] Chanhee is a hoe: Juyeon's number? here. [11:23 PM] Chanhee is a hoe: [Juyeon's contact] [11:24 PM] You: what the fuck? [11:24 PM] Chanhee is a hoe: thank me later. [11:24 PM] Chanhee is a hoe: don't kill him. but if it makes you feel better, i'm shipping you two and that his bruise is nastier. [11:30 PM]

"It's Juyeon, isn't it?" Haknyeon pipes and you watch his smile curve upwards. "Turns out Chanhee isn't that useless."

"He is. That arsehole didn't tell me till I asked him of it. What if I didn't? Would he have let me go on a wild goose chase?"

Your phone pings again and you groan, albeit very grateful for his existence

Chanhee is a hoe: [Juyeon's address] [11:36 PM]

Haknyeon laughs, "Knowing him, yes." He drums the bonnet of the car, waiting for you to hop in and when you do, he enters, igniting the engine and zooming away to the address Chanhee has sent you.

Upon reaching his place, Haknyeon wishes you luck and tells you that he'd rather wait in the car and that if you planned on staying the night, then, you should text him so that he could leave. You smile and storm away, trying to build up the rage within you to lash out at your soulmate.

"Lee Juyeon," you slam at his door. "Lee Juyeon, open your door."

You hit the steel door as hard as you can, unbothered by the pain that now seers through your fist. At this rate, you'll be hospitalized with your soulmate and you could have your first date there. How nice; not.

"Y/N?" he opens the door, and you notice the redness around the sides of his fist. Your eyes widen and the air is taken away from your lungs as you stare wide-eyed at the man before you.

Lee Juyeon is gorgeous. He leaves you feeling dazed like a comet hitting the earth's crater, strong and hard. He is tall enough to tower you and his eyes sparkle with hope. You notice the bruise on his face under the dim street light by his house and you gape.

"It could be you."

"Huh?"

You run back to the car, tapping at Haknyeon's glass. He pulls it down and hands you a paper cup of hot coffee. You look at him with a snug expression. You notice Juyeon watching you with confusion. You take big strides towards the man and open the cup, only to throw the hot coffee onto his chest, in the same area that had you wincing moments ago.

It hits you a second too late. You drop the cup, holding your upper abdomen, your fingers digging into the underside of your breasts as you fall on your knees. You definitely did not think this through. Juyeon merely clenches his teeth tightly, and you realise that with all this experience you both shared, he's the only one who knows how to deal with the pain.

Haknyeon chuckles at the sight, and almost on cue, he pulls his car back and drives a bit away, parking it by a big tree. Juyeon kneels along with you and helps you up, "Let's put some ice there."

"That was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend."

You're holding your chest and your abdomen messily and you're cursing at Juyeon, "Are you a gangster? A thug? Why do you keep getting hurt?"

"A boxer, actually and I keep getting hurt because Sangyeon will not go easy on me. I'm sorry. You must have been through shit," Juyeon's voice is soothing. Like a fresh warm bath with your favorite soap bombs and a ducky. He helps you into his house, lays you on his sofa carefully as he goes to grab ice.

"Maybe this wasn't all of a bad idea," you shout, and Juyeon chuckles. He even laughs beautifully; how? He asks if he could lift your shirt up as he comes back to your side with a bag full of ice. You nod and he lifts your shirt up, grimacing at the purple bruises that have formed by your abdomen and the area under your breasts. Juyeon is too worried to let his eyes stray anywhere else as he mumbles apologies after apologies.

"It's okay," you chuckle nervously, feeling conscious and slightly bad for your soulmate. "At least now I have you. We'll get through this pain together. You can take care of me and I can take care of you."

Juyeon feels his insides bubbling, his chest tightens, and his heart bloom. If this is what a soulmate's love feels like, he could get high on it. His face gets close to your skin and his lips slightly trace the bruises, before placing kisses on it and then, the ice, all while mumbling, "I'd like that. I'd really like that."

892 notes · View notes

seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Inescapable

Part 2 of Always - another soulmate au with extra angst!

Oikawa Tooru x female reader, Miya Atsumu x female reader

TW toxic relationships, implied abuse, blind reader

“Stay here,” he murmurs, soft lips brushing briefly against your cheek before you feel his warmth retreat.

It’s an effort to quell the fleeting panic that rises in his absence. Japan is your home – was your home – but Tokyo… You’re not supposed to be in the village. Only the athletes, trainers and the support crew for the national team were supposed to stay there. It kept out distractions, made it easier for security, gave the athletes the space to focus on what they’re there for; to compete. To win.

You don’t know how he did it, what strings he had to pull, but somehow he’d managed.

A room for the two of you. Just the two of you.

“You’re staying with me,” he’d told you when you’d brought up the possibility of going home to Miyagi to visit your family, or even spend a few days with Makki and Mattsun. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

The words had been whispered, a soft, teasing purr as lips curled into a smirk at your neck, but you know what he’s like when he’s competing. The focus and obsession he’ll throw himself into.

Especially when you both know who he’ll be competing against.

Nevertheless, you’re here. Alone now, standing in a sea of strangers talking too loud in a cacophony of foreign tongues while Tooru left to go find his team–

Strong, familiar arms encircle your waist, a kiss pressed to the top of your head.

– but only for a moment.

“C’mon, cutie. Let’s get going – Coach gave us twenty before he wants us at the gym.”

—

You know one or two of the players on the national team from San Juan. They’re friendly enough, and they’ll stop and chat with you on the odd nights you venture out into the cafeterias dotted around the village for dinner. But for the most part they’re focused on other things and Tooru–

Tooru’s possessive enough of your attention at the best of times.

Which means that you’re either with him, tucked carefully under his arm as he guides you around the village, or you’re stuck in the room, bored out of your mind waiting for him to come home to you. And for lack of anything better to do, you have the games playing on the TV.

Just for the sound of your mother tongue filling the room around you. Just so you won’t be alone with your thoughts for too long.

It’s different, back home in San Juan. But you understand it – why he brought you.

“Where I go, you go, always.”

“Always.”

And the loneliness is worth it, you think, when he sinks down into the mattress beside you after a long day’s training and pulls you close, nuzzling into your side. This is better than being left behind. You’re here to support the man you love. Your soulmate, the name on your arm be damned.

His good luck charm, he hums, kissing you in the early hours of the morning before slipping away.

But even you can’t just sit around the apartment all day long. It’s good to stretch your legs, even when you’re in strange, unfamiliar territory. You tell yourself that what Tooru doesn’t know won’t hurt him, forgetting just for one blissful moment that your soulmate and his team are not the only ones who might catch you wandering.

Of course, that realisation doesn’t sink in until broad shoulders suddenly barrel past you, knocking you off your feet. And you would have fallen, awkwardly probably, had a pair of strong, lean arms not caught at your waist, steadying you.

“Jeeze, Bokkun! Watch where yer goin’, wouldja!”

The first voice, the thick, drawling Kansai dialect isn’t familiar, but the voice that follows is impossible to misplace.

“Thought I told you two–”

It cuts off abruptly, and in some distant part of your brain you register that the stranger’s still holding you, the warmth of his hand still braced on your hip, but all you can really focus on is the owner of that second voice.

“Iwa?”

Tooru had told you he’d be here, Hinata too and Kageyama. And of course Ushijima, but you’d assumed that – at least up until they played against one another or team Japan got knocked out of the running – they’d be busy and you wouldn’t cross paths.

There’s a surprised intake of air from your left – ‘Bokkun’, you imagine – and he asks, “Wait, you know her, dude?”

And still, the warm body holding you doesn’t move an inch. Not until a familiar, irritated huff sounds, “Get your hands off her, dumbass.”

The body behind you tenses for a split second before obeying, hands ripping themselves away from you as if he’d been scalded. “Shit, sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” you murmur with what you hope is a polite smile, only half paying attention because you can hear Iwa striding towards you. In one breath, he’s knocking back your saviour and pulling you into a one armed hug.

“Shittykawa said he’d be bringing you,” he says quietly as you squeeze him back. It’s been such a long time since you’ve been face to face with him. Tooru calls him to catch up most weeks, more often than putting him on speaker so that you can say hi, but it’s not the same. “Didn’t think he meant to the actual village, though.”

You’ve missed him, you realise. Him and Makki and Mattsun, and suddenly there’s a lump in your throat, emotions welling that you can’t name. There’s so much you want to say to him, things he knows but should be said anyway, but–

“Aren’t you gonna introduce us to your pretty friend, Iwa?”

Your cheeks heat as the two of you part, yet it’s Iwa who answers for the both of you.

“No. You two need to get your asses moving,” he says. “Back to the gym, now. Unless you wanna stay back after everyone else finishes up to run extra drills?”

It’s a clear dismissal, and the two only pause for a heartbeat before grumbling their assent – and one sheepish apology – and heading off to continue their run.

“Let me walk you back.”

Some things never change, you suppose. “Iwa, you have an Olympic team to train,” you tell him with a wry grin. ”I’m not going to risk being accused of sabotaging the Japanese national volleyball team just because you feel the need to be gentlemanly.”

It’s clearly meant as a tease, but instead of the good-natured huff you’re expecting, he sighs. “C’mon. You almost got knocked on your ass, let me walk you back.”

It’s not a suggestion, and as he takes you by the hand and starts leading you back the way you came you’re reminded of high school - he used to do exactly same thing any timeTooru wasn’t around. There’s a slight flicker of irritation at your first breath of fresh air without Oikawa’s overprotective hovering being snatched away, but you know he means well.

He always does.

So you shove those feelings down and offer him a smile. “You know I’m stupidly proud of you, right?” you tell him. “Both of you.”

And something in Iwa relaxes and he laughs, “Yeah well I’m just glad you’re gonna be here to witness me wipe the floor with Shittykawa’s ass.”

—

It’s late, and Tooru isn’t back yet.

And it wouldn’t bother you except that lunch had been hours ago, and your stomach is starting to growl, hunger settling in.

Tooru works hard, he pushes himself and stays late when he should be home resting, you know that, but even if you did want to go and find him, pull him back so that he won’t push past his limits days out from competing, you wouldn’t have a clue where to find him – not in this sprawling maze of a complex.

What else can you do but wait, as fifteen minutes turns into half an hour, then an hour, and suddenly it’s almost nine.

He won’t be happy that you’ve left without him, but either he’ll meet you at the cafeteria, or you’ll get home before he’s back and you’ll have dinner waiting for him. At this time of the night it’s likely to be empty anyway, it’s not like you’re running off in the middle of the dinner rush.

Most of the athletes’ll be back in their rooms, you’re not gonna get knocked around in the mad scramble for food, nobody’s going to pay you any mind.

But once again, you’re proven wrong.

It’s not quite the roaring din that you’ve come to associate with the dining hall, but you can hear a few quiet conversations scattered throughout the room. At least none of them pay you any heed as you slowly wander the buffet, shyly asking one of the servers to help you pick out something for you and Tooru both.

It’s not until you move to take a seat, hoping that Tooru will get there before you have to try and cart his dinner back to the room that you hear the unmistakable scraping of a chair being dragged back beside you.

“Ya know, Iwaizumi never did end up telling us yer name,” a familiar voice states, settling down into the seat. “He did end up making me ‘n Bokuto run extra laps as punishment for knockin’ into ya, though.”

Out of habit, your fingers fiddle with the sleeve of your jacket – Tooru’s actually – warmth flooding your cheeks. He doesn’t sound pissed off by the fact, and you suppose he probably wouldn’t have sat down beside you if all he wanted was to pick a fight.

“Oh, I’m… sorry?” It comes out sounding more like a question than anything else.

He laughs at that, the sound surprisingly warm and pleasant. “Nah, not your fault. Iwa’s a hardass at the best of times.”

“Sounds like he hasn’t changed much since high school,” you muse.

Oikawa might’ve been Captain back then, but that never stopped Iwa from slapping him upside of the head whenever he did something particularly stupid. He was a hard ass, but he was also incredible at keeping the rest of the team in line and motivated, and he kept Tooru grounded. He kept you grounded. Aggressive, tough love was simply a part of that.

You wonder distantly if his new team realizes just how lucky they are to have somebody like him in their corner.

“High school? Ya knew him back then?” he prods.

He’s a stranger. Not just a competitor, but ‘The Enemy’ just like Kageyama and Ushiwaka. Out of all the teams that Tooru might go up against during the games, you know that they’re the ones he’s most determined to defeat. And you don’t necessarily buy into the whole ‘destined rivals’ thing – Kageyama was never anything but polite to you, but you know you’re supposed to back your soulmate up on this. You know he’d be pissed to find you casually chatting away with any one of them, except maybe Hinata.

Maybe.

But it’s nice just to indulge in a conversation – even meaningless small talk – with somebody who doesn’t know you as Tooru’s. You can’t help but relax a little, the tension easing from your shoulders, a small smile creeping across your face.

“I’ve known Iwa since I was six years old. He’s one of my best friends.”

The man hums a little, his chair creaking as he leans back, “Really? He’s never mentioned ya.”

And it’s clear from the sharp intake of his breath that he regrets the words the moment they’re said, but instead of feeling offended, you simply laugh, the sound bubbling up before you can stop it.

“It’s fine,” you say when he tries to backtrack. “Do you often have deep and meaningful’s with Iwa about his childhood friends?”

He snorts, “Yeah, point taken, I guess. So how come yer here then? Didn’t think they allowed cheerleaders in the village, even the cute ones.”

Something flutters in your stomach at his tone; it’s warm like honey, just a hint of teasing. He’s flirting, you realise, and in an instant you know you should shut it down. Harmless small talk is one thing, but you’re–

You have your soulmate.

“What makes you think I’m not staff?” you ask instead.

“No uniform,” he counters, and you can’t argue with that. It’s not your fault that you can’t see what everybody’s wandering around wearing. “And you don’t really strike me as the ‘athlete’ type, no offense.”

You don’t really know how to respond to that, so you just shrug somewhat self consciously. He’s not wrong; you don’t really belong here, but you find yourself reluctant to tell him the truth.

The only reason you’re here is because Tooru cheated the system, because he couldn’t bear to be without you.

Or maybe because he knows how much of a mess you are without him. Blind and helpless without him to guide you, even here, back in the country you’d both left behind all those years ago.

“I’m here to support my soulmate,” you tell him instead, and it’s not entirely a lie. No matter what, you’ll always support Oikawa – here, back home, to whatever ends. That was the promise you’d made to each other long before you’d ever left Japan.

There’s a short pause, and you take the opportunity to turn back to the plate of food in front of you – you’d forgotten about it entirely. You half expect that he’ll take it as the perfect opportunity to politely bow out of the conversation.

You might’ve been blind, but you’re not naive; you know exactly what athletes get up to after the sun goes down in the village. There’s a reason that your welcome packs were stuffed full of free condoms.

And you’re not interested in that. You have Tooru and he has you. If that’s all that this guy is after; some quick, meaningless fuck, then–

“Volleyball?” he asks, and you almost roll your eyes.

He’s not wrong, of course he’s not, and you suppose considering your connection with Iwa it makes sense that he’d make that leap, but still. One track mind, all of them.

“If I tell you, you might not like me very much,” you say in lieu of an answer.

He leans closer, the chair creaking once more. “So I’m right.” He sounds so smug about it, you almost wanna tell him he’s wrong just to mess with him a little. “What position does he play?”

Not what team, what position. That, more than anything else, mattered to him – and again, you understood it. The pride players took in their position within the machine.

“You first,” you shoot back instead, because you feel like you have a sneaking suspicion.

And with a little huffing laugh, he confirms it, “Setter.”

Of course.

And the smile on your face tugs wider, a strange trill running through you, “Ah, and here I thought Kageyama,” you draw the name out, “was Japan’s starting setter.”

He scoffs, dragged in by your teasing jab, “Yer kiddin’, right? Tobio’s talented an’ all, but he ain’t half the setter I am.”

Cocky and smug. You wonder if he has the skills to back it up. Yet just as you open your mouth to pry further, you’re interrupted by a voice.

Several actually.

“Talking shit again, Miya?”

“Who’s she?”

“Oh hey – Iwa’s friend!”

And your heart skips a beat, your body tensing as those voices close in, more chairs being pulled out, trays of food dumped on the table as his teammates settle down around you. It’s just a name, one name. It doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t–

“Atsumu, why don’t you shut– oh. Y/N, hey. Didn’t realise you'd be here. Isn’t the village restricted to athletes only?”

Kageyama’s blunt greeting isn’t intended to be antagonistic, but it washes over you regardless. You’re frozen, heart pounding, a sick, twisting feeling settling into your gut.

Atsumu, he’d said.

Miya Atsumu.

Two words, and your world stops spinning.

You’d promised him – Tooru – years ago that the name on your arm didn’t mean anything. It was all just a cruel cosmic mistake because from the moment you met him, you were his, and he was yours and nothing else mattered.

And you’d told yourself that, repeated it like a mantra until you started to believe it yourself. Because Tooru loved you, you were his soulmate and what kind of horrible fucking person would you be to take that gift, that bond and shove it back in his face.

Tooru isn’t perfect, and he’d freaked out and lied to you, but he’s your soulmate.

The name on your arm didn’t matter, it didn’t matter that you didn’t know whose it was, because you had Tooru. It should have been his.

And you told yourself that for six months, until some blowout fight had Tooru storming out, you following in his footsteps.

It was a stranger, some random passerby in the street. You can’t remember what prompted you to stop her and ask, why it suddenly mattered when Tooru had all but convinced you that it didn’t, but you had.

Miya Atsumu. The pronunciation had been unsure, her tongue clunky over the foreign syllables, but in that moment when you’d heard his name every lie you’d convinced yourself of had fallen apart.

It was like you’d been drowning without ever realising it, and the second you’d heard that name a hand was dragging you up to the surface and suddenly air was flooding your lungs.

Miya Atsumu.

There are voices surrounding you, somebody laughing uproariously, but it’s all just white noise.

“Y/N,” a choked, hoarse whisper that shouldn’t have been heard, but it pierces you like a knife, cutting through everything else. It’s too much.

On shaking legs you stand, knocking your chair back as you grab for your cane.

The name hadn’t mattered, until you’d heard it. He hadn’t mattered, until he was standing right there in front of you.

“I– I have to go,” you mutter, not entirely sure if they heard you, or if they even cared. You leave your food untouched on the table, stumbling as you step back.

And again, you hear that whisper of your name. There’s a hand that reaches for you – his or somebody else’s you don’t know, you shrug it off regardless. “I have to go.”

Nobody stops you as you skitter back towards the entrance, but for once the cafeteria is silent. The moment you burst out through the double doors, the brisk, summer night air hits you like a slap, and you don't realise that your cheeks are wet with tears until the breeze cuts through, the damp skin prickling uncomfortably.

And the sob that follows rips through your chest like a knife.

This isn’t what you wanted.

If there’s a god out there, he must have a cruel sense of humour, because your name is being called again, and suddenly there’s a hand on your cheek brushing at your tears, an arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. “Cutie, what’s wrong?”

The scent of him, all citrus and summer, invades your nose as you clutch at him tighter. You can’t speak, can’t find the words to tell him, so you just squeeze your eyes shut and burrow into him.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he repeats, not asking this time.

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “I want to go home,” you whisper, clutching at his jersey. “I wanna go home, Tooru.”

A kiss brushes against the crown of your head, and you almost miss the sound of footsteps pounding on the pavement behind you – at least until the interloper speaks.

“You–” Atsumu breaks off, his breath ragged and raw, and you don’t miss the way that Oikawa stiffens, his grip tightening, fingers digging in. “Yer my soulmate.”

Three simple words, and everything, everything just falls apart.

Tooru snarls, taking a step back and dragging you with him. “She’s not your anything, Miya. Fuck off.”

“You can’t leave me! You can’t - you’re mine!”

It hurts, the grip he has on you. He’s trembling, from rage or fear you honestly don’t know, but you can feel his heart pounding a vicious beat as his arms lock around you like a cage.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s my goddamn name on her arm. Let ‘er go, yer hurting her,” he snaps.

“She’s my soulmate, so mind your own business and run off back home.”

You can’t breathe.

“Not when yer hurting her.”

It’s like the floor’s suddenly disappeared from beneath you, and you’re in free fall, hurtling back towards god knows what. Your head’s spinning, your legs feel like jelly, and if Tooru wasn’t holding you up against him, you’re not sure you’d still be standing.

You can’t breathe.

“Leave, right now,” he hisses. “She’s mine. She always has been, and always will be mine!”

You’d promised him that much, hadn’t you?

“Ya don’t scare me, and I don’t give a flying fuck if yer wearing her name on your arm. That’s my soulmate, and you’ll take yer fucking hands off ‘a her.”

You can’t breathe, not as the shouting gets louder and Tooru’s grip gets tighter.

He takes another step back, pulling you with him, and another hiccuping sob catches in your throat. You try to speak, to stop this before it gets any worse, but the words won’t come–

“You’re hurting her!”

“I LOVE HER!” he screams. “I would never, ever hurt her!”

“T–Tooru, please…” you beg. It’s little more than a whisper, and neither one of them seems to hear it.

But somebody else does.

“Hey, hey! What the fuck are you dumbasses doing?!”

Iwa, always your second protector, your best and oldest friend, wastes no time in getting between the two of them, shoving Miya back.

“What is wrong with you both?!” he snaps, grabbing you by the wrist and ripping you from Oikawa. And you don’t fight it when he tugs you towards him, a protective arm wrapping around your waist.

You cling to him, like a scared child with tears streaming down your face.

“Iwa–”

“No, shut up. I don’t wanna hear a single word out of either one of you! Not a goddamn word!”

He doesn’t bother berating them in front of you, though you know that’ll come later. He doesn’t say anything to you either, but his hand doesn’t leave yours all the way back to his apartment. Not the one in the village, but the one just outside of the city.

“You knew, didn’t you?” you ask quietly when he drops his keys on the counter.

There’s a beat of silence, and he sighs. “Yeah, I knew.”

It’s hanging in the air between you, like a dark, stormy cloud about to unleash. “Iwa,” you whisper, your bottom lip trembling once more. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” he answers, as honestly as he can. “But you’re gonna stay here tonight, and tomorrow I’ll call Makki and Mattsun and they’ll come and take you back to Sendai for a little while if that’s what you want. You don’t have to see either one of those assholes, not until…”

Not until you figure out how you’re supposed to make this impossible choice.

He squeezes your shoulder as you sniffle. “It’s gonna be alright, whatever you decide to do.”

Neither one of you truly believes that, but what’s left to say?

He hugs you again before he leaves, makes you promise to call if you need him, but you both know you won’t.

Not tonight, not when he has other priorities.

And then you’re alone, sitting on his couch surrounded by blankets with a mug of hot chocolate warming your hands. You know you should try to get some sleep, you’re exhausted, overwhelmed, but every time you close your eyes, you can’t stop thinking about it.

About the way Tooru’s voice had shook, how you’d smiled for Atsumu, that familiar warmth blooming in your chest when the two of you talked and you’d teased him.

And you remember how it was the day Tooru first told you that he loved you, the butterflies in your stomach the first time he’d kissed you, spinning you around and laughing as his lips met yours again and again and again.

How he’d yelled and screamed and fallen apart in your arms that night, begging you not to leave him.

You love him, for better or for worse, you love him.

A loud knock echoes through the apartment, shaking you from your thoughts.

It’s almost 2am, and nobody but Iwa knows you’re here. Nobody should be knocking, and so you sit, frozen in the dark listening as your heart hammers uneasily.

One beat, then two, and then–

“I know you’re in there, just– just please. I need… I need–” he breaks off with a frustrated huff, and there’s a low thud, like his head’s fallen against the door. “Please,” he begs, quieter this time.

There’s another thud.

“I need ya. Don’t lock me out, I’m beggin’.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere miya atsumu #yandere miya atsumu x reader #yandere atsumu #yandere oikawa #tw toxic behavior #tw implied abuse #blind reader

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roscgcld · 3 years

Note

This shit is about to hurt so please read with caution because I'm on my feels and my period which makes me a little crybaby...

Okay like I'm eating peaches and also studying geometry but... Dad!Nanami consumes my brain so much, it's the only thing I can think of!

Dad!Nanami whose voice is shaking so much and is at the verge of crying contrary to what everyone sees him as, when he sees you and his little baby girl.( I don't care what anyone says, I will always imagine that Nanami would be the girl father and an amazing one🥺🥰)

Dad!Nanami who never lets go of her and looks at her amazed. She is the copy of him, the eyes, the hair, the nose everything! Fortunately though, she at least have your personality.

Dad!Nanami who makes Gojo his daughter's godfather even though he acts like he hates him. But he respects Gojo so much and knows that if something were to happen to him, he would take care of his wife and daughter.

Gojo calling his goddaughter, his little kikufuku mochi and teaches her to hate the higher ups and gives her a little speech while she looks at him as if he grew another head and lightly slaps his nose with sparkling eyes. Gojo whines to Nanami that he is the one who encourages her to do that and even if Nanami is silent, we all know that this is true.

You know the tradition in which they put a few objects in front of the baby and the little cinnamon roll chooses one? Nanami's girl doesn't even hesitate, she doesn't care about the objects in front of her, she immediately goes to her papa's sword and touches it.

Everyone is delighted and kinda amused at the look on bot Nanami's and your's faces. Gojo exclaims that he is gonna have a little student from now on while Nanami is threating him. He puts her daughter away from the blade and hides it so that she can choose a normal thing for her career because he doesn't want his little girl to choose being a sorcerer. But this time she crawls to him while he is sitting on the ground and sits at his lap, pulling his tie as if to say that "No matter what, I wanna be like you."

Dad!Nanami being overwhelmed by her love for him but he truly despises the idea. He doesn't want her to face the harshness of this world, doesn't want her to fight for her life not knowing when she could die because of a curse... He excuses himself for some time and in the meantime they try one more time and she goes to Maki and try to get her hands on her little blade while she freaks the hell out.

Dad!Nanami who will never forget the first time she walks and the first time she starts to see the curses. They are both at the the same day, she is waiting in front of the door since his arrival time came and yes, she knows his work schedule by heart 🤩 This is the reason why Nanami absolutely hates over-time because he knows that his little one will be waiting in front of the doos to be the first to greet him. He always disliked it and he hates it.

As soon as he walks through the door, his daughter clings onto his pants and looks up at him and he feels like his whole stress has been lifted. He goes to kitchen and kiss you and gives her to you but she also wants her father to be here so she flails but when she sees that he still keeps going, she lets out a high "Papa!" and gets out of your grasp and after a while, she stands on her wobbly feet and starts to have have her steps. This makes both you and him stop and gape at her. She is pretty happy that she now has both of her parents' attention😎

That night, Nanami goes to bed the happiest but both of you doesn't know that it is gonna be interrupted. In the middle of the night, his girl lets out a very high and scared wail, screaming for her papa and neither you nor Nanami ever got out of the bed that fast. Nanami immediately grabs his blade and dashes to her room only to find that a curse entered her room even though there were tailsmans around her room. His daughter is in rhe corner while the curse was slowly inching closer but before that Nanami kills it without mercy. When she sees you, she grips your shirt so hard while crying and saying that there was a big and hairy monster.

Dad!Nanami who accepts that his daughter can see the things he absolutely despises and explains to her the world they live in. After some time though, when he was certain that she would cry again, she asks a simple question. " Do you think I'd take after you and save the world?" in her own little baby language and Nanami, for the first time is astonished and amazed enough so much so that he couldn't speak. But his girl is playing with the hem of her PJs with embrassment but Nanami suddenly pulls her to his chest and squeezes her so much while muttering "I love you"s to her.

Spoiler Alert....( We all know where this is going but I jave another set of headcanons where he is alive because I will never accept that he died....🤧😭)

Dad!Nanami who is full of regrets because he will never be able to see his girl graduate, be an amazing young woman who inspires other, have a significant other. He would never be able to walk her down the aisle, never would be able to drive her to school, never hear her voice get higher when she talks about her parents.

Dad!Nanami who is full of sadness because he couldn't keep his promise to you. His promise of giving you a long and blessed life and family, his promise of going to Malaysia with you and his girl. His promise to cherish and love you each and every day till the day you both die. He regrets not saying you "I love you." before this mission. He knows that you are still fighging and for this mere reason her tries to do the same but he has no power. He has no other choice rather than trusting you two with Itadori and Gojo.

You knew when exactly he died. You knew because when he died, your heart stopped for a moment too. You couldn't stop the tears and the strong wail that passed your lips while collapsing, thinking what were you gonna say to your girl.

Itadori is the one who told you his last words, he wanted you out of this life, he wanted both of you to live and maybe it was selfish but you agreed. It was hard to explain it to your girl but suprisingly she said that he will never actually leave you to alone and that he will be watching over you both while hugging you.

And true to her words, she inherited his technique and wanted to learn how to use it so that she can be like her Papa. Only remains that was found were his blade, his ring and a part of his tie. She proudly uses his blade and has the part of his tie in a necklace while you wear both of the wedding rings.

And again, true to her words Nanami was watching over her with his friend Haibara. He was telling him what s strong girl she was and Nanami was only able to nod his head while tears were slipping from his eyes, muttering a single apology with a little threat as if she can hear. "Don't you dare die, little clover." And at that moment, she suddenly looks up to sky and promises to both of you that she will live. Right at this moment, Nanami realises that the bond you three have can never be broken and he can only pray that he will have you as his wife and his girl as his daughter in his next lives one more time...

jjk spoilers ahead!

....I am on my period too so now I am crying? Like I shed a few tears ?????? How dare you do this to me?????

I-

I swear - some of yall deserve to write more than my dumbass does. LOOK AT THIS AMAZINGNESS THAT IS A NANAMI ANGST???

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ncitygirls · 3 years

Text

yours - jaemin x f reader

fluff, smut, bffs2lovers, 3k

before joining you to your cousin’s wedding, jaemin had made a big deal about not being properly invited. as always, mark kept true to his habit of innocently causing trouble when it suited him. ‘i’m like family! where’s my invite!’ but it was hard to fault mark, because of course jaemin had been invited. somehow, his parents neglected to inform him that your cousin had rightfully assumed jaemin would know he was included in the na family’s invite. you said nothing though. especially when jaemin had briefly explained the reason for his displeasure. ‘we deserve our own invite, y/n. one for us together.’ which made no sense at all, because you’re just friends. you’re not together. however you had no idea you were alone in thinking that.

you see, jaemin was more acquainted with your family than some of your own relatives. he was invited to christmases, weddings, birthdays. basically any and all occasions your family saw fit to celebrate, jaemin was in attendance. yet surprisingly, even after having grown up alongside you and mark, a few of your more distant cousins were more than happy to express their displeasure with his more forward placed seat. because, like you keep reminding everybody: jaemin is just your best friend. but apparently, best friends didn’t reserve the rights to things you gave to jaemin. not in your extended family’s eyes. not that yours and mark’s family cared.

yet in the end, like most things regarding you, jaemin knew his attendance tonight had been a mistake. but not because of the petty feud his presence birthed in the lee lineage. oh no. it’s because, unlike most nights jaemin spends in your company - with your hair strewn about, mascara permanently smudged, and a lazy grin etched on - tonight, you were his least favourite kind of y/n. the one where he can’t help but follow you with his eyes, watch the placement of your feet, enjoy the shrill tone of your cackle. throughout the night, jaemin had found himself warmed by the way you drag your balled up fist over your made up eye, how you sing along to songs you don’t know the words to, how you wobble in your heels before you cling to him.

jaemin makes the mistake of enjoying you a bit too much. how you scowl as your relatives chat shit a bit too loud for you liking, how you make a scene of conspicuously covering his ears, unaware of how unbothered he is. how you try so hard to make him happy, in the smallest and largest of ways. so he drags you into a dance when you move to walk over, ready to rip your own blood a new one. “i’m gonna kill ‘em.”

“no,” he states simply, one of his hands slipping from your hand to your waist. “dance with me.”

“who do they think they are!” your voice adopts an unsettling shrillness that he can’t help but chuckle at. it even throws his head back. “why are you so happy? you should be mad!”

“because i don’t care,” he shrugs, tightening his hold on you slightly. “i’m here- you’re here. why would i not be happy?”

“you’re such a fucking leo.”

he still doesn’t know what that means, but he laughs anyway, happy that your deduction seemed to satisfy you. you eventually calm down, a peace settling over you as he spins you lazily around the dance floor. there’s some early 2000s track playing, one definitely unfitting for the way he’s swaying you. but you pay it no mind, speaking softly as he presses his cheek to the crown of your head.

“when do you wanna head up?” up, meaning the hotel room your relatives are also wound up about. it was intended for the bridal party and far travelled guests, neither of which they are. and neither of which you are. but you were your cousin’s favourite. and so was he. so naturally, you two had one reserved. even your parents had opted to stay at a cottage a couple roads over. “i think the boys are all gone already.”

he notes the guilt tainting your tone, knowing how drained jaemin grew from both physical and social interactions of any kind. so you knew well what his answer would be. “when you’re ready.”

“okay,” slipping out of his hold, you drag him over to the newly married couple. you exchange brief goodnights and grateful tidings before he excuses himself to find the jacket of his tuxedo. the search doesn’t take long, his eyes landing on the black coat a few seconds after parting. he does give himself a breather though, his knees cracking as the seat holding his jacket readily carries his weight. he doesn’t dare shut his eyes, knowing full well he’ll fall victim to his fatigue. so instead, he let’s them follow the one thing that always occupies his mind, that can keep him up all night. he finds you far quicker than he did his coat, the pink satin of your dress falling half way down your calf as you skipped over to bid some other guests farewell. he sighs happily, glad you never force him into such tedious pleasantries. you learnt a long time ago that while impossibly affectionate, jaemin’s social clock ticked a few hours faster than any one else’s. so by your timing, it had probably expired a little after the vows. it took a little bit of getting used to, but it also meant for quicker farewells and a speedier exit.

it’s only now jaemin realises this was a mistake. because before he ever gets his breather, less from you, but all the feelings that come from being with you, you’re at his side. he’s learned how not to cease up at your touch anymore. instead, linking his fingers with yours when they rest gently on his shoulder. when he peeks up at you, his eyes blinded less by the party lighting and more by your tired smile, he knows not to sigh, forcing down his body’s natural response to your attention. but when you tug at his hands, bringing him to stand, whispering a-

“let’s go home, yeah?”

he knows this isn’t a mistake. this is torture.

it’s how you pour him a tall, ice cold glass of domesticity with every meal. your hand wrapped in his as you lead him through the hotel. you slip out of your heels somewhere between the lobby and the elevator, grinning up at him as he takes them from you. jaemin even curses himself, his body responding to your needs unthinkingly. he tries to calm his beating heart by counting the floors, his eyes following the analog dial as you lean against his shoulder, fiddling with his cuffs.

“do you want them off?” you ask softly, barely a touch louder than the elevator music. he nods, though your gel nails are already picking at the gold, removing them with ease. “gimme the other one.” he inhales deeply, cursing whoever gave you to him. well, not really. you weren’t really his. but god did you act like it.

your hands slip into his pocket for the room key before slipping back into his hand. he just follows you out, caught in a happy daze as you take him ‘home’. you struggle a bit with the key card, trying it every which way before he leans into you, wrapping his arm around you as he reaches for the card. “the arrow’s pointing this way,” his thumb nail presses on the black arrow indicating the direction you have to push it. he doesn’t see you roll your eyes, but he guesses you do. so he presses his lips to your temple in apology. “you’ll get it next time.”

“piss off,” you laugh, pushing the door open when it clicks. he throws the heels and jacket on a chair by the door before collapsing onto the adjacent couch, his body ready to succumb to his dire need for rest. he can just about hear you rustling through the bags in the bathroom, your feet padding around on the linoleum. when it muffles slightly, he figures out immediately what you’ve returned for when you stop between his thighs. “thank you,” you sigh, his fingers already pinching at the zip on your dress. it sits low at the base of your spine, the back of the dress leaving you completely exposed. he’d taken to placing his hand there all night, his fingers gliding up and down the skin whenever he got the chance. when it’s down, his eyes linger on your hips, the top of your panties peeking out before you slap his knee.

“what?”

“the necklace,” your back is still turned, hair blocking his view. “please?” you add, hand smoothing over the skin of his knee.

“come here,” he pulls you down to sit between his thighs, his legs parting to make space for you. you land with a huff, quickly realising you haven’t sat down all night. jaemin realises this too, your neck craning a bit further to the side than necessary as he tucks your hair over your shoulder. “you okay?”

“mhm,” you hum, squeezing his thigh. “just a bit sleepy.”

“a bit?” he laughs, a little breathless as he gathers the chain he got you one christmas. “i think you’ve earned a good sleep.” he surmises, hands squeezing your shoulders gently. “but you know you were a guest today, right? not the planner?”

“yeah?” turning onto your knees, you glare down at him. “someone had to sort my uncle out, he was steaming!”

“yes, true,” he laughs. “just make sure you’re not doing that at my wedding.”

you feign surprise at that, “i’m invited to your wedding?”

“of course,” his hands squeeze yours earnestly before he whispers, “can’t have my wedding without the bride, can i-”

“fuck off!” his cackles chase you out the room. while you wash up, he makes quick work of his tux, throwing his slacks over the back of the couch, his thumbs slowly unhooking each of his buttons. a true man of leisure, he’s in all but his socks and draws when you return. “all done!” you sing, throwing the dress down as you reappear in an oversized t-shirt. he recognises it almost immediately from uni. it’s his soccer team’s jersey. it has his number on the back.

“finally,” he whines, pushing you aside as he makes his way inside, quickly locking the door to avoid your attacks. he goes to reach for his wash bag just to find the reason he did already waiting unpacked. in a small cup on the side is his toothbrush, resting sweetly beside yours. he ignores the hygienic implications of this and skips right to the romantic. because, while jaemin thinks and often dreams of placing your first name with his last, and while he spends most of his free time with you, and while he would take any number of bullets for you, he still can’t for the life of him figure you out. even after he bombards you with affection, praise, teasing, flirting, kisses. you’re still just you. making him just him.

and that’s fine, if that’s what you want. but he’s not sure he truly knows what it is you want. and this gets him thinking about the little things. how his hand is seldom empty in your presence. how you never think of him second, always first. how you want to be with him always. moments like now, when he returns to find you hanging his tux on its hanger, encasing it in its protective sleeve. his arms slip around your waist, pulling you flush against him. and you melt instantly, resting in his embrace. “thanks,” he mumbles, lips pressing gently to your shoulder.

“‘is okay,” you hum, hanging it over the back of the door before resting your hands over his. see, hands never empty when you’re near. he sways you back and forth, his heart beating gently into your back as you lean into him. “did you have fun?” you ask, squeezing at his forearms, “i know we probably stayed later than you’d like-”

“it was great.” see, always putting him first. “did you want to stay longer?”

“not without you.” see, how you want to be with him always. he wonders how you don’t see it. how you don’t see you’re killing him. “come on,” you mumble, shutting off the light as you blindly drag him to bed. jaemin has an annoying habit of following you in, his body shuffling in after yours, rather than separating and meeting in the middle. it doesn’t allow you much room, by the time you reach your side, he’s encased you in his arms, legs, even his head, his chin slotting itself in the crook of your neck. “nana?”

“hm?”

“i’m sorry about today,” the apology doesn’t shock him, but rather your disappointment. “you’re more like family to mark and i than they ever were. tonight was just proof of that.”

“it’s okay,” he squeezes you a touch harder, trying to decipher whether your words harm or soothe the growing hole in his heart. “i can’t say i don’t see where they’re coming from.”

“what d’you mean?”

“i dunno,” he starts, thinking as his lips press to the back of your neck. “i guess i’d be confused by us too,” he mutters against your skin.

“how so?” you press, turning in his hold, gazing up at him. his eyes are more than used to the dark now as he gazes back down at you. you’re tucked right up to him, the covers strewn over your lower halves. he rests his temple on his palm, elbow pressed into the mattress as you fiddle with his fingers. “what’s confusing?”

he shrugs as best he can, watching his hand in yours. “i dunno,” he repeats, grinning when you huff. “i just- i think it’s hard for people to get that i’m your friend,” he tries, “just your friend.”

“what else would you be?” what else? what else?!

“i dunno,” he repeats for the third time, though he knows exactly what you’d be. but you don’t need to know that. not when you seemed so happy, so satisfied with how things are already. and that’s what’s most important to him. your happiness. and jaemin couldn’t exactly say he wasn’t happy with how things are either, he just knows there could be more to you both, more to this. more to him than being your best friend. but maybe it’s for another night. like he tells himself every time you push a topic you’re not remotely ready to breach. “let’s forget it-”

“no,” he flinches, just preparing to settle down for sleep. “am i missing something? if i am, just tell me.”

“i-” he drops his forehead to yours then. he’s so close, your eyes have to cross just for you to see him. it’s only when he rises you see a change in him. a nervous jaemin isn’t one you’re use to. it’s one that you would rather never see, it truly worries you. especially as he agrees, a small “okay,” leaving him before he kisses the tip of your nose, his lips barely puckered as they meet the skin. he grins as he does, his teeth gleaming in the moonlit room, his eyes open just wide enough to see you. his lips drop to your cheek, warming as your skin does. he hovers there as your hand tightens on his arm, clinging to him. he daren’t move, afraid the slightest jolt will wake him, drag him right out of this sleepless dream. when your grip loosens, he drops his head until he’s right by your mouth, his lips daringly puckering before he presses them to the corner of your lips. he stills as yours do too, your soft lips, now embalmed in his memory, pressing there ever so gently before he rises once more. he waits a second, watching the smallest of shivers rack through you before he dips again, lips falling to your neck. he smiles against your skin, overjoyed as you subtly crane your neck. his teeth drag over your skin as he journeys down the column of your neck, your hands gripping onto him a touch harder when he stops.

his fingers glide along the skin of your side, thumb pressing into the dip of your waist. he stops short of your chest, locked mid motion as he watches you breathe. there is no haste in his movements. no need to rush anything. no need to hurry. all there is, is a beat. a steady one in his chest. one that holds him here, one where he can’t move, can’t bring himself to test the waters you’ve just dared he enter. not even as the pads of your fingers glide along the warm skin of his neck, nails dragging through his nape, silently daring him to move. he pants over your chest, a lazy grin pulling at his mouth as you ask him again-

“what else would you be, jaem?”

he moves unthinkingly. as his dampened lips meet the hardened nub through your t-shirt, sucking on you through the aged material. his rolls his teeth gently, his fingers at your side finding your neglected nipple as you whine out for him. he feels himself slipping into delirium, caught somewhere between a dream and reality, unsure where exactly he’d rather be. he decides it doesn’t matter, not when you’re there. here. with him. letting him touch you in ways he never really thought possible. ways jaemin only ever imagined, only ever let himself surrender to in the dead of night. in the solitude of his own shameful company. he never thought of this. not really.

he had hoped, maybe even prayed, but never truly believed he’d have you whimpering for him. your fingers falling in the gaps between his own, pressing his open palm harder against your thinly veiled heat, your hips rolling against it. jaemin never thought he’d hear your whines, the sound cutting through him like knives, like ice shooting through his veins. he never thought you’d want him. not like this.

“jaem,” he’s with you in seconds, his spit slick lips an inch above yours. he watches patiently as you grind up against his hand, feeling his fingers prod at your desperate heat.

“you wanna know what else i could be?”

you nod. “please.”

“i could be yours.”

#i haven’t got the range #also i have jaemin on the brain and friendship too!#meet me at the altar #ncitygirls #na jaemin #jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin smut #jaemin fluff #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #nct smut #nct fluff #needs another proofread #enjoy!

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evanox · 2 years

Text

Random griefers headcanons pt1/?

Lucan is a combination of the mom and dad friend of the group, because I love my Gentle Giants, but also he'd be more willing to indulge in chaotic shenanigans than a Mom FriendTM would. Have you seen how he handled Sage in ch10? Lucan is the well-known stray cat who knows these streets like the back of his paw, and Sage+Balsam are the rambunctious kittens he ended up adopting. He's good friends with all the orphans scattered across the city and knows them all by name. The bartenders tolerate the griefers' chaos only because of Lucan's friendliness and how he compensates them for any losses.

Elowen will swear up and down that he's always been a little shit and he's still a little shit and you shouldn't trust his calm demeanor because he's a menace. Sometimes it's hard for an older sister to accept that her younger siblings have mellowed out, and sometimes you realise there's still some truth to what she says—right when you see his shit-eating grin and the bared fang.

If someone is being mistreated or hurt, Lucan is the first to step up and defend them, get in a fight if he has to. Enjoys the occasional spar too. Otherwise, he rarely gets into bar fights and sits back to watch his griefers have their fun, but puts his foot down when it starts to get out of hand or involve people who definitely didn't ask for it.

Sage joined the griefers before Balsam did, and it took a while for him to bring it up because he'd really rather someone stay around Tulsi all the time and make sure she's safe. When Balsam did end up finding out, he joined the gang too and the pair took turns watching over Tulsi. She did have surface level knowledge about what they were up to, but they made sure to keep her as far away as possible from anything too shady.

Sage and Balsam are good at fishing, both with rods and with their bare hands (the latter is more Sage's thing)—it was their only source of food while sailing to Porrima after all. One time Balsam pushed Sage off the boat as a joke, and Sage turned his dangling leg into a crime scene. Balsam still has the claw marks as evidence.

Compared to Sage and Lucan, Balsam stands at a stout 5'8". He never minded though; how else are you supposed to utilize your horns in a fight if you're a head taller than all your opponents?

Lucan is rather good at dancing, he just doesn't do it often because people always found it odd watching a 6'6" beefcake be that flexible

Sage, Balsam, and Tulsi had a habit of stealing small, unattended carts and using them to zoom through the streets of Porrima, and the boys would take turns pushing the cart. The habit continued even as they grew up, though Tulsi joined less often when she got busy with her blacksmith apprenticeship. Now Lucan would be the one making them give the carts back to their owners, but only after letting the pair have their fun for a few rounds.

I like to think that on Althtal, eating with your hands instead of utensils is the norm (same way we eat our mansaf lol). Even after arriving to Porrima, that habit stuck with the trio. When the Starsworn gather for dinner time, Felix—still kind of a stuck up rich kid—would call Sage out for how gross/unsanitary that was, then profusely apologized when he learned it's a cultural thing. (Tbh I wouldn't put it past Escell to have grown with the same habit but then having abandoned it in the name of fitting with the nobility of Porrima.)

It's a miracle Sage hasn't dislocated either of his shoulders with how often Lucan and Balsam slap him on the back. Sage can't get Balsam back because he always his pointy horns at the ready, and somehow, the harder he tries to slap Lucan's back, the more Sage's own hand hurts.

#sage lesath #last legacy #fictif last legacy #fictif #last legacy sage #lucan de bhaldraithe #last legacy lucan #last legacy headcanons #tulsi ain #last legacy tulsi #felix iskandar escellun #last legacy felix #last legacy escell #elowen de bhaldraithe

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arrowflier · 3 years

Note

Prompt: Mickey apologizes to one of their neighbours for something that clearly wasn't his fault just to make Ian(who's in his people pleaser mode) happy. Later, Ian realises how Mickey was right all along and feels bad about the whole thing and they talk. Basically them having a mature convo at the end

Ian heard the shouting as soon as he stepped out into the courtyard. Mickey had come down earlier to take a quick dip, and Ian was hoping to join him and relax together for a while.

But based on the way his husband and one of their neighbors were yelling right then, that clearly wasn't in the cards.

Ian sighed, and closed his eyes briefly. Was it really too much to ask that Mickey get along with the people in their building? He didn't even have to make friends, he just had to not be an asshole to everyone he met.

A particularly loud shout--something about children, and language, and have some common decency--forced Ian out of his reflections and toward the apparent catastrophe that was Mickey in public.

“Dammit, Mickey,” he muttered under his breath as he rounded the last corner and brought the pool into view.

Sure enough, Mickey was there. He stood at the edge of the shallow end of the pool, like he had just hoisted himself out, water droplets still lingering on his sculpted arms and chest. His arms were raised and held out to the side in challenge as he blustered on about public space, and freedom of speech, and I’ll do you one worse lady, just you watch just inches away from a middle-aged woman that looked like she had stepped out of a lululemon ad.

Ian was pretty sure it was the same woman who had stopped him at the elevators last week to ask him to “keep it down up there”. They really didn’t need to cause more trouble with her; Mickey had them on thin ice already when his response to Ian relaying that request was to play loud, bass-thumping music while riding Ian into the floor for effect.

She hadn't met his eyes since.

"What's going on here?" Ian interrupted, coming up behind Mickey and settling a hand on the back of his husband's neck.

"This lady was tryin to--" Mickey cut off when Ian squeezed and released that hand in warning. Mickey glowered at him, but shut his mouth.

"Your husband," the woman said with a glare at Mickey, "was setting a bad example for my nephew."

Looking around for the aforementioned child, Ian sighed when he saw a little boy staring at them all from a pool lounger with wide eyes.

"We're sorry, Mrs...," he trailed off, but she didn't bother to fill in the blank for him, instead just raising her eyebrows and tapping her sandaled foot expectantly.

"Uh, anyway, it won't happen again," Ian finished awkwardly. "Right, Mick?"

"Are you kidding me, Gallagher?" Mickey asked, incredulous.

"I expect a direct apology from your husband," the woman demanded at the same time.

Ian raised his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, and gave Mickey a little shake when the other man didn't speak up.

"Come on, Mick, just do it," Ian muttered.

After a tense moment, Mickey did.

"Fucking fine," he hissed at Ian, ignoring their neighbor's sharp intake of breath at the curse. "I'm fucking sorry, alright?," he directed at her, before pulling out of Ian's hold to face him.

"You happy now?" he asked, before turning and stomping off to go inside.

The effect was dampened by the soft slapping sound of his bare feet hitting the pavement, leaving behind wet marks on the concrete. Ian and the woman watched him go with drastically different expressions: one with disgust, and one with concern.

"I do hope you'll keep your man in line better in the future," the woman groused at Ian, but he wasn't really listening.

"Yeah, sure," he answered absently. "Excuse me, I just gotta..."

And then he was scooping up the towel and shoes Mickey had left behind, and hurrying after his husband.

---

"Mickey?" Ian called out hesitantly as he entered their apartment. Other than a couple of damp patches on the floor, there was no sign of Mickey anywhere.

Then Ian heard the shower start, and set Mickey's things down next the door to follow the sound.

Mickey's wet trunks were pooled on the cold tile floor, the shower curtain pulled tight from wall to wall. The splash of water bouncing from flesh to the acrylic tub echoed through the room.

"Mickey?" Ian asked softly, taking a step past the open door. "Mick, you in here?"

He heard a snort over the sound of the water, the curtain moving as Mickey's arm jostled it from inside.

"No, it's your other husband, Sherlock," Mickey answered, an odd tone in his voice. "You know, the one you listen to before you take some random bitch's side."

Ian winced. Okay, Mickey was mad, then.

Moving further into the room, Ian closed the lid of the toilet and turned to sit on it, elbows on knees.

"Sorry," he offered briefly. "But she had a point Mick, there are kids here--"

The water stopped abruptly, and the curtain pulled back to reveal Mickey’s face. His hair flopped wetly over his forehead, water still sluicing down the middle of his face, and he scowled as he brushed it away with the back of a dripping hand.

“Kid, huh?” he questioned “So I need to go get my fucking tattoos removed because some random kid might see ‘em?”

Ian blinked.

“Wait,” he said slowly, mind trying to figure out what he was missing. “What?” then scoffed when Ian just watched him.

Mickey just scoffed.

“You don’t even know what she was yellin’ about, do you?” he asked rhetorically. “I didn’t say a damn word to her or that sniveling brat she brought with her,” he revealed. “They took one fucking look at me, saw the words on my knuckles, and off she went on her little fucking tirade.”

“Shit, Mickey,” Ian started, but Mickey wasn’t done.

“Don’t you act like it matters,” he growled. “You care more about playing nice than payin’ attention, and don’t pretend that after all these years you don’t still assume I’m always the fuckin’ problem.”

Fuck. Ian had really screwed this one up.

“Mickey,” he repeated, more firmly, standing and stepping closer to the shower. Ian took the shower curtain in one hand and tugged it further to the side. Mickey shivered in the influx of cool air, looking more like a disgruntled cat mid-bath than an angry man.

“Mickey,” Ian said again, softer, and stepped over the lip of the tub so that nothing was between them. He took Mickey into his arms, his husband putting up a token resistance before settling against him with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Ian whispered into his wet hair, ignoring the patches of water soaking through his clothes. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Mickey hummed into his chest, not looking up. “You kind of did, though,” he mutters. “Every time somebody’s got a problem with me, you act like it’s my fault.”

Silence, for just a moment.

“Yeah,” Ian finally agreed, stroking a hand down Mickey’s bare back. “Yeah, I need to work on that.”

He pulled back, made Mickey meet his eyes. Mickey was no longer glaring, and his eyes were dry, but there was still something off about the way he met Ian’s gaze.

“You know I don’t really think that, though, right?” Ian asked, disheartened when Mickey didn’t offer a response.

“I don’t, Mickey,” he said earnestly. “I love you, and you’ve been trying so hard--”

“Shouldn’t fuckin’ have to try,” Mickey murmured, and oh.

“No, you shouldn’t,” Ian rephrased. “And I’m sorry I’m always making you feel like you do, too.”

Mickey moved back farther, and Ian’s arms dropped loosely back to his sides. His fingers itched to reach out again, but he got the feeling Mickey needed some space.

“Okay,” Mickey said. “Get outa here so I can finish.”

Ina obeyed, stepping out of the tub and moving toward the door, but he turned back before he left the room.

“When you’re done, come into the bedroom, alright?” he asked quietly. “I’ve got an idea to get back at that asshole woman.”

“Apology or not,” Mickey said wryly, “I don’t think I’m on the mood to fuck you right now, Ian.”

Ian just smirked.

“Not what I had in mind,” he said. “Now hurry it up, I think you’re gonna like my plan.”

---

About twenty minutes later, after the shower had started and stopped again and Mickey had had a moment to gather himself and get dressed, Mickey walked into the bedroom and stopped still.

Ian was sitting on their bed, fully dressed, but that wasn’t what had Mickey startled. No, it was the fact that right in front of him was a huge stereo with old school speakers, the ones that used to be downstairs in the communal lounge area, with Ian’s phone sitting right on top.

“What’s all this?” Mickey asked, and Ian grinned.

“So she doesn’t like profanity, huh?” he said. “Well I found a favorite new song.”

Mickey started to grin himself as he caught on to the plan. Ian stood and pushed one of the speakers a little closer to the vents in their floor, angling it so the sound would bounce right down into the apartment below. Then he tapped a few things on his phone, cranked the volume, and let harsh base and more expletives than Mickey had ever heard in a piece of music fill the room.

Mickey laughed. Ian held out a hand, like he was asking for a dance, and turned the music up even louder.

Shaking his head at his husband’s antics, Mickey took the proffered hand, and let Ian spin him to the sound of their bitchy neighbor losing her mind below them.

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #fanfic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #misunderstandings #fight and make up

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chil2de · 3 years

Note

Hi!! if possible can i please request yuuta having a girlfriend that’s his childhood friend? (So like instead of rika it’s y/n and she doesn’t die) that loves to dote on him cause that boy needs some love. Thank you!! <3

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE THIS MADE ME SO SOFT!!!!! ohmygod!!!! growing up with yuuta would be THE best onshdhfsh thank you sososos much anon this was such a pleasure to write! i don’t know why but the “and she doesn’t die” had me screaming LMFAOOOO

enjoy! no warnings, just old fashioned cute fluff and heart wrenching moments! thank you for giving me the opportunity to write for the best boy mwaaah you deserve eternal happiness! hope no insects bite you during these warm months <3

“okkotsu!” you cried out, feminine and shrill voice ringing in the air. the cicadas chirped melodiously, calling out their delightful songs in the spring air.

the young boy staggered around, losing his balance from spinning too fast. his fragile hands reached out, pulling in small grabby motions towards your innocent and joyous face.

you were always so optimistic, even when you were younger. yuuta could only huff and wail as his caretaker hauled him away from the playground, gesturing it was time for him to come home. thick and messy tears spilled out the corners of his eyes which hadn’t yet endured countless sleep devoid nights.

he was so far away, but that was okay because you knew you’d see him the very next day.

“okkotsu! promise to play with me again tomorrow!” you cupped your hands, exclaiming as much as your little lungs could endure. yuuta could see the tears heavy in your gaze, but even then, you prevailed. you grinned, all for him.

ever since the very start. till ‘death do us apart.

“okkotsu! come oooon, don’t cry, okay? (y/n)’s got your back! see, see?! look! they don’t bite!” you braved a smirk on your features, beckoning the shy and introverted young man over. his face looked uncertain and his lips wobbled as though he could crack at any moment. he took a few cautious steps, maintaining his distance between you and the furry animal on the floor.

“r-really? it won’t bite?” he coughed, reaching his unstable fingertips out.

“eh?! that’s the first time you’ve spoken to me! your voice is so nice! it’s so cool! hey! can i hear it again? pleaaaase? i know you’re shy but i’d really like to hear it! hey, okkotsu, say my name? pretty please?”

“um- i, uh.. it’s okay.. you can call me yuuta.”

“yuuta! you’re going to be late for your first day of junior high! i totally told you to wake up on time too!” you stood with your hands rested firmly on your hips, face stern and tone impatient.

“sorry! sorry- it’s um, my hair. i don’t know how to style it.” he admitted, albeit sheepishly by trailing the last few words off into a murmur. you only gave him a sigh before kneeling down behind him, propping yourself up to take a look at his hair in the reflection of the mirror.

“how on earth are you so tall already? we eat the same food, you know. slouch over a little.” you pinched his cheeks before glossing over his hair.

when you ran your fingertips through his hair, you felt butterflies and anxiety rock your stomach.

that’s never been there before.

you’ve touched yuuta countless times, whether that was accidentally hitting him, holding his hand to cross the street…

so why was it different?

you could feel yuuta’s body tense up and run rigid underneath your touch.

that definitely wasn’t there before.

“relax. it’s me.” you cooed quietly, roughing up his hair into different styles.

“like this? looks like you just woke up, sorta, but i think it’s cute.”

yuuta’s heart rate skyrocketed through the roof and his breath hitched.

“cute?” he reiterated, chewing out the phrase like he’d never heard it before in his life.

“hm? yeah-“

you caught his gaze in the mirror, eyes half lidded and attention averted. the tips of his ears were tainted a deep red with small flicks of blush painting his cheeks.

“eh?! nononono- not like that i’m- i just think it suits you, you know? oh, crap, would you look at the time? okay we gotta go and leave!” you clambered out of his bedroom, thudding the door shut behind you.

yuuta only gawked at you with bewilderment, lips slightly parted and fingertips outstretched in his failed attempt to stop you.

he turned to himself in the mirror, studying his features before running one hand through his jet black locks.

“cute, huh?” he muttered, avoiding his own judgemental gaze.

the bittersweet part about growing up with a childhood friend is change.

for all the time that you’d spent with yuuta, you didn’t realise that your relationship with him was something to not take for granted.

especially with those around you who would kill for what you two have.

you’d always get mundane questions from high school girls who thought they could have a shot with him, “what’s his type?” “do you think he likes me?”

meanwhile you only played along with their charades, laughing inwardly when he was actually extremely introverted.

“so? what’s the deal with you and okkotsu-san? you guys dating?”

“no. we’re just friends.”

“seriously? you guys are always glued at the hip. you know he has a picture of you in his locker, right?”

“yeah? so do i. it doesn’t mean anything.”

“it’s kind of a shame, he’s such a nice young man.. gone to waste like that..”

“what’s gone to waste?” yuuta inquired with an indifferent tone, plopping down beside you with his bento box. the classmate sat opposite you only gave him a phony cheerful temperament, twirling her index finger around her hair.

“oh! okkotsu-senpai! we were just talking about you! how was your da-“

“please leave.”

you could only gape at him in your peripherals, sputtering on your sandwich as you watched the life drain from your classmate at his monotony. yuuta didn’t spare you or the girl a glance as he worked to unpack his lunch, hell the guy even murmured a small itadakimasu as if nothing happened.

“wh- okkotsu senpai?”

“listen.” he let out a deep sigh before proceeding.

“whatever shot you thought you had with me? it’s gone out the window. don’t disrespect (y/n) in front of me like that again.”

“you’re making us uncomfortable, so get up and go.” he motioned with his chopsticks, giving her a dead gaze towards another table.

the girl scoffed, mouth hung wide open as she picked up her bag and stormed out of sight.

whilst your face was as blank as a stone, internally, you were only screaming in the depths of piping hot hell visible from the sun itself.

baby girl? that was when you noticed how fucking fine of a man yuuta grew up to be.

“that was seriously nerve wracking.. my stomach hurts so bad right now” yuuta coughed through a bite of his sandwich, refusing to meet your gaze.

you slapped his back, because, holy shit??? awe painted your face like you just witnessed your own child talking or walking for the first time.

“what the shit? yuuta? are you kidding?”

“oh, huh? did i overdo it or something?“

“no?! are you kidding? that was fucking awesome! i swear! this is why i love you-“

oh.

uh oh.

oh no.

yuuta let out a shrill squeak unbeknownst to any human being able to produce such a volume. it was a cross between a floorboard creaking, a mouse sniffing and him choking on his food. the poor boy had to excuse himself to the bathroom, hacking and sniffling in an ugly fit of coughs from the food that got caught in his windpipe.

your blood rushed to your head, veins lit ablaze, bones rattling as you could hear the chatter pound and drill into your skull, scoring you deep and down into your bones.

“did she just say she loves him?”

“i totally knew they were going out!”

“i can’t believe it…”

“do you think he’ll reject her?”

it replayed over, and over, and over. what a fucking fool you felt. did he even feel the same?

that’s why i love you.

i love you.

a blob of black clouded your vision and you could hear the glass breaking.

yuuta sat himself back down, excusing himself.

you could hear nothing but the tune of his heartbeat. or was it yours? it sounded too heavy to belong in either of your bodies.

his voice came as a wobble because of his anxiety, but this was the one thing in his life he’d be absolutely certain of.

“that’s okay. i love you too.”

“yuuta? you okay? you’ve been spacing out for at least five minutes. something on your mind?” you lightly shake your boyfriend, grip reassuring but firm. it takes a couple of seconds for his gaze to gloss over as he returns back to reality.

“sorry. was just thinking about our childhood, that’s all.” his voice comes out deep and masculine. it doesn’t have that tremor as it used to before, like he’d break down at any minute.

you can say with absolute certainty as you stare up your entire 5’10 boyfriend that he’s matured well.

his hand snakes around to your waist, pulling you into him for comfort.

some ways better than others, you suppose.

“can we stay home today?” he hums, resting his chin on top of your head,

“same as ever, yuuta, aren’t you? it’s fine, i’ll tell nobara my period’s making me act up. she’ll understand-“

“hm? you’re not due for another week though, right?”

you crease your eyebrows as you type out an apology to nobara for cancelling plans, glancing up at yuuta curiously.

“how the heck do you know that?”

“i’m not supposed to? i’d always count your cycle so i wouldn’t irritate you on the wrong day. besides, don’t you think it was too convenient for you to always find snacks in your locker when it rolled around?”

“those snacks were you?! oh my god! i was trying to figure that out for forever!”

“i know. i remember you ranting to me about it.”

“you just sat there?! yuuta! you’re so cheeky sometimes, i swear!”

“only for you.” he chimes, peppering a soft kiss onto your head. you smile against him, though unfortunately pry out of his familiar and welcoming touch.

“i’m gonna step out for a second tho, ‘kay? i think that’s itadori at the door with my chocolate and painkillers” you snort, giving yuuta a bold wink as you put on your best act, keeling over and clutching at your abdomen as though you’re on death’s door.

“you’re awful.” yuuta chuckles, slumping down onto the sofa to hear the events unfold right in front of him.

you clear your throat and slouch your shoulders as you pry the apartment door open.

“(y/n)-senpai! i came as fast as i could and i brought you some of your favourite sna- oh, okkotsu-senpai! hello!”

“hi there.” he leans his head back, giving itadori a small wave.

“i won’t interrupt you guys so get well soon! and fast! cause i wanna hang out with you! bye!”

you cradle the necessities itadori brought whilst gleaming at yuuta with a wicked grin plastered on your face from ear to ear.

“you want anything?” you cock an eyebrow, showing him the arrangement of snacks.

it’s not the answer you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t unwelcome. it made you feel warm inside, like eating warm and soothing soup on a cold winter’s day. this, for you, was okkotsu yuuta at his best, stripped clean and vulnerable.

you’re the only one who he can relax around, act like the world is carefree. like he’s young again, prancing around in that dingy colourful playground he met you at.

“i want you to kiss me.”

#okay hold up #yuuta’s little ‘hi there’ HAS ME ACTING TF UP #OOOOOOOHHH THIS MAN #anyways i hope i wrote him well!!#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #jjk headcanons #okkotsu yuuta #jjk yuuta #yuuta x you #yuuta x reader #okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkotsu imagines #yuuta okkotsu

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dracosathenaeum · 3 years

Text

Great Love Story | Final Part | DM

#A/N: Apologies for the long wait, with what went down the other night and overall writers block this took far longer than I expected. I hope this is a satisfying ending for everyone who’s been reading so far!! Let me know what you thought of it overall!! Also this chapter is dedicated to @slytherinwh0re and Voldemort’s feet :3

Warnings: swearing, violence, food, mentions of strangling and sex

Word Count: 2,781

PART 1 | PART 2

Waking up alone in that empty bed had perhaps been worse than when Draco had broken up with you. You had left his room that time thinking he had left you because he had lost all feelings for you. This time, he had left even though you knew of his true feelings, feelings that he couldn’t hide. Jealousy was never easy to hide for Draco, but luckily for you it just showed that he still cared for you.

You had spent days after he had left you with nothing but second thoughts in your head, debating with yourself whether or not he was worth it. You could’ve walked away and let that last night be a mistake, leave it to be the final moment of closure between the two of you (if you could even call it closure).

But no, learning from mistakes apparently wasn’t an option for you.

You just wanted the truth, was what you told yourself as you wrapped a green tie around your neck; not revenge, just the truth.

“Remember all you have to do is walk past Draco and smile at me from across the hall a couple times. He’ll be able to connect the dots from that alone.”

The older Slytherin looked at you with a smirk on his face, “If I knew all I had to do was swap ties with you and walk past Malfoy to have someone do my potions essay for me I would’ve offered my services years ago.” You had been lucky enough to have found (bribed) someone to help you pull the truth from Draco, even if you weren’t too fond of the person himself. You were up for playing the long game though you doubted Draco could resist interfering before long.

You ran your fingers through his soft locks, ruffling them up a little before unbuttoning both of your top buttons to make it seem more realistic. “You know, if you wanted to make it authentic, we could just actually get with each other? I wouldn’t mind rubbing it in Malfoys face that I got with his girl.”

Retracting your hands from his shirt, you grimaced, “This is enough, thank you Adrian.” You were only being polite since he was helping you out; the second you no longer needed him you would make sure he knew you’d never be interested in him.

“Come on, before they all finish eating before we’ve even gone in.” You walked into great hall, head held high and hand gripped in a clammy hold. As much you had hated how Draco’s hands had always been cold, you suddenly found yourself missing them greatly.

You let go of his hand and the both of you walked your separate directions but that was all you needed. You sat down with your friends and watched as Theo pointed out your tie and then the person who had yours. You didn’t even both keeping your gaze on their table for Draco’s reaction, something would come sooner or later.

“y/n, uh, are you sure this is a good idea? I know if sucks, but he’s clearly moved on, I don’t think making him jealous will work when he looks at Pansy like that.”

He hadn’t told you he loved you the other night, nor had he let you say it, but his love language was never with words. The way he held you, the careful touches and well-placed kisses, those were what made you believe there was still hope, and if not, at least an actual explanation rather than fucking you into the oblivion only to leave you before the sun was awake.

You knew he loved you still, but perhaps there were now two in his heart. Your eyes wondered back to the Slytherin table, expecting him to be glaring holes into the side of your head or arguing with the boy who had your tie around his neck, but no. He had his eyes trained on Pansy’s eyes, his fingers playing with a strand of her perfect hair. Grace was right, you had no chance when he was looking at Pansy with stars in his eyes. Though perhaps that was your answer itself. Your plan had been perfect, you had just executed it around the wrong people.

He had fucked up once, he wasn’t about to do so again; not when the stakes were so high. His one moment of jealousy causing him to lose control had only furthered his resolve to not do so again. It simply wasn’t worth the risk.

He would only take partial blame though, his twit of a partner clearly wasn’t as sneaky as she had claimed to be, one slip up each was already more than allowed and although they both knew, it seemed only Draco was taking it seriously.

Talking to Pansy had been less than helpful, “She could’ve joined in.” being her only response, her red painted lips curling into a smile that made something in his stomach tighten. Perhaps he was the fool to expect more from her.

Her shortcomings and the disappointment he felt of his own lack of self-control had perhaps been the only thing to stop him from punching the shit eating grin off the rat who you had decided to use to pull a reaction from him.

He had been with you just three nights ago and he knew you, knew you inside and out. The hickeys on your neck were his marks and all 3 of you knew that; swapping ties with some poor sucker and ruffling his hair wasn’t going break him. Not by a long shot.

It had taken him everything that night outside the room of requirement to not push you in and take you until you remembered you could only feel that way for him, yet he had managed to spit out the word whore and swallow the instant regret, grimacing at the memory of your palm striking his face.

He had done all that to have his weak heart ruin it when he found you with Theo.

He had almost ruined everything.

But yet again his weak, traitorous heart failed him when he found himself with his fist across someone’s face.

You had kept your eyes trained on the food in front of you to prevent the temptation of causing yourself any more pain, instead working your brain on how best to get Draco alone and on how best to procure some veritaserum (was that even legal?).

Throwing back the last of your pumpkin juice, you gave a quick goodbye to your friends before you all but ran to the library in attempts to look for some answers. Well you had tried getting to the library; you had been barely halfway through the great hall when Adrian had seemingly appeared from thin air, his hand on your upper arm pulling you to a stop.

“So when do I get my compensation for this favour?”

You didn’t know what it was, but the way he looked and spoke to you had the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He had leant in, warm puffs of air blowing across your ear as he spoke to you. Not the kind that had you melting in Draco’s arm, but the kind that had you wanting to turn and run, but his bruising hold on your arm wasn’t about to let that happen.

“The Slytherin prince looks like he’s about to murder me, I think I deserve more than an essay. Let me fuck you and we’ll call it even.”

The joy in your chest from hearing that your plan had worked was quickly replaced with the most revoting feeling, you physically gagged and wondered why no one intervened as you had physically recoiled from him. Draco may not have been many people’s first picks, you wouldn’t try to hide his faults, but he at least had some respect and dignity.

Your mouth fell open, not sure if you should slap him across the face or swear at him until he got the point.

“The audacity-”

“If I ever see you within 100 meters of her again, I’ll make sure you’ll never be able to fuck again.” Yet again another Slytherin has seemingly appeared from thin air, cutting off you off before you could even say what you wanted to say. Adrian had been smart enough to let go of you the second he had heard Draco’s voice, but it didn’t make up for the fact he had been stupid enough to act.

You strode out the doors of the great hall as soon as you remembered how to use your legs, catching Draco’s his fist connecting with Adrian’s face out of the corner of your eye; the sickening crack of the collision was enough to bring a smile back on your face. That and the fact Draco had yet again shown his true colours, now you just needed to know why he was hell bent on hiding them and hurting you both.

You hadn’t realised how lost in your own thoughts you had been in until you found yourself in the courtyard with a blonde Ravenclaw waving happily at you.

“Hi y/n! Isn’t it beautiful out today? I wanted to take Pansy on a picnic, but you understand why that’s not quite possible yet.” You hadn’t expected to run into Luna so soon, though you avoiding her out of sheer embarrassment had definitely been a major factor of that.

“You’re okay being the ‘other woman’? Luna you deserve so much more than that.” The two of you weren’t particularly close (other than when you had seen her being sent to heaven by Pansy’s fingers), but she felt an obligation like any other person might’ve.

“Other woman? I thought Pansy said you two had made up again? They're just faking it for you-know-who. I guess Draco had to be stricter since he has his secret task, but it’s odd he’s taking so long to tell you.”

You blinked. You remembered how to breathe again and then the anger came.

“I have to go but thank you Luna, I owe you.” You didn’t have time to come up with a speech or a plan, you would just find him and do whatever your impulses led to.

You were going to make him repent for every second lost, for every ounce of heart ache you felt and then you’d have him beg for you, if you managed to not strangle him first that was.

You ended up pounding on the doors to the dungeons when he had been nowhere else. With each place you searched resulting with him not being there, your anger built, the frustration worse than it had ever been.

“Jeez woman, is someone dead?”

“No but with that look it looks like someone’s about to be.”

The doors had opened revealing a far too happy Pansy and Theo, clearly enjoying how mad you seemed to be. You didn’t waste a second, pushing past the both of them to see Draco sat casually on one of the leather sofas, clearly bragging about how he had just punched Adrian.

“You had no right!”

As if it wasn’t enough that The Dark Lord was walking around his home barefoot and threatening his family’s lives; his ex-girlfriend was now going to kill him. Well, he’d rather die by her hands than his any day.

“You still haven’t told her?” You hadn’t even heard Pansy come up behind you, hand coming to rest on your shoulder. For everyone else it seemed like a jealous ex-girlfriend causing drama, a sharp look from Draco had sent everyone scrambling as he mumbled a silencing charm under his breath.

“If you want me to apologise for punching Pucey, I would rather you slap me again.” He was still lying to you. Your hands curled around his collar, pulling him up from his casual lounging across the sofa.

“Luna told me everything. You had no right to make that kind of decision for me. Who else knew?” You watched as the colour drained from his face, you turned to see Pansy, Theo and Blaise quickly avert their gazes. The three of them clearly thought they would be watching you shout at Draco for punching Adrian as they quickly found other places to be once they realised your true intentions.

“Can we actually talk now without you running off with your so-called girlfriend who has been dating another woman and without you only paying attention to me when you deem necessary?” Draco had slumped back onto the green leather, hand dragging over his face as he refused to meet your gaze again, the expression on his face a far cry from what it had been just moments ago.

“I can’t explain everything to you. Can you just trust that I’m doing what’s best for you? For us.”

If his voice hadn’t been so shaky, if his body hadn’t trembled like is had when he was 13 as you held him against you as he cried about the passing of his grandfather, you might not have decided to not push further.

So Harry was right, though some part of you had always known, after all in what world would Harry Potter make something like that up. You had just deluded yourself into thinking Draco wouldn’t be dragged into it. “I know Draco. You don’t have to say anything you can’t, but I know.”

His eyes whipped up to meet yours, clearly not expecting that response from you. You looked at him with the same fierce gaze he loved and for a second he thought you’d slap him again.

He thought you’d hit him and run or even worse, you’d stay.

“If this wasn’t the best possible option, I wouldn’t have chosen it, you have to understand that. It was better than the alternative of losing you and my parents. Do you know what he does to people? Do you know how he tears them apart? How he would rip your mind into shreds and then leave you with just enough life to watch him do the same to everyone else you care about.”

You stayed silent; you hadn’t thought about the bigger the picture this whole time, focusing only on you and your insignificant feelings.

“I refuse to put you at risk. If I had to make a choice; if I had to choose between saving you or my parents, I don’t know who I’d choose and that terrifies me. I can lose you and try to move on or find you again, but I can’t abandon my parents without signing their death warrants.” His words hurt. There was no masking that, but you knew he was right, he was making the most logical decision and you could not fault him for it, no matter how much your heart objected.

You just looked at him for a tense second, your brain trying to piece together what to say and what to think. Life had not prepared you for this moment.

“But the way you looked at her-“

“Looked at who?”

“Pansy.”

“I was imagining you.”

Your cheeks flushed with warmth, unsure if it was embarrassment, relief or anger. His fingers reached for yours, the familiarity of his wrapped around yours loosened the ball of nerves in your stomach just a little.

“Okay. Go.”

“What?” His fingers tightened their grip on your hand.

“I’ll wait until after the war; but you better find yourself on the right side. Just stay alive and I’ll find you.”

“And if I’m in Azkaban?” a voice so small you almost didn’t hear it.

“I don’t believe you could do anything horrific enough to end up in Azkaban; but even so, you better make some right choices because you hold our future in your hands Malfoy.”

He looked at you as though you had gone mad, and frankly you might’ve. After all, who would wait for their ex-boyfriend after finding out they were a death eater?

“You cannot be serious.”

“I would wait a lifetime for you.”

It had been those very words that had given him hope, something he didn’t think he would ever have again after taking the mark. He had not convinced his father to reconsider and that was something he would have to live for the rest of his life; but he had his mother. A mother’s love would prove yet again to be a saving grace.

The two of you may not have rebuilt what you had until years after, but when it came to making that all important choice, he had chosen the right one.

TAGLIST: @bbeauttyybbx @pipppaaaaalouisee @theslytherinprincessworld @fangirl-3d2y @tttyrus @scriptingslytherin @justmimithings @purpleskymalfoy @minigigglybabi @505weasleys @secretaccshh @obbrssession @whatwoulddracodo @thatoneniceslytherin @thehumanistsdiary @mariah-can-dream @futureofanthropology @ccabian @tobarmaidswhodontcount @dray-cookies @xuckduck @dreamyginny @dracofeltonmalfoy @lord-byron @inglourious-imagines @audreythehufflepuff @beiahadid @moonlightorbit @imonlyherecauseimbored @dracosgoodgirl @dreaming-about-fanfictions @goldenxreid @avengers-end-me @sad-bitch-h0ur @zhangyixingxing1 @yourenotafailureoverall @pastelpuffbar @miso-tang @pixiedustsupplyco @harry-and-draco-loves @tsukibaby @dracoswhore007 @hogwartslut @mischiefisbeingmanaged @raylovessarcasm @drxcomvlfx @dracosballs @standingandstaring @its-chickenwing-450 @iamproudtobeaslytherin @mischiefisbeingmanaged @pxroxide-prinxcesss @slytherinxraven @jinnbie @lunalovegoodsgirlfriend @Utzelh8 @gloryekaterina @capkatie @jquick-18 @imcedricdiggorys @osterfieldnholland @explxsion @big-galaxy-chaos @malfoycrave @softlyqoos @krazykendraisnotinsane @minsuuwu @lumlfy @mllzhxrrs44 @weasleyis0urking @slytherinwh0re @gwlvr @m3ssytrash @aubreyanna02 @akaaaaashiiii @carrobrumbrum @dracoswift @bitchybeatle @samnblack @dumspirospero-1 @dracomalfoyswifeee @sydnee-kom-spacekru

Those who asked for part 3!: @dracoxmgg @em2604 @gabiconstellation @azkabanlexi @indieslytherin @sushiims @sincerlymalfoy

#Draco x reader #draco malfoy #harry potter #Draco Malfoy x reader #draco x y/n #Draco Malfoy x y/n #Draco Malfoy one shot #draco one shot

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beccascribbles · 4 years

Note

hi! can i ask for a scenario where ushijima, tsukki, kenma said something maybe out of the line that hurt your feelings and you just give them the silent treatment or become distant?? then like how they'd react to it and stuff :) thank you vm, have a good day 🙈

a/n - sorry this took me so long to write (and post). anyway, i hope you enjoy it. it was my first time writing for kenma so i'm not sure if i portrayed him right but let me know what you think!

"you're acting like a child," he sighs, pushing you away from him. your arms fall to your sides, missing the feeling of ushijima's warm body. "stop being so clingy. it's annoying"

you knew he was honest, but there is a time and a place for him to voice his opinion on your affection, and in front of his friends was not one of them

all you had wanted to do was give him a hug in greeting. yes, you may have stayed attached to him longer than was necessary but you had barely seen him all day

"okay," you say, turning on your heel and walking away. you don't even bother saying goodbye, too hurt and annoyed to bother

ushijima's brows furrow in confusion as he watches you walk away. tendou is watching the scene with wide eyes, fighting the urge to snicker

"did i do something wrong?" ushijima questions, staring after your receding figure. tendou finally does let out a snort, quickly slapping his hands over his mouth when ushijima turns to look at him

it is semi who gives ushijima's shoulder a squeeze in reassurance, though his eyes hold slight judgement as he says, "you hurt their feelings because you were being too blunt. you should probably apologise"

ushijima nods and then follows after your figure, his strides lengthening to catch up with you

his hand, warm and large, encloses around your own as he catches up to you, matching your pace

you remain silent, choosing to ignore his presence beside you

the silence settles between you, heavy and unwanted. though his mouth opens to form words, he can't bring himself to say anything. maybe it's his stubbornness, but he can't see how his words may have hurt you when they were the truth

"now who's being clingy?" you mumble angrily, yanking your hand from his grip and increasing your pace. your arms cross over your chest so he can't take your hand again. this increase in pace doesn't bother him and he easily matches it

he is persistent, irritatingly so. when he follows you into your room, you almost snap. instead, you silently fume, collapsing onto your bed and turning away from him. he watches your figure, expression holding slight confusion

"why are you ignoring me?"

you stay silent, stubbornly staring at the wall instead of him. when the mattress dips slightly under his weight, you scoot closer to the wall. his frown deepens

"what did i do wrong?" he questions, and you let out a sigh at how oblivious he is. "i was just being honest..."

your scowl deepens, especially when you feel him rest his hand on your back soothingly, rubbing circles into it. it is ushijima's turn to sigh as he looks at you

"i'm sorry if my words hurt you," he admits, the words causing you to turn slightly to look at him. his expression is as stoic as usual, though his eyes soften when they meet yours

"i just wish you had more of a filter sometimes, toshi," you explain, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. you hug your knees to your chest, head tilting to look at him. "i know you tend to say what you're thinking but i sometimes wonder if you understand how what you say can effect other people. you called me a child, clingly, annoying. that's hurtful, toshi. you probably didn't mean it like that but you did hurt my feelings. i hadn't seen you all day and, when i hugged you, you told me that?"

"i'm sorry," he says again, a slight frown to his face as he considers your words. his arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into his body. "i'll try to think about my words before i say them from now on"

he hugs you tight, and you relax in his hold, savouring the closeness

it's normal for him to send a teasing remark your way, just as it's normal for you to return the favour

however, today, his words hit a little too close to home, targeting an insecurity he wasn't aware of

you were frowning down at the maths sheet in front of you, brows furrowed as you struggled to work out the problems

you never usually felt inferior in terms of academics, but, right now, as you struggled to work out what was relatively simple maths, it started to grate at you

tsukishima wasn't really helping the issue. he seemed oblivious to your stressing, leaning back in his chair as he nodded his head along to the music

his eyes slid over to you, to your figure scribbling away on the paper. he pulled his headphones off, shooting you a teasing grin (though this went unnoticed by you)

his voice, light and teasing, cut through your focus, the words immediately putting you on edge

"if you focus any harder, you're going to be even more stupid than you already are"

your lips pursed but he went on, oblivious to your discomfort

"i can actually see the last bits of your intelligence leaving yout skull." this was punctuated by his finger giving your forehead a poke

you flinched away from him, a scowl lining your features. mumbling under your breath a number of unflattering things, you gathered your work and shoved it into your bag

"where are you going?" he asked, sitting up straighter in his chair, eyes filled with confusion and a bit of concern

you ignored him, pushing open the classroom door, deciding to head to the library to get away from him

for the rest of the day, tsukishima's attempts to speak to you were met with stony silence

so, naturally, he got annoyed, pissed off, and decide to ignore you to

it got to the point where both of you were simply staring through the other as if they weren't there when in a group situation, which was awkward for everyone involved

it was kageyama who told you to get your shit together, while hinata and yamaguchi could only agree

"i will when he apologises for being a dick," you said to kageyama, while tsukishima's eyes narrowed into a glare

"what the fuck," he snapped. "you've been giving me the cold shoulder all day and it's somehow my fault? bullshit"

you spun to face him, arms crossing over your chest. you spat, "you called me stupid when i was stressing over my math work. was i supposed to say thanks? fine. thank you, kei, that was really fucking helpful"

"what?" he blinked, looking at you im confusion. yes, he had teased you. but, he assumed you would know that he had been joking. if he had thought you were struggling, he would of helped you

as this was happening, your friends had edged away to give you some privacy. this was why tsukishima felt fine in admitting this to you

"if i thought you were struggling, you know i would have helped you." his hand reached out to take your hand, finger stroking your knuckles as his eyes met yours

you let out a frustrated sigh, your resolve crumbling. "i know... sorry for being a bit of a brat about it. i should've just told you that you had hurt me"

"yeah, you should've," he teased, pulling you closer to him. his lips pressed against your forehead in apology for getting annoyed at you in. "but, it's fine"

when you came over that weekend, he was busy gaming, like he usually was

ordinarily, when you walked through the door, he would start to wrap up the game, saying goodbye to who he was in the call with

today, however, was slightly different

he was playing a particularly difficult story game, which he had been struggling to complete all week (his choices, much to his frustration, kept getting the character killed)

therefore, you could understand why he was engrossed enough to only give you a simple greeting, a nod of the head

expecting him to only take an hour at maximum (you were content to just be in his company), you relaxed on the bed and pulled out your phone. two hours later, he had still not said a word to you

you sat up on the bed, moving towards him to drape yourself over the back of his chair, resting your head on his shoulder

"kenma..." you said, drawing out his name slightly, "are you almost finished?"

"urgh, just fuck off," he sighed, shrugging your arms off of him. "can't you see i'm busy?"

"fine," you snapped, stepping away from him and heading towards the bedroom door. you pushed it open and let it slam shut behind him

for a moment, you paused, waiting to see if he would react, maybe realise what he said was wrong. instead, the room remained painfully still

when it became clear he was not coming out to find you, you straightened and walked out of the house

kenma didn't realise you were avoiding him for a couple days until he picked up his phone to see no messages from you

it became clear that you were making every effort to avoid him when you made no effort to see him in person

he got so confused as to why you were clearly distancing yourself from him that he went to kuroo

it was after talking with his friend that he realised he had been insensitive and rude

however, you were hard to get alone, using every excuse avaliable to you to get out of spending time with your boyfriend

the whole thing was frustrating, to say the least. he missed you (though don't expect him to openly admit it)

it took him saying 'i'm sorry' rather loudly in a public area for you to turn to face him

your pause gave him the chance to grab your hand, to keep you anchored to him in case you left again

"sorry, are you?" you asked, head cocked slightly. "not a nice feeling, being ignored, is it?"

you would admit you were being a bit bratty, but, to be fair, he deserved

naturally, kenma didn't bother to reply, but it was fine, the gentle way he squeezed your fingers and the quick kiss he brushed to the side of your head more than enough to convey his apology

#hq requests #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu headcanons #hq x reader #hq headcanons #ushijima headcanons #ushijima x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima headcanons #kenma x reader #kenma headcanons

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princehairsupremacy · 3 years

Note

hey babe!!! i was wondering if you could do something like maybe harry is messing around with a “friend”. but it’s like angsty in the beginning because they don’t know what they are anymore. then ends with really good makeup sex. i love you and your writing!! i appreciate all you do!! thank you <3

prompts: 13, 23, 34, 43, 59, 128

13. “I don’t think friends do this.”

23. “I just need some time to think.”

34. “I would never do that to you.”

43. “I think I love you.”

59. “You’re mine.”

128. “Don’t tempt me.”

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A reblog is always appreciated ☻︎

Warnings: mentions of cheating, vaginal sex, face slapping, choking, spanking, masturbation

You remember the day it happened, when you started the twisted dumb little stupid agreement that messed it all up for you two, you remembered it vividly as you sat on the couch with a very confused Harry. Funny how it can all just start with a simple kiss.

3 Months Ago

You were heading to Harry’s house, he’d called you and seemed upset so of course you’d rushed over as soon as you could.

You parked your car and quickly walked to his front door, almost crying yourself when he’d opened it after you knocked with red eyes and a little sniffle. “Thanks for coming over.”

“What happened?” You walked in the door and he closed it, taking your jacket off and then hugging him straight away.

“She cheated on me.” You pulled back and raised your eyebrows. “I know I know, you knew and tried to warn me and I didn’t listen-“

“None of that, I’m sorry. When’d you find out?”

“She told me today, said she felt guilty and had to tell me, I knew I had to break up with her but it was really fucking hard. I thought it was a good relationship, a healthy one. Thought she loved me, turns out I was wrong. She left like an hour before you got here, at least she didn’t do it over the phone. Did I do something wrong?” You pulled him back in for hug, rubbing his back soothingly.

“Harry, you treat everyone you come across like they’re fucking royalty, of course you did nothing wrong. If she cheated, that’s her fault, not yours. She’s just an asshole.”

“Thank you.” He pulled back and smiled at me, holding my face in his hands. “You always help me so much.” He leaned in and kissed you.

You stepped back and touched your lips in disbelief. “What the fuck was that?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I done that. Before she told me she was cheating on me, she ignored for like a month and it’s been making my mind go hazy and now that we’ve broke up, it’s even more hazy and I just-“

“Harry, I get it. It’s fine.”

“Did you like it?” You looked up at him and tilted your head. “I didn’t mind it.”

“Um, I guess it wasn’t bad.”

“D’you wanna do it again?” He gave you a nervous look and you bit your lip, it felt wrong that you wanted to do it again but what really was the harm in doing it again.

“I don’t think friends do this.”

“Not what I asked, asked if you want to do it again.”

“Yeah.”

Present

Dumb stupid idiot, why did I say yes? We messed it all up. “What are we?” You looked back at him, the words taking out of your little trip back to the past.

“I don’t know, okay?! I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing!” He grabbed onto his hair and paced about the room.

“We need to figure this out, we can’t just keep pretending that we’re just fucking and being friends, it’s more than that and you know it!” You stood up and grabbed your bag. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“I need some time to think.” He grabbed the bag from you.

“Don’t leave, we need to talk about this. You don’t just get to leave and ignore me.”

“Ignore you? You think I would ignore you like she did? I would never do that to you and it’s really insulting to know that you think I would ever do that to you, I really thought you knew better. Asshole.” You took the bag back and he took your hand.

“I’m sorry, love. I don’t know where that came from I’m just panicking because...I think I love you.” You froze and he squeezed your hand.

“Right. I just need some time to think, okay?”

“I think I love you. D’you love me?” His thumb rubbed the back of your hand and you let out a shaky breath. Do you love him?

“Please, give me time to think. I won’t ignore you for a month okay? Just give me at least two weeks.” He dropped your hand and you saw tears in his eyes so you quickly turned about, quickly grabbing your stuff and getting out as quick as you could.

2 Weeks Later

He’s been calling. Constantly. He left voice mails but I haven’t had the courage to listen to them until now, You couldn’t pretend he didn’t exist any longer, the longer you waited, the harder it was going to be to answer.

You decided to listen to his voicemails, they started 3 days after you left and stopped talking to him, you should start there.

“Hey, I know it’s only been 3 days and you said to give you at least 2 weeks but I just wanted to know that you’re okay and safe, I still care about you. Even if you don’t want to call me, just send me a text telling me you’re okay, I won’t even try to start a conversation unless you want to.”

The next one is two days after.

“Hey, you didn’t text me or anything. Could you please just let me know you’re safe and okay, if you don’t say anything. I’m gonna call Claire to see if she knows how you are. I miss you.”

Fuck, you should’ve listened to these earlier. This one’s a day after he sent that one.

“You didn’t answer so I called Claire, she said you’re okay and that you’ve been texting her. Maybe you just aren’t listening to my voicemails. I hope I can see you soon, I really do miss you.”

Shit, theres still 3 voicemails left. You clicked on the next one and frowned at the slight tremble in his voiceZ

“Hey, I don’t think you’re listening to these voicemails but in case you are, I’ll keep sending them. She called me today, said she’s sorry for getting with someone else and it was so hard to not go back to her. I wish you were here to help me out with this, I need you so bad right now. I’m not going back to her but I do sort of miss her, but I just want you right now. Miss you lots.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The next one was like 4 days ago.

“It’s almost been two weeks. Hope you call me back soon, or text me, whatever you prefer. I really fucking miss you, didn’t realise how much I rely on you until I didn’t have you anymore. This fucking sucks, why do people keep leaving me? What’ve I been doing wrong? I’ve been doing the best I could but people keep fucking leaving anyway! I want you to come back to me, I need you to.”

You sniffled and wiped your eye, clicking on the last voicemail.

“So tomorrow is two weeks, I really hope you text me or something, I’ve never wanted someone back in my life so bad. I miss you, miss seeing your face. Everytime we had sex and you left, it hurt everytime. It hurt even more when I was the one that had to leave. I know we had good sex but I wish we did it in a relationship, I don’t want to be your friend, I want to be your boyfriend. I want to take you on dates and hold your hand and kiss you but I couldn’t, I didn’t know if you wanted that. Please call me.”

You clicked on the message button with tears in your eyes.

Come over.

Harry

Okay.

It only took him like 20 minutes to get there, now you were sitting on your couch, at opposite ends. You stared at your hands while we stared at you. “Why’d you ask me to come over?”

“I’m sorry.” You looked at him with teary eyes and he gave you a sad smile, grabbing your hand. “Sorry I left you to deal with this by yourself for 2 weeks.”

“It’s alright, I understand why you did it. I just wished you’d have let me known that you were okay, did you listen to my voicemails?”

“I only listened to them today. Harry, I want to be in a relationship.”

“Yeah?” You nodded and he shuffled closer, bringing you into a hug. “You don’t understand how happy that makes me.” He leaned back and pulled you in for a quick kiss. “I missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry again-“ He covered your mouth and smiled.

“Stop apologising, I get it, there’s no need for more apologies.” He took his hand away from your mouth and you kissed him again, bringing your hands up to his face.

“I love you.” You mumbled against his lips and he pulled back, looking between your eyes.

“I love you too.”

“Let’s make up for lost time, yeah?”

“Oh don’t tempt me.” He said jokingly. “Okay, but not on the couch, come to the bed.” He stood up and offered his hand, helping you up and walking you to the bedroom. You stood in front of the bed and he pushed you down onto it, gripping your shirt and pulling it off quickly.

He leaned down and kissed down your stomach, resting his hands on your hips. He dragged your leggings off and looked up at you. “What do you want?”

“Anything.” His fingers pressed against your through your underwear, rubbing in slight circles.

“Can feel how wet for are. Who are you wet for, baby? Hm?”

“You.” He looked up at you and swallowed, licking his lips. “Just you.”

“That can be arranged, when are you free?”

“Well, I think I’m free right now.”

“What a coincidence, so am I. Let’s get to it then?” Get to it? Oh my god. “I’m sorry, I regret saying let’s get to it.”

“Yeah, you should regret it, weirdo. C’mere.” He lifted himself up above you and looked down at you. “Let’s get straight to it.”

“Oh wow, it does sound really cringey, I’m so sorry. Did y’mean that though?”

“Yeah, meant it.”

“You’re eager today. And I’m okay with that.” He sat up on his knees and lifted his shirt off quickly, getting his head stuck at first but he did eventually get it over his big head. “Pretend that didn’t just happen.”

“No thanks, that’ll be burned in my brain now.”

“Well just...delete it.” He got off the bed and pushed his trousers down his legs, almost falling as he tried to step out of them without using his hands. “Fucking delete that from your brain too.”

“Nope, they’re both memories that are going to stay forever and you can deal with it.” He groaned and looked around the room.

"Have you got condoms in here still?" You pointed to a drawer and he walked over to it, taking one of the condoms then shutting the drawer and walking over to you.

"Thank fuck or else we might've had to stop, that would have been bad." He pushed his boxers down his legs and ripped open the condom and you looked at him and giggled. "What?"

"I don't know, you're just standing there absolutely naked opening a condom, how often do I see that?" He huffed and turned around, sitting on the bed. Pretty sure he’s doing that so I won’t laugh while he puts on the condom.

“Thanks a lot for laughing at me but it’s on now so you can’t laugh at anything.” He turned his head around to look at me. “Actually, close your eyes. I don’t want to take a risk and have you laugh at me coming to you with the condom on.”

“Dude?”

“Just do it. And please don’t call me dude right now, I’m literally about to fuck you.“ Oh my god, you covered your eyes with your hands even though it was pretty unnecessary.

“Fuck me? Thought we were in love? Aren’t we going to make love?” You could practically see and hear his eye roll, you grinned because you know he always thought saying ‘making love’ didn’t even sound romantic from all the times he complained to you about when his ex would say it. Do not think about his ex right now. “Can I look?”

“Maybe it’d be better if you were on your stomach, you’ve made me insecure now.” You uncovered your eyes to apologise to him but saw that he was grinning in front of you. “I’m sorry, did I not make it obvious that I was joking?”

“Do you want sex?” He pursed his lips and nodded his head slowly. “Being funny isn’t helping you then, just a tip.”

He cleared his throat and it was quite easy to tell he had a joke to say by the way he was smiling so much and his dimples were showing. “I’m alright, already have a tip.” You scoffed and he shrugged his shoulders. “It’s the truth.”

“You better hurry up before I leave.”

“You wouldn’t leave me.”

“Do you want to bet on that, Harry?” He shook his head and spread your thighs apart, licking his lips at the sight before him. “Straight to it.”

“Aw, come on. So mean. Whatever you want, I guess.” He lifted his head up, getting on his knees and moving your legs around his hips. You looked him in the eyes as he pushed in, his pupils were so dilated that his eyes almost looked black. It was only two weeks but he fucking missed this feeling, you were fighting but he couldn’t help thinking about this...touching himself at the thought of your body. “Fuck, the feel of you will never get old, I’ll never get tired of you. I love you so fucking much.”

“I-I love you too.” His fingers gripped your thighs, there were definitely going to be bruises and marks on your skin because of how much his fingers were digging into your skin. “Hurt me, Harry.”

“Hurt you? You want to be hurt like you’re being punished? Punish you for ignoring me for two weeks?” He raised his hand and slapped your face, not very hard but enough. “You want to be used?”

“Please.” He rubbed slightly where he just slapped you, it wasn’t enough to hurt you, he knew how to hold himself back enough to not harm you to a point where you didn’t like it, he would never want to do that. “Do what you want with me.”

“Was already fucking planning on it.” He gripped your thighs again, his hips pressing against the back of your thighs everytime he roughly thrusted forward into you. He wasn’t sure if it was the connection you guys had or the way you were just so fucking amazing everytime he fucked you but this was the best sex he’d had in his life and he never wanted to give it up. It was probably both the connection and how amazing you were actually.

“Harry!” His right hand moved to your waist, his fingers instead pressing deeply into the skin there. He wanted you to bruise so you remember this because he wasn’t going to forget it and he didn’t want you to either. “Uh, fuck...!”

“That feel good?- shit...” His pressed his hips right against the back of your thighs, pausing and moving his hands beside your head and trying to balance himself so he didn’t fall onto you.

“You feel so deep, it’s good.” You reached up to hold his hair back from his face and opened his eyes to look down at you. He leaned down and rested the side of his head on your shoulder, softly dropping down onto you. His hips moved slowly again and you felt his lips press gently against your shoulder. “You tired? I can ride you if you’re too tired.”

“No, just give me a minute. I’m not that tired yet, I can keep going.” He picked his head up from your shoulder and kneeled again but he couldn’t find the energy to go back into the previous position so he sat back on his heels and was breathing very heavily.

“Don’t push yourself, you’re tired.” You lifted yourself up so you were sitting on his lap and he laid his head on your chest. His arms wrapped around you and he slowly turned around, bringing his feet out from under him and slowly shuffling back until he was leaned against the headboard.

“Sorry, I can usually go longer but I haven’t been getting much sleep. I’ve been thinking of you too much to sleep. Missed you so much.” You brought your hands up to his hair and scratched his head soothingly. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising. I should be the one apologising for keeping you up at night. For what it’s worth, I missed you so much too.” You grinded your hips forward, closing your eyes as you felt your clit rub against his skin. “This always feel good.”

“Y’like riding me? I like watching your tits bounce as you use me to cum, ‘s hot.” How does he have no filter at all? It’s not like you didn’t feel a bit of a...tingle?...when he said that though. “Can you do that f’me, please?”

“Yeah, of course.” You grabbed onto his shoulders and he leaned his head back, swallowing as he watched you start to bounce slightly in his lap. His gaze drifted from your hips to your chest, his head leaned forward to suck your nipple because he just couldn’t control himself when it was right in front of his face. “Oh-“

His hands drifted up to your hips, slowly dragging his fingers up the sides of your body until he got to about the middle of your waist and he pulled his head back so that be could use his hands to play with your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers. “I love your body, so beautiful and just out of this world.”

“I love everything about you. Your body, your face, your personality, your tongue, your fingers, and...other parts.” He let out a slight chuckle then grinned and shook his head.

“Other parts? Wonder what parts, guess we’ll never know.” His hands dropped down to just hold your hips and help you lift yourself up and drop back down. His fingers on his right hand skimmed against your thigh as his head fell back against the headboard of your bed again. “Are- fuck. Are you going to cum yet?”

“I don’t know, can you touch me?” He sucked on his thumb a little then pressed it against your clit, moving in a slow and steady motion. “That’s much better, yeah.”

His eyes watched his thumb move and you closed your eyes, starting to just grind your hips again as you were getting a little sore. “I’m gonna need you to fucking cum, darling.”

“I am trying my best here.” His left hand reached around to spank you and you gasped in surprise, you don’t remember him ever doing that before but it was actually pretty good.

“Didn’t ask for attitude from you. Don’t fucking speak to me like that.” Hearing the dominance in his voice was fucking mind blowing, was he holding all this back until now. He shouldn’t have held it back, definitely shouldn’t have. “Ever heard that if you don’t have anything nice to say then keep it to your fucking self?”

“I’m sorry...” He rolled his eyes and grabbed your ass, making you grind your hips faster.

“You’re sorry? You’re only sorry because I called you out on it. Just be quiet and cum already.” You squeezed his shoulders and moved your hips faster. His thumb pressing just enough against your clit that everytime you moved your hips forward it brought you closer and closer to coming.

“I’m gonna cum now.” He looked up at your face and moved his hand from your ass to your throat, squeezing tightly but just enough that you could still breathe.

“Finally, do it then.” Your hips spasmed uncontrollably and you came around his cock, falling against his chest when it was over. “Fucking sit up, never said we were done.”

“What...?” He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back until you were sitting up straight, his hand moved up from your throat to grip your chin.

“We’re not done. Get off me and lay down.” You lifted yourself up and sat beside him, doing your best to catch your breath as quickly as you could. “Did you listen? Lay down. You’re mine and you’re gonna listen to me.” You fell back and lifted your arm over your eyes, closing them so you could try to calm down. “Are you alright? Can you keep going.” His tone was a lot softer than it previously was.

“Yeah. Just, not too much please.” You felt his hands land on your thighs and he pushed them apart.

“Okay, I’ll be nicer. You just relax and enjoy yourself.” You felt his nose nudge against your sensitive clit as his tongue licked up around your hole and you cried out. “Are you alright?”

“Just sensitive. I should be fine though.” His tongue dragged up to your clit and he gently flicked his tongue against it. “Don’t go any harder than that, it’ll just hurt.”

Harrys hands reached up to hold on to the back of your thighs and he lifted them up onto his shoulders, his hands sliding around to rest at the front of your thighs. He sucked your clit between his lips, not too hard so he didn’t hurt you since you were pretty sensitive.

Your hands returned to his hair and you just held on as your vision got a little blurry, you weren’t going to last long before coming again because of your sensitivity. “Harry I-“

“Mhm...” He hummed against you and the vibrations added onto your pleasure that his mouth and tongue were already giving you. Your back arched and your thighs pressed against your head as you came on his tongue, feeling like you could pass out as soon as he lifted his head up and dropped your legs off of his shoulders.

“You- Harry, need to cum now.”

“No-“

“Yes, cum on me if you want, just don’t want to be selfish and only think about myself.” He sighed and moved himself until he was kneeling beside you on your left side.

“Can I cum on your tits? Just always wanted to try that.” You gave him a little nod and he smiled. “Can you just not watch me do it? Like, close your eyes.” You groaned and closed your eyes, hoping he wouldn’t take too long because if you had your eyes closed too long you knew you’d fall asleep.

He lifted his leg over your body and had a knee on either side of you, kneeling over your stomach. “Okay- I’m gonna do this now.” He grabbed his cock and shuffled forward a little so his cum would hit your chest. It wasn’t going to take him long, he’d had so much build up to this moment that he knew he wasn’t going to be waiting long.

His hand moved up and down his cock, your cum still covering his cock from your first orgasm. Fuck, he found it so hot that he was using your cum to be able to touch himself so that he could cum on your tits.

He reached his other hand down and cupped his balls, biting his lip as his pleasure only grew intenser as he did it. He closed his eyes and threw his hand back as he moved his hands faster, imagine it was your warm and wet mouth as he alwayds did literally everytime since you started hooking up with him, you only grew better and better everytime you sucked him off and he could never complain every time you did it.

He squeezed his balls gently and felt himself on the brink of coming, he swiped his thumb over his sensitive tip and moved his hand as fast as he could. He was using the image of your chest covered in his cum as motivation to hurry up and see it as soon as possible.

His thighs quivered a little as he opened his eyes and watched his cum coat your chest. He kept moving his hand to make sure he got as much cum as he could on your tits and moved off of you when he was sure he was finished. “Y’can open your eyes.”

“Was it as good as you imagined.” His eyes flicked over to your chest and he pursed his lips, dipping two of his fingers into his cum and bringing it to your mouth. You gladly accepted his fingers in your mouth and looked at him as you sucked on them.

“Was way fucking better than I imagined. Sorry I made you close your eyes.” He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and spread his cum around your chest. “I’m definitely going to think about this for the rest of my life.”

“Right stop playing with it and clean it up, it’s quite fucking sticky and weird.” He grinned and stood up, heading into the bathroom to grab a towel. He rushed back and wiped it off your chest, biting his lip as he did it.

“Wasn’t playing with it, obviously. Just wanted to make sure there were no areas clear of it.” You rolled your eyes and he stopped cleaning your chest, putting the towel in your laundry basket.

“You were playing with it.”

“Was not!”

𓆉

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harrypotterbrainworms · 3 years

Text

Nights in White Satin

Summary: songfic request, “Nights in White Satin” by Moody Blues

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Male Reader

Key: (Y/N)- your name

Word Count: 1096

A/N: it might be a little unedited, apologies.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Nights in white satin Never reaching the end Letters I've written Never meaning to send Beauty I'd always missed With these eyes before

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

He stared into the deep blue night, the warm summer air settling in his throat as he watched the small owl swoop down, letter in its talons.

“Good boy, I’m sorry I’ve kept you up all day.” He stroked it gently with one hand as he impatiently opened the letter in the other.

“Dear (Y/N),

Thank you for the letter. I’m not sure how to respond. Your feelings are unexpected to say the least. I can't say anymore. I don’t think I could answer you in letter. Let’s meet alone in the express next week.

Sincerely, Remus Lupin.”

“Shit.” He whispered to himself. Of course he wasn’t going to feel the same. He wanted to cry, imagine not wanting to reject someone in letter, stupid bastard. He couldn’t simply avoid him now.

A week had passed since he heard back from Remus, his nerves were reaching an end as he strolled pushing his luggage in front of him and occasionally throwing a treat to his owl. The joy on his face when he saw his friends waiting for him where they always met at the station was immediately drained out as he saw Remus hiding behind them.

“Hey, my boys… my men, ah- men, right?” he nervously spoke out as Sirius wrapped his arm around his shoulder patting his back harshly as he usually did.

“What the hell is with you?” His voice boomed as he helped (Y/N) drag all his luggage onto the train and into their compartment.

“Nothing of course” He spoke under his breath, trying not to bring too much attention to his mood. Sirius frowned, looking down at his friend as he stuffed the last piece of luggage into the overhead.

“Bet there’s a girl” James suggested wiggling his eyebrows, which made him blush intensely.

“Stop teasing him.” Remus said rather seriously, making all the other marauders look a little baffled, but intrigued. They all settled in for a long train ride to Hogwarts.

Peter immediately dug into his luggage pulling out candy for all his friends who immediately stopped worrying about what the other two men were going through and tore through the packages greedily.

“Let’s go, while they’re distracted. Come on.” Remus whispered and pulled (Y/N) to an empty compartment leaving their friends behind and making (Y/N) almost piss his pants as his heart rate picked up, drumming in his ears.

Remus ushered (Y/N) into the compartment.

“You wanted to- uh- speak?” He sat down, gesturing towards the seat in front him.

“Y-Yeah.” Remus fidgeted with his hands, looking down at his feet.

“Cool, cool... cool.” He looked out of the window at the trees zooming by, avoiding eye contact. It had stayed quiet for quite a while before (Y/N) spoke up, speaking with haste.

“I’m sorry I sent it. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable and with all you have going on, it was stupid of me to-“ He looked down as he rambled looking rather guilty, it was his last intention was making one of his best friends and uncomfortable with anything he had to say in those letters but he was interrupted as Remus laughed.

“Please stop talking” He laughed, reaching a hand on his shoulder to ease the tension, moving his positioning on the opposite seat to lean more into his friend.

“What?” he blanked, blinking furiously.

“You say so much all the time, yet nothing at all.” he remarked, running a hand through his hair a small blush forming on his face as (Y/N) looked at him with confusion.

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s r-really annoying” He moved his hand to (Y/N)’s neck pulling him closer, licking his lips unintentionally.

“Then… Shut me up.” His breath hinged with anticipation. He wasn’t sure what happened in the span of the last week they had talked, but it seemed to be good. (Y/N) moved his hands to Remus’s neck as well, pulling him closer.

“My pleasure.” Remus barely had time to react before they smashed their lips together, he really did like him, he wasn’t sure at first lightly brushing his lips against the (Y/N)’s as the sound of the train became white noise to their thoughts.

Neither of the men could think of any better possibility than this, Remus would have written the letters to him but it just seemed as though no time was the right time. (Y/N) had become more comfortable in the last five minutes they had been kissing and now was running his hands under Remus’s shirt. Neither of them had had a first kiss but this was as great as they hope it will be. It was awkward and sweaty and overall very wet, but they never forget this moment even if it was a little strange to be kissing in a train compartment next to their best friends.

“S-Shit. You don’t wanna know how long I wanted that.” they broke apart looking at each other and what the hunger of never being able to kiss someone like that, (Y/N)’s stomach was fluttering as he watched Remus not able to take his eyes off him, he felt like he would vomit was all the excitement building up on him.

“I h-hope it was everything you hoped f-for.” He stuttered nervously, Remus Laughed in relief.

“Oh, how I love you” he whispered as he leaned in to kiss (Y/N) again, not getting enough of the taste of his lips. (Y/N) no longer wanted to vomit, thank Merlin, But He still wrung his hands together nervously as Remus looked out the window as the scenery sped past them.

“Those letters were very romantic. Nights in white satin, never reaching the end” He recited the lyrics he’d written all over the back, (Y/N) slapped his arm playfully, scoffing at him.

“Oh shut up, bloody bastard.” He laughed and realised nothing had really changed between them. Remus grabbed his hands and rubbed his thumbs in circles around his knuckles softly. The action comforted both of them as they sat there, basking in each other’s presence.

“I’m only teasing, there’s letters upon letters I’ve written for you. You could’ve just sent a tape with the song on it” Remus looked up from their hands and pushed their foreheads together coming in for another kiss.

“Maybe I will.” He smiled into it as he spoke, just feeling the moment they both had together and realising there was nothing that he could have prepared for that would’ve led to this.

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bruhstories · 3 years

Text

Vogel und Jäger

- PART TWO

Summary: After waking up, you realise the realities of the world you've been pulled into. Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Fem!Reader (mafia AU) Warnings & Content: stabbing, language, angst Word Count: 1.7 k

A/N: make sure to read part one, otherwise this won't make any sense xD there's still a bit of build up going on, but starting with part three we'll be getting some action

You woke up from a restless sleep, crumbs of mascara stuck to your face. God, you needed a shower and a toilet immediately. The club was dead empty from the view upstairs, only a few people cleaning the tables and moping the floor. You stretched your arms and walked to the door, surprised it wasn't locked.

"Ah, miss Y/L/N, good morning! I hope you had a pleasant sleep." Someone startled you and you cleared your voice.

"Hi, who are you?"

"Oh, my apologies, I am Onyankopon." The man smiled and handed you a paper bag. You peekee inside and saw something which resembled clothes and toiletries. You recognised the stag pin in his chest, another of Zeke's employees. "I assume you'd like to clean yourself up. Please follow me."

"I'd love that, thank you." You smiled and followed Onyankopon downstairs. He told you bits and pieces of the Jaeger family overthrowing the police and gaining control of Paradis City, how the Marleyans wanted control over the city's resources and docks, all kinds of information you weren't entirely sure you were supposed to know. He walked you to the backstage, where all the strippersdancers got ready, encouraging you to use whatever you needed for you'd be the star of the club. That didn't help you in any way, instead it was anxiety-inducing, and your toes curled at his affirmation. You quickly took off last night's makeup, brushed your teeth, washed your face and body in a sink and got dressed. The clothes were simple, a long, light blue shirt — clearly a man's — and a pair of leggings. You wondered whom they belonged to, perhaps that grim-looking lady, Yelena. She terrified you with her look that could kill. Your hands hovered over the vanity in the dressing room but decided not to waste any more time and folded your old clothes, placing them in the paper bag.

"I'm ready." You walked out of the room and met with Onyankopon. He smiled and guided you out through the back door. "Hey, Onyankopon, who's Mikasa?"

"Oh, miss Mikasa is our best assassin. She's loyal only to Eren, though, which is an impediment for Zeke... I probably shouldn't have said that." He opened the door of a superb black car and you climbed inside with a sigh. You heard how the mafia was based on trust, and no one trusted you.

Most of the ride was silent, your eyes wandering out the window until Onyankopon parked in front of a huge and heavily guarded mansion. You knew the Jaegers were rich, but this was beyond obscene. You opened the door and Onyankopon scolded you for doing that, but you assured him you were perfectly capable of doing things by yourself. He walked you through the beautiful front garden of the mansion, through the large hallway and into what you assumed to be a living room. Or an office? Whatever that was, it was as big as the dining room of the orphanage.

"Ah, the little bird has arrived! You look splendid in my shirt." Zeke welcomed you and you felt your cheeks warm up at his words. The heat disappeared just as quickly when your eyes met with Yelena's. "Come, sit. I suppose you're hungry."

You nodded, feeling saliva building up in your mouth at the sight of croissants, bagels and all kinds of foods you've never had before. Historia was rich, but even her money wasn't enough to feed so many mouths. Doors swung open and you saw Eren barge in, followed by a few people close behind. He plopped on a couch opposite you, the same inexpensive look on his face.

"Let's get over with this. I've got shit to do."

"Impatient as always." Zeke rolled his eyes. "Y/N, do you swear to obey and serve the Jaeger family?" The question caught you off guard, but you nodded.

"I do."

"There, done." The older Jaeger brother shrugged and Eren clicked his tongue.

"You almost didn't let Mikasa walk out of this room alive because she swore loyalty to me and this is all you do to her? You're getting soft, brother."

The air in the room grew thick, almost impossible to breathe it in. All eyes were on you, and you didn't know if what you felt was shame or fear, or both.

"Very well." Zeke walked behind you and took your left hand, placing it on the coffee table in front of the couch. "Hold that there, will you, love?" He smiled and you slightly relaxed. Until — a sharp pain, followed by electricity and heat shot from your hand, through your arm. A blood-curling scream erupted from your throat, tears falling from the corners of your eyes as you squirmed and thrashed at burning sensation, your hanned pinned to the table with a knife. Blood seeped from the wound and you panicked, no one in that room rushing to your aid. No one blinked, no one felt sorry. "Swear your loyalty to me. To the Jaeger family."

"I swear! Oh, God, I s-swear! Please!" You begged, feeling your temperature falling from your cheeks. Zeke twisted the knife and you fell from the couch, knees hitting the wooden floor.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked, unphased by your whimpers, sobs and yelling, as he let go of the knife that still pierced your flesh.

"T-to you! Make it stop, p-please!"

"Good enough for me. Any objections?" Zeke eyed his little brother.

"Just stitch her hand. She's annoying." Eren clicked his tongue and poured himself a cup of coffee. When Onyankopon pulled the knife out, blood gushed out of the fresh wound and you felt the room spin and your head heavy, vision blurry — you fainted.

A hard slap across your cheek woke you up and you met with Yelena, eyes drifting to your bandaged hand. It was damn painful to move it, and you used your other hand to support your weight, shifting your position on the couch.

"Finally." Eren got up and and handed you a file. You flipped through it and found pictures and information of the men from the club.

"Y/N, this is Armin, our bookkeeper. He'll be paying you after every successful show. And this is Mikasa, she'll train you in self-defence. I suspect you won't need it, but it's better to be safe than sorry." Zeke pushed the glasses with his index finger.

"You stabbed me." You bluntly stated, eyes glued to the bandages.

"It'll heal."

"It'll heal? I'm already in debt, you didn't need to stab me!" You got up and instantly felt a gun to your head. Great.

"Sit." Yelena's voice was brash and commanding. Your brain told you to listen to her, but your instincts told you to provoke her, to taunt her. Teeth gritting, you took a deep breath and lowered yourself down, deciding to do both.

"You're not gonna shoot me without Mr. Jaeger's permission, so don't point your gun at me." A satisfied smirk creeped on your lips — you didn't technically provoke her, just stated the obvious.

"Can I shoot her?"

"No." Zeke enjoyed the show, and unbeknownst to you, he, too, felt somewhat proud of your little snarky remark. "You still have to prove your loyalty. Talk to the band, choose some songs for Friday, Saturday and Sunday. You're free to settle your training hours with Mikasa, and to go wherever you want, but you are not allowed to step foot anywhere outside the centre of Paradis. Last thing I need is some Marleyan kidnapping you and torturing you for information. Or the cops. Dismissed."

"Mr. Jaeger, if I may?" You waited for his nod of approval. "Since I won't be living at the orphanage anymore, where exactly am I going to stay?"

"Ah, yes, of course. Blouse, Springer, come here." Zeke waved his hand. More people, more names.

It slowly dawned to you that the Jaegers had a thorough structure with extremely loyal people, and you'd have to quickly find your place there and earn their trust, lest you died a painful death. A bubbly brown-eyed woman and a cheerful-looking man approached Zeke's desk, and finally you saw someone less serious. Onyankopon was nice and all, but he wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine. These two seemed... fun.

"These are Sasha Blouse and Connie Springer, leaders of the drug cartel. You'll stay with them until you're capable of living by yourself."

The duo smiled at you and you felt genuine warmth from them, making you wonder just how bad the mafia was. They seemed to like working for the Jaeger brothers, but you couldn't judge that just yet.

"Oh, we've already moved your stuff to their place, so there is no need for you to visit Historia. Now go, we've got work to do." Zeke placed a cigarette between his lips before turning his back at you.

You were right, Sasha and Connie were fun people. They talked a lot, and you warmed up to them with a few jokes and puns. Connie handed you a phone containing a few contacts, neither of which were Zeke or Eren— apparently you weren't allowed to speak to them, they would speak to you. Sasha explained how you had to forget your past, and dedicate yourself solely to the family — no relationships, no friends, no acquaintances. You were not permitted to fall in love, which was understandable, considering the circumstances, but hard, considering the inability to control feelings.

"Don't worry about it too much. Zeke and Eren care about their subordinates, as long as you listen." Connie wrapped an arm around your neck. Besides, you're one of the lucky ones. Boss never spares witnesses, so he clearly saw potential in you." Somehow, that didn't make you feel any better, you only felt more weight on your shoulders.

"Yeah, I heard you can sing!" Sasha beamed, clapping her hands. "I can't wait for your first show, I bet it'll be awesome."

"It has to be, otherwise you'll have to come to my funeral." You shook your head, exiting Jaeger Manor. A honk caught your attention and you saw Mikasa impatiently waiting for you in a car. "Any advice before I go?"

"Don't get attached to any of us." Connie sighed.

"But trust that the family will protect you if you're loyal." The woman encouraged you before hugging you. A hug, something you never thought you'd get from a mobster.

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