#but i felt like reckoning with their feelings and getting together was only the first step out of many for these two

[helen-with-an-a]

I am an Adult pt 3

Hi. So I wasn't planning to do a part 3 of the series but I got a request and it was really cute/funny so I thought why not ahaha.

Barca Femeni x Reader ; Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4

Word Count: 3.3k

Description: R gets a girlfriend

It took a lot of work to find the right balance. The give and take, knowing where to push and where to pull. That fine line between knowing when to go to the team for help and doing it yourself.

After the events of last Spring, you had been better at relying on the girls for essential things, and they had been better at asking you about them without nagging. You sent a picture of critical legal dates to Alexia, who would set a reminder to ask you about them a week or so before the actual deadline. Lucy helped you figure out meals if you asked for them. Irene helped you stock and restock your pantry and cupboards throughout your house when you were stuck on what to keep multiple or spares of. Marta helped out with your schedule if you felt a little overwhelmed. They felt like they were checking up on you and helping you without you feeling smothered. It was fantastic.

And then you got a girlfriend.

Initially, Your crush was slight, something you could repress and squash down. But then you played her in the Champions League group stages. Wolfsburg and Barcelona were drawn in the same group by some bizarre coincidence or the universe interfering in your love life.

Lena was so sweet and kind; it was crazy. You first interacted when you had to do some media together. UEFA media decided to do ‘head-to-head’ videos where some players from each team had to do videos, interviews, and challenges together. And with another stroke of luck – or divine intervention once again – you and Lena were paired together. You were caught off guard by how gentle she was. On the pitch, she was a force to be reckoned with solid tackles and her fearlessness of a yellow card. That was the only impression you had of her. Of course, you had stalked her social media for months, so you knew she seemed like a fantastic friend. But off the pitch, it was like a switch had flipped. She was so soft, it was unreal – always asking if you were ok with the questions she was asking and checking in with you after challenges. It was making your head spin in the most fantastic way.

“What do I do?” You asked Ona over coffee. She was the one person you trusted with this secret.

“Well, well, well. Where has the confident, cocky, ‘I’m so good with girls’ Y/N gone?” She joked. You had never experienced these feelings before, and you were panicking slightly.

“Ugh, never mind. If you’re just going to make fun of me-” you shook your head, starting to gather your things.

“No, wait, hey, c’mon. Do you seriously like her?” Ona grabbed your wrist, stopping you from leaving.

“I … I don’t know. I think so, but I don’t do relationships. I never have. It’s just been one-night stands and friends-with-benefit type things. Casual sex. Never anything more. I don’t do more.”

“Well, neither do I,” Ona cut in. You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Want me to tell that to Lucy?” You said sarcastically, chuckling at her deep blush. “Ona, c’mon, I’m serious. I really like her,” you all but begged.

“Ok, ok. No hay necesidad de preocuparse. If you really like her, just ask her out for coffee, or dinner, or to the movies, or something. Just be your normal self. You know you have game. I’ve seen the number of girls you’ve brought back after nights out. So just be your charming self, flirt a little, and ask her on a date.” You nodded at her words. Flirting, you could do. Charming, you could do. Asking her out on a date … you hoped you could do.

You asked her out after the first leg. It was in Barcelona, so you messaged her to see if she wanted to see the sights. You knew she wasn’t going home until 2 days after the match, so on her off-day. You knew it was slightly unconventional to ask someone out via text, but you think you might never do it if you asked in person.

[Initial]💙❤️: Do u want to go to see some stuff in Barcelona with me on ur day off?? x

L💚: By rselves? Like a date???

[Initial]💙❤️: Yes x

[Initial]💙❤️: Would u like to go on a date with me on ur day off??

L💚: Yes

L💚: I’ll send you the hotel details. I could meet u at like 10? 11?

[Initial]💙❤️:  I’ll pick u up at 10 outside the hotel – wear comfy shoes!!! <3

L💚: Can’t wait 😁

The day was beautiful; you took her to a little bakery for breakfast – laughing a few hours away over good coffee and excellent food. You then spent the morning doing the touristy things before having lunch at a tapas place, again not noticing the time passing as you giggled and sent longing stares at each other. The afternoon was filled with more happiness as you showed her the quieter spots and your favourite places to relax. Dinner was a classic paella, finally drawing up the courage to hold her hand on your way back to drop her off.

You were just around the corner from her hotel when you pulled her to stop.

“Um … I had a perfect day today.” You said as you shuffled closer,

“Me too,” she replied, softly pushing some hair away from your face. You licked your lips, staring at hers. She slowly leant in, her eyes flicking between your lips and eyes. You leant in, too; you were so close to kissing her – one slight adjustment at you would be.

A car horn sounded right next to you, making you both spring apart. Fuck!

“I … um … I better get going,” Lena said, gesturing towards the hotel. You could tell she was a little disappointed

“Yeh, no, I get it. Just … text me, yeh? Maybe you could show me around Wolfsburg when we travel to you guys?” you said nervously, not meeting her warm brown eyes.

“Hey,” she called softly, using her free hand to grasp your chin and make you look into her eyes. “I will absolutely be showing you around my home. We will definitely be doing this again,” she said with certainty. You felt your heart jump at the idea of a second date with Lena. She squeezed your hand before she left, looking back with a soft smile as she went.

[Initial]💙❤️: SPOTIFY LINK – One Direction, ‘I Should Have Kissed You’:  https://www.spotify......

L💚: SPOTIFY LINK – Odeal, ‘Next Time’: https://www.spotify.......

After the second leg, Lena took you to a Christmas Market, saying that even though it was only November, you had to experience one. It was lovely. You laughed, ate too much food, and drank too much hot chocolate and mulled wine. As she took you back to your hotel, you came to a stop, much like you had in Barcelona.

“Can I actually kiss you this time?” You asked her.

“Bitte Küsse mich.” You didn���t speak German, but she clarified her intentions as she put a hand on your hip, shuffling closer until your breaths mingled. Her lips were soft and rough and warm and cold all at once. It was perfect. The world stopped spinning momentarily as you slowly let your tongue explore.

“Mein Gott” she said as you parted.

“Guess I’m going to need German lessons.” You laughed, pressing your lips back on hers.

“Don’t worry, I know a willing teacher,” she said as you separated again.

Your relationship was semi-secret; text exchanges left you giddy, hushed phone calls left you too-smiley, and facetimes were taken as you hurried from the rooms. Everyone could tell something was different, and most people could guess that it was probably down to a person; they just couldn’t figure out who.

“Alright, out with it. Who’s got you so smiley?” Patri asked as she sat on your sofa. You were having a younger girls' night—like you do most evenings. Patri, Pina, Esmee, Ona, Jana, Martina, Vicky, Bruna, Cata … it was a bit of a squeeze in your one-bedroom flat, but you made it work.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said as you smiled into your glass.

“Oh, please. You’ve been smiling away, laughing, and being disgustingly cute. Who is it?” Jana swatted your thigh at your non-answer.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” you stuck your tongue out at her.

“Don’t make us do detective work!” Martina threatened, pulling up her phone and going onto your social media.

“It’s recent, so check who she’s recently started following,” Vicky suggested. You were so grateful that you had been following Lena for years since you had played against her at club and national levels.

“It happened after the group stages,” Ona chimed in. You threw her an offended glare. You knew she wouldn’t actively spill your secret, but you had hoped she wouldn’t join in on the hunt for the identity of your girlfriend.

“You know something, Ona!” Pina accused, a finger coming to point at her. “You know who it is, don’t you?” They soon switched from interrogating you to Ona. Logically, it was the smartest move; Ona could crack very easily. It’s how you found out about Lucy – you had just narrowed your eyes at her for slightly too long, and she broke, spilling everything to you when she stayed the night a few months ago. You watched, somewhat amused, as Ona squirmed, avoiding eye contact, ducking her head, biting her lip. She was close to spilling everything. You knew she was terrified of telling secrets that weren’t hers, but she couldn’t help it.

“Alright, guys. Enough. Stop interrogating her.” You broke up the onslaught of questions, moving from your sofa seat to the chair she was curling up in. You could tell she was close to tears, and you didn’t want to do that to her – you knew she already felt guilty enough. You shuffled her around a bit before pulling her onto your lap.

“Right, you get 5 hints. If you can’t guess it from them, then I can’t help you. And no more asking Ona!” You glared at them all, ensuring they understood how serious you were. “Right, she’s German. She plays in Germany. She’s a midfielder. We’re similar ages. She’s made her senior international debut in 2019.” You watched as the group dissolved into loud discussion.

“Lo siento mucho. No querías que nadie lo supiera y ahora...” Ona hurried out, close to tears again.

“Hey, no, no, no. It’s ok, Oni,” you reassured her as you kissed her forehead. “No es tu culpa. I promise you. I do not blame you.” She nodded and buried her head back against your collarbone, watching the carnage in front of you. You quietly laughed to each other at the scene – Wikipedia was pulled up on everyone’s phones, the German national team website as well as they speculated on who you were seeing. You slowly pulled your phone out, quickly texting Lena.

[Initial]💙❤️: Like ½ my team are tryna guess my girlfriend rn x

[Initial]💙❤️: Do u mind if I say yes if they guess it right? x

L💚: ahahahahaha

L💚: No, I don’t mind. R u gonna tell them who I am if they get it wrong tho?

[Initial]💙❤️: Whichever u want x

[Initial]💙❤️: I don’t mind telling them x

[Initial]💙❤️: Would make it easier when I disappear to Germany for a few days and u suddenly turn up in my Barca jersey

[Initial]💙❤️: I want to tell them about u x

L💚: Tell em

L💚: Can I tell my team?

[Initial]💙❤️: Omg yesssss xxxxxxxxxxxx

L💚: also – I will never wear a barca jersey!!

L💚: Even if it does have ur name on the back 🤢

[Initial]💙❤️: ugh RUDE.

[Initial]💙❤️: But ud still be my WAG tho right? x

L💚: I’ll always be ur wag hehe

[Initial]💙❤️: so kind of u x

[Initial]💙❤️: I’ll always be ur wag too btw x

“Alright, alright. We have 2 possible answers.” Bruna turned around with a notebook in her hand. Where did they get that from? “Our first guess, we think, is less likely. Klara Bühl. She’s German, plays for Bayern, is a midfielder, and debuted in 2019. You’re similar in age. But we haven’t played Bayern in a while. So, how would you have met? So, we don’t think it’s her.” She paused, staring at your carefully crafted neutral expression. You met Klara once; she was lovely. She handed the notebook over to Cata. “Our final guess is one we think is pretty true,” Cata explained, adjusting herself to sit cross-legged before you. “We played Wolfsburg at the Champions League group stages, and you disappeared for the whole day the day after and came back all smiley. So, we have reason to believe it’s a Wolfsburg player.” You didn’t realise how seriously they were taking this. “But … most of the Wolfsburg team are German, but not all of them are German midfielders that debuted for the national team in 2019.” She paused dramatically. You knew she had figured it out. “That’s why our final guess is …” another final pause.

“Oberdorf,” Patri shouted out, clearly over Cata’s dramatics. “You’re dating Oberdorf.”

“Oi. Aquesta havia de ser la meva revelació” Cata lunged at Patri, loud shouts of Catalan descending on the house.

“D'acord, d'acord,” you shouted over the noise as you saw a wine bottle wobble precariously as someone knocked into the table. “Sí, Lena is my girlfriend.” You admitted. If you thought the noise was loud before, you were deafened by the cacophony that descended on you. You buried your head in Ona’s hair, laughing as your friends melted into chaos.

You knew that once the younger ones found out who your girlfriend was, it was only a matter of time before the older ones did. You hadn’t expected it to be the next day, however. You were in the changing rooms, chatting to Patri and Pina as you prepared for the session ahead of you. The door banged open, and you were met with an outraged Lucy. As she stalked towards you, you glanced at a very guilty-looking Ona.

“She looked at me.” Ona defended herself.

“Grow a backbone, Oni.” You shouted as Lucy dragged you from the room, remembering to add a nickname in so she knew you weren’t that mad at her.

You were dragged to an empty conference room. Alexia, Paños, Marta, Mariona, Caro, and Irene were already sitting on one side of the table. Lucy pushed you into the single seat opposite them and took her place next to Irene. You sat in silence for a full 3 minutes before anyone spoke.

“Is there something you want to tell us, cariño?” Alexia asked smoothly, folding her hands in front of her like she was conducting a business meeting.

“Ona needs to learn how to toughen up.” You weren’t too angry with Ona, but it slightly annoyed you that she had cracked so easily. You wanted to tell the older girls yourself to avoid this situation.

“Leave her out of it.” Lucy jumped in. You clicked your teeth at her, flicking your hand in her direction, dismissing her protest.

“You have a girlfriend,” Irene stated, bringing the conversation back on track.

“Ja, das tue ich,” you said, chuckling at their reaction to your German. They didn’t fully understand you but knew ‘yes’ in most languages. You could see Caro laughing slightly – she had played for Wolfsburg; she knew you were using your newfound language to irritate them.

“And you didn’t tell us?” Marta asked

“Ja, das ist richtig,” you smiled.

“Cut the crap, pequeña.” Paños hit the table, making you jump slightly.

“Bien. Si tanto quieres saber,” you snapped. “Yes, I have a girlfriend. I’m sure you already know who, but it’s Lena. I asked her out after our home Wolfsburg game. She asked me out after her home leg. We’ve been dating for a couple of months now. I really like her. Anything else you want to know?” You asked Alexia directly. You could see the internal battle – the desire to know everything about your new relationship with her promise to treat you more grown up.

“Everyone, out,” Alexia instructed after a minute, using her captain’s voice to show she was serious. “Cariño, please stay?” She asked. You nodded as the others left. Caro seemed to find this whole thing funny, but everyone else was grumbling and muttering about how they found it rude that you didn’t tell them and that you were too young for a girlfriend. “I thought we promised to tell each other things like adults?” She asked you.

“I know. The others only found out yesterday if it makes you feel any better. Ona’s known for a while, but only because I asked her for help.” You sat back in your chair, careful to leave your posture open.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” She seemed a little upset by your actions.

“I didn’t want this to happen. We’ve finally found a balance. And I knew that this would disrupt that balance. And it’s so new; I didn’t want to tell you guys until I knew what we were, and it’s only really been a few months. She asked me to be her girlfriend at New Year’s, so …” you trailed off, hoping that she understood where you were coming from.”

“Entenc. But cariño, why didn’t you tell me?” She asked again.

“I … I don’t know.” You did know. You knew exactly why you didn’t tell her. And she knew it, too. “Ok … well … I didn’t … I didn’t want you to treat me like a child again. Relationships are new to me. I can do the … physical …” you both cringed slightly, not entirely comfortable with those topics just yet, “side of relationships fine. But emotions. They’re new to me. And I wanted to figure it out for myself first. I went to Ona ‘cos she’s my best friend. One that needs to learn how to resist interrogation better, but she’s still my best friend.”

“Don't be too hard on her, pequeña. She meant well. And I get why you didn’t come to me first. But can I ask a few questions?” She watched as you left your seat, coming around to her side of the table, and sitting on her lap.

You sighed, “ask away.” She laughed as she squeezed your waist.

“Does she treat you well?”

“Sí,” you answered honestly.

“Do you treat her well?”

“I think so. I hope so.” You smiled at her concern for Lena

“Can we meet her?”

“As long as you guys don’t give her the talk, then yes.” She leant back to look at your face.

“Can I give her the talk?” You sighed.

“Sí,” you relented, not missing the flicker of excitement that passed over her face.

“When is she coming to Barcelona?”

“Our way game Èl Clasíco matches with a free weekend for her. She’s meeting me in Madrid.” You laughed as she pushed you off her lap, standing up and rushing to the door. “Where are you going?”

“To prepare my speech. Alba never let me do a charla de hermana mayor to her partners, so this might be my only chance.” You laughed at her enthusiasm. She indeed was like your big sister – annoying most of the time, infuriating some of the time, but just a big, goofy kid at heart looking out for everyone around her.

[Initial]💙❤️: U might wanna prepare urself now x

L💚: WHY???

L💚: WHAT DID U DO????

[Initial]💙❤️: Alexia knows

[Initial]💙❤️: She’s very excited to meet my girlfriend x

[Initial]💙❤️: She’s planning a speech x

L💚: I am dead

L💚: I am going to die

L💚: Will u still love me if I’m dead????

[Initial]💙❤️: She wont kill u

[Initial]💙❤️: I wont let her xxx

[Initial]💙❤️: Yes, I will still love u if ur dead xx

I hope you liked it <3<3<3

#barca femeni #woso community #woso #barca femeni x reader #fc barcelona #woso blurbs #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #barca femini x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle #lena oberdorf x reader #lena oberdorf

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Megumi falling in love for the first time?

Attempts at Friendship are Unappreciated

Synopsis: Megumi doesn’t have a need for friends, let alone a lover. But upon getting his first crush, he learns some new things about himself, like maybe he cares more than he thinks.

pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x GN!Reader

content warning: SFW, potential friends to lovers, Megumi sorting out his feelings sort of stuff because cynical, overthinker Megumi is my favorite Megumi.

If you were to ask Megumi, he didn’t have any need for friends. And he has been asked before by people like Gojo and his sister. The answer was always the same. He prefers being alone. People were too complicated. Too selfish. Too good. Too everything, really. And he was, well, himself.

Even after arriving at Jujutsu High, it’s still unnerving to him to have someone talk to him so earnestly, like his eyes weren’t permanently fixed with irritation, like he wasn’t constantly avoiding others, like he didn’t wear indifference like a new fur coat in the height of winter.

Itadori was an unexpected exception. An outburst of emotion intravenously linked him to the other boy, the golden strings of their destinies twined and knotted together on Fate’s spinning wheel.

You, on the other hand, have no reason to befriend him. He’s never had anything to offer others in return for their company, which never bothered him until he met you.

Megumi questioned what it was about you that allows you to get so close. So, he lets you talk, chattering his ear off in the covered walkway hosting the vending machines.

He studies you inch by inch, searching for something in the bright expression on your face and the crinkle of your eyes when you smile; he still doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking for. Your motive – the reason for wanting to talk to someone like him?

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask.

“I don’t have one.”

It may sound like a rude dismissal of your question but it's the truth, the painfully boring truth. He’s never put much thought into trivial things like that. The fact settles heavily in his stomach and rings hollow in his chest like when his sister said he’d never learn to make friends if he didn’t put himself out there.

Back then, Megumi pretended not to have heard her. In truth, it bothered him when she said it, only for the feeling to quickly fade away before he even left school that day. That strange void he felt back then always seems to resurface at the worst of times.

“Would you say that you like black or silver better? How about blue?”

Megumi looks down and plays with the tab on his orange juice can, avoiding the thing about you that makes him want to hear you talk. Megumi has no need for friends. Attempts at friendship aren’t appreciated.

“They’re all fine,” he grumbles out. It’s the maximum he allows.

Megumi doesn’t have a type. It’s another one of those trivial things he’s never bothered to think about until his head was literally cracked through the pavement.

He knows all about types though, and he knows as much as he cares about romance from the bad to the good. Sweaty palms, blushing faces, pounding hearts were all reoccuring themes in his books.

Megumi never thought he’d have romantic feelings for anyone, no matter how fleeting. He reckons he isn’t capable of it. He just isn’t wired that way.

It’s comforting in a sense. It means he didn’t have to worry about attachments. Sure, he loves his sister, and Gojo, well, he cares for his benefactor, but he’s never considered the older man someone he felt okay investing all his feelings into. People his own age were complicated enough; adults were worse, his father was worse; the little he remembers anyway.

When he thinks about the way he met Gojo who too conveniently saved him from the Zen’in clan in exchange for becoming his student, it’s hard for him to let his trust flow purely even after all this time; even when Gojo took it upon himself to do Megumi favors like putting Itadori's room right next door (another thing Megumi didn't appreciate).

Megumi blames his long-seated resentment for the reason his heart starts to work overtime the day you present friendship bracelets to everyone. They’re fancy; many steps above the cheap kind that you’d find at some discount convenience store with plastic alphabets and random beads and symbols. He assumes a couple of the pieces might be real.

Kugisaki’s is green, shining on her wrist like emeralds. Megumi thinks it suits someone like Kugisaki, who would undoubtedly love to be covered in jewels. Itadori has a similar one, rotating with a pattern of red and opaque white pieces.

Standing in that hall, drowning out the conversation between Kugisaki and Itadori about who has the prettier bracelet, Megumi realizes he’s next.

It starts when you step in front of him; there’s a cautious tone to your voice when you say his name because you already know: attempts at friendship aren’t appreciated.

It's with a roll of anxiousness, the one that always comes with the mystery of whether his exchange with someone will be positive or negative and the skeptic thought in his head that reminds him most people always want something in return, that makes him throw up a wall.

“These probably aren’t your thing but I made one for you too,” you preface. “I hope you like it. I wasn’t really sure what to put on it so I made some guesses.”

You’re right. Friendship bracelets aren’t his thing; needing a token like a bracelet to prove your relationship to someone is asinine. It’s against what is supposed to make a friendship special. Strong friendships should need no words, right?

Most importantly, he doesn’t need it, and there’s no reason for you to give him one.

“You keep it,” he starts. However, it’s already too late as you grab his arm and slide the trinket over his hand.

“I don’t—” he starts again; there’s a bit of surprise in the way you look at him, the way everyone stops and looks at him actually. This quickly becomes one of those times where it’d be easier to go with the flow than to fight the current. “Fine.” He clears his throat. “Only because you already made it,” he explains more fully, stifling the embarrassment that wants to bubble from his chest with so much attention.

Like before, he finds himself too focused on watching you, the way your eyes soften from surprise and rejection to shining stars. He thinks this must be how the protagonists in those books feel when heat creeps up their neck. Those books also left him sorely unprepared that it would go past neck to his face and ears.

He breaks away from the situation, finding a way to retreat into the background to shield himself from the gooey feeling permeating the air. He drops his gaze to his arm, focusing on the bracelet with his name accompanied by a repetition of blue and silver, connecting the two—four—of you together.

Megumi fixes his sleeve over the bracelet, but he can’t hide how painfully aware he is of the charms rolling against his skin.

It was both a pleasant feeling and completely alien.

It broke.

Megumi was a bit reckless against a low-level curse, and it broke. He didn’t even realize it until after the battle was over and one of the silver charms were rolling under his foot.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. It was bound to happen eventually considering this line of work. Yet, he still picked up the few pieces he could separate from the gravel, and the entire ride home his wrist feels unreasonably bare.

Thinking about how he messed up makes him annoyed at himself, especially when he wonders what you’d think if you noticed he wasn’t wearing it. You’d probably think he tossed it somewhere; that he didn’t like it. He liked it. The same way he likes to listen to you talk on car rides home after missions or when you ask him to hang out with you and the others or when you read all the books he recommends with the protagonists that are quickly becoming too relatable with every skipped heartbeat and tongue-tied word. He’s frustrated to acknowledge why that’s the case.

It’s only been three months since the start of the school year, he thinks. It took only three months for his thoughts to start drifting to his classmates, with you almost always center stage in them.

When he arrives back at the school, he finds your room and knocks on your door. He shows you what little remains of the gift you gave him, as if he needs to immediately absolve himself of any wrongdoing.

“Do you want me to make you another one?” you ask cautiously.

Megumi can guess why you’re hesitant considering he only accepted your gift because of peer pressure. He still believes gifts like this are silly and unnecessary.

But…

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

He wants it.

So, he goes into your room where he watches you begin the process of making him another bracelet. You ask him which accessories he would prefer, and like always he doesn’t have much preference other than what you think is best. As long as it isn’t too silly, of course.

He gives his undivided attention to how your fingertips pour over your work kit and the many square boxes filled with different miniature shapes before you carefully pick out one with a little dog face.

“I think this one is good,” you whisper to yourself before continuing your search for another complementing bead.

You smile as you work. It’s nice. Cute even as you bite down on your lip in concentration; and right now, he isn’t quite sure what to do with that information other than note the way it makes his palms feel clammy especially when he notices your eyes lift back up to his.

Megumi notices a lot about you actually. He notices how you always go out your way to get his, well, everyone’s opinion on everything. He notices that whenever you share your snacks with everyone that you always save ginger for him. He notices how your gaze lingers on him when you ask if everyone is in one piece after difficult missions. He also notices how your finger stops over a silver square, one with a little black heart carved in each side. He wonders, perhaps too hopefully, if the charm is just one you think he’d like or if it means more than that.

“Why do you always keep trying to talk to me?” he asks, fighting the urge to beg you to stop getting stuck in his mind so much.

Your head snaps up from what you’re doing.

“What do you mean? We’re teammates,” you answer simply.

“Aren’t missions enough? We don’t need to interact aside from that.”

You pinch your eyebrows at him, and there’s a frown on your face. “Sure we do.”

“There’s no reason.”

It’s not like he ever saved your life, not like Itadori. It’s not like he has a somewhat familial relationship with you, like Gojo. You’re not his sibling or his parent; he’s not the friendlist either so there’s no reason to try to get closer any more than necessary, and there’s no reason for him to be feeling so nervous right now.

“How about because I like talking to you? I think you’re pretty funny, and you’re a kind person.” You shake your head, laughing. “I don’t know. I just like being friends with you.”

Megumi doesn’t know what he was expecting. Some deep explanation why you keep trying to get close to him? Some selfish excuse from you that he could use to warrant pushing you away. A reason to justify why he likes you so much? A reason to hope you like him just as much?

Maybe.

There doesn’t need to be some special reason for you wanting to be his friend, which means he doesn’t really need a reason either.

“I see.”

“Finished,” you say, holding out his newly made bracelet to him. “I poured some of my cursed energy into it, so it won’t break so easily next time.”

Megumi feels calm once again when he feels the weight and roll of the beads on his skin again; the aura of your curse energy humming through it makes the connection back to you much more noticeable.

“What about me?” you ask, drawing his attention. “Do you like being friends with me?”

Megumi can’t answer that, not because he doesn’t have an answer, but because he feels like his tongue weighs more than lead as you lean closer into him.

His eyes find your lips, soft and parted. This is the first time he’s gotten the urge to kiss someone. It makes his stomach whirlwind, and he quickly finds a way to answer you without having to look at you as he picks at one of the charms.

“Can I make you one?”

The next morning, Megumi decides to go out with you and the others for breakfast, which in hindsight was a mistake as Itadori points out the new accesory you’re wearing on your wrist.

“Hey, you got one too now.”

You smile, holding it up proudly. “Megumi made it for me!”

“Megumi?!” Itadori blurts out.

“Made it for you?” Nobara asks with raised eyebrows and a hand on her hip.

“He did a really good job.”

It’s like the time before when you first gave them their gifts, and everyone is looking at him again. “I didn’t do anything special; a monkey could do it,” he mumbles out.

Itadori is the first to crack a laugh followed by Kugisaki. Then, the two of them start muttering and teasing him in unison.

“He’s so modest,” Itadori points out.

“Loverboy,” Kugisaki whispers.

“Can we call you Megumi too?” Itadori asks.

Megumi doesn’t have the patience to consider whether the other boy is being genuine or not as he grits his teeth and growls out a quick “shut up” before konking Itadori on the head to prove his point. It’s enough to make them leave him alone for now as Itadori accidentally trips into Kugisaki from the force.

“That was completely unnecessary, Fushiguro,” Kugisaki grumbles as she pushes Itadori off and stands back to her feet.

Megumi sighs.

This is why he doesn’t want friends.

“Did you just sigh at me!”

“If that’s what you heard,” he tells her.

“You better sleep with both eyes open!”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

Yet if it’s those two then he guesses having friends isn’t completely unbareable.

Suddenly, Megumi loses focus at the timbre of your laugh.

“You guys are starting early today.”

You’re still laughing at them, harder now actually, and it’s precious. He throws his gaze to the wall as if he’s ignoring Kugisaki and not trying to hide the heat blooming on his cheeks when you glance at him, making him aware that he’s the reason for your laughter.

Megumi shoves his hands in his pockets and rolls his thumb over the bracelet and the heart you left behind there.

Friendship is something he’s coming around to. Having a crush for the first time, well, he still needs work on figuring that out. 

#megumi fluff #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[spideyhexx]

Billy knew he didn't actually hate you, but it was the only front he'd been able to put up.

Ever since you joined his gang, you've been a thorn in his side. Your constant teasing and that sickeningly sweet smile that played on your lips every time his jaw clenched at your words would send him into a spiral. It's like you always knew the right way to thread words together to make him mad.

He admits to himself he's taken with you. He sees your beauty and understands the intrigue that other men express with ease towards you, but there's just a coil inside him that tightens with anger whenever words fall out of your pretty mouth.

Billy felt poisoned by you. You occupy every part of his mind. He isn't even sure how he's supposed to do his job when he's only thinking about your voice. Or the way you called him out for staring while you sipped on your drink. Or when he saw you come out of your tent, buttoning your shirt up and you just had to comment on his blush.

This morning would be like any other. Everyone is scattered, eating their breakfast. Billy leans up against a post and does the same.

"Mr. Bonney, I recall being promised an extra piece of bread," he hears you from behind him and you swoop in, taking his already half-eaten piece of bread from him. "I reckon that was Jesse, not me," his eyes pierce daggers into you, but it somehow never phased you. At least on the outside.

On the inside, you wanted to melt from his gaze but you're smarter than that. You knew how to keep yourself composed, so all Billy saw was a calm expression and a smile as you ate what was left of his bread.

He'd roll his eyes so hard, you'd think he wanted you to hear it. He stalks off towards a small group of his men who've gathered around to talk. You trail behind him, watching his arm flex as he reaches for his hat and puts it on his head, adjusting it only slightly before leaving it. You always like his hat and the way his little brown curls would peek out in tufts from it. The attraction you had for him was overwhelming at times but the power you felt when you got him so pissed off was enough to fuel your aching feelings for him.

A wild thought enters your mind as he comes to a halt, you a few paces behind him. Annoying him was the epitome of fun for you and why not start the day off strong? Without another thought, you sneak up behind him and yank his hat off of his head, backing away quickly as he turns on instinct, his hand at his gun. He relaxes when he notices it's just you.

"Give me that back," he snaps as the other boys whistle in amusement.

They were all used to your antics by now and loved it when you challenged Billy. You seemed to be the only person to really get under his skin so it was for their amusement too.

A taunt plays at the tip of your tongue like venom. "You gonna catch me?" You tighten your grip on his hat, a smile still on your lips as his mouth opens to say something, but nothing comes out.

Billy's mind is racing. He's still tired and he only got to eat half of his food cause of you and now you have his hat of all things. All he feels like he can do at that moment is let out a little chuckle, shaking his head.

He begins to walk towards you and you both circle one another as all attention is focused on the two of you. "We both know I can run faster than you, sweetheart," Billy tries. He tries so hard to not come off as irritated as he is but it's so obvious. You loved that about him.

His brow is knitted and his lips purse in frustration when you shake your head. "You think so little of me, Bonney."

The two of you circle one another for a bit. You want to just run but you're waiting to see his first move. Billy on the other hand doesn't think you would even run. He knows he can very easily get a few steps closer and grab his hat from you. He's trying to study your face like he wants to read your thoughts, but he just can't. You're too good, too concealed.

"You too scared, Bonney?" A few of the men around you snicker at that and you feel your smile turn into more of a smirk as Billy's face emits more anger. He swallows hard, nose flaring as he watches you like prey. But then again, maybe he's the prey. He takes two steps to move forward and you tsk before turning heel and dashing away.

"Fuck!" He curses as the men laugh and he takes off after you. Billy had to admit that you were faster than he thought, but he still caught up enough to try and reach out his hands to grab you. You spin out of his grasp, his fingers barely grazing your waist before you run off again.

You don't miss the way he lets out a groan and you so badly wish you could turn around and see the look on his face, but you book it. The land is vast where you are, so much room and you take that advantage.

When you're a decent distance away, you stop, "you're pretty slow, Bonney!" You watch him heave it as he keeps running after you and you decide to slow your pace as you continue. Maybe he's had enough. And maybe you wanna see his handsome face up close again.

The lake comes into view as you run and Billy nears closer to you. It's like the adrenaline kicked in for him full-time as you feel your own heart pounding, just waiting to feel him catch you.

When Billy gets close enough to grab you, and he does. His hands grip onto your waist hard and he's tugging you close to him as you let out a shriek. The force of this, however, with both of you running and the hold he's got on you makes him lose his footing. He falls onto the ground, bringing you down with him.

He takes most of the fall and you land on top of him, his grasp on you so fucking tight. Despite the wind being knocked out of him for a moment, Billy's made aware of how your ass is now pressing right against his crotch and it takes every nerve in his body to not just buck his hips up against you to continue the sensation that's rocketing throughout his body in that instant. He knows he's digging his fingers tight on your hips and it gives his clouded mind all the more reason to grind against you, but he doesn't. His grip loosens.

He tries to sit up after a moment and that's when he realizes you're...laughing? Laughing so hard as you roll off of him onto your back next to him in the grass.

You both pant from exhaustion and you place Billy's hat on his chest, patting it before continuing in your fit of laughter. He looks at you with his brow raised. Billy's never had such conflicting emotions course through him before, but he knew he loved the sight of you laughing this hard. And that it was him and only him.

He really did his best to keep his lips from quirking up into a smile, but you were already looking at him. "oh don't hide it, Mr. Bonney, you loved that," you get out as you continue to laugh and that's when Billy noticed you were crying from it.

And all Billy could do, despite whatever had been holding him back, was smile and laugh along.

He drops his head into the grass as you sit up and wipe at your eyes. Billy can't take his eyes off of you. The morning sun hits you perfectly and he's even seen you laugh like this. For this one moment, any anger you've caused him dissipates, and he's left only with some sort of happiness.

You finally look back at him and notice the slight flush on his cheeks as he stares up at you. You try to return your breathing to normal as you glance at his hat, but then you see something else.

"Are you hard right now?" Billy lifts his head up, moving his hat from his chest, and sees his arousal from the situation had been more than he might've expected and he looks at you as you try to hold in your laughter.

"Sweetheart, don't-" but you're already cackling and Billy accepts his defeat in the matter, watching you with a squint in his eyes due to the sun and a smile on his lips.

let's chat about billy, here :)

#billy the kid #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid smut #billy the kid x you #tom blyth smut #william bonney #william h bonney #william h bonney x you #william h bonney x reader #william h bonney smut #billy bonney x reader #william bonney x you #william bonney smut #william bonney x reader #billy bonney

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

Samantha // Sam Carpenter

request: none!

prompts: none!

summary: being with sam has brought you nothing but happiness, and these memories with her only prove how perfect the two of you are for each other.

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, brief allusions to smut, language, mentions of roachie kirsch

word count: 1.9k

a/n: fem!reader, i was gonna make it gn!reader but the song this fic is based on is sapphic so i felt like i should keep it that way, no ghostface au

join my taglist! album masterlist!

I think I've been yours since 4th grade

We met in 5th, you corrected me

From my bed, and I said

Technically since 2nd but I reckon the time has just flown by and my

Memory's shit, so

You smiled to yourself as you gazed at your girlfriend, Sam, who was currently asleep beside you. Despite your protests, she had claimed that she wasn’t too tired to watch a movie like the two of you had been planning. And yet, not even half an hour in, she was fast asleep on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder as she curled up beside you. No matter how many times you looked at her, you could never get over how beautiful she was.

For as long as you could remember, Sam was always there. You had gone to elementary school together, and finally became friends during middle school. High school and college came and went, and the two of you continued to grow impossibly closer. Sometimes it was hard to tell where you ended and where she began. And as time went on, feelings began to change, and the friendship between the two of you started to become something more. 

Falling in love with someone that you had known for so long was indescribable. There was no awkward talking stage or embarrassing first dates. Everything just felt so natural. So right. Like she was the only person you would ever need, and she had already been there the whole time. You draped your arm over her shoulders and pulled her closer to you, taking the blanket that was lying on your lap and placing it over her.

You grabbed the remote and turned the movie off. You could always just finish it some other time. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, before resting your head on top of hers.

“Goodnight, my love.”

But all I ever remember is you

And all I ever say is "I miss you more"

You're everything that I ever knew

You're the only girl that I am for

“I’m the first girl you’ve ever been with, right? Is it any different from being with a guy?” you asked, tilting your head slightly as you looked over at Sam.

She nodded, a smile breaking out on her face. “It’s so different. And so much better. You actually know how to listen and you’re so much more affectionate.” The smile on her face turned into a teasing smirk. “Plus, you actually know how to make me cum.”

Your face heated up in a blush, her comment flustering you instantly. You grabbed a pillow from beside you on the couch, chucking it at her as an embarrassed laugh fell from your lips.

“Sam!” you scolded, giggles still spilling from your mouth in disbelief.

She shrugged before throwing the pillow right back at you. “What? It’s true! I’m pretty sure Richie didn’t even think the clit was real.”

You let out another snort of laughter. “God, I still can’t believe you ever even dated him. You can do so much better than that… thing.”

“I am doing better. I have you.”

Samantha, I'm in love with you

I'll do anything you ask me to

You're the reason that I dyed my hair blue

Samantha, I'm in love with you

And I'll sing it again and again

“Oh my god! What did you do to your hair?!” Sam asked, a disbelieving smile on her face as she struggled to hold back her laughter.

You had attempted to dye your hair blue to surprise her, since she had always been very fond of the color. You thought it might’ve made her happy, to have another one of her favorite things to associate with you. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been the best in picking the color. You were hoping for something more subtle, the kind of blue that looked black, with the colorful hue only visible in the light. What you ended up with was a bright and vibrant color, bordering on neon. You were upset, understandably so, and Sam’s joyful laughter at your predicament did nothing to ease your frustration.

 “It was supposed to be a surprise. You said that blue was your favorite color, so I thought I’d dye my hair blue. It wasn’t supposed to be this bright!” you huffed, leaning back against the bathroom counter as you pouted.

“You look like a smurf threw up on you!” 

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “Ha ha. Very funny. Can you help me? There’s gotta be some way to fix this.”

She nodded, walking over to you. “Alright, let’s see what I can do. This color is probably not gonna come out, so we’re gonna have to dye it black.”

You frowned as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. “At least we can match.”

She smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Or, we could always just shave it off.”

The look on your face alone was enough to send Sam into another fit of laughter. You glared at her, trying to seem angry or at least even a little bit annoyed, but you couldn’t ever hold it together around her that long. Her smile was contagious and her laughter was infectious. Just being around her had a way of lifting your mood. But you wouldn’t want it any other way.

There aren't words to describe

The way I feel about your eyes

And everything I write sounds cliche, but

I can't help that I think about you every day

“Why’re you staring at me? Is there something on my face?” Sam asked, reaching up to her mouth to see if some of her lunch was still left on her skin.

You simply smiled and shook your head. “No, nothing’s there. You’re just so beautiful. How could I not stare at you?”

Though she tried to hide it, you could see the faint blush spreading on her cheeks and that flustered smile of hers that never failed to fill your insides with a swarm of butterflies. You reached out and took her hand in yours, intertwining your fingers as you smiled over at her. You pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, causing the faint blush on her cheeks to deepen ever so slightly, filling you with a sense of pride. 

“I love you. You know that, right?” you asked, your smile never once faltering. 

“Of course I do. You only tell me like every five seconds.” She smiled over at you. “Not that I mind it in the slightest.”

“I just still can’t believe that I’m with you. That we’re together. It feels like a dream. You’re just so perfect. Like every single thing I could’ve ever wanted in a partner, all rolled up into one person.”

She rolled her eyes, her smile never leaving her face. “Oh please. I am far from perfect. If anything, you’re the perfect one here. I mean you put up with all my shit. Just being able to do that is perfect enough.”

“I do not put up with you. I love everything about you and I love being with you. Despite what you may think about yourself, you are not difficult to be with. Richie just couldn’t handle all your perfectness and awesomemazingness.”

She raised an eyebrow at you. “That’s not a word”

You shrugged, smiling defiantly. “Well, it should be. Because it describes you perfectly.”

“Oh does it now?”

“It does.”

Before Sam could respond, you leaned in and pulled her into a kiss, silencing any other protests about to leave her lips. You knew she was perfect, and even if she didn’t agree with you, you could damn well at least stop her from voicing those thoughts. And you knew that one day, you would convince her.

And every night

And every morning

And afternoon

And all the time

Sam laughed in disbelief as she looked down at her phone, scrolling through all of the messages you had sent her in the past hour. 

“Baby, I told you I wasn't going to be gone long. I was just down the street getting groceries. Did you really need to text me that many times?”

Most people would be annoyed with your clinginess, but not Sam. She liked how clingy you were, how obsessed you were with her. It’s harder to doubt someone’s feelings for you when they never leave you alone long enough to get lost in spiraling thoughts. She had been gone for an hour to go get groceries, and you had texted her almost fifty times during your time apart.

“Yes. I really did need to. How else would you know about everything you missed while you were gone?”

She sighed in faux exasperation, her smile giving away her true feelings. “You sent me ‘bird in tree chirped’ like five times!”

“Six, actually. And I thought you should know, because that happened to be a very cute bird. I wouldn’t text you if I didn’t think it was important.”

She let out a huff of laughter as she walked over to you, pulling you into a hug and kissing the top of your head. You melted into the embrace, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

“You’re lucky you’re so adorable.”

“Oh, please. You love me and you know it.”

But all I ever remember is you

And all I ever say is "I miss you more"

You're everything that I ever knew

You're the only girl that I am for

“Can’t you just call in sick today?” you whined as you clutched onto Sam, preventing her from getting out of bed to get ready for work. 

“Baby, you know I can’t. We need the money. And since you decided you wanted to be the housewife, I’m the one who has to go to work. But if you want to swap, I’d be more than happy to,” she smiled, a teasing lilt to her voice.

You huffed, a slight pout forming on your face. “No…”

“Then you have to let me get up. I can’t exactly get ready for work if I’m still stuck in bed.”

“Do you have to get up right now? Can’t you wait just a little longer? Maybe spend an extra few minutes paying attention to your oh-so amazing girlfriend?” You looked at her pleadingly, using your best puppy dog eyes to persuade her.

“Y/n…” Sam started, only for all her rebuttals to wash away the second you started pressing gentle kisses to her neck.

“You know you want to…” you said, your hands slipping beneath her shirt.

“You know what? I think I have a flat tire. How unfortunate that I’m gonna be late to work since I had to get it fixed.”

You smiled triumphantly, rolling onto your back and pulling Sam on top of you. Even though she puts in effort to try to deny you, droning on and on about work and responsibilities, she can never say no to you. You had the ability to make her resolve crumble with just one look, and she couldn’t find it in her to deny you when all you ever really wanted was more time with her. And so, another morning was spent fooling around in bed before Sam rushed off to work, yet another excuse for her lateness at the ready. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Samantha, I'm in love with you

I'll do anything you ask me to

You're the reason that I dyed my hair blue

Samantha, I'm in love with you

And I'll sing it again and again

tags: @Hocksetterrs

if your name is crossed out, it means i can't tag you!

#imagine #imagines #x reader #oneshot #smut #scream #scream x reader #scream imagine #blurb #scream oneshot #scream smut #scream blurb #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter oneshot #sam carpenter imagine #sam carpenter smut #sam carpenter blurb #samantha carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #Samantha carpenter smut #Samantha carpenter imagine #Samantha carpenter oneshot #Samantha carpenter blurb

[coochiequeens]

An update to an older story that’s goods news!

When Jenny Nguyen signed the lease to create her dream bar, she wasn’t sure it would stay open for more than a few months.

But earlier this month, 43-year-old Nguyen’s first-of-its-kind establishment in Portland, Oregon, celebrated its one-year anniversary. Aptly named The Sports Bra, it’s a sports bar where only women athletes appear on the TVs.

Business has been good, despite the niche business model and record inflation sending food and beverage prices soaring. The Sports Bra brought in $944,000 in revenue in the eight months it was open in 2022, according to documents reviewed by CNBC Make It.

It was profitable in that first year of business, Nguyen adds.

“It turns out, it’s pretty universal — that feeling of being a women’s sports fan and going into a public place, like a sports bar, and having a difficult time finding a place to show a [women’s] game, especially when there are other men’s sports playing,” Nguyen says.

Initially, she wasn’t sure the idea would work at all. The vast majority of money and attention historically goes to men’s sports only — a big reason why The Sports Bra was reportedly the country’s first bar to only play women’s sports on TV.

It’s also not the kind of thing Nguyen would ordinarily do: She describes herself as “very cautious, risk averse.” But her obsession with women’s sports and frustration with its lack of representation on television screens drove her to empty her life savings — about $27,000 — and give it a try.

“Me, personally, I thought the idea was brilliant and that [it was] what the world needs,” Nguyen says. “But I had no idea that the world would want it. I just wanted to give it a shot.”

How The Sports Bra went from running joke to reality

Nguyen is a lifelong basketball fan who played the sport at Clark College in Vancouver, Washington, before tearing her ACL. She’s also a longtime restaurant worker who spent three years as Reed College’s executive chef.

In 2018, Nguyen and a group of friends wanted to watch the NCAA women’s basketball championship game. They went to a mostly empty sports bar and still had to plead with a bartender to switch one of the smallest TVs — which played without sound — from a men’s sport to the women’s championship game, she recalls.

Together, they jumped up and down celebrating “one of the best games I’ve ever seen,” Nguyen says, as a buzzer-beating three-point shot sealed the championship title for Notre Dame. Afterward, she was struck by the normalcy of her situation.

″[We’d] gotten so used to watching a game like that in the way that we did,” she says, adding that they’d only find better viewing conditions “if we had our own place.”

Days later, she channeled her disappointment into a hypothetical: What would she name her bar? “The very first thing that came into my mind was The Sports Bra,” Nguyen says. “And once I thought it, I couldn’t un-think it, you know? It was catchy. I thought it was hilarious.”

For years, she joked about it. Then, the fallout from social justice movements like #MeToo and the country’s racial reckoning after George Floyd’s murder left her wanting to make a meaningful impact on the world and her community.

Nguyen, who came out as a lesbian at age 17, says she doesn’t always feel welcome at most traditional sports bars. The Sports Bra could help her, and anyone else who’d rarely felt accepted in other sports establishments, feel like she belonged.

“I thought about, if we can even get one kid in here and have them feel like they belong in sports, it’d be worth it,” she says.

Helping other women’s sports bars get started

At first, Nguyen had her savings, and $40,000 in loans cobbled together from friends and family. That would keep The Sports Bra afloat for three months, based on her cost estimates for labor, inventory and other overhead.

In February 2022, she launched a Kickstarter to raise $48,000 — enough money for an extra six-month financial cushion, to build up the sort of regular clientele any bar or restaurant needs to survive long-term.

To Nguyen’s surprise, the campaign raised more than $105,000 in just 30 days, thanks to a viral article in online food publication Eater. “At that moment, when I was looking at that Kickstarter graph, I thought to myself, ‘This might work,’” she says.

But the money, which came from around the country and world, was no guarantee of success. Actual people in Portland still needed to frequent the bar.

Today, there’s often a line out the door. Women’s basketball icons like Sue Bird and Diana Taurasi showed up, for an event sponsored by Buick, earlier this month. Ginny Gilder, co-owner of the WNBA’s Seattle Storm, has even waited in line to watch her team play on The Sports Bra’s TVs, Nguyen says.

That’s a far cry from the Kickstarter days, which Nguyen says only happened after she was denied business loans by multiple banks and small business associations. The denials commonly cited the high risk of a unique concept run by a first-time entrepreneur during a pandemic, she adds.

Even the bar’s core concept is a struggle: It’s hard to find enough women’s sporting events to fill up the televisions. Only about 5% of all TV sports coverage focuses on female athletes, according to a 2021 University of Southern California study.

Nguyen says she’s taken to reaching out directly to sports networks and streaming services, some of which have hooked her up with access to more women’s sports content. She also spends an inordinate amount of time “scouring” TV listings, a process she likens to “taking a machete and chopping through a jungle.”

But she’s no longer alone. Another bar specializing in women’s sports has opened in nearby Seattle, and Nguyen says she’s in touch with a handful of other prospective entrepreneurs asking her for advice on opening similar visions in other cities.

“I would love to have as many people experience the feeling people experience when they walk through these doors,” she says. “It feels very selfish to keep it to this one building that holds 40 people at a time.”

#USA #oregon #Portland #jenny nguyen #The Sports Bra #A sports bar for women and women’s sports #She was originally denied business loans

[fyodorloveclub]

home.

✧ pairing: sigma x afab reader

✧ cw: breeding kink-ish, brief pregnancy mention, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, kinda just wholesome sex hehe

✧ notes: actually part of breedtober 2023 i never finished....... whoopsie. and this is my first time writing sigma so be gentle pls ♡♡ (divider by @/benkeibear)

✧ wc: 1.5k

“I want a family.” The statement is firm and final. Very unlike Sigma.

You choke on your tea. “You what?”

Sigma takes in a shaky breath before repeating the words you weren’t expecting to hear so suddenly. “I… want a family.” 

The two of you had “discussed” such things before, but only in passing. Only small lilts of I wouldn’t mind having a kid when playing with your nieces and nephews, or admiring baby clothes in the shops together. Small things. Noncommittal. Flippant, almost. Not bold. You weren’t quite used to that from your lover, which is why it takes you by surprise. 

“I see,” you nod, pondering the thought. The two of you together, with a baby - no, two babies, three, four. A house full of toddlers with purple hair, likely non-troublesome if they were to take after their father. Thoughts of a sleep deprived Sigma cradling an infant as he feeds it a bottle fill your head, and you smile. You, belly round for the second or third time, taking your oldest to their first day of kindergarten. The thoughts come easy - maybe the two of you were meant to be parents, to raise a family together.  

“Like… right now?”

It’s Sigma’s turn to reckon with your words, crossing his legs where he sits on the couch and sipping his tea. Clearly the thought had been stirring in his mind for a while - the man was nothing if not one to ruminate and contemplate. The blurted statement felt premeditated - not impulsive or hasty. 

In truth, it didn’t surprise you. Sigma had never been the best at verbalizing his feelings, always struggled a bit with truly letting you in, but you know how badly he yearned for a home. A space and things that were truly his and nobody else’s. You knew that extended to you, as more than anything else in the world he found a home in you, and you figured it was only natural to want to expand that. To extend that home and share it with others. To extensions of the two of you, the pillars of his home.

“And what would you do if I said yes?” 

What would you do? Would you demand he slow down? Spend more time thinking on something so permanent and utterly life altering? Something that could never be undone? Or… would you take the mug out of his hands and climb into his lap and straddle him? The answer proves to be the latter.

Sigma just smirks and rests his hands on your hips as you stroke his cheek, taking in his beauty. The curve of his nose, the plush of his lips, the subtle gray of his eyes. Everything that makes your lover himself. And by being himself, he became yours. 

Both of you stay silent as you press a gentle, exploratory kiss to his lips. He happily reciprocates, deepening it and licking past your lips to demonstrate his lust. Clearly he had been holding something in. What you didn’t see or hear yet was the blooming lust that hastened his heart and quickened his breath.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders and leaning against him, you grind down just a bit on his lap as you move your lips from his mouth to his jaw. Sigma groans lowly in response, humping against your ass ever so lightly. His already desperate movements contrast with the feather light kisses you’re pressing to the sharp angle of his jaw and throat. The grip he has on your hips tightens.

“Baby, please,” he grumbles. He wants more, but he’s never been any good at asking for it. 

You just chuckle in response. “You want more?”

“How else is that family gonna get started?” He was funny like that sometimes.

One more kiss to his lips is placed. “Let’s take this to the bedroom, yeah? Make it something special.”

Sigma didn’t need to hear anything else.  Hoisting you into his arms, you giggle flail in his hold as he carries you and ultimately lays you down upon your shared bed. The one you’ve made consummated your love and declared your home many, many a time. 

Despite growing harder and harder from your more than ideal response to what he desires so strongly, Sigma still dives in between your legs, sliding off your pants and nestling his tongue between your folds. It’s so sudden you gasp and grip the pillows, not expecting him to forego your usual period of making out and dry humping. But he’s so ready, and he needs you to be ready too. 

He licks a fat strip from your hole to your clit before sucking on the sensitive nub, letting drool dribble off his tongue and right onto it. After using them to gather some of your slick that had already begun to ooze from your cunt, two fingers find their way inside your hole and scissor open to stretch you out. The attention to your hole and clit at the same time has you reeling.

“Ngh- Sigma!” you cry out. He was always very talented with his tongue.

Your lover smirks. “Yeah, baby? That feel good?” His breath is hot against your sex, and all you could possibly want at this moment is his mouth back on you. He’ll oblige for a little bit. He’ll flick his tongue back and forth against your clit and run the flat of it along the length of your slit before letting it join his fingers, licking hot inside you as you squirm and cry out. But he won’t for long. Sigma of course wants to make you feel good, but to him, this lovemaking is very heavily concentrated on the making. 

Climbing his way up your body, he melds your mouths together to allow you to taste yourself. “Ready for more, pretty girl?” he smirks. 

You gulp before nodding. He makes quick work of shedding himself of his own clothes and pulling your top off – for some reason, it only feels right to do this while completely naked, completely vulnerable – and lining his aching cock up with your wet cunt. 

Sigma isn’t too hard to take – he has an average sized length and girth, but god does he know how to use it. Adjusting his hips to just the right angle he’s learned from countless sessions of lovemaking with you, he presses his cock inside, making you yelp as he immediately bottoms out, rubbing right up against your sweet spot in the process. The talent he has for making you fall apart so quickly is unmatched. To give himself the best access to fill you up with his cock, he pushes your knees to your shoulders and presses his hips right up against your ass. 

Even when he’s desperate and unimaginably horny, the man is always gentle with you. Everything he does, every move he makes and look he gives is always laced with love – he just can’t help it, not when it comes to you. The way you moan his name and cry for more as he rocks his hips into you is like a sonnet sung just for him, meant for no other ears aside from his own. And it’s intoxicating.

Lacing your fingers together, he ruts into you hard and deep, sinking all the way into you with every thrust. He thrusts with the fervor of a man who wants a baby so bad he’d give up any of his limbs if the gods themselves asked him to. With the strength, vigor, and pace of a man who loves you so much he wants nothing more than to build a home, build a family with you and bask in it for the rest of his life. 

He thrusts and thrusts and thrusts and makes you whine and cry until his sensitive cock is spitting his seed right into your cervix, praying that it soaks right into your womb. 

“How long have you been so sure about wanting a family, honey?” you ask later as you lay upon his bare chest, tracing lines between the freckles that litter his skin. 

He thinks for a moment, twirling locks of your hair between his fingers. This was always his favorite moment. The few hours after sex where the only thing you want is your bodies pressed to each other that your skin sticks and you’re not sure where one ends and the other begins. “My whole life, I think,” he finally replies. 

“Oh?”

“I’ve always known. I’ve always known I wanted you, whether or not I knew your name or face. And I’ve always known I wanted to build a home with you, for as long as I’ve been alive. And I’ll want it ‘til the day I die. I know it.”

You chuckle. He’s always had at least a little bit of a taste for the dramatic.

He laughs along with you. “It’s only because I love you so much,” he adds.

“I love you too, Sigma. But please know we’ll always be a home, a family together even if we always remain just the two of us. You are my family.”

The sincerity and strength behind your words make him smile. “And you are my family, my love. Always and forever.”

#sigma smut #sigma x reader #bsd smut #bsd x reader #sigma x you #sigma x y/n #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs smut

[moncherellie]

hii!! i saw you were taking requests so can u write an knight!ellie x princess!reader period piece?

it was never meant to be

a/n: thank you for the cool request! i don't know how i feel about this- never wrote for this time period before. it was a fun learning curve!! i hope you enjoy it. requests are open <3 please. please. tell me. smut or fluff or angst idc

-content/warnings: 1.8k words, fem!princess!reader x knight!ellie, arranged marriage/political marriage, mentions of reader having to marry a man, slight angst? happy ending though, feminine reader i suppose

You were a goddess amongst mortals, treading the Earth lightly and gracing the barren ground with flowering spring beauty. There was an elegance to your touch. Anyone blessed enough to know you were changed for the better, your kindness and charity caressing their soul like hundreds of dandelion wisps in the wind. Heads turned when you walked down the pathways, villagers hoping to get a glimpse of their beloved princess, to catch her stray gaze as she passed. You were the kind of person who would never be subject to malice; even if someone wished they could despise you, the love behind your eyes would soothe their violent minds. Your soul seemed to be sculpted by the hand of a creator who endowed you with pure goodness.

Ellie’s skin was etched with years' worth of hardship, mental fortitude carved into her perpetually crinkled brow. Dirt caked her bloodstream, poisoning her soul as it moved through her heart. Behind her eyes was no mercy, no forgiveness, only seeking vengeance on some imaginary being that had seen no value in her from the moment of creation. It seems the same deity that sculpted you had been corrupted as it created her, molding her heart of ashes and skin of rotten wood. She was a decades-old shattered, rusty sword thrown into a river. No value. No hope. Only a broken promise of a better future that had been forgotten.

​​But your merciful, generous sight had befallen her by some stroke of luck. You recognized something good within her and gave her the chance she'd always dreamt about. You sponsored her induction into knight training, looking past her fiery faults and into the essence of her spirit, finding a spark of virtue. You tended to it until the ember became a blaze, and Ellie Williams became a force to be reckoned with. Despite the whispers of naysayers around the castle, there was something honorable and just inside her. There would never be enough words in the English language for Ellie to express her gratefulness to you properly. Even if there were, she couldn't string them together- she was never skilled with words. Instead, her every step carried a purpose: to echo your goodness through her actions.

Every so often, she'd find a quiet moment and reminisce upon the years of hardship she'd endured in training. Initially, she'd been one of the weakest pupils, lanky and malnourished but with a lust for improvement. She would cry herself to sleep the first year, and every night, she'd sneak out to see the dear princess, who would hold her and assure her that she belonged. It took time, but Ellie began to believe her. She sought comfort from you night after night, conversation topics turning personal after Ellie’s mental health had begun to improve. You’d talk about nothing and everything: silly hypotheticals, stories of growing up. The juxtaposition between your upbringing and hers was comical, but you both found comfort in learning about each others’ lives. 

When Ellie was with you, she felt like her social status didn’t matter. She was just a girl, and you were just the girl she was in love with. The class difference didn’t matter and neither did the impossibility of being together. Just two girls in love, neither with the courage to admit it. 

The lingering touches turn into shy smiles as Ellie sits in your room. Ornate tapestries adorn the walls and silk kerchiefs cast you in warm golden light- you look like a sun goddess in a long linen dress, your well-manicured hand coming to rest on Ellie’s knee as you laugh at something she said. Her rude humor was a welcome change to the sterility of castle life. You grew tired of the roles forced upon you by your authoritative parents and court, and vastly preferred Ellie’s brash personality. Your parents would have a collective aneurysm if they knew you were mingling with the ‘peasant knight’ (their words, obviously), so the two of you were reduced to sneaking around. 

Ellie’s smile dropped a bit as she felt your touch through her trousers. Her head felt dizzy and she attempted to compose herself, finding it hard to focus when your touch was so delicate and warm. Your call of her name was like a siren song, impossible to ignore its dulcet velvety tones. “Ellie?”

“Yes, Princess?”

You scoff. “Stop with the title. You know I hate it.”

Ellie smiles. A selfish thought crosses her mind- she wishes you were born normal, born in the village like her instead of in an ivory tower. Maybe then, things could have worked out. “That’s why I use it.” You laugh again, and she feels her stomach turn. Why couldn’t you be like me?

-

A week later, Ellie’s thoughts are the opposite. You sit in the throne room, grandiose decor embellishing the great chamber. Lavish royal purple flags and bright maroon banners drop and fold along the walls. Opulent chandeliers of pure wrought iron hang from the ceiling, supporting crystal fixtures through which valuable beeswax candles bathe the room in light. Stained glass rose windows and fleur de lys seem to further isolate Ellie, who stands guard by your throne. Invasive thoughts plague her as she keeps her professional face. I don’t belong here. I never have. I wish I was like you- then I could take you away from here. The thoughts are heightened when she sees the reason the entire town is gathered under the concave.

Four suitors from across the land vie for your hand in marriage. Ellie bites her tongue, her taste buds flooding with a familiar metallic sting. 

They don’t really want you, not like I do. All they want is power. They don’t treasure your time or your kindness. You deserve more. 

She clutches her spear, posture erect, seeming the quintessential knight. Only you noticed how her hand shook with nerves, how she seemed to hold onto the weapon as if letting go would kill her.

Each suitor takes time to introduce themselves. They focus on their own qualities, never talking about why they would be honored to be with you. And they would be. You sit on your throne, deep purple taffeta draping your body elegantly as you cross your legs. Aphroditic, a Hellenistic Roman statue come alive. Romantic, expressive, nymphlike in every way. If you were Euydice, Ellie thinks she must’ve been Orpheus. The anticipation of witnessing you choose your husband (and thus leaving her) was beginning to affect Ellie physically. Her heart felt like it would die in her chest: she swore she felt an arrhythmia. 

First, the suitor from the East describes what he would gift you if wed. As if you would be swayed by material possessions. The suitor from the South notes his conquests. The changes in your expression are minute, but Ellie knows the look. You’re entirely disgusted, and she clears her throat to catch your attention. You look over, the unimpressed look still donning your face, but your eyes light up when you see her. Ellie smiles- a silent reminder: I’m still here for you. It’s like you’re the only two people in the room.

The Western suitor wears his pants inside out, and your eyes immediately meet Ellie’s. You cover your mouth with your hand, appearing classy while chuckling and snorting behind your cover. 

The Northern suitor is handsome and decent, Ellie reluctantly admits. She’s not blind. She hates that she doesn’t hate him. He expresses interest in you and vows to give you autonomy. It’s basic, but more than the others offered. She tries to read your expression and for once, she can’t. It makes her heart drop. 

After every suitor is introduced, you and your court go into the back room to discuss your final decision. The decision that, whomever you choose, will ruin Ellie. She stands guard before the door, straining her hearing to find some clue that you won’t marry these men. She begs silently to whatever immortal being watches over her. 

You haven’t done much for me. I haven’t asked for much. But I’ll do anything to stop this. Please. 

A knock at the door signals Ellie to move away. She takes your hand and leads you back to the throne. You sit, and Ellie has to will herself to let go of you. What if this is the last time she’ll be able to hold you? The thought nearly brings her to her knees. Her joints ache with every step she takes away from you, returning to her post in front of the chancel. Your father stands, his creaking bones the only sound in the room. Everyone holds their breath as he speaks.

It’s detached apolitical jargon that Ellie can barely pay attention to. She thinks that if she doesn’t listen, the situation won’t become real. To her dismay, your father ends his aloof speech and presents you. Sir Williams has never felt so sober.

Ellie watches with wide eyes as you stand. She peers up at you from below the stage, and she can’t help but realize what a perfect metaphor this is. You stand above her, gilded and unobtainable, while she looks up, dreaming of what could’ve been. Of course, she’ll support any decision you make, but she’ll never be happy with it. It seems time moves gruelingly slowly as she awaits your voice. At any other moment, she’d be hanging off your every word, waiting excitedly for what you have to share next. But now, she hopes the words never come.

You open your mouth, words leaving in slow motion. She wants to close your mouth to shut you up and kiss you so hard that you never think about anyone else again. She doesn’t.

“Dearest suitors, I thank you for coming here today. Your travels are long and treacherous and your efforts do not go unnoticed. As noted by my father, I have come to a decision regarding my spouse. I am firm in my choice, as this is the most chivalrous, goodhearted, and impressive person I have met. The only person who understands me.”

Ellie is used to you switching from your formal persona to your true self, but she never gets over it. It’s you, but it’s not you. You stroll along the chancel, in thought, and Ellie takes the chance to admire everything about you as if this is the last time she’ll be able to. Posture, gait, the way you hold yourself as if you’re sure about every action. She doesn’t know you’re terrified beyond belief.

Your finger comes out to point to a suitor. The great hall inhabitants draw a collective breath, Ellie included. You drag your finger from the right side of the stage, passing over the suitors of the East, South, and West. Ellie knows where this is going. Of course, you’ll choose North. He was the obvious choice, and she couldn’t fault you for that. And suddenly, your finger passes by him.

Ellie’s mind races. What’s happening?

Your body turns, and soon, Ellie stares down your hand, furrowing her brow. Her eyes are filled with childlike hope.

“Ellie Williams, if you’ll have me?”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x reader fluff #ellie williams x fem!reader #knight!ellie williams #knight!ellie williams x reader #knight! ellie williams x princess!reader #ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x fem reader #moncherellie writing #ellie williams oneshot #ellie williams tlou2 #fem reader

[loaksky]

— 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴

the deets  — you are a warrior of very few words, yet oftentimes your gaze betrays you. this widens the rift between you and the eldest sully, but will seeking refuge with the metkayina soothe the burn? especially when the alleviation comes in the form of a certain ocean boy? 

the who — ao’nung x fem tipani!reader, a lil neteyam x fem!tipani reader

the word count — 7.1k (i thought this was gonna be longer, regardless i have zero self control)

the tags — slight e2l (you and ao’nung get off on the wrong foot), unofficial love triangle (reader has two people hooked lmao), angst (wouldn’t be me without a little heartache), fluff. 

the warnings — language, ao’nung’s a cheeky lil shit, neteyam’s in denial and makes things difficult. ao'nung gives reader a lil kith.

the notes — this is my first request! it took me a moment to finish this because i wanted to really research the tipani to characterize reader the best i could. similarly, i feel like we don’t see much of ao’nung past the point of him being a little shit in the movie, so i had to take some creative liberties regarding his character. thank you so much to the anon who requested! this is so long, holy shit, but i hope i did it justice! :) 

(also not proofread well, my bad lmaooo).

masterlist

YOU WERE BORN TO FIGHT. That was what your mother and father had told you day in and day out, from the rise of the sun, to the last eclipse. It was what they had told you when you began your training, when you had started to deepen your studies, and finally, when they clung to their final breaths in the smog of the burning jungle. 

Your village was scarce, a dying lot, as families broke off and settled farther into the jungle, high above the forest floors and into the canopies of the looming trees. 

Jake had heard about you, heard about your dwindling family, your mighty spirit. You were barely older than his eldest, just shy of ten when he’d taken you in, told the clan to revere you as their own. You were tough to crack, stoic, quiet, as you grew into a force to be reckoned with.

The only thing that chipped your facade came in the form of Jake Sully’s oldest son. 

Neteyam, you’d come to realize, was always the diligent one; courageous, firm, and commanded any space he occupied. But he was curious about you. Curious about the lone wolf who wouldn’t even bat an eye in his direction. He poked and prodded, tried as he might, to crack a smile out of you in the first year or two, but found that you gave little reaction. The slightest tilt of the corner of your lips, the most infinitesimal furrow between your brow bones. It was triumph enough, but then things started to shift. 

Though you’d softened around the Sully’s, especially Kiri who, despite being two years your junior, had doted on you like an older sister, Jake had seen potential in you and Neteyam as the fiercest duo. 

It was only normal to consistently pair you two during your training, forcing the hands of time to twine you closer together as your iknimaya drew nearer. You’d both succeeded with flying colors and it was the first time Neteyam had touched you, crushing you in a hug so tight, you felt the breath and the sense leave your body. 

You begrudgingly admit that from that moment on, you were wrapped around his finger. 

Your heart would swell dangerously behind your ribcage every time his hand would come up to pat your head affectionately, stomach twisting in on itself when he’d flash you a pearly smile after each successful hunt. Neteyam made you feel, and it thrilled and horrified you all the same.

But despite basking in the warmth of his company, of being intertwined so intricately, you still feel grossly misplaced.

The thought of letting him in on the fact that he’s swayed your heart leaves a horrid taste in your mouth. 

“It’s not like you to back down,” Kiri tells you as she helps you roll beaded tops and woven loincloths into the small satchel you’d designated for the flight to Awa’atlu. 

The humans were closing in and Jake was growing desperate. 

You stop, tongue in cheek as you settle back on your haunches. 

“Some things are better left unsaid,” you reply, hands clasping in your lap as you level Kiri with a soft gaze through your thick lashes. 

“Perhaps,” Kiri hums. “But will it settle well with you in the future when you think about your inaction?” 

You stiffen a fraction, knowing that Kiri’s insinuation is a heavy one. 

Will you be able to live without him knowing? Will it settle well when Neteyam courts another?

You doubt it will, but pride can be an ugly thing. You’d been taught by your parents, by your surroundings that reading into things farther than you must will only leave you scathed. You’re afraid to piece every lingering touch, every furtive glance, every sweet smile into something that paints an unwanted picture. 

“The worst he could say is no,” Kiri presses. “You are his equal, his dearest friend. You could never ruin that.” 

Kiri squashes every doubt you have with her encouraging words, so you take the plunge.

Neteyam is almost finished preparing for the journey when you poke your head into his tent, cheeks warm and blood pulsing erratically in your veins. 

“One last walk through the forest?” you offer.

Neteyam grins from ear to ear, excusing himself before ducking out of the tent to meet you outside. 

“Lead the way,” he gestures, voice deep like the velvet of the night sky. 

You’re clammy as you walk a few paces in front of him, tongue tied and wracked with nerves as the forest comes alive so brightly around you. The bugs chirp and croak as you cross over fallen logs and climb through the dense flora. 

You’re so deep in your head that you barely register Neteyam calling your name. It’s only when his hand clasps around your wrist that you jerk to a stop, neck craning to take in the concern that mars his freckled face. 

“Everything okay?” he asks, head tilting to get a better look at you. 

“I need to tell you something,” you blurt, swallowing down the courage threatening to escape your body. 

“Of course,” he says, hand lacing with yours. “You can tell me anything.”

A breath catches in your throat before you finally spill.

“I don’t know what our future holds, but…” you trail off, distracted with how intensely he gazes down at you. 

“But?” 

“But I know that I want you in it,” you say, blinking when you realize that’s not at all how you wanted that to come out. 

Neteyam’s head tilts again, this time confusion crosses his features. 

You try again. 

“What I mean to say is, I— well… I like you,” you admit, looking up to meet his golden gaze. 

His face softens and your heart picks up speed. 

“Oh, ________,” he whispers. 

“Maybe I’ve always felt like this, I don’t know,” you continue, steeling your resolve. “But being around you, being with you, makes me feel light. Like I don’t have to bear the weight of the burden all on my own.” 

You realize that this is beginning to go south when his mouth purses and instead of seeing you, he begins to look like he pities you. 

“I’m sorry,” is all he says as he pulls his hand from your own. “We’re friends, ________.” 

You look up at him and it feels like the forest has stilled enough for someone to strike it and shatter the peace. 

“That’s all,” he reiterates. “I’m— I’m flattered, don’t misunderstand. You’re great, lovely, but…I don’t see you in that way.” 

You recoil like you’ve been burned and Neteyam looks guilty. 

“But…” 

“C’mon,” he says, almost pleadingly. “We grew up together. You’re apart of my family. You’re like a si—“ 

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t say it please.” 

Neteyam sighs, deflating. 

“I love you, you know that,” he urges. “But not in that way.” 

Your lips press together tightly, shame filling every available space within you as you feel like the most minuscule speck underneath his burning eyes. 

It’s like you’re both rooted to the earth, unable to part from the other, but you eventually fold first, backing away from his towering stance. 

“________,” he sighs, like you’re just another task he has to deal with. 

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I’m sorry.” 

And you steal off into the glowing forest. 

The waters of Awa’atlu glitter as you close in on the reefs. You lag behind the Sully’s, thoroughly taken by the prior night’s rejection. 

You almost miss the tilt of the voyage, falling even further behind. 

Neteyam peers over his shoulder, immediately noting your lack of focus as you fly with a wide berth between you and his family. 

He falls back. 

“You okay?” he asks over the flapping of wings. 

He notices the puffs underneath your eyes when your gaze flits to him, but like a wall erecting itself, your face goes blank. You lean forward on your ikran and press her to move forward. 

Neteyam is left at the rear now, watching you fall in tandem with Kiri who seems to light up at your first display of emotion. 

The sun gleams againstglinting blue tides as silence blankets the newcomers, the only thing piercing the stillness is the squawk of the birds and the ripple of the waves. 

You stand behind Kiri, staggered in a shallow of sand among the Sully's. You're the smallest of them all, hidden from view as the Metkayina begin murmuring. 

“What a freak.” 

Something tugs hard on your tail, and like muscle memory, your fist is flying. Your knuckles are caught before they strike and you look up into the foamy eyes of a towering boy whose skin is a gentle blue. 

You pull your tail back, ears flat as you level him with a nasty glare. 

The smirk playing at his lips disintegrates as Jake’s voice announces that his family are seeking refuge among the reefs. 

You turn your attention back to the front as the woman, fierce despite being with child, takes Lo’ak’s hand and thrusts it towards the sky, announcing that his extra finger denotes demon blood. 

The villagers gasp and you take a step forward, fists balled so tight you feel like they could burst through the skin. Lo’ak’s head is bowed, refusing to meet the intensity of the clan’s prying eyes, and you feel helpless.

Kiri squeezes your shoulder as Jake attempts to quell the crowd by hold up his own hands. 

The murmuring intensifies as the Olo’eyktan and Tsahik stand at a distance, staring at each other in a silent exchange. 

“Show them our ways,” the Olo’eyktan says after a final verdict. “So that they may not suffer the shame of being useless.” 

Your body is rigid, tense as another ripple of speculation flutters through the crowd. 

“My children will spearhead this by showing them the way of the water,” he says. 

A deep voice makes a noise of protest behind you and your fist tightens around the strap of the satchel slung across your body, temper beginning to tick like a bomb ready to detonate. 

The daughter of the leaders, Tsireya, is the one to show you to the marui that you’ll all occupy. It’s an empty one, uninhabited and clear of any belongings. 

Tuk runs in, tossing her things to the wayside as she begins her inspection. 

“Get settled in well, we will begin our first lesson before eclipse,” Tsireya smiles, then turns to you, trailing behind the Sully’s like their shadow per usual. 

“I’m sorry about Ao’nung,” she says quietly, and you look up at the girl whose dimples dent her rounded cheeks. 

“An apology means nothing if doesn’t come from the aggressor,” you say flatly, hiking up the roll of fabric tucked underneath your arm. 

Tsireya’s ears flatten, her smile faltering as she nods her head. 

“I suppose you’re correct,” she agrees. “The villagers are very steadfast in their ways. When change arrives, they are hesitant, but they’ll come around, promise.” 

She takes your hand and gives your fingers a squeeze. 

“Tell your friends not to be late,” she coos, pulling away from you to bound down the path you’d all come from moments before. 

When you turn, Neteyam stands before you, skin dewy under the unrelenting heat of the pounding sun. 

“Can I get this for you?” he asks, reaching for the items tucked under your arms. 

You ease away, almost as skittish as the first nights you’d joined the Sully’s all those years ago. You feel shamefully like you’re back to square one as you shake your head wordlessly and Neteyam looks down at you with an indiscernible look on his face. 

“________,” he murmurs, and you name sounds like a broken plea on his lips. 

You push past him, taking a quick survey of your surroundings as you claim the level up, hammock tightened around two support posts under a woven canopy. 

Your things are thrown haphazardly underneath the hammock and with your satchel, you’re steering quickly out of the marui. 

“Hey, kid, where you running off to?” Jake calls out. 

“Out,” is all you reply, steps quick down the unfamiliar webbing of the maruis’ woven walkways. 

You’re on edge all over again, like you have to restart all of your valiant efforts to feel any semblance of comfort among another new clan. When you’d joined the Omatikaya, you were able to grasp onto the slivers of belonging through blending into the background, but now, as you pass villagers with skin as glittering and blue as the ocean, tails strong, and figures built, you feel so grossly misplaced. 

You search for less, eyes falling near a swathe of shady trees and a shallow pool in the distance. 

Your pursuit is futile as three looming figures emerge and begin surrounding you, basking you in their shadows. 

“Are you a five-fingered freak like them?” One of them tries to swoop to grab your hand, but you recoil like their touch is acidic. 

“Leave me alone,” you grumble, attempting to push past them. 

Someone tugs sharply on your tail and you jerk back, hands and knees burrowing into the sharp grains of sand. A hand comes up to grab you by the top of your head, forcing your face skywards. 

His curly hair is braided out of his face, the purse of his lips menacing. 

“I asked you a question, weirdo.” 

You hiss and his face contorts. 

“I should—“ 

“Wune,” the voice is a warning. 

A grunt of annoyance. 

Wune lets go of your hair and pulls away from you. You all look in the direction of the voice, and your blood seems to curdle when you see the one who’d yanked your tail earlier in the day. 

Ao’nung.

His chin jerks in the other direction and the three pass each other a knowing glance before retreating, leaving you to fall into a seated position against the sand. 

You surprise yourself when tears begin to well in your eyes involuntarily. 

“You okay?” Ao’nung asks hesitantly, crouching in front of you. 

“Piss off,” you whisper, climbing to your feet as you quickly brush the tears from your waterline. 

“Wait—“ 

“I said piss off,” you hiss, stalking away. 

Awa’atlu is beautiful right before eclipse, sky bathed in orange and purples. 

You’ve rejoined the Sully’s after your encounter with the three Metkayina boys and Ao’nung. Now you’re seated with the four siblings, Tsireya, and another friendly face that you’ve been introduced to as Rotxo. 

“The way of water has no beginning and no end,” Tsireya says. “Our hearts beat in the womb of the world.” 

Your heart beats fast now, like you’ve just run from one end of the forest to another. It beats erratically under Neteyam’s unrelenting gaze. He looks like he’s dissecting you, trying to pry into your mind and you hate that things have come to this. 

You hate that one evening has shattered the careful friendship that you and Neteyam have built over the course of many tumultuous years. You want to find comfort in his presence, know with your soul that he’d tuck your hair behind your ear and tell you that things would be alright. But now you feel like you two are distant strangers. 

“The sea is your home, before your birth and after your death.” 

You want to argue that you know no home, that the wind seems to carry you where it may, but you bite your tongue and you zone out of her lecture.

You only tune back in when the hairs on the back of your neck stand at the arrival of a new body. 

“Mother and father say that it’s time to prepare for the evening meal.” 

After hearing the voice twice in the day, you recognize the timbre. 

Ao’nung stands tall, chest broad and eyes bright. 

They settle on you in an instant, and you feel indescribably smaller as Tsireya announces that she will continue during the morning’s eclipse. 

Everyone begins to stand, brushing the residual sand from their skin as they begin to file away. 

You’re startled to a stop when your name comes from Neteyam’s lips and a gentle hand latches onto your forearm. 

You look down to see strong fingers lighter than your own holding onto you. Then your gaze flits to Neteyam who stands a few feet away, words dying on his tongue. 

Ao’nung tugs lightly and you look up to meet softened eyes. 

“Can I borrow you for a moment?” he asks. He notices the apprehensive look on your face as you peel away from him, then adds, “I’ll be quick.” 

Neteyam opens his mouth to protest on your behalf, but you flash him a pensive look and he stops in his tracks, watching as you turn your slender back towards him and follow the lumbering Metkayina.

When the two of you are alone, you dig your toe into the sand, hands clasped behind your back as you wait for Ao’nung to break the silence and get on with it. 

“I want to apologize,” he finally says, when you’re out of earshot of the village and the curious Sully’s who’d noted the entire exchange. 

You look up at him, brow bone raised. 

“For?” 

“For being mean,” he says, “I was inappropriate.” 

“Is this your sister talking?” you ask crudely, but he doesn’t flinch at the venom in your tone.

Instead, he smiles down at you. 

“No,” he assures you. “One hundred percent me, promise.” 

You look down at your feet, still fidgeting with the sand. 

“I guess…” you trail off. 

“You guess?” he prods.

“I guess we’re okay,” you say hesitantly. 

Ao’nung hums. 

“Good,” he concedes. “Great. I’m glad.” 

You flash him a bored look through thick lashes and his lips twitch as he stares down at you with piercing eyes. 

“I can be dumb,” he says, grin widening. “My family says I don’t know how to act around nice things.” 

Your cheeks warm as you avoid his eyes, breaking away to catch up with Kiri and Tuk.

After dinner, in the quiet of the Sully’s marui, you lie in the hammock you claimed earlier in the day, hands folded underneath your head as you gaze at the stars. 

“My dad came from a star,” Lo’ak had said to you one night, eliciting the smallest of smiles. 

As you comb through each one, you burn to be up there. A digging desire to only know about shining bright and being wished so hard upon. 

There are nights like these where everything feels heavy, where your shoulders sag underneath the pressure of being a great warrior. You wonder what life could be like had the RDA spared your village, had you not gone off into the forest to hunt, had you—

He’s a barely perceptible shadow under the glow of the moon and ocean, slinking down the woven path between pods. 

Like a whisper of wind, you climb out of your hammock and over sleeping bodies. 

As you slip out of the marui, you don’t notice the pair of sleepy eyes on your retreating figure. 

Before he even knows what’s going on, you’re scurrying over the thick branches, following his path until he hits the intersection right before the Sully’s quarters. 

You jump down and intersect Ao’nung, hand coming over his mouth before he can shout in shock. His eyes are wide as you stand on your tip toes, other hand coming to your lips to gesture for him to be quiet. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss quietly. 

His fingers come to your wrist, nudging your palm from his mouth to reveal a beaming smile. 

“I was coming for you,” he admits. 

“Why?” you press, shaking his hold away when you realize that he’d still been grasping your wrist.

“Have you ridden an ilu before?” he asks. 

You shift uncomfortably. 

“No,” you answer shortly. 

“You wanna?” he offers. 

“No.” 

He frowns. 

“Swimming?”

“Pass.” 

“I have fruits,” he singsongs. 

“Ao’nung,” you warn.

“Is it so wrong to want to spend time with you?” he asks, hands up in defense. 

“Why would you want to?” you ask accusingly. “Your village sees us as demons and I’m included in that whether it applies to me or not. I’ll stay out of your way, just leave me alone.” 

“I don’t think you’re a demon,” Ao’nung says gently. “If anything, I- I think you’re great.” 

“You don’t know me,” you spit. 

“I know enough,” Ao’nung says with finality. “I know that you are strong and your spirit is kind. Ewya has let me feel as such.” 

Your expression is lethal, but Ao’nung doesn’t back down. 

“One night,” he says quietly. “Spend one night with me.” 

The following silence stretches eternally before something magnetic pulls you towards Ao’nung’s honeyed gaze. You chance a glance over your shoulder, met with stillness and the minute laps of the ocean on the shore. 

When you meet his eyes again, you nod once, hesitantly, and he’s taking your hand to tug you into the glowy night. 

Ao’nung returns you before the sun rises, a few early risers giving you two curious glances as he walks you to where you’d ambushed him the night before.

You wave to him hesitantly, sighing in relief when you you creep back into the marui and find everyone fast asleep, splayed over one another like a big heap. 

You climb over limbs and snoring bodies, finally settling in your hammock to watch the beginnings of the eclipsing sun brighten the village. 

You don’t notice the same bleary eyes watching you from where he’s laid on the floor, Lo’ak’s head weighing on his stomach and Tuk smushed onto his armpit. 

They’re the same eyes that watch you all morning, as his family gets up one by one, stretching their lithe limbs and tidying up before being called for the day’s first meal. 

Neteyam is watchful, stealing glances as you file behind his family from the pod to the clan circle, now buzzing with hungry villagers as the sun shines high in the sky. 

But he doesn’t say a word, silent as you choose the seat farthest from him. Quiet as you blink your eyes sleepily, barely registering Tuk’s excited blabbering about all of the new things she can make with the shells and supplies here. 

“Give it a rest,” Lo’ak grumbles from beside him. 

He snaps out of his reverie, eyes narrowing in on his brother. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been watching ________ all morning,” Lo’ak chides. “She’s locked up tight, bro. No way you’re getting her.” 

Neteyam’s blood curdles at the thought, wanting to tell his brother to shove it. But you’d shut him out the past few days, the sting of his rejection obviously driving a wedge between the two of you. 

“Shut up,” he grumbles. 

He hates that you’d gone from being inseparable to being strangers overnight. But what he hates even more is the way Ao’nung drops onto the log next to you and you don’t even flinch, just pass him a bored gaze that makes him beam. 

He watches you closely, eyes glued to your every move. 

Something ugly roils inside of him as Ao’nung offers you a braided bag and you hesitantly take a piece of dried meat from him, face morphing as you give him a nod of approval. 

Ao’nung looks proud of of himself as he balances the bag next to him on the log and leans towards you almost imperceptibly. Neteyam expects you to put distance between the two of you, but you barely bat an eye, watching intently as Ao’nung talks animatedly. 

Lo’ak scoffs beside him and Neteyam stomach turns.

Hours bleed into days, days bleed into weeks, and for once, you feel like things could be alright. The breathing gets easier, the learning comes faster, and something feels peaceful being near the ocean. 

The only thing that hadn’t been amended was the gaping hole that separated you from Neteyam, but in the company of a certain Olo’eyktan’s only son, you don’t feel the burn as much. 

You watch him now, as he treads water with Rotxo and the two Sully boys, walking them through the procedure of hunting under water and how to maximize their kills. 

“…and the reefs underwater…” 

He’s one and the same with the tides, mighty and commanding as his veined hands gesture confidently. One moment, he’s focused on his instruction intently, the next he’s glancing at you. 

You feel hot in the warm waters as your cheeks flame under a genuine smile. Neteyam follows his line of sight, body tensing in the water when he sees the shy look on your face. 

He’s not the only one who notices as Kiri feigns a gag and Tsireya pauses her spiel to giggle at the obvious exchange. 

“Oh, ________,” she whispers giddily. 

Your eyes swing to the group of girls surrounding you as Tuk lets out a gleeful laugh and pinches you under the water. 

“Ouch!” 

“________ has a crush,” Tuk singsongs obnoxiously. 

You knuckle her forehead and give her a warning glare than only sends her into a frenzy, laughing and splashing as she seeks protection from Kiri. 

“Stop that!” you whisper fiercely. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft,” Kiri moans. 

“No!” you say, a little too quickly. “No.”

No one in your circle looks convinced as Tsireya closes her lesson and leads the three of you to wade out of the waters. 

“It’s okay, you know?” Kiri says once you’ve reached your belongings and sling your trusty satchel over your front. 

You give her an inquisitive look and she throws her head back and laughs. 

“I know you sneak out to meet with Ao’nung at night,” she admits quietly. “I love my stupid brother, but it’s okay to move on.” 

You blanche, embarrassed at having been caught. 

After the first night, when he’d taken you for a swim with his ilu and you’d gasped in both fear and delight as the creature cut through the waters to sail through the air, he had started to frequently come back for you in the wee hours after eclipse. It had turned from you clocking him as he approached the Sully’s pod, to you standing off the side of the path he usually crossed, waiting for him. 

The first night you’d done that, his smile was so sweet, you felt something fluttering in your tummy. 

Among one of those late night excursions, while you both were splayed on the beach after a particularly adventurous swim, Ao’nung had told you he wouldn’t mind showing you all the beautiful things Awa’atlu had to offer, you just had to say the words. And you had reluctantly agreed, heart locked away tight. 

You hate to admit that he’s done well chiseling away every effort you’d made to remain snug behind your walls. He had coaxed you out with soft words, sweet fruits, meaningful talks. And you absolutely melted like putty in his hands. 

“We are head and heart,” Kiri says gently. “Sometimes it’s okay to listen to your heart.” 

You swallow under Kiri’s sympathetic gaze. 

“You’ve been strong for a long time, ________,” she states simply. “Your feelings are not a weakness.” 

You nod as she rejoins Tuk and Tsireya a few strides away.

A few moments later, a voice is warm in the shell of your sensitive ears. 

“What adventure awaits after eclipse?” Ao’nung asks lightly. 

You resist smiling up at him, but fail miserably when his webbed fingers come up to move hair from your face. 

“I have seeds of a spartan fruit,” you say quietly. “If you know of anywhere to plant them.” 

“I can make something work,” he assures you, thumb brushing your cheek, then pinching gently with a toothy smile. “Our usual place?” 

You bow your head, cheeks hot. 

“Of course.” 

“Alright, little leaf,” he bids, that stupid nickname he’d called you one of the first nights, sticking. “See you then.” 

He’s walking back in the direction of the other boys, cutting across the sand as they venture towards the heart of the clan’s village. 

As you pick up the remainder of your items, you don’t realize a body has stayed behind. 

“Little leaf?” It comes out as a scoff, mocking as your whirl on your heel and find Neteyam standing over you. “What’s your deal with him?”

You blink hard. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You an Ao’nung,” Neteyam bites, temper short. “What’s going on between you two?” 

Annoyance pinches the back of your brain as you look off into the roll of the shallow tides, then turn your attention back to the eldest Sully. For the first time in an infinite amount of moments, you don’t feel like falling into him. 

“He’s my friend,” you decide to say, sucking in a deep breath in hopes of calming your racing nerves. “Is that alright with you?” 

Neteyam’s glare doesn’t falter. 

“Just your friend?” he accuses. “I know you meet with him after eclipse, don’t think you have anyone fooled. Why?” 

“What do you mean why?” you counter, unable to keep the edge from your tone. 

“Why are you sneaking around with someone you barely know after dark, ________?” he grills. “Don’t be dense.” 

“Ao’nung is kind to me,” you argue. “He shows me about his life, about the villagers and the way of the water.” 

“And what, I’m not kind to you?” Neteyam bristles. “Tsireya can’t show you all of those things?” 

Your face scrunches in annoyance. 

“You’re being unreasonable, Neteyam,” you scoff. 

“I’m being unreasonable?” he asks in disbelief. “Ao’nung is just like the rest of the village, ________. You really thinking that in front of everyone else, he doesn’t shun us all the same?” 

“No, Neteyam, I don’t,” you retort. “Because Ao’nung is nice. He goes to great lengths to make me feel welcome, like Awa’atlu is home.”

“So he puts on a show and you’re so willing to be with him, huh?” Neteyam seethes quietly. “We’re your home, ________. Ao’nung is earning brownie points with his parents having you hooked, but do you really think he sees you?” 

You swallow, biting the inside of your cheek as you stare up at Neteyam in resignation. 

“You can be so callous sometimes,” you whisper, turning to leave the conversation. 

“I’m not done talking to you,” Neteyam sighs. 

“Well, I am.” 

You never make it back to the marui that night, still embarrassed that two of Sully’s had noticed that you were ditching your hammock as soon as the village turned in for the evenings. Instead, you wander around the beaches, collecting shells and little trinkets for morning handicrafts with Tuk. 

After the island glows both from the luminescence of the habitat and the moon, you stand post, waiting for the familiar pad of Ao’nung’s feet over the sand. You watch the stars up above to distract you, fingers twitching as you recall your argument with Neteyam earlier in the day. 

You know he was looking for chords to strike, but something akin to insecurity begins to root itself inside of you as the stars begin shifting further and further, indicating that a wide span of time has elapsed. The village is still, but your mind is racing as Ao’nung’s whereabouts remain a mystery. 

Regardless you wait. You wait so long, you’d resorted to planting yourself in the sand, and after what felt like infinity, the morning eclipse begins. When the village starts to turn over for the day, curtains and drapery being pulled back to reveal slowly waking families, you finally stand, heart in your hands. 

When you return to your pod, Neteyam is already up, posted on the edge of the walkway with his toes in the water. 

He’s shooting up when he sees you. 

“Where have you been?” he demands as you draw nearer. 

His face softens when he sees the first tear arch over your sculpted cheekbone. 

You quickly wipe it away. 

“No where,” you grumble, pushing past him. 

“________,” he urges. 

You deflect his reaching hands. 

“I’m serious, Neteyam,” you warn, the look in your golden eyes deadly. “Leave me alone.” 

Despite not seeing Ao’nung the entirety of the day, you return to your post the next night, hoping the night prior had been a fluke. The seeds of the spartan fruit are held tight in your fist and you use them as a vessel to wish hard. But it’s futile when the stars that map the skies continue to inch and you continue to wait. 

On the fourth night of Ao’nung’s absence, you decide to get to the bottom of things. 

You weave through the maruis, into the village’s circle right before eclipse. You spot Tsireya first, then him. He isn’t hard to miss when you’ve grown to know the drape of his curling hair and the bass of his hearty laugh. 

Rotxo, who sits opposite them, notices you first and his smile falters. 

Ao’nung’s neck cranes and his face shutters as he locks eyes with you. 

“________, hi,” he greets simply. 

“Hi?” you parrot, the spartan seeds you were beginning to use as a safety blanket clutched tight in your fist. “That’s it?” 

Ao’nung turns completely, waving off his sister and Rotxo as he stands to his full height. 

“What are you—“ 

“I waited for you,” you hiccup, shocked at the emotion that hijacks every morsel of resolve and composure you’ve always kept a tight lid on. “I waited for you, but you never came.” 

Ao’nung’s hands are on your shoulders, nudging you to a more private area, an alcove hidden among arched and gnarled tree roots. 

“________, I don’t understand,” he says quietly. “You—“ 

“I waited for you so that we could plant these stupid seeds and—“ 

Your unfurled fist catches his attention and his eyes widen when he sees that you’ve gripped them so hard in your hands, your palms are bleeding. 

He makes a move to grab you injured hand, but your fist tightens again. 

“This is inappropriate,” Ao’nung says sharply, eyes pleading. 

“What is?” you ask desperately. 

“You and me,” he says, like it should make sense. “This isn’t right.” 

Like a time warp, you’re brought back to the glowing forest before your departure. You see Neteyam’s disappointed expression, the twinge of disgust lacing his features at the thought of wanting you like you wanted him. 

Your heart shatters. 

Just when you thought you were getting over it all. Just when you thought that Ao’nung made you feel alive. Made you feel things you’d never felt before, he was extinguishing every sweet moment. If he was trying to cut ties before you could fall, it was too late. He was dousing the flames that had grown to engulf him and you don’t know how much more you can take. 

“Why would you do this?” you whisper brokenly. “I wanted to be left alone. Why would you force yourself into my life if you don’t want to be in it in the first place? Why would you make me want you?” 

Ao’nung’s expression turns sour. 

“I want to be there for you, ________,” he says fiercely. “You shine so bright and you are so incredible, you don’t even know it, but I can’t do this.” 

“Why?” you hoarse. 

“You are promised to someone else,” he says vehemently. “This entire time, I have sought you out with the intention of making you mine, but your heart belongs to someone else.” 

Your face crumples. 

“What are you— I don’t—“ 

“Neteyam told me to stay away from you,” Ao’nung says. “That you two would solidify your union once it was safe to go back home.” 

“No,” you interject. “That’s not—“ 

“Don’t be cruel,” he says quietly. “I don’t think I can take it.” 

“No, Neteyam and I are nothing,” you spit. “We—“ 

The fury hits you full force as you pull away from Ao’nung and stalk away. 

You don't you hear him rushing to catch up with you. It’s like you’re underwater, hearing muffled as you map the woven path to the Sully’s marui. 

Everything is absolutely red as you clock him.

Neteyam is laughing with Lo’ak and Kiri when you approach. 

The expression on your face is murderous when he looks up and he pales as he stands to meet your barreling figure. You’re shoving him away from you as soon as he steps in your immediate space. 

“How could you?” you cry out. 

Kiri and Lo’ak’s eyes are wide at your outburst, the warrior of few words teeming with anger and emotion as you square your shoulders. Kiri nudges Lo’ak’s shoulder and gestures towards their marui to give you two some privacy. 

“________—“ 

“You told Ao’nung we were promised to each other?” you press, finger jabbing his chest heatedly. 

His face contorts as his spine straightens. 

“Yes, ________, I did,” he confirms, nearly smug.

“Why?” you cry out. “After everything, why would you—“ 

“You’re mine, ________,” he blurts, fists shaking as he closes in on you. “All mine, and I refuse to let anyone have you. Especially Ao’nung.” 

The boy who stands before you is unrecognizable, so taken by anger and envy. 

“You’re heartless,” you whimper. 

“Me?” he asks incredulously, voice breaking as he comes up to grab you by your biceps. “You– You made me fall for you and suddenly you–“ 

“I liked you first,” you choke, eyes searching his wildly. “I liked you first and you told me that you were sorry. In that moment, I could see how you saw me. Pitiful, coarse, misplaced. Ao’nung doesn’t make me feel that way.” 

“Ao’nung doesn’t—“ 

“For once in my life, I feel okay. I feel like I can finally breathe, and that upsets you? You’re jealous? All I’ve known is the forest from a distance, coinciding with clans that make me feel like an outsider! When it’s me and him, that’s all it is, just two souls existing together. This is the first time I can say such.” Your voice is hoarse, drawing wandering eyes. 

Neteyam’s face softens. 

His entire time growing up with you in the forest, he’d never seen you display as much of yourself as you had in this moment. He can feel it pouring from you, every feeling you’d kept locked tight in your heart. He sees it in your eyes, nearly feral as you tremble in his hold. 

“You love him?” It comes out more like a statement, his chest heaving. 

Love. A word that holds the weight of a thousand suns. Four letters that seal your fate. 

Did you love Ao’nung? 

No. You didn’t, but maybe…maybe you could learn to. You could learn to love him just how he’d learned you, how he meticulously dismantled every doubt you had in him. 

“I could,” you whisper. 

Neteyam’s grasp loosens and he looks wounded as he backs away from you, peering down at you like he doesn’t recognize the person you’ve become. 

As the cloud dissipates, you become aware of the eyes watching the entire debacle. 

You shrink, mortified that nearly the entire village knows of your feelings for their Olo’eyktan’s son. 

You turn on your heel to flee, but a sturdy body stands a few feet away, leaned against one of the twisted trunks of a tree supporting the surrounding maruis. 

You swallow. 

“A-Ao’nung,” you splutter. 

His smile is soft, knowing, as he pushes off the tree and comes to stand in front of you. 

“You’re popular, little leaf.” 

You buckle, head bowing in embarrassment. 

“I’m sorry, Ao’nung,” you murmur. “I…” 

His hand comes around your head and pushes your face into the smooth skin of his chest. 

You soften.

“Why are you sorry?” he asks, hand caressing your loosening braids.

“This must be embarrassing,” you whisper. 

He spins your bodies, tugging you back down along the path you marched to confront Neteyam. 

“You could never embarrass me,” he assures you, guiding you towards the village circle. One of his hands turns yours over, inspecting the tiny wounds as you two hurry along. “Let’s get you fixed up, okay?” 

You can barely swallow around the lump forming in your throat as he climbs up into an empty pod used for treating the wounded and helps you up. 

“Sit,” he coaxes, striding to the ledges of supplies, meticulously organized by his own mother. 

You obey, tears streaking your cheeks as you tuck one leg under the other. You don’t feel like the mighty warrior Jake and many of the Omatikaya have made you out to be all of these years. 

You feel small, and you feel weak. All because of a boy. 

“Hand, please,” he says gently, kneeling in front of you with an arm full of remedies. 

You oblige, offering your shaky hand, palm up. 

The blood has dried, revealing small little angry lacerations that sting when he pours a thin liquid to clean them. You hiss and the tears start again. 

“Stop,” he murmurs, wiping away the rivulets that slip. “Stop crying.” 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, fist balling involuntarily when he slathers a viscous mixture on your palm that soothes the burns. 

“Stop apologizing,” he says softly. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

He places a leaf over your palm and then wraps your hand in a soft cloth that sates the ache. When you’re all patched up, he brings your fingers to his lips, then holds them tightly in his lap. 

“I need to hear it for myself,” he sighs.

“Hear what?” you croak. 

“Every moment I spent with you since your arrival has been precious to me,” Ao’nung says. “I want you to say it to me.” 

You’re in knots, swallowing hard as he blurs. 

You take a gasping breath as you will yourself not to cry. 

“I want you, Ao’nung. I see you,” you warble. “And I’m petrified to admit it because admitting it means I’m being vulnerable, but I want you to see me too.” 

His lips curve, pulling you forward so that you have to catch yourself on your uninjured hand. 

“You scared me for a little there,” he whispers, mouth a hairsbreadth from yours. “I don’t know what I would do if all that time we spent together meant nothing to you.” 

You swallow for the thousandth time. 

“Never,” you shudder. 

His smile widens. 

“You’re not gonna stop me, are you?” he asks, lips ghosting yours as his eyes search your own. 

“No,” you murmur.

“Good,” he sighs.

He kisses you like you’re delicate, pulling you into him to taste every unspoken word you’ve held onto since the first night he came to you. 

When he pulls away from you, forehead resting against yours, he’s so quiet when he whispers. 

But you hear him all the same. 

“I see you, little leaf.” 

an — AHH second full length oneshot is done! if you've made it this far, i thank you again! i had so much fun writing this request and once more want to express gratitude the anon to shot me this idea! ALSO purposefully left out details of their little rendezvous' so that i could do some drabbles for them in the future! next fic is (finally) the lo'ak x reader i've been blabbing about.

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neng © 2023

#ao'nung #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung imagine #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar way of water #avatar the movie #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #neteyam

[oakdaddypreserveme]

halsin x briar

warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, daddy kink

i did not edit this

summary: briar gets hurt and halsin helps her

minors dni

another day of going through the wretched shadow cursed lands. though they had been fighting the undead that haunted the area for days, briar reckoned that she would never get used to them.

the latest scrap had left her with a scratch and more than a few bruises. it hurt more than she let on when shadowheart first enquired about her condition. this place was dangerous and briar couldn’t afford to let her weakness slip in front of her party. as their leader, they needed to see her as a pillar of strength and briar knew that shadowheart was out of spells for the day, just as she herself was.

so when the glow of their camp’s fire could be seen in the distance, briar was more than overjoyed. there she knew gale was waiting with a meal, and astarion was waiting to give her comfort.

and halsin was waiting to tend to her wounds.

ever since she’d freed him from the goblin camp, she had to admit that there was an undeniable chemistry between them. on their journey he’d mentored her about being a druid, especially as she was fairly new to being one before the tadpole got stuck in her brain. oftentimes they would walk through the forest as he showed her the bounty of the oakfather’s gifts. they meditated together in the stillness of the evenings.

when he guided her hand to feel nature around her it seemed that it lingered. when he encouraged her to close her eyes and take in the forest, she felt his breath on her neck. it was enough to make her ache.

but he’d made it clear that the shadowcurse was his priority when they’d celebrated with the tieflings. they’d had plenty of moments since then but briar was certain he wouldn’t act.

so when she walked into halsin’s tent, bruised and battered and in pain, it melted away immediately when their gazes met. for a moment it was as though they weren’t in the shadow cursed lands anymore. for a moment, it was just the two of them.

“you’re hurt,” he said after a pause. he stood up and approached her with a worried eyes and eyebrows knitted in concern.

“a scratch is all,” briar said noncommittally. “shadowheart and i don’t have spells left. could you spare any?”

“of course,” he said. “but this looks like more than a mere scratch, briar. what happened out there?”

she chewed her lip. “we were ambushed on the way out of the gauntlet of shar. shadows and undead. i transformed into a bear to get them all once we got over our surprise. it won’t happen again.”

briar didn’t tell him that she barely had the energy to shift in the first place. that she was exhausted. but he took one look at her and it was like he knew.

“these lands are treacherous, little one. you don’t have to take on the burden of navigating them alone.”

“i don’t—”

he shook his head. “i understand that you need to be strong in front of the others. they rely on you; you are their light in a near hopeless darkness. but i am not them. you don’t have to be strong around me.”

briar laughed humourlessly. “you would say that.”

halsin looked at her steadily. “at the grove the other druids looked to me for strength in the same way a pride of lions looks to their own leader. but i had no one who could be strong for me when i needed it most. at least, not until you saved me from the goblins. so i ask this of you: let me repay the favour.”

it took a moment to realise just how close he was. his soft breaths fanned across her face. his l skin radiated warmth upon her own. briar sucked in a shaky breath as he grabbed her hand. he still had such an effect on her.

“i’m exhausted,” she admitted in a small voice. “i could barely transform into a bear when it counted, and we only just managed to stave off the undead. gods, halsin, what would have happened to everyone here if i’d made a mistake? to thaniel and oliver?”

he pulled her into a hug and she felt safe in his strong arms. “let it out.”

briar didn’t realise she was trembling until he steadied her. she processed her emotions as best she could as halsin comforted her. she truly didn’t realise that she had been hanging on by a thread this whole time and all it took for her to come crumbling was his kind reassurance.

after a moment halsin released briar and she found that she immediately missed the way his arms felt around her. when he gestured her to sit on his bedroll, she complied.

briar sat and he rummaged around his belongings before finding some bandages and ointment. then he looked at her.

“now, where does it hurt?”

briar gestured to her mid section and there the archdruid rested his hand atop her armour before he looked at her. she nodded her consent and he lifted the top to reveal her midsection.

“silvanus’s tears, briar. this…”

her dark, freckled skin was littered with bruises, while scratches made a tapestry of her. she hissed he placed his hand on one of her many lesions.

“this will hurt but a moment, little one,” he said.

she nodded and gasped as he cast lay on hands. it stung, but eventually the feeling melted away and was replaced with a cool warmth. she found herself relaxing under his touch as she closed her eyes allowing the spell to tingle through her body.

“good girl,” he said softly. “that’s it.”

briar moaned softly at the praise, forgetting herself, but the moment she heard it coming out of her mouth it clamped shut and her eyes whipped open.

halsin’s movements stilled at the sound and he looked at her.

“gods, halsin, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to—”

“i thought you were with astarion.”

the two of them spoke at the same time and briar felt herself getting warm.

“i am…” she started. “but we’ve discussed…my nature as a wood elf. he’s accepting of me, and gave me his blessing to be with you if it ever came to that.”

“how generous of him,” he said softly. “so accepting of our culture.”

“he’s full of surprises,” briar said fondly. “but you need to focus on the shadow curse—”

“i’ve done all i can on my end with thaniel and oliver reunited, thanks to you of course.”

briar felt herself warm at his words. “it was nothing.”

he leaned in. “finding art’s lute? keeping the shadows at bay while i entered the shadowfell? finding oliver and convincing him to stay? you sell yourself short, little one. i could not have done any of it without you.”

the praises shot through her.

“in truth, i’ve admired you the moment you saved me from the goblins,” halsin said, his voice barely above a whisper. “i had my duty to liberate these lands from the curse, and i thought your bond with astarion would prevent anything from happening between us regardless. but i would be lying if i said i enjoyed our lessons together for more selfish reasons. any excuse i could have to touch you, to be near you…

“i’ve lived a long time, briar. i’ve taken many lovers. my heart does not stir lightly. but it does now.”

he placed his hand on her cheek and she leaned into the touch.

“i cannot express how much i’ve wanted you. if you would have me.”

his words were pure poetry, something the wood elf had no experience in. they flowed like water, sang like the melody of the forest. it was a wonder how she’d made it this far at all without getting charmed by the way he composed his words.

“i’m right here.” her voice was breathless as she responded and before she knew it, halsin’s lips were on hers.

briar moaned into the kiss as his hands trailed up her sides. the remnants of the spell tingled through her as he brought her closer to him, creating a delicious sensation wherever he touched.

his tongue prodded her lips and she welcomed him in, relishing the how he explored her crevice. she shivered at the sensation of him brushing her gums, which earned a smile from the archdruid.

the way he felt under her hands, so firm and warm and safe, awoke something in her. where with astarion she felt protective, with halsin she wanted nothing more than to let him have his way with her. to be whatever it was he wanted her to be. to let nature at its most primal take over.

briar bit halsin’s lip and he growled as he grabbed her hips and pulled them to his. his excitement became very apparent against her.

“poking the bear, are we?” he asked between kisses. his tone was almost feral and she relished the way he sounded. being the reason that the usually calm archdruid lost control filled her with some kind of pride. “you’re playing a dangerous game, little one.”

“from where i’m standing, it seems the bear is poking me,” she snarked and she felt him smile against her lips before he moved down to her neck. she moaned softly as he gently sucked an area that made her go wild.

afraid others would hear, briar muffled the sounds she was making with her hand. she heard halsin chuckle against her. “good girl. we wouldn’t want anyone else hearing us.”

she whimpered at his words and halsin pulled back. “it seems you enjoy when i call you that…or when i give you any sort of praise in general.”

she felt herself get warm under his gaze and couldn’t help but look away to avoid it. “i…i like it.”

a delectable smile graced halsin’s lips and he leaned into her neck to kiss it again. “you like being told how good you are for me?” he murmured against her skin. “to be told you’ve done well? to be told that you’re my good girl?”

“hells, halsin,” briar whispered. “i need you.”

he kissed her with more fervor, guiding her down so that she lying comfortably on her bedroll with his form enveloping her. halsin was large and everywhere, with his hands on her breasts, gently tugging at her nipples.

“the noises you make,” halsin whispered, his eyes glowing gold as his hands travelled lower. “gods, briar. i can’t wait to taste you on my tongue. to feel your thighs on my face like a vice. to have your walls clench around me as you cum. you have no idea how long i’ve wanted you under me, the amount of times i’ve rubbed my cock at the thought of you taking every inch of me. of marking you with my bites and having everyone at camp see them the next morning, of staking my claim—”

halsin stopped abruptly as his hands glided against her underwear . a shudder rocked through him as his eyes slid closed and he nuzzled her freckled neck.

“oak father, preserve me,” he moaned against her dark skin, his voice absolutely shattered. “you’re so wet, little one. i’ve barely touched you.”

“i can’t help it,” she responded. “you have such a way with words.”

he chuckled. “talking isn’t the only thing this mouth can do, you know.”

he moved lower, kissing every scratch and bruise on her torso like an act of worship. taking a breast into his mouth, he suckled it while the finger that was circling her drenched underwear teased her folds. briar gasped, her back arching as a soft moan escaped her lips before she watched him tear off her underwear with a growl.

“white panties on a body like yours should be considered sinful,” he muttered before tasting her on his fingers. he groaned when her taste coated his tongue and he took a deep breath as if to compose himself. “not even the sweetest honey can compare to your nectar, briar. i want to drown myself in your scent. to lose myself in you completely. i’m going to absolutely devour you.”

“is that a promise?” she asked and she gasped when he grazed her clit in response.

"you'll be the death of me," he groaned. he placed his forehead on hers and looked deep into her olive green eyes. “if that’s how you want it, we’ll need a safeword,” he murmured, tracing her jawline affectionately with his knuckles. “something you’d never say during sex.”

briar thought for a moment, noting that though his tone was soft, his intention was incredibly serious. this wasn't something that she should take lightly. “drider?”

halsin paused his movements and looked at her as he considered her suggestion before accepting it with a nod. “that’s good enough. say it out loud for me.”

“drider,” she repeated with more conviction and the older elf smiled and kissed her.

“good girl. if things get too much for you, just use that word, alright?”

“you underestimate my abilities, master halsin.”

he raised a cheeky eyebrow before plunging two of his fingers into her. “you’re going to be the death of me.”

briar opened her mouth to retort but just then halsin sent a delicious thrust of his fingers along her walls which caused her to gasp. “fuck.”

“that’s the idea,” he responded before setting a slow, teasing pace. “i'm going to taste you, but first i need to see you cum on my fingers. i need to know how you look like when i do this to you.”

though his fingers felt delicious, the pace was agonisingly slow. briar bit her lip and gasped as she closed her eyes, but her chin was grabbed suddenly which made her whip them open again.

"don't close your eyes," he said firmly. "i need to see you."

briar mewled but nodded her head, focusing on the sensation of his fingers dragging along her walls as she made eye contact with him. it felt divine, almost sinful to feel this good from such a simple movement.

though slow, the pressure began to build inside of her, trickling through her. she tried to form words between gasps around her swollen lips but was too drunk on the feeling to be able to be coherent.

"what is it, lover? use your words," he said before giving her a particularly hard thrust that made her see stars.

he knew what he was doing if the way he was smirking at her was of any indication.

"mmm...~ how m'i s'pose t'say anything if you tease me like this?" she asked between breaths, breasts heaving at another particularly hard thrust.

"hm?" he hummed. "i don't know what you mean."

"fucker," briar said without bite.

"i will be, in a moment," he promised before kissing her full lips again. "now, what was it you actually wanted to say, hm?"

she gasped again as he suckled on her neck once more and felt his teeth graze against her skin. "more."

he let out a soft, teasing breath and she knew he was chuckling. "you'll have to do better than that, briar."

"how do you mean?"

he looked her square in the eye, not for a moment pausing his ministrations. "i'm not in the business of giving in to those without manners. ask nicely."

his words cut through her. briar was never one to demean herself so easily, to give in so readily. but the way he had her in the palm of his hand, the way he got her teetering on the edge so easily...gods it did things to her. she found it easy to submit to him in that moment, to want to submit to him. to want to trust him with her whole being.

though, she didn't want him to know he won so quickly. like a child she let out a petulant hmph and said, "make me."

he paused his movements and regarded her steadily. there was a look in his gaze that was foreign to her. yes, it was still somewhat soft but there was a whisper of something darker lying underneath his eyes.

she shivered as he completely disengaged from her, leaving her cunt aching with emptiness as it tried desperately to squeeze the fingers that had left it. halsin grabbed her hands and pinned them above her, and she squirmed under his intense stare. a new pool of wetness leaked out of her as she saw his eyes flash gold.

"i'll let that slide for now because this is our first time together and you're injured," he said gently. "but if that's the kind of game you want to play i promise i can be a lot less accommodating."

his tone shot through her. she had no idea that she would enjoy being reprimanded like this. being the subject of his present ire only made her want to misbehave more.

"silvanus's breath," she muttered.

he shook his head with a smirk. "that's not the name you should be calling out when i'm having my way with you."

"oh?" she asked with her own smile. "what would you prefer? 'master halsin'?"

he cringed. "i'd prefer not."

briar smiled wickedly. "daddy?."

he froze and let out a deep breath. "you're playing with fire, little one."

"even forests get burned as nature takes it course."

halsin's grip on her hands tightened. "i was going to treat your body like an altar. i was going to taste you until you saw stars. i was going to worship you so thoroughly sune herself would be envious. but now..." he brought her leg to wrap around his hip as he slotted himself between her legs. briar felt his bulge nudge against her engorged clit and she moaned. "...i see you don't want that. at least, not tonight."

"and what do i want? enlighten me."

he growled lowly. "you want to be fucked. to be used as my plaything. to be so utterly wrecked that you forget your own name. did i get that right?" his voice had dropped an octave and she bit her lip at the promise.

"gods, yes."

"yes what?"

"yes, daddy."

"good girl."

he smiled and kissed her gently before look her in the eyes once more. they were soft, and inherently she knew he was asking if she wanted him to continue. "i'll be rough. what's your safeword?"

"drider."

he nodded before unbuckling his trousers and finally, finally, setting his glorious cock free. immediately briar's mouth watered, and halsin must have noticed her lick her lips because he laughed.

“i’ll use your mouth another time. perhaps even later tonight. but right now…” he teased her entrance with this tip. “i’m going to have my way with you, little one.”

briar struggled with her pinned arms.

“since you asked for more earlier, that’s what i’ll give you. however, because you’d forgotten your manners, you don’t get to cum until i say so. is that clear?”

“what? wait that’s not fair—”

“i didn’t ask if it was fair, i asked if i was clear,” he interrupted.

she genuinely didn’t know if she could do it, but she trusted halsin enough to know her limits so she nodded.

“the safeword is always an option,” he reminded gently. then more firmly he asked, “am i clear?”

“yes daddy.”

“good.”

slowly he began to sheathe his cock into her and the stretch burned but in the best way. she realised that he had been preparing her earlier, opening her up as much as he could and she was grateful.

“i’m halfway in,” he said gently and her eyes shot up. only halfway? gods she could die on his cock. it was better than dying by tadpole, that was for sure. what a way to go.

when he finally slotted himself into her fully, her legs trembled uncontrollably. she had to take a few long breaths as it grazed a sensitive part inside her that made her see stars. “ahhhh, halsin wait. if you move i think i’ll cum.”

“already?” he asked and when she nodded he swore under his breath. “oak father, preserve me.”

it took a moment for the intense feeling to subside and for her to nod the okay.

he began thrusting at a steady pace, slowly at first to get her used to his length. he reached down and flicked her clit which made her arch her back from how good it felt. his hips snapped into her which sent her soaring and she felt herself trembling again.

his forehead was laced with concentration as his eyebrows stitched together. sweat beaded all over his body as his muscles rippled.

briar struggled against his arm as all she wanted to do was touch him. she needed to feel his skin under her own but gods he was strong.

“halsin,” she said, closing her eyes. “please. need to touch you,”

once again he grabbed her chin and made her look at him. “what did i say, briar? as soon as you learn one rule you forget another one.”

“m sorry halsin it just feels so nice,” she said.

he tutted and increased his pace. “you learned your manners at least. as for touching me,” he rubbed her clit again, “if you can promise you can be a good girl for me, i’ll let you go.”

“yes, i promise to be good. please let me touch you.”

he loosened his grip and gave one of her hands a light kiss. “the way you beg could turn the most hardened of hearts.”

“thank you,” she said, at both the compliment and him allowing her to touch him.

their fingers interlocked as her other hand explored his torso. it was damp with sweat and rippled as he fucked into her.

the string in her was tightening once more as he carried on. the way he looked at her as she panted and gasped was almost with reverence as she fought to stave off the orgasm.

“i’m so close,” she warned.

he slowed immediately, taking his hand off her clit and leaned in to kiss her. “good girl. i didn’t even ask you to tell me.”

she whimpered into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck, not wanting him move away from her. briar pulled his hair when he thrust deeply and he moaned, swearing under his breath when her nails dug into his back and scratched him as she arched into him.

emboldened, halsin lifted her hips so his thrusts could reach deeper inside and briar screamed at the sudden change in angle.

“how does it feel, briar?” he asked softly.

“you’re reaching all the deepest parts of me,” she managed. “it’s like i can’t get enough.”

“if you can still speak so coherently, maybe i’m not doing as thorough a job,” he said before picking up the pace again.

he was rough, and briar knew she would ache for days to come but she didn’t care. she craved him like sun craves the west.

he left bites and marks all over her body to pair with her earlier bruises. she sobbed from how good it all felt and from holding onto the impending orgasm with all her might.

“halsin please,” she begged, tears in her eyes.

“just a little longer. you’re taking me so well,” he said gently.

the juxtaposition between his tone of voice and the way he was fucking her could send anyone into a dizzy spell. briar cried and begged and pleaded but not once did she even consider using the safeword. it all felt too good and a part of her wanted to see how far halsin would take her.

finally, finally, “cum for me, briar . let go for me.”

she came the hardest she ever had in her life, sobbing and thanking him as she trembled. the feeling washed through her like a river of pleasure.

with a roar, halsin came inside her, pumping her with his seed and fucking it into her. it felt good, and she whimpered as he slowed until he stopped.

halsin kissed her forehead as his orgasm waned. briar shivered when he pulled out, once again feeling empty.

halsin was on her immediately, kissing her gently before grabbing some water and a towel for her. briar drank her fill while he wiped her and got ready to cast healing touch before she grabbed his hand.

“no, i like the pain,” she said softly.

halsin looked troubled. “i went harder in the end than i intended. please, let me—”

she shook her head. “safeword, remember? i trusted you not to hurt me.”

“even then—”

a stern look from briar quickly shut him up and he shook his head. “at least let me lie with you until morning.”

“i can manage that,” she teased.

#halsin x briar #halsin x tav #bg3 halsin #bg3 #halsin #halsin fic #halsin smut

[sleepiexx]

Chin Up, Your Cowboy Hat is Falling

Valeria Garza x fem!Reader x Alejandro Vargas

Link to Pt.1

Note: Sorry this took so incredibly long, I legit had a panic attack while sick and threw up so I felt icky as fuck for a few days and I still had to go to work so I have been so fucking busy. But here it is, the long awaited sequel to Come on, Cowboy.

Summary: After their little spat at the bar, Valeria and Alejandro decide to help their best friend settle things in the bedroom— or rather, the living room floor.

Warnings: smut, afab reader, threesome, oral sex (Reader and Valeria receiving), Valeria and Alejandro don’t fuck each other (Val’s a lesbian, argue w the wall), unprotected sex (birth control tho?), pwp

Word count: 2420

Things the moment Valeria, Alejandro, and (Y/N) got in the door were heated. A mix of teeth, tongue, and lip as Alejandro and Valeria competed for their best friend’s attention. Valeria stole the place in front of (Y/N) before Alejandro could, so he stood behind (Y/N), his body pressed up against her firmly.

Clothes slipped away, piece by piece. (Y/N)’s shirt came off first, Valeria and Alejandro made sure of that. They didn’t get along enough to work together often, but when they did they were a force to be reckoned with.

Kisses were laid out across (Y/N)’s bare shoulders and neck from in front of and behind her. She let out a yelp which turned into a small moan as Valeria sank her teeth into her skin.

“You’re not going to win her affections if you keep biting her,” Alejandro scoffed, kissing the irritated mark Valeria left behind.

“She likes it,” Valeria smirked, leaning forward and grabbing (Y/N)’s gaze by tilting up her chin, “Don’t you, sweetheart?”

(Y/N) nodded, head moving as if in a trance. Valeria’s smirk widened at the motion.

“Good girl.” She muttered, capturing (Y/N)’s lips with her own.

Alejandro wouldn’t let her attention stay focused on Valeria for too long, however, as he quickly got restless watching Valeria kiss her. He ran his knuckles up her spine until he reached what he was searching for: the clasp to her bra. He undid it, maneuvering (Y/N)’s arms so he could slip the straps off of them.

With (Y/N)’s breasts now bare, Alejandro took the chance to let his hands wander. He cupped and squeezed at her before circling his fingers around her nipples. Working in time with his hands, he nibbled at her neck the same moment he pinched her nipples, leaving her gasping for breath.

Valeria parted their kiss only to be met with the sight of (Y/N)’s naked chest. She smirked, meeting eyes with Alejandro.

“Good thinking, Ale.” Valeria said, likely for the first time ever— or at least, in a very long time.

Alejandro grinned against (Y/N)’s neck at the sound of those words coming from his sworn enemy.

“It’s good to see you two getting along.” (Y/N) teased with a toothy grin, making both sets of eyes shoot towards her.

Valeria raised a brow as if to ask if she was being challenged, “Someone’s getting snarky.”

Alejandro lifted his head so it was right next to (Y/N)’s ear, “Where’s all this attitude coming from?”

But from Valeria’s reply, it was as if they weren’t talking to her, rather to each other, like she wasn’t right there in front of them.

“I don’t know, but I think we should straighten out this bad behavior immediately before it gets worse.” She suggested, trailing light touches across (Y/N)’s cheek and jaw.

Her hands traveled further down (Y/N)’s body, meeting her hips. As Alejandro muttered a small, “I agree,” she was set off, grabbing the waistband of (Y/N)’s jeans and unbuttoning them in a flash.

As Valeria tugged the jeans down (Y/N)’s legs, she sank down to her knees, eye level with her lover’s pussy. Alejandro be damned, she would be getting the first taste.

Like they had never been there to begin with, (Y/N)’s underwear disappeared quickly. Valeria wasted no time in diving into her soaking cunt, putting her hat off to the side and going in tongue first. The feeling was utterly euphoric. All the nights (Y/N) had spent with a hand buried between her legs, thoughts of Valeria and Alejandro weighing heavy on her mind, were nothing compared to this.

The feeling of Valeria licking her to oblivion, paired with Alejandro working over her breasts had (Y/N) feeling like she was about to cum embarrassingly fast.

“I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.” She gasped, hands clawing at Alejandro’s arms for leverage, leaving crescent marks deep into his triceps.

The idea of keeping herself together became near impossible as Valeria inserted her middle and ring finger right into her clenching hole.

“Fuck,” she moaned.

Alejandro could feel her resolve crumbling as she trembled in his arms, coming in real close before whispering, “let go, mi amor, let it all go.” Her eyes flashed to Valeria’s face between her legs for confirmation, Valeria simply nodded, refusing to part from her current activities.

She came harder than she had ever cum in her life, with a partner and on her own. Almost instantly, her legs gave out to the pleasure and she fell limp against Alejandro’s strong grasp.

Valeria continued licking and sucking at her clit, pumping her fingers in and out, until (Y/N) began to whine and twitch away from her in overstimulation.

She wasn’t given much of reprieve, however, as Alejandro took the chance to take his turn with her. He guided her limp body to the floor so that she was positioned on her elbows and knees, taking his place behind her.

“I’m about to show you something I can give you that Valeria can’t,” Alejandro whispered into the shell of her ear.

Valeria scoffed as he took off his hat, followed by his shirt and his jeans, discarding them and throwing them in a random unknown location across the room.

He pressed his dick right up against (Y/N)’s twitching slit, still soaking with her cum and Valeria’s spit. He made sure that his cock was thoroughly coated in the liquid before even thinking about stuffing it inside of her.

He paused for a moment, the cogs in his mind twisting. (Y/N), needy as ever, wasn’t having it, pushing her hips back in attempts to meet his. He grabbed onto her hips to stop her, “do you need me to go get a condom?”

(Y/N) shook her head, muttering “birth control, remember?” Before shoving her hips back with more force.

Alejandro smiled at her eagerness, finally giving her what she wanted as he slowly sank in, letting out a long moan while doing so.

“Fuck,” (Y/N) mumbled, chewing on her lip as her back arched so Alejandro could fit as deep as possible. He filled her up nicely, she could feel him in every inch of her vagina, perfectly rubbing up against her g spot and her cervix as his balls pressed against her clit.

His thrusts began slow, but Alejandro only had so much patience for one day. The grip of (Y/N)’s pussy wrapping around him so well had the man on the verge of going feral. In one fell swoop, Alejandro thrusted harshly enough to make (Y/N) clench, leaving no room for him to hold back any longer.

He planted himself firmly in his position before beginning to drill into (Y/N).

With the speed that Alejandro was thrusting into her, she was sent harshly into the ground. Face down, ass up, expression twisted into that of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Her senses were completely hazy to anything other than the dick drilling in and out of her in a uniform pace, that’s why it had slipped her mind that a whole other person was there. Valeria wouldn’t let herself be forgotten though, no matter if the reason was the absolute cock drunk demeanor that came with taking Alejandro’s dick.

She took her black cowboy hat from where she’d left it when she was eating (Y/N) out and placed it right atop the girl’s shaking head. (Y/N)’s gaze shot to her, keeping eye contact with Valeria as she was railed. With each deep thrust, the hat tipped further and further down, until Valeria pressed a finger under (Y/N)’s chin and tugged her face up.

Valeria grinned at the fucked out look she was met with, “Chin up, your cowboy hat is falling.”

The response she was met with was not from (Y/N), no, it was from Alejandro. He groaned loudly, “Fuck!” Shaking his head, he turned toward Valeria, “She just clenched so fucking hard at that.”

Valeria’s grin widened, eyes shooting down to meet (Y/N)’s once more, “Did you like that my sweet girl? Do you want me to keep teasing you?”

The sound of the word “teasing” made (Y/N) tremble. She shook her head profusely, no way in hell was she keeping any semblance of composure if Valeria was teasing her.

“No? Well then, what can I do for you princesa?” Valeria asked, leaning in close.

(Y/N) wasted no time on words, using all the energy she had left to push herself forward and meet Valeria’s lips with her own. The kiss started with (Y/N) in the lead but quickly became a cycle of (Y/N) getting her lower lip tugged between Valeria’s teeth then soothed over by her skilled tongue, she wasn’t complaining in the slightest.

When she parted for air, she looked utterly pathetic. Writhing on Alejandro’s dick, gasping for air, tears of pleasure wetting her eyes, and a slight bit of drool leaving the corners of her lips.

“Please.” She begged.

“What do you need?” Valeria asked, completely ready to fulfill any desires or wishes (Y/N) had.

(Y/N) looked away bashfully before staring right back at Valeria with glossy, lust filled eyes, “Let me taste you?” Her voice came out barely more than a whisper, but Valeria heard.

If Valeria were any more cruel of a woman, she would have made (Y/N) repeat herself until she was fully coherent and loud, but god, she’d dreamt of this moment far too many times to pass up the opportunity.

She nodded in approval, allowing (Y/N) to stumble over herself to grab at the waistband of Valeria’s pants and underwear. Valeria had to help her tug them down past her thighs and then completely off her legs.

When (Y/N) saw Valeria’s wet cunt, she audibly moaned, torn between staring and indulging. She ultimately decided to indulge, pressing her face hard against Valeria. It started with desperate kitten licks to her clit which turned into long, drawn out sucking, lips vibrating as she couldn’t help but moan into Valeria’s soaking heat.

Valeria, wanting to see the mess that had become of (Y/N)’s face, tilted the hat back ever so slightly so she could witness (Y/N) as she grew closer to falling apart.

In this moment, (Y/N)’s nails were vicious, biting at Valeria’s sides as she held on for dear life, what with Alejandro’s brutal thrusts bucking her around, threatening to separate her from the task at hand— or rather, at mouth. She would not fully succumb to his overwhelmingly harsh pace, at least not until she got her full of Valeria.

Valeria didn’t mind, despite usually enjoying inflicting pain, the idea of (Y/N) being so desperate for her that she’d quite literally fight tooth and nail by digging into her sides for leverage was incredibly enticing.

With thrust after thrust, (Y/N) began to lose her composure. Now closer to her second orgasm, holding on tight to Valeria became an even harder task. Ever the merciful lover, Valeria kept (Y/N) close, pressing her palm flat on top of the cowboy hat, only pushing (Y/N)’s head closer against her cunt.

Alejandro’s hand slipped down between her legs, reaching her clit. He knew she was teetering on the edge of euphoria and that the sensation of him caressing her clit whilst drilling into her would send her diving off that cliff.

(Y/N) sobbed directly into Valeria’s cunt as she lost control, unable to stop herself from cumming all over Alejandro’s bulging cock, clenching and twitching erratically.

“That’s it, sweetheart, cum for us.” He moaned, one hand trailing up and down her side in a soothing manner, all the while his other hand rubbed patterns into her clit as his hips kept up with his unforgiving pace.

She squeezed him tight, and soon after her own orgasm, she had brought him to his. Thick spurts of cum filled her uterus, giving her a warm feeling in her gut. As it overflowed from her cunt, his cum began to spill out around his dick and down both of their thighs.

This seemed to cause a chain reaction as (Y/N)’s whines and sobs sent vibrations straight into Valeria’s center. With both (Y/N) and Alejandro having already cum, she decided against holding it, allowing herself to gush straight into (Y/N)’s mouth. (Y/N) sat between her thighs, gratefully lapping up every last drop.

When the overstimulation stung too much for either Valeria or Alejandro to keep going, they pulled away from their sex drunken best friend.

(Y/N) found herself unable to stay upright, she swayed slightly before collapsing onto her side. She gasped for air, desperately trying to catch her breath.

Her two best friends were at her side in an instant. “What do you need, mi amor?” Alejandro asked, voice laced with concern as Valeria comfortingly brushed away her stray hairs.

“Water,” she croaked out, feeling entirely drained.

Alejandro nodded and instantly made his way towards the kitchen.

In the meantime, Valeria grabbed (Y/N) up off the floor and brought her into Alejandro’s bedroom. After watching (Y/N) curl up under the covers, Valeria disappeared into the bathroom to grab and wet a washcloth. Alejandro returned with the water the same time Valeria stepped out of the bathroom.

The two worked together, Alejandro tilting (Y/N)’s head up so she could drink the water as Valeria dabbed away sweat and cum.

As they finished up and (Y/N) settled into the comfy bed sheets, inhaling the scent of Alejandro lingering on them, she could hazily hear her two lovers talking to one another.

“Next time, I’m using a strap on her. Fuckin show you who can dick her down better.”

Alejandro was just about to spit back a retort before the two heard a quiet mumble from (Y/N), “Next time?”

Both sets of eyes shot towards her. Valeria scrambled to make her statement clear, “Only if you want, amor.”

(Y/N) nodded sleepily, “Mhm.”

And at that, they decided to take (Y/N)’s lead, curling into her on either side and closing their eyes as they each drifted off into a restful sleep.

#call of duty fanfic #valeria garza #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria garza x reader #valeria x reader #valeria cod #valeria garza cod #call of duty valeria #valeria x fem!reader #call of duty x reader #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro cod #call of duty smut #smut #pwp

[hells-wasabii]

Emm...If it's not too much trouble, can I have something((short drabble,but will be happy with headcanons too)with Rosie and Cherri please, would be grateful in advance!!!!👉👈

I also wish you luck in your endeavours and inspiration.(⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

A/N: Hey anon! no trouble at all! And thank you! I took different approaches with both characters since you didn't request anything in particular, so hopefully you'll like what i came up with!

Characters: Cherri Bomb, Rosie

Type: Drabble (Softness In Unexpected Places, Fluff)

Cherri Bomb

Cherri could be described as many things. She was boisterous and outgoing. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, taking on any repercussions head-on with a smile on her face.

She was a party girl, through and through. You had been smitten since you had first met her, and how could you not be? She was an absolute bombshell of a woman.

Clubbing was a common occurrence among your group of friends, though as of late, Angel Dust had been shacked up in the princess's new hotel or something. Cherri had often complained about it, missing her best friend.

But you had noticed that tonight was different. Partying, clubbing. They just weren't calling out to her tonight like they usually did. You recognized it for what it was. A distraction. So you grabbed her by the hand, paid your tab, and left the club with the party girl in tow. You knew exactly what to do.

You knew how she felt, of course, Angel was your friend too. You missed him just as much as she did, but what Cherri needed now was a place to think, not the numbing effects of alcohol and other intoxicants. A place to vent her woes.

And that was exactly where you took her. See, you had a spot of your own, a safe place up on the roof of your apartment overlooking Pentagram City.

The two of you didn't speak much as you sat shoulder to shoulder on the rooftop that night, you didn't have to. You knew that Cherri had been partying harder than usual lately, trying to keep her mind off of things. But you were here now together. You were here for her, something that you reminded her of with every squeeze of the hand.

"Thanks, love." She uttered softly, almost as if she was afraid that if she spoke too loudly, the peace would shatter.

You simply smiled, pressing a kiss to your girlfriend's temple. "Anytime."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Rosie

Rosie was frightening, but this went without saying. She was both an overlord and the leader of Cannibal Town, after all. The woman was a force to be reckoned with. At least, that had been what you'd heard. You had never met her before, only in passing and in the company of other demons.

When you finally officaly met the cannibal, you were lost and at a loss. As you walked the streets of Cannibal Town looking this way and that with trepidation, you could feel a pit of despair settle in your stomach. How did you even get here?

With no true destination in mind, you drew a deep breath and entered what seemed to be an empty shop. You, or at least the were promptly greeted

"Welcome to Rosie's Emporium, dear. Give me a moment and I'll be right with you." called a voice, sweet as syrup, from what you assumed to be the back room.

You were honestly surprised by the elegance of the place. Walking over to a display you marveled at the selection of items. The same voice from before called out again, clearer now. "Sorry for the wait, darling! My assistant is out for the day and- oh, I don't need to be worrying you with my problems. What can I do for you today?"

"Um, hi." You greeted. Weary still, you turned to face the demon who now stood behind the counter. Rosie was tall, and so very pretty. There was a graceful air to her, something that you had picked up on before in passing. With cautious steps, you made your way to the counter. Rosie however, skipped the greeting.

"You don't seem to be from around here darling. Oh! Are you looking to expand your palette perhaps? I have a wonderful selection to choose from for first-time foodies!"

"Ah, no.. sorry. I'm actually kinda lost-" You barely had been able to get the words out of your mouth before her sharpened grin widened. She clasped her hands together as she rounded the counter to stand before you.

"Oh, my! That's not good! I tell you what, dear. Give me a moment to wrap this delivery up and I'll help you find your way."

And help you she did. She even gave you a tour of the town. It had been an absolute delight. Conversation with the woman came easy, and any unease that you might have had before melted away. You learned about the town and those who inhabited it.

You really hadn't expected her to be as sweet as she was. As ironic as it may sound, you might have gotten a taste for Cannibal Town. Or at least the woman in charge. You would be sure to come back through, on purpose next time.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin headcanons #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #cherri bomb x reader #rosie x reader #drabble #fluff

[lurkingshan]

I've been thinking a lot about the depictions of generational trauma and parental accountability being presented in dramas lately. Since you've watched way more than me, especially outside of BLs, what are some shows that present or include parental accountability?

This is such a good question and one I have been thinking about a lot since Last Twilight episode 10 aired. Westerners often assume that because of Asian cultural norms around filial piety, parental authority, and respect for elders, we can never expect satisfying parental accountability in our Asian drama narratives. But that's not true! It's been done and done well. It’s because these values are so deeply embedded in most Asian cultures that Asian creators are the best positioned to speak on the harms they can cause, and will often embed these themes in their work.

Now, there is an important distinction to make here: the difference between what characters do, and what the story communicates. A character may choose to abide by honoring their parents at all costs, but the story can still communicate how harmful that is. A character may never apologize for something they have done wrong, but the story can still make it clear they have fucked up and hold them accountable for that via tangible consequences. Here are a few examples from bl to illustrate what I mean, and the different ways this can show up in dramas.

Bad Buddy

One of the most obvious examples of parental accountability in genre, and also a pretty full metal version of it. This entire story is about the damage Ming and Dissaya did their sons with their decades-long feud and insistence on pushing that trauma down on their children, and we got some extremely cathartic scenes of Pat and Pran telling their parents exactly what they thought about that. Of course, even though they raged at their parents, they never got the apologies they deserved (and likely never will) and still had to hide their relationship to appease their parents going forward. But that doesn't mean there was no accountability here. The entire narrative held these parents accountable by showing us how they were harming their sons, forcing them to reckon with it, and ultimately showing them settling into a form of resigned acceptance.

Until We Meet Again

This entire show is about Korn and In's reincarnated souls healing from the trauma of their tragic ending, which was brought upon by the familial pressure and rejection they experienced from their fathers. We not only saw Dean and Pharm work through this trauma and forge new bonds with family members, we saw the direct aftermath of their first deaths, the despair and regret their families felt, and the ceremony that tied their souls together as a result. It's big karmic accountability on a grand scale, and the show never flinched from letting us see exactly how much harm was caused by these parents, or how the tenets of filial piety resulted in Korn's despair that he couldn't be what his father wanted. Even more crucially, we were shown, not just told, the counterpoint impact of good parenting, when Dean and Pharm were accepted by their families in their second life.

Blueming

A rare example of an Asian parent being called to the carpet, feeling the wrongness of their actions, and actually apologizing for it. This does in fact happen in drama! Si Won's mom raised him to hate himself, to be ashamed of his body, to fake his way through life so people would like him, and boy did it do a lot of damage. The story showed us how this affected Si Won and his relationships deeply, and brought him to the point where it finally burst out of him. And his mom, to her credit, was dismayed to understand what she had done to her son. This show also gets bonus points for Da Un standing up to his own mother after she interferes in the film contest.

Bed Friend

Uea's mother's sins against him are numerous, and I will not go into them all in detail to spare my own sanity. She is an abusive parent so horrific that she can never be forgiven, and doesn't need to be. An apology from her would be utterly meaningless. Instead, the drama holds her to account via showing us what she's done to Uea and the work he has to do to heal from the trauma she caused, and ultimately having her son cut her out of his life. It's the biggest consequence she can ever face for her choices and that Uea finds the courage to do it is the story's biggest triumph.

What Did You Eat Yesterday?

On the subtler end of the scale, we have our beloved KNT, which weaves parental accountability through its story in the long, slow journey for Shiro's mother to accept who he is and the partner he has chosen in life. What I love most about this particular depiction is that it's not at all linear in nature. We see her make strides by finally acknowledging Kenji and inviting him to her home, and then backtrack by rescinding the offer due to her own discomfort, and then include him in her family planning to ensure he will be cared for after her death. She’s homophobic and traditional, but she loves her son and sees how much happier he is with Kenji in his life. She is constantly reckoning with that tension. And Shiro and Kenji, being of an older generation themselves, don't hold it against her, even as the show makes sure we understand how much it hurts them. They are not okay with it, but they do understand why she's like this, so they take what she can give and forgive the rest. It's a really touching portrayal of this kind of impasse in a family.

Moonlight Chicken

There are several different vectors of parental accountability in MLC. There is Heart confronting his parents over their neglect and abuse and finally demanding to be treated with dignity. There is Li Ming directly calling out his mother for how her life choices have affected him. And there is Li Ming and his surrogate dad, Jim, working out their issues so that they can communicate better, and so that Jim can learn to stop pushing his own fears and anxiety down onto the next generation. All of it handled with deftness, with care, and with clear purpose to examine the ways intergenerational trauma can perpetuate in the absence of accountability.

#holding out hope that aof comes through on this in lt but compared to his previous work in this arena ep 10 was definitely lacking #last twilight #bad buddy #until we meet again #blueming #bed friend the series #kinou nani tabeta #moonlight chicken #shan answers #shan recommends

[partycatty]

liu kang > in the new era

reader used to be a sweetheart and hero in the previous timeline, but something changed this time around.

warnings: :(, i'm a bit of a yapper in this one

notes: idk this one kinda flew off the handle but i had a vision

masterlist <3

•liu kang creating everyone with the strength and humility he carried in thunder god raiden's honor following becoming keeper of time

•he made everyone beautiful, everyone worthy and capable of good, honest work and for that he was proud

•of course, some of them strayed from the ideal path and sought to increase their strength, but perhaps it was always in their character to conquer. that, liu kang couldn't change.

•but you... it was you that he least expected to abandon that honor you always had.

•you were a good fighter, an honest worker and a force to be reckoned with when it came to kicking shao kahn's ass. the shaolins looked up to you. the shirai ryu used you as an example. the lin kuei knew not to fuck with you. the special forces practically begged you to lead their army alongside the Cage-Blade family.

•he could have had you, the romantic attraction was heavily implicated. but alas, the only time you two interacted was during a horrific Koliseum brawl or otherwise breaking bones.

•the last time he saw you was before his battle with kronika. you said you hoped to see him after the battle, and perhaps get to know each other sometime.

•he was sad to see that version of you erased from existence, but you were absolutely first on his list of people to shape. it felt wrong at first, to create you from nothing like the god he was. but he wouldn't be able to make a perfect world without you.

•when he came to your home to recruit you, he was nearly winded with your beauty. you looked just like he remembered, but with an innocent sparkle in your eyes, the eyes that were yet to see murder and magic. skin that wasn't stained with deep red blood. clothes that were neat and ordinary.

•you were always so curious, so willing to step in where you were needed. so it came as no surprise when you asked the fire god where to begin to defend earthrealm.

•months of training passed, and you naturally found that fighting skill. you joked about how it must be in your blood to know how to fight, and liu kang would hold his tongue, his eyes staring down at you with that deep feeling of loss and longing. he would simply smile and innocently agree.

•the time came for you to confront shang tsung in his laboratory and take him in for questioning. you went with the other earthrealmers, yet found yourself naturally leading the way.

•kenshi lost his eyesight, johnny got his shit kicked in, and kung lao got clotheslined. you were the only one of the group to remain conscious. shang tsung inspected you closely, claiming that you were just what he was looking for.

•you go missing for over a month. liu kang gets the help of the royal family despite their lack of knowledge about the mission in the first place. everyone is searching for you, and he has to resist the urge to burn down every forest and smash every boulder until he finds you.

•the hunt for you turns into a search for your body, as most presume you dead. it brings a heavy blanket of depression over the earthrealmers and liu kang.

•liu kang spends far more time than usual in his personal quarters, meditating with a tense posture. how could he let you get away from him? it nearly drives him mad, missing you dearly, but he wouldn't be able to express it. you were your new era self, with no clue about your previous self.

•the mourning only lasts so long before an all-out timeline war begins, and liu kang has to shove past the grief eating away at his godlike heart and gather the titans and heroes of other timelines to band together and defeat titan shang tsung.

•liu kang stands at the foot of the pyramid, fists clenched and jaw shut tight. behind him are hundreds, thousands of pure-hearted titans, ready to combat evil. the tension only grows when titan shang tsung saunters into view, a dark aura surrounding himself.

•"there is nowhere to run, shang tsung," liu kang shouts upward at his mortal enemy, channeling his anger of his lost love. "nowhere to hide. we have banded together to rid all timelines of your evil. the threat you pose to them ends today. in all timelines, the arc of history bends toward justice."

•"such certainty, liu kang, that this battle will end in your favor," shang tsung replies with a devilish smirk, a peculiar confidence radiating from his words. "in this timeline, it bends toward me."

•and from behind shang tsung, you walk out, eyes dark and wearing armor that resembles an enemy. your mind had been corrupted by power. after being captured, you were passed onto titan shang tsung, who knew of your strength and potential from the previous timeline. he filled your mind with ideas of power and endless possibilities at the cost of betraying Earthrealm.

•liu kang does not often feel physical emotion, but seeing you in that moment crushed him. his stance faltered and his arms lowered to his sides. the once innocent glimmer he saw in you was now gone.

•liu kang fights his way up the stairs, sending various evil versions of his friends into the green, hellish pit. he knocked the glasses off of dark star cage, beat kitana kahn into submission, and even took down a fiery scorp lao.

•when he makes his way up to the top, winded but still ready to battle if needed, he feels that pang in his chest return when he sees you stand beside shang tsung in a fighting stance.

•"please... i do not wish to fight you," liu kang tries to reason with you with a hint of desperation. "it is not too late to return to the light."

•"i know of your deceptive behavior, fire god," you reply with a nasty tone, mind corrupted by shang tsung's lies and delusions. "i will not hesitate to take you down."

•liu kang really, really did not want to fight you. he couldn't even use the defense that you weren't his (y/n). but you were. you were from his timeline. he made you, and fucked up. bad.

•all he could do was stand there, fists clenching and unclenching rapidly as he debated his options. but all the while, he held eye contact with you and your snarling face. you looked at him like he was a villain, because you were convinced that he was.

•for the first time in eons, liu kang wondered if resetting the timeline would be best. he knew he shouldn't, he saw what the power did to kronika. but god, it had never been that tempting until this very moment.

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #liu kang #liu kang x reader #crying screaming throwing up rn

[zeltqz]

— rindou/fem!reader (9.3k words)

cw—virginity loss, mentions of getting together, implied sexual assault & kidnapping (not from rindou)

a/n— inspired by anon lino. Thx for the request, I switched sum stuff up tho bc it was already long as shit n I didn’t wanna make it like 15 k words 💀‼️

Your father is a force to be reckoned with.

Listed as one of Japan’s top twenty politicians, he’s already made a public figure in the eyes of the press & population.

Some hate him, others love him. You wouldn’t know though, not being let outside of your house for safety reasons. It’s lonely a lot of the time, being stuck in your big house with your siblings all day, tall men in black suits, glasses, and ear pieces watching your every move.

Though you were one of the richest families in the country, you felt trapped in a jail cell. The only difference was your cell was a huge mansion with security locks that changed every few weeks, the code only being told to trusted security.

‘It’s for your own good’ he defends his behaviour, thinking isolating his children at home instead of giving them a life for themselves outside is for your safety.

If you needed education? You were schooled online. The best mentors in the country are paid by your father to tutor you and your siblings. If you wanted to make friends? Don’t be stupid.

What do you need friends for when you’re surrounded by all this luxury?

It was lonely , isolating , and boring .

That was why when your father was at one of his meetings, late at night, you took the opportunity to sneak out, replacing a body double made from extra pillows hidden under your sheets. 

It was thrilling leaving the house alone for what felt like the first time in years. You were allowed outside of course, your father wasn’t cruel, just protective. But with your freedom came at a price, not allowed outside without the presence of a tall man—maybe two if your father felt the need for it— tailing your every move. 

Now though? You were able to walk around the streets late at night without the feeling of someone watching you from behind. You had no clue what to do though, looking around, half the stores were closed, save for that late night 7-Eleven at the end of the road. Bright green, yellow, red lights attract you towards it like a moth to a flame.

The inside is packed full with items ranging from snacks, meals, drinks. You walk around like someone who’s never shopped for themselves before. It’s quite embarrassing, you think, the loathing bitter resentment you have for your father isolating you almost your whole life stirs deep, and green inside your stomach. 

You pick out a small snack bar from the aisle and head towards the counter. You’re not that hungry, you just felt bad for walking in a store, seeing nothing you like, then leaving. It seems rude.

By the time you get to the counter, the woman pops her gum as she tells you the price, looking at you with a strange look you can’t decipher. 

“One sec—” You smile at her.

She ignores it, rolling her eyes. 

It was then you realised you’d forgotten your wallet at home, as well as your phone, the excitement from sneaking out made you lose all common sense apparently. 

“I—I don’t have any money.”

“Huh?” The cashier’s voice was high in pitch, purely shocked. “Rich girl like you has no money? What, did your daddy cut your allowance or what?”

“I—wait.” You blink at her, bewildered. “You know who I am?”

“Duh.” 

“Oh.” You swallow your nerves down, looking bashfully at the ground.

There was a feeling that your father was hated in this town, you don’t really blame the people for thinking so. Even you yourself hate your father. You know nothing about politics because you refuse to listen to your fathers lectures on it. So you can only imagine that the rest of the country, those who are directly affected by his political beliefs, might hate him too. 

A hand claps down on your shoulder, startling you. Looking up, a tall guy, slightly shorter than your bodyguards, stands behind you, holding out the right amount of change in his hand, sliding them across the counter. 

“It’s on me,” he tells the cashier, who nods her head, then jostles you with his shoulder. “Now you owe me a favour.”

There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, the smile on his face screams he’s up to something, but you don’t look into it, only happy someone was kind enough to save you from embarrassing yourself further. 

“What favour?” 

“Come with me.” He doesn’t answer your question, just leads you out of the store. His hand rests on your lower back the entire time, and you feel uneasy, but still push it down, berating yourself for being so cautious, on guard, around a man who was willing to help you out and pay for you. 

“Where—” Your voice cracks from nerves, so you clear your throat and try again. “Where are we going?”

He ignores you. 

When you try to slow your pace, the hand on your back pushes you onwards, practically forcing you to move. It was when he’s leading you to an alleyway, the nerves you forced down come back full force, a thick, heavy lump forming in the confined space of your throat.  

“I don’t think this is—” He pushes you into the alleyway; you land on the floor with a yelp.

“Is that her?” 

A voice, husky, gruff, speaks up, different from the man from before. 

You try to look up, but your vision is blurred, only seeing specs of colour you assume are people. The thick, pungent smell of cigarettes fills your nostrils, then a foot, heavy and dirty, steps on your head, not applying pressure to hurt, just keep you immobilised on the floor.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“Nah, I don’t believe it. Pull out a pic or somethin’.”

You want to cough, the cigarettes making it hard to breathe. One of the men crouches down in front of you, pushing the guys foot from your face in favour of tugging you upwards by your hair roots. 

“You know why you’re here, right?” He wriggles your head in his hand like he’s rolling a dice, probably uncaring to the way your scalp feels like it’s burning on fire right now. “I asked you a question.”

“I don’t—ow, sir, man, please stop…it hurts—”

“Sir?” He spares a glance to the guy behind you, then his grin turns wolfish. “I like the sound of that.”

“Don’t do too much with her. We need her stable if we’re gunna show her daddy.”

“How much money you think she’ll be worth?”

“As long as she got all her limbs, no cuts or bruises a decent price, but if we rough her up a lil’ bit, she might be worth a bit more.”

Your body feels weak, tense, mouth dry, ears full of static as you listen to these men talk about you like you’re a slab of meat getting pawned off at a butchers, talking about you like you’re not even here.

If only you’d just stayed home tonight, stayed in the confinement of your bedroom, warm and cosy, smells like perfume and scented candles that your grandma gifts you every Christmas, instead of being here, face messy from the dirty floor, hair roots on fire, nostrils scarred with the burning scent of tobacco. 

The man lets go of your head, and it hits the floor, your head throbs painfully from the hit. 

“You think she’s a virgin?”

“Go check.”

Check? 

Your stomach churns, empty lungs short of breath when the man goes to touch your sweatpants, panic rising in your blood.

“No, please, don’t—ow!” You scream in pain when he pushes your head back down to the ground, some dirt entering your mouth. 

“ Shut up .” 

You’re kicking and screaming at this point, but it’s useless as his hands pull down your sweats. 

Cold air smacks your bare skin and you want to cry, heat burning the edges of your eyes as tears form, but no sound comes out.

“Your daddy is fuckin’ up this country, you know that, princess?” The pet-name is cold, icy, as he grits it out like it’s meant to be pleasant. 

His finger slides against your clothed folds, and your heart is racing, body limp on the floor as he continues his speech. “You probably don’t know that, huh. You rich fuckers only think about yourself.”

“I don’t,” you gasp out, weakly, hot tears stinging at your eyes.

“Don’t what?”

“Agree with him. I hate him too—hate him so much,” you whimper into the ground, wet chunky tears soaking down your face. 

He lets out a hefty sigh, fingers stop touching you down there, and he stands up with a sigh, relighting another cigarette. He takes a puff, a moment to relax himself, and turns to his group. 

“What now?” He’s not talking to you, gesturing over to the other men who’ve been watching the whole ordeal with nothing but a straight face. 

“I dunno.”

“Ain’t this kinda embarrassin’?” 

The men look at the new voice that speaks up from behind them. From what you can spot with your limited vision, he has blue stripes riddled within his blonde hair, adjusting his gold glasses on his face, looking at the group with a disgusted look. 

“Fuck does this have to do with you?” The one with the cigarette breath barks out, eyebrows creased with anger. “Go on somewhere.”

The guy simply ignores them, looking straight at you. You feel your blood run cold when you meet his stare. “You alright?”

“I—”

“Don’t answer him.” The guy next to you slaps his hand over your mouth. “Don’t address her.”

“You guys really have nothin’ else to do at night than harass some innocent girl?” 

You fear for the guy defending you as he steps closer into the alley, the sound of his boots echoing in your ears as he makes his way towards you. You want to tell him to run, go somewhere, don’t get hurt because of you, but he seems awfully confident, and you couldn’t speak if you tried. 

“Innocent? Please, you know who her father is, right?”

He shrugs his shoulders, crossing his arms together. “Na. Who is it?”

“That stupid fat politician scum that’s tryna fuck with our rights.”

He gives him a blank stare, hands shoving themselves into his pockets. “So…what’s that gotta do with her? Go touch up her daddy then. Or what, you scared? Can’t take on a fat man, huh.” 

The implication has the guy seething, nostrils flaring as he rips his hand away from your mouth, dropping your head back onto the floor with a smack. 

There’s another dull throbbing sting in your head doing nothing but amplifying the previous pain, and your wince catches the attention of the guy defending you. 

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you.” The man gets all up in his face, practically drooling like a feral animal without a leash.

“That so? What are you waiting for then?” He smirks as he grabs onto the man’s hands, bunching them into fists and positions them by his own face. 

His confidence, his blank stare, his voice…you can’t help but gawk at him, mind hazy as you watch the scene go down. “Hit me, c’mon. I even put you in position.”

The guy spits onto the ground, wiping his nose before lifting his hand to punch him.

“Dude, back the fuck up.” His friend pulls him away, ignoring the complaints and death threats spewing from his lips. “Rin, he didn't mean to threaten you. We weren’t going to do anythin’ to the girl, I promise.”

“Rin?” He cocks his eyebrow meanly. “Are we friends? I don’t know you, don’t call me that.”

The guy slams his mouth shut so quick and fast, his teeth clamp against each other. “S-sorry, Rindou. But I mean it—we really weren’t gonna do anythin’ bad to her! We just wanted to scare her daddy into givin’ us some money. That’s all! I promise…”

“Promise? You really expect me to believe that shit?” Rindou stares at the man who shakes his head in fear. He looks down at you, and your blood runs cold once more. “Did they touch you?”

“He—well, he touched me down there.” You look down at your private area. 

The guy guilty of it scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. “It was barely even a touch.”

You glare at him from where you’re sitting, feeling a surge of confidence flow through you now that Rindou is here keeping them at bay. “You still touched me, asshole.”

“I’ll fuckin’ do worse if you keep runnin’ that slutty mouth of yours,” he snarls.

Rindou clicks his tongue, unimpressed, lifting you from the floor easily, hoisting you onto his shoulder. 

It’s impressive to you how effortless the action was, butterflies flancing around in your stomach when his arm holds your waist to support you. 

“You guys better pray my brother doesn’t find out about this.”

“Fuck you and your weak ass brother.” 

That guy has some serious anger problems, because even his own friends are gawking at him like he’s a lunatic for spitting those words out. 

Probably some unspoken code in these streets to not insult the ‘brothers’.

Now you’re curious. 

“Yeah?” Rindou only chuckles, says nothing more, pulling out his phone from his back-pocket. You lay on his shoulder as he dials who you assume is his brother. 

The silence in the alley is deafening, you can practically hear the group's hearts beating out of their chest as the line rings. 

“Yo?”

“Bro, guess what?” 

“What?”

Rindou walks over to the dude who thinks he’s all that. “Found this guy that thinks he can beat you up, thinks you’re weak ‘n shit. And actually, he said he could kill you.”

There’s a snort over the line. “What’s his name?”

Rindou nods over at him. “What’s your name?” 

When he refuses to respond, there’s a beat of silence, then Rindou kicks the guy in the knee, sending him dropping to the floor without a beat. 

You’re almost certain you heard a cracking noise, then the guy is screaming in pain. You can’t see due to your position on his shoulder, only looking at his friends who stare at him with a sense of pity, but refuse to speak up themselves. 

Rindou drops to his level, bringing you down with him. “I said, what’s your name?” 

For the sake of it, Rindou digs his hand on his probably—no, definitely broken knee the same way he stepped on your head, applying pressure each second the guy fails to cough up his name.

“It’s Yamajiki Kenzo! Stop—argh, it hurts! Fuck—” He splutters out, desperately trying to push Rindou off. 

Rindou clicks his tongue, standing upright, and brings the phone back to his ear. “Didja get that, Ran?”

Ran says with a yawn, “we can find him tomorrow, no biggie.”

“Actually—ah man, looks like I broke his knee. My bad.” Rindou sends him an unapologetic smile, and the guy looks like he’s three seconds away from jumping at him.

He hangs up the phone, tugging it back inside his pocket, turning to face the group. 

“Anyway, I’m taking the girl now, or—” he jostles you on his shoulder, catching your attention. “Want me to fuck them up for you?”

“Wha—”

“Did they hurt you?”

“I mean, yeah—but—” You look around. Half of them are scared half to death right now, it won’t do you any justice seeing them beat up on the floor. Part of you wants to be the ones to hit them though, get revenge for yourself. “I don’t know.”

“Say what? You want me to let ‘em go?”

“I don’t care…I just wanna go home…”

“How’s this,” he jostles you one more time, “I take you home and tomorrow I’ll fuck ‘em up for you.”

“Home? No, no. You can’t take me home—my dad he—he doesn’t know I’m out right now. I have to—”

“I can sneak you in. It’s no biggie, I’ve done it before.”

“Okay…”

“Great.” He turns to face the group. “Just wait till tomorrow. Oh and you might wanna bandage that up. Gonna look fuckin’ nasty in the morning.” He gestures to the guy on the floor with a broken knee, his face burning with sheer rage, eyes narrow, and sharp. 

“Whatever.”

Rindou puts you back on the ground outside the alleyway, watching you dust yourself off. A hot flush spreads across your cheeks and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. 

“Thanks, Rindou. I really appreciate it.”

“‘S no big deal.” His phone vibrates in his pocket so he goes to check it. “Ah, I gotta go. Somethin’ came up.” He folds it shut. “You okay goin’ back home alone?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Kay, stay safe.” 

“Bye…” Your words trail off when he heads the opposite direction. You watch him leave, heart twitching a little in disappointment because you wanted to know more about him. You’re unsure you’ll ever be able to see him again unless you get yourself into more trouble, but then again, he’s not Spiderman, showing up at any signs of danger. 

Today was merely a coincidence.

You wish you’d bought your phone. 

The walk home was rough. Your face and jaw aches like hell, your legs were sore from being pushed onto the ground without a care. Your heart still hasn’t slowed down, could feel it roaring in your ears with every beat. 

You managed to sneak back inside your house without getting caught. Everyone was asleep, minus the family dog, rummaging through the kitchen trash. The security were asleep on their posts, and they’d most definitely be fired if your dad caught them.

You flop back onto your bed with a long, exasperated sigh, staring up at the ceiling, reminiscing over today’s events. You search your pockets quickly, frowning when the snack bar the guy bought you wasn’t there. It probably fell on the floor. 

Well that’s a bummer. 

You find your phone deep inside your drawers, unlock it, and start researching. Crime in Roppongi has gotten so high over the last couple months, mainly due to the fact those in power are money hungry, only caring for themselves, raising the prices for everybody that can’t afford things. Your dad is a part of that group, and no wonder everybody hates his guts so much. 

Everything gets paid for you, which is why you didn’t see this as a big deal at first, thinking money was something that came easy to people. But the sheer rage on those guys’ faces made you realise some have it way harder than others, and greedy folks like your dad and his party are only out there caring for themselves.

Though it was a traumatic experience, you learnt a lot from it. 

It’s no wonder why gang activity in the area has been rising steadily. Stealing food and money to survive, dropping out of schools because they can’t afford it anymore.

You fell asleep with your phone on. Your father enters your room in the morning, a little bit confused you had some dirt on your face. He taps you awake. You stir, but don’t fully wake up yet, too tired and exhausted from yesterday's events.

“What is that…” he questions, shifting your body upright to see your face better.

The side of your face had signs of minimal bruising, obvious dirt on your face, staining your skin mud brown, your lip has a slight cut on the upper lip, and your eye was slightly bruised.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” He’s shaking you awake by force this time, and your eyes shoot open, startled, springing up from your bed and wiping your eyes.

“What? Daddy, why’re you here?”

“ Your face .” He reaches out to cup your cheek. You blink at him, utterly confused, brain hazy and muddled from sleep. “What happened to you?”

A quick peek in the side mirror across your room reveals your damaged face. 

So last night wasn’t a dream? Maybe you should’ve figured since it was clearly obvious that in real life you did not have sex with dream Rindou. It was so amazing, despite being a virgin, the sensations were completely up to the imagination. He was touching you down there with those big hands of his, fucking you with that cock of his. 

You were in the midst of riding him before your stupid father decided to shake you awake, breaking your thoughts, bringing you back to reality. 

Wiping the crust from your eyes, you glared at your dad. “Just leave me alone. I wanna go back to sleep.”

You shove his hand off your face, mood sour, sinking back between your sheets. 

“Why is there dirt and bruises on your face? Who did this to you?”

“It was nobody! Okay? I just fell. Go. Away.”

Your dad sighs, rubbing a hand on your shoulder to attempt at soothing you. It only makes you groan, wanting to push him away further, preferably out of your room forever. 

“I know you’re lying to me, but I can tell you’re upset about something. So I’ll talk to you later.”

“Whatever.”

By the time he’s gone, you try to head back to sleep, try to force your brain to return to that delicious dream you were having, but all fails. You can’t even get back to sleep, yet alone dream that exact scenario again. 

Later that night, after you’ve fixed makeup on your bruises, you sneak out one more time, this time with a mission and a purpose. Phone and wallet in your back pocket, you came prepared. 

It seems the name Rindou holds quite a name in the town, asking the people around led you to his current location, what seemed to be a nightclub. You’ve never been inside one before, having seen them all in the movies. It was almost exactly the same, yet more overwhelming, crowds and crowds of people dressed in suits, mini dresses, long dresses, short skirts—you were most certainly underdressed, now realising that now that you left the house in a simple black tank top, paired with a matching black zip up hoodie, and a fresh, clean pair of sweatpants. 

You look like you were heading out to a sleepover, rather than a private nightclub, and you instantly regret your outfit choice. 

Rindou, on his way down the steps, spots you looking around as if searching for someone, and he can’t help but feel sorry for you. God, you’re so stupid, walking into a place you clearly don’t belong. From your outfit, down to the way you were being pushed around by everybody in the thick crowd. 

He sighs, making his way towards you, muttering excuse me’s to everybody he’s shoving past to reach you. His hand latches onto your elbow, making you yelp since your back was turned, and you turn around to punch the dude, only to soften when you see him. 

“Rindo—” He’s yanking you through the crowd before you could even finish his name, and you’re trying to push him off you, screaming at him to let him go. “Get off me!”

He’s ignoring you, dragging you out of the main room, into the hallway with all the bathrooms. “What the fuck are you doin’ here?” You open your mouth to speak when he cuts you off. “And don’t say to party, because you and I both know that’s bullshit.”

You swallow your words down, chin lowering towards your chest, avoiding eye contact. 

How on earth are you supposed to explain that you were here on behalf of a dream you had the night before and want to re-enact it in real life without coming off as desperate ?

“I—I just wanted to see what a nightclub was like…that’s it.”

“Wearing that?”

“Ok. Rude.” You spot dried blood on the side of Rindou’s face, underneath his glasses. You take a step forward, he takes one back, confused when you keep walking forward, eyes trained on his face.

“What? What are you doing?” He’s backed up against a wall when you reach out to touch his face, thumb wiping over the blood from his face. It’s stained, so you frown, digging around your pocket for some tissues “Why are you touching my face?”

“Because there’s blood on it. What happened? Did those boys from yesterday hurt you? Oh my god, I told you not to go after them! I said I would handle it and now you’re hurt because of me—”

“Relax? Jeez, this ain’t because of you, or from them. It’s somethin’ else.”

“What then?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He grabs your hands away from his face, putting them back down at your sides. “Now, are you gonna tell me why someone like you is out here at a club like this at night?”

“I—it’s embarrassing…”

“Now I gotta know. C’mon, tell me.”

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest, the action pressing your tits together, cleavage exposed from your shirt. Rindou’s eyes not-so-subtly drop downwards, eyeing the crevice between your breasts. You feel fuzzy when you notice it, hoping he finds you as attractive as you find him. 

“If I tell you, you can’t laugh. At all, ‘kay?”

“Sure, c’mon what is it?”

“I…want you…to have s-sex with me.” It felt like a weight has been lifted off your chest, body feeling ten times lighter once the words got out. The initial feeling of anxiety lingers at the bottom of your stomach as you wait for his response.

He says nothing, unblinking deep-set purple eyes stare at you, bewilderedly. His brain works 100mph to figure out how to respond to that. He’s had sex before, a couple one-night stands in the past with different girls, had a girlfriend for a couple months who he had regular sex with until they broke up. It’s not often he has girls asking him for sex, they normally initiate it themselves, pulling him in for a kiss, touching his shoulders, thighs, suggestively. 

To have you in front of him like this, asking for it…he’s not sure how to respond to that. “You what?”

“I want you to have sex with me. I had a, uh, dream last night about it and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so I want you to have sex with me. Only if you want to, though I would appreciate it if you said yes.” 

You wriggle your hands beneath your shirt, fiddling clumsily with your fingers, watching the bewilderment play out on his face. 

He even scratches his head, contemplating your answer. 

“I mean, sure? But—”

“Really?!” Your voice pitches higher with joy, then clears your throat to bring it back. “I mean, really?”

“Yeah I guess.” He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets, heading towards the back door of the club. “You comin’?”

“Wha—what, now? You mean now?!” You jog up to him, crossing the distance quickly! He opens the door, you follow behind him mindlessly as he makes his way to his car. 

“Yeah, ain’t that…what you wanted?”

“Yeah! Sorry I was just—”

He grunts, rubbing an exhausted hand over his forehead. “Stop talkin’, c’mon already.”

You snap your lips shut, nodding silently as you enter the front seat of his car. The entire ride to his place has you shifting nervously in your seat, seat belt digging uncomfortably tight against your chest. 

The view outside is calming, the streetlights flashing against your face as you stare out the window makes you feel like you’re in a movie. 

“Alright, get your ass on the bed.” Rindou nods at his bed, beginning to shed his shirt off. You blink at the sight of his bare chest, thick black ink covering the right side of his chest. It’s distracting, but attractive, mouth salivating at the sight. When you do nothing but stand there, he cocks his eyebrow at you. “Did you hear me?”

“No—I was just…wow.” 

He looks confused for a second, following your fixated gaze towards his chest. “Oh, this?”

“Yeah…it’s—so cool.” He snorts, moving towards his bed, dragging you down with him. “Did it hurt?”

“I don’t feel pain.” He’s half paying attention to your words, tugging you onto his lap, hands eagerly untying your sweatpants strings.

“Ooh, edgy—hey! Calm down—” you yelp when he drags your hips forward fiercely, struggling to undo the knot.

“How many times did you loop this shit? What the fuck.” 

“I dunno—I just do it.”

He finally unties it, lifting your hips up to tug your pants down your legs. 

Your hands hold onto his shoulders, fingers digging tight into his skin as his hands wander your body. It managed to feel better than the dream, which was expected, his warm, moist, calloused palms gripping onto your waist.

He kicks off his pants to the floor, setting you back down flat on his lap. Something feels hard between your legs, pressing into the flesh of your bare thighs and it takes you a minute to realise what it is. 

“Is—” you gulp down your words, fighting reality. “Is it meant to be that hard?”

“My dick? Uh, yeah. What, you’ve never touched one before?”

You shake your head anxiously, stomach burning weakly, biting restlessly at your lips as his brows lift, stunned, and bowled over at the fact that he’s about to take your virginity. 

“Oh.” He looks down at your hips, white-hot fingers grazing delicately down the curve of your hips. “That’s—wow. Are you sure you wanna do this?”

In contrast to before, you nod your head quickly, and with an indescribably hunger you grab onto his hands on your hips, boldly shifting them backwards to cup your ass. 

“I want this, and I won’t regret it. Promise.”

“Even if this was the worst lay of your life?” He says it as a joke, lips curving into a playful smirk as he shamelessly gropes your behind. 

“I wouldn’t have anything to compare it to anyway.” You shift a little closer, hands creeping to hold behind his head, itching your fingers in the soft streaks of his hair.

His eloquent eyes drop down to your lips suggestively, soaking in the glossy sight of them. Your body is stiff as you stare at him, blinking rapidly at what’s to come. He doesn’t say anything, just looks back up at you, asking you with his eyes. 

Your eyes slip shut mindlessly when he leans forward. His lips are soft, just like his hair, sensually moving them against yours. He’s patient as you learn the ropes, sometimes moving your lips at the wrong time, catching them in an awkward position. He tilts his head to create a new angle, your body stiffens still when the angle makes the kiss deeper.

“Relax,” he pulls away to whisper the words along your lips, kissing down the curve of your jaw sultrily. “You’re too stiff.”

His hands slide up the slope of your back in an attempt to soothe you, hugging your body tight to his. The feeling of his hands holding you is strangely affectionate, the feeling of your heart buzzing in your chest gives you the newfound confidence to lean forward again, capturing your lips together.

It’s quicker this time, more generous and warm, lips sliding against each other, and he drinks up the sounds of your soft moans. Your hands move to grip onto the side of his face, replicating the image you had created in your dreams. 

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, looking up at you with those eyes of his that never fail to drive you crazy. 

“Take off your shirt.”

It’s getting real now, you realise. His voice is seductively low, slightly breathy and you fidget backwards, spine straightening, hands sliding under your shirt to reach behind you, unhooking your bra.

You drag it down and under, unsure of what to do with it, choosing to hand it to him. The second it's in his hand, he tosses it away in favour of lifting your shirt up and over your head.

He reaches under your shirt , both hands cup your soft tit, palming, kneading it. He uses the side of his head to nudge you back into a kiss. 

As if now muscle memory, you hold the sides of his face as he presses firm kisses against your lips, one hand pulling at your nipples, rolling, flicking his thumb against the sensitive beaked bud, other hand gripping the size of it in his big hands, occasionally squeezing at it when a soft noise escapes your lips whenever he does something with his tongue, licking into your mouth with fervour, biting at the swell of your lips. 

Your thumbs brush against his cheek bones, tilting his head to the side as you scoot yourself closer on his lap, wanting him as close to you as possible. 

“So what made you agree to this, Rindou?” you ask questionably, and he breaks the kiss to look up at you. 

“I mean, you’re hot, that’s for one.” He lifts your shirt up, but doesn’t take it off, putting his head under and starts to suck your nipple. 

You wish you could see his face, only looking at a budge moving around through your shirt. The feeling of his wet tongue gliding across your nipple is extra sensitive, and you bite at your lip to control your moans.

“S-so you find me hot?” You feel warm and fuzzy inside when he nods his head through your shirt. “W-what else?” you ask through a shuddered breath, groaning, eyes slipping shut as your head lifts to the ceiling when his teeth tug at your nipple. 

“I dunno,” he grasps both breasts in his hands, squeezing them together, groaning at the sight. “You ask a lotta questions, though.”

“...sorry.”

“What’re you apologisin’ for? It’s cool.” His tongue kitten licks at your nipple a couple times, and you shudder when he sucks it back into his mouth. 

“I’m not sure….I always just apologise, I guess.”

He hums in acknowledgement—you think— raising your arms as he’s shrugging your shirt off your body, throwing it across the room. He picks you up from his lap, laying you flat against his bed, propping up his pillows as you snuggle into it.

“It’s comfy,” you say with an awkward smile, unsure what to say now. 

Are you supposed to kiss him again? Didn’t you do enough kissing already? Or was it too little? Do you hop right into the sex? Maybe you should’ve watched some porn before this, gotten a little comfy with the setting before jumping straight into losing your virginity. 

He laughs as if he could read your racing thoughts, and you look up at him through beaded eyes, but in reality, he’s laughing at your awkward smile. It’s cute, clumsy, and innocent. 

“You’re so cute,” he says, leaning forward, propping his arms beside your head, taking in the sight of your face, blinking up at him daringly, lips pursed and parted.

He bends down to kiss you slowly, shifting to fit himself back between your spread legs as they lock around his waist, keeping him in place. 

Before you could fully melt into the kiss, he’s pulling back, bracing himself on his knees before your legs, big palms spreading them out further. 

You feel exposed, hands covering your face, wincing when he rubs the palm of his hand up and down your clothed pussy, fingers grazing your clit delicately through the fabric of your panties. 

“Oh—oh wait, that feels good—” 

You’re bucking your hips up into the feeling, trying to feel it again. His finger brushes it again, and your lips fall open in a soft moan. “Oh my god, wait—”

“I’ve barely even touched you yet,” he chuckles, amused, and you swear you feel your thighs tense up when he drops down to the bed, face inches away from your pussy. 

His hands grip onto your thighs as he stalks forward, tongue darting out to lick a long strip from the top of your pussy to the bottom, and up and down, up, down again and again through the fabric of your now soaked panties. 

Shaky hands wind themselves in his hair, holding the strands in a makeshift ponytail as your back bows off the bed with each lick, every nimble stroke of his tongue.

“Can you—uh, wait—” You sit up on your elbows, looking down at him between your legs. “Can you remove the panties? Please?”

“Yeah, hold-on.” He peels your soaked panties away, bound by your slick, and his saliva, that he eagerly laps up, eyes closed, groaning between your legs at the taste of you. 

You can’t bear to watch him eat you out, closing your eyes, head hitting the pillows as your hands reach for his hair again. He’s mumbling something under his breath, burying his face deeper between your legs.

He doesn’t let you catch a breath, tongue scribbling ruthless patterns against your drenched folds that have you squealing, tugging at his hair desperately.

Rindou normally doesn’t do oral, rather have someone else go down on him, but just the thought of making you suck his dick makes him feel bad. There’s a hidden array of feelings concealed by his lust for you that makes him want to just pleasure you tonight, hence why he’s leaving his own comfort zone to make you feel good.

He can’t seem to get enough, unsure if it’s meant to feel this good for him despite not being the one being touched.Maybe it’s the way you pull at his hair whenever he sucks with a certain amount of pressure on your clit. His fingers dig more profoundly into your thighs as his tongue flicks and sucks along your clit, up and down, repeating that same motion over and over and over, drinking up your slick in a way that drives you crazy, tugging almost painfully at his hair that it's pleasurable.

Your hips start jolting away from him, trying to run from the feeling of his tongue spreading your puffy lips, tearing you apart piece by piece, lick by lick, stroke by stroke. It’s too much. Too much for you to handle in one sitting, muscles tightening as it chases your climax, goosebumps rising to the surface of your sweaty skin.

“Rindou—ah! F-fuck! I’m—” Your bite your lip so hard it aches, adding to the throbbing pleasure as you cum, hips jerking against his face to spread your juices along his chin as he groans at the feeling, strong hands holding you in place as his tongue continues slurping at your pussy.

You forcefully try to rip him off you, body unable to take the pleasure, your mind hazy, like you’re floating in another dimension. It feels like you aren’t in control anymore, unable to moan loudly as you squirt on his face, whimpering as your shaky legs begin to slow down. 

Rindou pulls away, bottom half of his face now soaked as he lifts himself up from the bed, wiping at it with his forearm. When you open your eyes, the corner of your mouth turns downwards when you see the sight of his bedsheets, soaked in your mess. 

You don’t mean to feel embarrassed, after all, he was the one that drove you to that point, but your shoulders hunch together and you pout regardless. “I’m sorry—”

“Sorry for what? That was so hot.”

“Really?”

He nods his head, gently pushing you back down to the bed. 

“Yeah, it was,” he breathes as shuffles forward, spreading your legs more to get another good view of your pussy. “You look so good—” he dubiously strokes his finger against your slit, dipping it inside, loving the way your back arches upwards. Your reactions are so cute. “—so wet, you’re so hot, fuck—”

“Rindou—” You’ve never been filled, never had anything up there before, so the feeling was new territory, and uncomfortable but as he picks up the speed, your cunt drips more, soaking his long finger, giving it the momentum it needs to continue fucking in and out, in and out. 

“How’s that feel?” He presses a finger upwards, brushing your g-spot, and it’s like something inside you switched, a sudden heat prickling inside you has your body jolting forwards with a loud moan that has him biting his lips, pinpointing that spot with his finger effortlessly.

Your body can’t handle another orgasm, and at this rate you’ll be cumming in no time. Your body tries to pull away from him, thigh muscles contracting, toes curling, as his finger fucks you deeper.

His eyes are focused on your body; the pain-laced pleasurable look on your face is his motivation to keep going, slipping in a second finger to watch you go crazy, moans rising in volume, hips jerking from his touch.

“You close?” He asks despite knowing the answer, wetting his lips as he’s watching you attentively, revelling in the way your walls clamp around the girth of both fingers, sucking him in each time he dares to pull out.

“I—I think, yeah—ah—” Your moans sound gargled at this point with how hard your shoving your head into the pillow to silence them. 

To hear how noisy you’re being is embarrassing; sinking into the pillow is half to conceal your blaring screams, half to sink into the softness in shame. Despite the burning heat in your face, the unwavering, direct gaze on Rindou’s face as his thumb rubs speedy circles on your clit is enough to push you over the edge, tip you towards your climax for a second time, body convulsing and twitching as a second round of fluids leave your body.

It’s less than last time, having squirted it all out before like a leakage, but it’s powerful enough for your eyes to roll, lips parting in another silent scream as your legs try to desperately push him away.

His fingers still inside you as his eyes survey the damage done to your body and his sheets. 

It’s equally messy on both ends, your chest inflating and deflating with every heavy pant, the area on your thighs closest to your pussy now soaked with a mixture of his saliva and your slick. His sheets are ruffled, practically pulled away from their neat placing, wet patches splattered the clean shirts dirty. 

When you finally catch your breath, you can’t even find your voice, scared to talk incase of another voice crack, so you stay silent, brows furrowing at the dull ache in your thighs that grow progressively hotter when you try to sit up.

“You good?” 

You peek an eye open to stare at Rindou. From his POV, you’re unsure what you might look like: drained, bushed, spent…the list goes on, you think. “I’m fine.”

Your legs are limp, like the small energy you had left in them fizzed away after your second orgasm. It’s not until you hear him unbuckling your pants, you remember you’re not done yet.

 There’s still one more little thing left…oh—oh, it’s not little at all. 

You’re speechless when he pulls his cock out from his briefs, shrugging them down his legs, onto the floor. He holds it like it’s nothing, like your mind isn’t shaken up, like you’re not goggle-eyed. 

Your blinking dumbly, half scared, half still processing stuff out when his hand wraps around the base of it, slowly stroking himself up and down, twisting his wrist when he reaches the tip. 

He’s telling you something, but you can’t hear him, not with the way blood is racing towards your ears, blurring out the sound of anything and everything. 

“Hey,” he jostles your leg to catch your attention, and it’s like your ears pop, free of static. “I asked you to reach in the dresser. Pass me a condom.”

“Oh—oh, yeah okay.” You gulp down your anxieties, reaching over to his dresser. 

You grab a condom packet and toss it to him. He catches it effortlessly, putting the edge of it into his mouth, holding it with his teeth as he spreads your legs for the third time today, fitting himself between them. 

It’s hard fighting the urge not to fidget beneath him, tell him you’re not ready and storm out the house, limp over back to your house with your half working legs. But you’re not a bitch—you say weakly in your mind, completely lacking the confidence to say that aloud. 

He rips the condom packet open, and for a second you’re puzzled with how that tiny thing could possibly fit around the length of his cock. It’s long, but not huge, not thick either, on the thinner side with a slight curve to it. That curve is already making your insides scream, wondering if you’ll be able to feel that inside you.

Is that a good or bad thing? To feel it in you? Will it add to the pleasure, or just make you bleed?

Your questions go unanswered as you watch with pure focus as he rolls it down his cock, like a veil, and it fits perfectly.

“Alright, I’ma push in now,” he says, leaning forward,  strong arms braced at your sides. “If it hurts, squeeze me, ‘kay?” 

You nod dumbly, blinking up at him as he rolls his hips against yours, the tip of his cock running over your weeping hole, all wet and ready for him to slip inside. 

You can feel your walls stretch open when he shifts forward, engulfing the tip inside your pussy inch by inch. 

“Oh—” you choke out, not liking the way the stretch feels.This is far worse than the feeling of his fingers, his tip being three times the size of that. 

It feels like forever with the pace he’s going at, ever so slowly pushing himself inside. When he’s around halfway, that’s when the stretch turns into a burn, a heavy, unsettling prickling sensation around your abdomen that has your nerves igniting in a state of panic.

Your fingers fly to his shoulders, digging them almost painfully into his muscles, letting out a shattered breath when Rindou keeps pushing. 

“I know, I know—it’ll feel good in a bit,” his lips brush against your temple soothingly, giving your forehead a gentle kiss, fighting the urge to groan at the pain stinging in his shoulders. 

When his hips are close to yours, the final inch of his cock left to be pushed inside, your hands fly around his neck, almost cutting off his blood circulation with how hard you’re holding him. 

You both let out a satisfied sigh when his hips are pressed flush against yours, his sigh mainly due to pleasure, the heat of your warm cunt is enough to make him spiral; your sigh mainly due to thanking the heavens you didn’t get ripped in two pieces. There’s an agonising ache gnawing in your legs the longer his cock stays nestled inside your pussy. 

With what limited space he has, he pulls out slowly, till the tip is left, and you feel so empty for a short moment, before he’s slowly pushing back in, getting your body used to the ministrations. 

He repeats this over , and over, until your hold on his shoulders loosen, until your moans are reduced to whimpers, then he picks up the pace just a little, slamming back inside you enough to hit deeper and your back arches off the bed. Your hands get stripped away from his shoulders, bunched up at the wrists, and pinned above your head as he fucks into you raggedly, rolling his hips in a way that hits deeper than your g-spot. 

“Rind—Rindou—I wanna t-touch you—stop—” you beg breathlessly, wriggling your wrists from underneath his grasp. “Please.”

The attempt is useless, his grip as strong as his brutal thrusts. You’re sure your body won’t recover after today, you’ll be bedridden for days, weeks even. 

He shuts you up with a long kiss, your sweaty chest pressed flush against his own. 

He holds your chin up with his spare hand, tongue flicking into your open mouth, tangling with yours. Your hands curl in on themselves, desperately trying to touch any part of him, hold his hand before he pulls away, breathing heavily as his spare hand moves between your legs, spreading you out further, pushing himself deeper. The new angle is relentless, finally feeling the curve of his dick hit your g-spot repeatedly. You see stars behind closed eyes, fingers scratching desperately at his wrists to let you go. 

His hips begin to stutter, his pace falling off when your walls spasm and contract around his cock. The condom does nothing to stop the tight squeeze of your pussy holding him in place.

He groans by your ear, the audible and deep noise sets your nerves ablaze, unintentionally clenching around him, ripping another groan from his lips.

Letting go of your hands, he sits up on his knees, both hands gripping the fat of your thighs unceremoniously, digging his nails into the flesh. The pain added to the pleasure going on between your legs, body happily welcoming the sting of his nails. 

“H-holy shit—” he grits out, eyes trained on the sight of his cock pushing in and out of your overstimulated pussy. 

“W—what?”  You dare to lift yourself onto your shaky elbows, barely able to keep yourself upright. 

There’s a ring of white cum being shoved into your pussy, and back out again with each thrust, covering the see-through condom cloudy. 

“What i—is—ah—that? Is that bad?” 

It looks bad…is that supposed to happen? Why is it that texture? Did you get an infection? All these thoughts race through your mind at rapid speed. 

“No, it’s not bad. It jus—just means you—fuck—” He can barely get a sentence out, not with the way your pussy spasms around his cock, the way your pussy squelches audibly each time his hungry cock ruts into you. “T-touch your tits, make yourself feel good.”

“Okay.” You reach down, grasping your tits in both hands, squeezing them the way he did before. It doesn’t feel good, you think, unsure if you’re doing it right.

“Your nipples,” he laughs at your confused face, “touch ‘em.”

Your fingers play with your nipples, rolling them between your fingers as his hands slide upwards to your hips. You yelp when he lifts your lower body up from the bed, angling your body in a  way that makes his cock hit your spot easier. The sensation from your nipples, paired with the shockwaves of his hips slapping against your ass, blur your vision completely, hitting your peak. Your gut tightens, body dissolving into a feverish pleasure, nipples tender with each rapid flick of your fingers. You think you black out, moaning in a silent scream as you come undone on his cock, crying out his name when his hips stutter, gritting out fuck as a warning he’s about to cum. 

You feel empty when he pulls out quickly, tugging the condom off and jerks himself off, shuffling up the bed to kneel beside your body, tugging his cock till cum splatters on your bare chest. It feels warm on your skin, your hands quickly reaching out to scoop it up on your fingers, experimentally tasting it. 

It tastes salty, earthy, on your tongue, and he watches as you scoop it up a second time, sucking it from your fingertips.

“Fuck, stop doin’ that, drivin’ me crazy.” He shudders, cock twitching when you look up at him, smirking deviously as you lick up another scoop, making a show of your tongue wrapping around your fingertips.

He’s reaching over into his dresser, grabbing some wipes to help you clean up.

“It didn’t taste like how I expected it to,” you say, laying flat on your back as he drags the cold wipes along your chest. 

“That a good or bad thing?”

You shrug, eyes following him as he lays down next to you. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think I can walk right now.” You curl up next to his body, seeking his warmth as he grabs the covers, pulling them over your body. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“‘M not laughin’,” he lies straight through his teeth, a throaty silly chuckle leaving his lips as you dig your fingers in his chest, trying to push him away, fake pouting as a light laugh pours from your throat as-well.

“You literally are! Stop—” He catches your hand when you try to swat at him, placing it back down by your side. 

“Thanks for the ego-boost,” he smirks down at you, wiping the sweat from your forehead away. 

You shift closer, hand brushing his hair away from his face, gently taking his glasses off, tucking them neatly on the side. You sit up on your elbow, bending down to kiss him. His heart rate skips a beat when your lips, soft, warm, brush his own. His hands slide down to your hips, holding you in place when your tongue traces the edge of his own. You moan when he sucks the length of your tongue sensually, soft whimpers leaving your lips when he sits up, switching the position, laying you flat on the bed as he fits himself between your legs. Your hands skim across his hair, digging them into his scalp as he bites at your lip, swirling your tongue around his. 

It’s quite possibly the most intimate kiss he’s ever had, drinking up every inch of you, rolling his hips against yours when your legs wrap around his waist. 

He knows he needs to stop—you know you need to stop too, but the way your heart flutters when he groans into your mouth has you kissing him harder, grabbing his hand to squeeze at your breasts. 

You pull away first, wiping the saliva from your mouth. “I—I think I should go home now.”

“Can you walk home?” He asks genuinely, but there’s a hint of a playful smirk on his face that has you punching his chest softly. “Stay the night, I’ll walk you home in the morning.”

“But my dad—”

“Who cares? What’s he gonna do?” He dips his head down to your neck, and you pull him closer as he sucks bruises onto your skin.

“He’s strict and protective. He’ll notice I’m gone—”

“He’ll notice you can’t walk straight either. There’s no difference.” When you still look unconvinced, he pleads, hand sliding down to cup your ass, relishing in the way you gasp out. “C’mon, stay please?”

You bite your lip as you think. He has a point; your legs are so sore right now you doubt you could even stand on two feet to head to the door, yet walk through your house without your dad noticing something is up. He’s already suspicious about the bruises on your face that you still need to think of a better explanation for, this will just make him confirm whatever suspicions he’s thought of.

“Ok. I’ll stay.”

Time passes quickly, steady. Months of you sneaking out successfully to meet Rindou at his house, months of you losing yourself in his sheets, tugging his hair as he spreads you open with his fingers, eating you out till your legs shake and cum on his face each time, kissing you like he loves you, riding him like a woman starved, sucking the salty thick cum from his cock, smiling deviously up at him as you swallow it.

Months and months of you learning everything about Rindōu, meeting his family, his friends, creating some sort of social life for yourself. 

“So when can I meet your dad?” Rindou asks, catching the ball he’s been throwing repeatedly at the ceiling. 

“Never. He’d hate your guts, Rin.”

“So? The feelings are mutual, then.” 

You look at him, unimpressed, rolling on the flat of your stomach on his bed. “I’m serious. He’s gonna be weird about it, hate on you, your background, your family, your tattoos—” 

“Oi,” he nudges you gently with his feet. “What’s wrong with my tattoos?”

“Nothing!” You sit up, crawling towards him on the bed, lifting the hem of his shirt up, revealing the slightest glimpse of the thick black ink you love so much. “Love it so much, Rin.” 

“Yeah?” His lips twitch up to a grin, resting a hand behind his head, “show me.”

You peek at him through your lashes, fluttering them chastely, grinning cunningly, leaning down to kiss down his chest. 

His muscles contract and flex with each light kiss, rucking his shirt upwards as you make your way further up his chest.

You kiss up to his lips, shuffling yourself on his lap, sucking sweetly along the swell of his lips. 

You pull away with a sigh, sitting back on your knees. 

“But on a real note—” you cover his mouth with your palm when he tries to kiss you back, ignoring his ticked-off brow. “—you cannot meet him. At least not yet.”

He says something muffled beneath your hand. You remove it, and he repeats himself. “You’re scared I’ll say somethin’ outta pocket, ain’t you?” 

He grins at your eye-roll, wiping some hair from your face as he takes a moment to admire you. You barely notice the love-struck look on his face, too busy ranting about how your dad absolutely cannot find out about your secret relationship.

“I know you’ll say something out of pocket, Rindou. But it’s too early now…and he’ll probably ground me for life for sneaking out all the time to see you and I can’t risk not seeing you anymore. It’s not worth it,” you take his hand, squeeze it gently, reassuringly. “You understand that, right?”

He cradles your body in his lap, like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. In truth, you are, he’s never been happier since he’s met you. His brother noticed, his mother noticed, his friends noticed. Even he finds himself thinking about you more than he should; you creep into his dreams at night with that voice of yours, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, creeping your way into his head whenever he zones out.

“Yeah—yeah, I get it.” He pulls you in for a tight, warm hug, nestling your head in the crook of his neck. “I’ll wait however long you need me to.”

#—tr </3 #rindou smut #haitani rindou x reader #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev #tokyorev x reader #rindou haitani smut

[jasmines-library]

Hidden On The Inside

WHUMPTOBER DAY 21. Prompt: “Near death experience” Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: During a hunt, you take a nasty hit which at first seems fine, but it's what's hidden deep under the surface that creates a problem. (I get it, i suck and writing summaries.)

Warnings: Internal bleeding, hospitals, surgery.

Word count: 1.5k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

You were a force to be reckoned with when it came to a fight. You were a strong and fierce opponent with an even stronger will. You had always been a fighter. Like Dean’s, your temper would flare up quickly in the face of any kind of challenge or injustice, and you typically responded with physical aggression.

You had been a hunter for many years, having grown up in the life much to your dads disapproval. When you were finally old enough, and after a lot of convincing, you were finally allowed to join your Dad on small hunts in the area. A ghost here, a vampire there. It was always the same routine—they'd enter a town, slip up, you and your dad would hunt them down before returning to the motel for some take out. But, one day when you were in your mid-twenties, your dad never made it home. It was that night that you met the Winchesters. They had given you a shoulder to cry on that night. It was a strange, yet kind gesture; to give a grieving stranger somewhere to feel safe. The three of you were thick and thieves after that night. You lived and hunted together and soon you began to feel as though a missing part of you had been filled. 

The three of you were hunting a pack of wolves. Child's play. But these wolves were abnormally strong, and it took almost all of your strength to push them back and kill them, but they were wearing thin too, and soon there was only a small handful of them left. One charged, baring its teeth at you. They two of you scuffled; quickly locked in a fight. As the fight dragged on with neither of you making much progress, the two of you tired quickly. But then in a flurry of moves, your opponent landed a series of punches and finally managed to fling you into the wall in a fit of rage. You hit the wall hard but didn’t make a sound. You just gritted your teeth and shrugged it off; you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of getting a rise out of you. As the fight went on, the blows came harder and faster, with neither of you giving an inch. Until finally, he slipped up and you managed to jab him with your silver blade. 

“Are you okay?” Sam questioned as he sauntered back over to you after tossing the match onto the bodies. “I saw you hit the wall pretty hard.”

You rubbed the back of your neck dubietly. “Yeah. I’m fine. It was just a little unexpected.”

“Are you sure?” He drew in his eyebrows, creating little wrinkles on his forehead.

“Positive.”

~

When you told Sam that you felt fine, it wasn't completely a lie. At the time, you did feel ok, a little sore, but ok. Though as time went on and the world sped around the Impala, you began to feel off.  You ignored it, of course. You hadn't been injured that bad, you assured yourself. Nothing could be wrong. You had endured much worse and been fine, yet the uneasiness continued and a dull ache began to grow throughout your body as your skin paled.

“You okay back there sweetheart?” Dean asked, glancing back at you in the rear-view mirror when he noticed your absence in the conversation. Your silence was loud. 

“Peachy.” You hummed, avoiding his gaze. You knew you looked into his eyes he would know exactly what was up. It was like a 6th sense of his. 

“I’m only asking ‘cause you look a little pale.” He added. 

“I skipped breakfast this morning. It’s probably just that.” You shrugged “Quit worrying, Dean.”

He was right to worry though, because the moment you stepped out of the car, a wave of nausea hit you and you lost your footing slightly. Sam picked up on your stumble. 

“Woah. Careful Y/N. Are you sure you're okay?”

“I’m fine, Sam.”

He eyed you slyly. You weren’t one to be clumsy. Sam followed you closely as you hauled yourself down the steps of the bunker, much slower than usual as you fought the unease that contaminated your body. By the time you reached the bottom, a sheen of sweat had broken across your forehead, and you were short of breath, panting against the pain in your abdomen. 

You had barely made it halfway across the room when the lightheadedness kicked in and you had to grab the table to keep you from doubling over with your vision. Taking a step forwards and letting go of the table, your body swayed, causing bile to rise in your throat. You had just about stumbled to your room by clinging onto the walls when another wave rolled over you causing your legs to buckle and your body careen to the side and hit the ground with a groan of pain. You clutched at your stomach. 

Your vision swam as you lay there in a dazed state, fading in and out of your pain laced world. You weren’t sure how long it was before your heard footsteps escaping down the hall.

Sam knocked on the door. He hadn’t heard from you since the three of you arrived home over an hour ago and he had begun to grow worried. You didn’t look well at all when you forced yourself out of the impala. Your skin was paler than usual and clammy and alongside that your footsteps were all out of beat. When there was no reply, sam asked for you but his words went through one ear and out of the other, not even stopping in your mind.

He pushed the door open and froze at the sight of your body sprawled out across the cold floor. Your chest barely rose and fell.

“Shit.” Sam dived forwards, dropping his bags on floor. “Y/N?” He patted your face lightly, but all you did was groan. 

Gingerly, Sam eased your arms away from your stomach and rolled up the hem of your shirt. What he saw made him gasp. From your chest all the way down your abdomen, were deep purple bruises. 

“Dean!”

His older brother raced into the room at his brother's cry of distress, staggering to a stop when he saw the state of your body. 

“Get the keys.” Sam ordered, before scooping you up into his arms. 

The two of them made it to the car in record time. Sam manoeuvred himself into the back with you, as Dean made his way to the drivers side and started the engine. In typical Dean fashion, the car was going too fast, but neither of them cared. Sam held you close to remind you that everything was going to be alright even if you weren’t completely coherent. Dean focused on the road, cursing every red light they hit. At some point, he gave up stopping. 

When the Impala peeled into the parking lot Sam rushed inside carrying you still, Dean followed close behind. The two were frantic as they called for help which didn’t seem to come quick enough. It was a blur as the hospital staff took your fading body and rushed you into surgery. 

~

Dean’s leg bounced as he waited for the nurse to return from your hospital room. The pair of them hadn’t moved in hours, waiting anxiously for.. well anything. 

When the moment finally came and called out your name, they didn’t waste any time in going to meet her. And then came the news.

“Miss Y/n has suffered severe internal bleeding. The doctors have managed to stabilise her with surgery, but she will need to stay in observation for a while.”

Dean let out a sigh of relief. 

“You’ll be happy to know that she is awake and asking for the two of you.”

The nurse didn’t have time to say anything else because the two brothers had already left and flung the door open. 

“Oh Y/n/n…” Sam breathed when he saw you, hooked up to a multitude of machines. Despite your tired eyes, there was still a soft grin on your face. 

“Hiya Sammy.”

He took your hand. “How are you feeling?”

“A little sore. Whatever drugs they have me on are working miracles.” You let out a small chuckle. “I keep telling them I’m fine, but they won’t let me leave.”

“You’re not fine. Y/N.” Dean said sternly. “You’ve just come out of emergency surgery. You need to rest.”

You were silent. 

“I hate hospitals.” You murmured. They reminded you too much of your failures. 

“I know. It’s just a few more days and then I’ll take you home.” 

“Okay.” you sniffled. 

Sam ran his hands through his hair. “God, Y/N you had us so worried.”

“I’m sorry. I thought it was nothing, I really did.”

“It’s okay.” Dean reassured. “You’ll be alright. That’s what matters the most.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 20 ⛤ DAY 22 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

#whumptober #whumptober 23 #whumptober 2023 #no.21 #near death experience #near death #supernatural x reader #supernatural x hurt reader #supernatural x injured reader #internal bleeding #injury #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x injured reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x injured reader #hospitals #surgery #fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction

[middlingmay]

Marge is Gale's Beard AU

I don't know what happened, but this was supposed to be a funny cute little scene of Bucky stumbling across Marge getting a little frisky with another guy, not knowing she's not actually Gale's girlfriend, and promptly losing his shit. Like 1K words, max

BUT OVER 6000 WORDS LATER AND HERE WE ARE.

I need to be stopped, jesus fucking christ.

Anyway, enjoy!

Warnings: violence, blood. Also period-typical attitudes towards monogamy.

Also, John doesn't look to good for part of this fic, but he is genuinely apologetic, and comes out the other side the John we all know and love. He's just going through some things!

Read under the cut!

Ostensibly, this little get together was a send off for Bucky who was being shipped off to Thorpe Abbotts in England thanks to his new and entirely unwanted position as Air Executive. But it was also a chance for the rest of the fellas to enjoy one more night of fun and frivolity with their loved ones before they left the States in a few weeks, some of them for the very first time. Maybe some of them for the last.

And for Buck, that meant none other than Marge.

They had been friends since they were kids. She was the first and remained the only girl he had ever brought home to his mother, and even father was on his best behaviour whenever she was around. Such was the power of Marjorie Spencer.

She was also the first and only girl he had ever kissed. They were teenagers, and even if Gale wasn’t as half-wild as his classmates about all the pretty girls, he was still a hormonal boy and one night, when he walked her home, he took her little face in his big hands and kissed her.

She’d pulled back frowning. “Gale. I don’t have brothers, but if I did I reckon that’s what it’d feel like to kiss ‘em.”

She wasn’t wrong. He’d heard the nasty locker room talk about boys sporting half a woody just at kissin’ a girl, and Gale hadn’t felt so much as a flicker.

Then, some while later, he’d felt the full fury of those teenage hormones when James ‘Jett’ Granger, school football star, had bowled him over and landed on top of him on the floor with a thud.

Jett had laughed and apologised and hauled Gale, who was not dainty by any stretch of the imagination, up like he was nothing with an apology on his lips. Like he hadn’t just upended Gale’s entire world.

When he told Marge, she’d cackled and leered like a locker room boy and said, “Did you…” and stuck her tongue between her teeth.

Gale spluttered and coughed on his spit and his blood pounded in his ears. But he couldn’t deny it, even as he scolded, “Marjorie Spencer!”

But once she got over her glee and teasing, she saw Gale work his lip like a well done steak and softened. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with you.”

Gale scoffed. “We both know you’re the only one round here who thinks like that.”

Even Marge couldn’t stubborn her way out of that cold hard fact.

“Alright then,” she said with a set to her jaw. “Then you’ll be my fella, far as anyone knows. Least until you find one of your own.”

Gale’s heart flooded his body with warmth and he must have looked at Marge like she was a saint. “I can’t do that, Marge. What if you find a guy you really want to be your fella?”

But Marge looked highly sceptical. “Round here? You’re all I got.”

He smiled at the sentiment but he still wore worry on his brow and Marge darted forward to kiss at least a bit of it away. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

And they never had. Right up until Gale enlisted and was due to be shipped off to basic training, Marge kept assuring him every boy that came around was a knucklehead, and as little as Gale even let himself do so much as look, he couldn’t say he disagreed with her.

The night before he left, after an awkward near silent dinner with his folks that his mother had insisted on, he and Marge had laid a blanket out on an empty field and looked at the starts.

“I still can’t believe you’re going,” she said, voice thick.

Gale couldn’t say ‘sorry’, couldn’t say he wished he wasn’t going, because he wasn’t no liar. He’d wanted to be a pilot since he was a boy and he couldn’t wait to get started.

“I’m going to miss you like crazy.” But that there, that was the truth.

Marge snorted, true and ugly. “Yeah, right. You’re going to be surrounded by all the cute boys and I’m stuck here with the cream of the Caspar crop.”

Gale kicked her shoe. “Oh, yeah. No lookin’. No touchin’. Not unless I wanna come home with a crack in my skull and a blue ticket in my first. At the least.”

Because Gale wasn’t scared of the military. He wasn’t scared of leaving home or being surrounded by strangers. He wasn’t scared at the possibility of having to head into a fight. But being found out? That petrified him.

Marge clutched his hand with all the strength she possessed. “I’ll write you,” she vowed. “Every day if I have to. I’ll spritz the letters with perfume and kiss them and everything. No one will know, I promise.”

Marge’s promises were better than the word of God.

Until he met John Egan.

The long-limbed, freckled, moustached, larger and louder than life man had thrown himself into Gale’s life with very little input from the man himself. He given him his name and kept by his side, like he’d adopted a dog.

Despite himself, Gale had actively tried to dislike John, or Bucky, at first. He put up a cold front to his overt friendliness; threw off his wandering hands possessed with so much affection that he just couldn’t keep them still. Gale refused every single invitation for as long as he could. And yet.

Gale found himself looking for Bucky in whenever he entered a room. He listened carefully whenever he spoke during briefings, and chiming in until they were bouncing ideas of off each other, unaware of the secret smiles of their superior officers. When Gale struggled to sleep, he found himself asking Bucky any question he could think of just to hear him rattle on until he was finally lulled to rest.

He stopped rejecting and started anticipating John’s touch, even positioning himself so as to welcome it, necessitate it; an arm over the back of a chair set close to his; a tiny gap in a doorway or corridor that required a gentle touch to a guy’s waist or his back. And soon Bucky became one of the only men Gale ever touched comfortably beyond a squeeze of the shoulder or a pat on the arm.

One of the other boys had tried once, to swing an arm over Gale’s shoulder. Whether it was because he saw Bucky do it and wanted to emulate the two men so respected by the others, he wasn’t sure, but he hadn’t done it again. The less said about it, the better.

Marge noticed, of course.

He hadn’t been aware of how much Bucky had filtered into his letters, and Marge’s questions had seemed innocent at first. And Gale had been all to happy for the outlet. Then in one letter she had scribbled:

He sounds like a scream, Gale. I’m glad you’ve made such a fast friend. I can't wait to meet him, and make sure he’s good enough for my fella. Can’t have you taking up with a no good kinda man who’s just going to lead you into trouble.

He knew Marge better than he knew himself. He could read between the lines: make sure he’s no bigot before you go getting attached.

Which brought them to that night at the bar. The first thing John had done on being introduced to Marge was to sweep her off for a dance.

Springing away with Gale’s girl in tow, Bucky hollered over his shoulder, “I gotta make sure poor Marge gets to dance with someone, tonight, Buck!”

The boys had all jeered and Marge swatted John’s chest playfully, but soon she was just as swept up in the force of him as they all were, and laughed with flushed cheeks the whole time.

It warmed something healing in his heart to see the two people closest to him in the world get on like a house on fire.

At one point, when Bucky went to the bar, Marge slumped into his side.

“Oh, Gale. You never stood a chance against him, did you?”

Not a snowflake’s in hell.

But before Gale could get too despondent about that, she continued. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s a good man. I think he- I think you’re safe with him. Yeah?”

Gale nodded. Of course he was. It was Bucky.

Then she got that impish look on her face. “So I say, look your fill.”

Gale shushed her and looked around to see if anyone was paying closer attention than they should’ve. No one was, thankfully, and when his heart rate returned to normal, he remembered he could tease right back.

“Well," he said coyly into her ear, “speaking of looking your fill, that black-haired fella at the corner table at the back has been throwing you looks all night.”

Marge pretended to look unaffected and Gale leaned in even closer. “Don’t think I didn’t see you lookin’ back.”

Marge’s vicious little elbow checked his ribs just as Bucky came back with their drinks.

“Thank you, John,” she said primly. “But I have to visit the powder room.”

John toasted her off and looked at Buck, bemused. “Something I said?”

Gale nearly laughed. “Naw. She just likes to keep me in line.”

John shook his head. “And ain’t that a crying shame. I’m surprised she hasn’t upbraided me for trying to undo all her hard work.”

Later, Gale would blame the giddiness that came from John’s proximity for what he said next. “I only gotta behave with her. You can get me as riled up as you like.”

John inhaled too much of his drink and coughed until there were tears in his eyes. Gale flushed to his ears and kicked him under the table.

Giggling and breathless, John kicked him right back even harder. “Noted.”

“Ask Major Cleven! He’s great at calculations.”

“Sir? Sir!”

A few boys in the ground crew called Buck over, and John waved him off good naturedly. “Go awe the masses, Buck. I need a smoke anyway.”

It look less than five minutes for Marge to come barrelling towards him, a wild and furious and worried look him her eye.

“Gale, It’s John! You gotta get John!”

*

There was a door at the back of the bar that led to the dead end of an alley outside. When he just wanted a quiet smoke in the peace of the evening, John liked to head out there instead of the front with everyone else, where he could easily while away the better part of an hour talking to all and sundry.

And he was enjoying spending his evening Buck. And Marge.

She was a sweet little spitfire. She had the looks of spun glass and high class, but even after spending nothing more than a handful of hours with her, Bucky could tell she was no wall flower, no meek dame. And John didn’t think about it too closely, but he liked that the girl who Gale loved so much wasn’t so different from himself.

Where John liked the think of him and Buck as sides of the same coin - dark and light; steady and gregarious; push and pull - Marge and Buck were one of a kind, like the couples on the movie posters. Their love felt inevitable.

And, as John was learning about himself, he was apparently a possessive man, because between him and the cigarette in his mouth, he could acknowledge the bitter flash of jealousy he got when he looked at them too long.

He pushed open the back door, a box of matches in hand, and looked up on hearing two frightened gasps.

Marge. Her eyes were so wide, there was more white than blue. Her hair was a mess, clutched in the meaty hand of another man. A man who’s face was too close to the crook of her neck.

And both of them wore such fear in their eyes.

John’s cigarette finally gave up its precarious balance on John’s gaping lips and tumbled to the floor. The box of matches dove after it.

“John.” It was a tiny, panicked sound.

And it snapped John back to attention. With two strides of his long legs he had Marge tucked behind him and slammed the man into the brick wall of the alley hard, and smiled ugly with all teeth when he heard the meaty thunk of his head hit the wall.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” John snarled in the man’s face, low and incandescent with rage he didn’t even know how to begin to unleash.

“John-” Marge tugged at his back, urgent.

“Taking advantage of a girl after a few drinks-”

“No, John-!”

He grabbed two fistfuls of the guy’s shirt and rattled him until he heard teeth clack. “A girl who’s taken. By your superior officer!”

“It’s not like that!” Marge yanked at John’s ear and he was forced to turn away from the man, but he didn’t relinquish him.

He calmed himself as much as he could. “Marge. Are you alright?”

But Marge looked painfully, worryingly exacerbated. “For God’s sake, John! It’s not what it looks like!”

“It looked like he was forcing himself on ya!”

But the Marge clutching at his lapels didn’t look scared, not of the man behind him, anyway. She had a little bit of fear when she looked at him though, and John didn’t like that at all.

It’s not what it looks like.

And if it looked like she was forced…

John’s heart broke for Gale, before the red pricks of anger started to twitch at his muscles.

“Oh. It’s like that, huh?”

“No!”

“Are you with Gale or aren’t you?!”

Marge swallowed something down and almost reluctantly said, “Yes.”

The boy chose the wrong moment to pluck at the reserves of his bravado.

“There’s no harm, Major,” he panted. “It was just some harmless fun. It didn’t mean nothing. We all know Cleven’s too much of a gentleman-”

John snapped his fist into the man’s jaw and followed through. The wall was the only thing that kept him standing. So John pulled him upright and slammed a punch into the side of his face and he went tumbling down.

John followed him, straddling him as he grabbed a handful of the guy’s jacket. Blood was already smeared over his mouth and John rained down hell and hit his nose with a crack and blood came pouring outta that too.

He switched his grip to the guy’s hair to keep the lolling head upright as he leaned down and growled into his ear. “You think you’re going to make a fool out of either one of them, you got another thing coming.”

He pulled back to land one last hit, a good one to drive his point home, when a solid weight barrelled into him from behind, wrapped an arm around his waist and hauled him into the air. John spun around swinging, but another arm got a stranglehold around the back of his neck and he was wrapped up painfully tight and too close to do anything.

And the scent of Buck’s cologne penetrated his senses and the fight left him.

Because fuck. How was he going to explain this? How was he going to tell Buck he’d caught his woman in the arms of another man? Should he even tell him? If it was Bucky, he’d wanna know, but maybe if he spoke to Marge and she promised it was a drunken mistake (God knows he’d had plenty of those), and it would never happen again, he wouldn’t have to tank Buck’s perfect love story.

“John!” Buck shook him hard enough that Bucky knew he tried to get his attention more than once. “The heck were you thinking?! You outta your goddamn mind?!”

Bucky heard shuffling behind him and he managed to turn just enough in Buck’s unforgiving grip to see the man being led inside by some of their boys, who shot furtive, concerned glances at their Majors.

Then there was Marge, hanging back and looking at Buck with something awfully sorry. He felt Buck nod at her and she went to head back inside, but not before sending Bucky a scathing look and a roll of her eyes.

Now there was nothing to spare him from Buck.

Only now did Buck loosen his grip and let Bucky back a step, and only a step.

“You have done some damn foolish things since I met you, Bucky. But fightin’ with a subordinate?!”

“You don’t understand-” and Buck really wasn’t sure he wanted him to.

“I understand plenty. Marge told me everything.”

Buck couldn’t help but scoff. “Oh? And what did Marge say?”

“That you caught her neckin’ with some guy and went off the damn rails!”

Buck was shocked stupid. Not just that Marge had told the truth, but that Buck seemed more pissed at him that he was at her.

“Then why are you riding me for?! I was defending you - you should be thanking me!”

Buck tensed his jaw so hard, Bucky expected to hear a crack. “Thanking you? For nearly bringing down my whole house of cards?!”

By now Bucky felt he was missing some vital information, and he couldn’t think straight with Buck so close to him, radiating fury. He shrugged off Buck’s hands and shook his head.

“Hold on, hold on,” he held up his palms. “You’re pissed at me for socking the guy making it with your girl behind your back?”

Buck sighed harsh and annoyed like Bucky was the most exasperating thing in the world and Bucky was getting more offended by the second.

“No, y’dummy!”

“Dummy?”

“I’m mad because if Marge hadn’t kept her head and got me before anyone else saw you fighting, everyone might have found out she ain’t actually my girl!”

“I - what?!”

Buck gave a frustrated groan that didn’t quite get out of his throat and prayed for patience. And maybe a little bravery. He trusted John, vexing as he could me. But sometimes fear was instinctual. But he couldn’t let Bucky go on thinking he saw what he thought he saw. But Christ if the other man didn’t make it difficult.

“But - you and Marge - since high school. You said-”

“Well, I lied. Kind of.”

“Kind of? You kind of lied?”

Bucky huffed. “We’ve been tellin’ people we’ve been together since high school. So no one would know…about me…” he trailed off meaningfully.

For all but Bucky, apparently. “Know what?”

“That I…that…” God, why couldn’t he just say it? Bucky may be as straight as they come, but he wasn’t that kind of guy, and he was Buck's best friend to boot. He choked down his frustrations and finally managed to spit out, “That…Marge ain’t the only one who likes looking at cute boys.”

Buck blushed as he said it. He sounded like a stupid teenager. But Bucky just stuttered to a stop and gawped at him. Buck watched his mouth flap, trying and failing to utter a sound, like it too couldn’t believe John Egan had finally been rendered silent.

“I - you’re-?”

“Gay? Queer? A big ol’ blue ticket? Yeah.”

What he certainly hadn’t been expecting was for Bucky to near drop to his knees in a mix of relief and panic.

“Haah-fuck, Gale," John grimaced, breathing heavy over his knees, which looked to be the only thing supporting his weight. "They're gonna court martial me in the morning. Don’t get me wrong - I’m glad I didn’t have to break your heart, tellin’ you Marge was stepping out on you, but fuck. I punched out a subordinate. Fuck.”

Side-stepping the unintentional lie in what John said, Buck, mightily and heroically refrained from rolling his eyes. “Don't get hysterical, Bucky. It don't become you. Relax, I'll fix it.”

And really, the sheer force of the scepticism on Bucky's face was down right insulting.

“Yeah? And how you gonna do that?”

Buck's brain worked furiously for an excuse - the reason’s why men hit other men over women that weren’t jealousy. Protection being the main one, but he didn’t want to put Marge in the frame at all if possible. Then he remembered a story Bucky told him once about a boy that had taken a shine to Bucky’s much younger sister, and Bucky had followed him home one day after his sister had come home cryin' with red bruises round her wrists.

“You ain't gonna like it.”

“Solid start.”

Buck nearly cuffed him round the ear like an insolent, child. “Hush. Now, you uh, ever planning on introducing your sisters to the boys?”

Bucky balked. “Absolutely not. What does that-”

“Listen. That man inside, bleeding - he looked a lot like a fella who left your sister a little worse for wear. Let the boys take that however they see fit.”

“The hell you tryna say about my sister?!”

“Nothing, idjit! Listen!”

Bucky shut his trap with visible effort.

“He looked almost exactly like that man, and when you saw him near Marge - near her and nothing else, you understand? You lost it. Alright? You’d had too much to drink, you weren’t thinking clear, and you were seeing you baby sister, not Marge. Right?”

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose and the gesture was so typically Gale’s that it stole his breath to see it on the other man.

But he had to press on. “Right?”

Bucky capitulated. “Alright, alright. But Jeannie ever finds out about this, we’re both dead.”

Buck eyed Bucky then, waiting for the other show to fall. “Is that all you gotta say to me?”

Bucky's face fell and cleared in realisation and Buck's stomach bubbled with a flare of anxiety about what he might say.

“Ah, fuck. Sorry, yeah. I’ve got to apologise to Marge, don’t I?”

Buck’s eye twitched, because Bucky had to be playing so damn dumb on purpose.

But, he wasn’t wrong.

“Well, yeah. She liked that boy. And you gon’ scared him off.”

Bucky scoffed though, waving a dismissive hand. “If you’re her fake fella, Buck. Marge has got to raise her standards for her real one. Don’t worry, I’ll find her a nice guy; a real prince to your pauper, so to speak.”

“That is not how the story goes.”

But then something occurred to Buck. He’d seen Bucky charm plenty of women, a lot of them blondes. Now that Bucky knew Marge was technically single…

“You mean someone like you?”

Bucky smirked and stepped toe to toe with Buck. He let his large hands smooth out the wrinkles Buck had worked into his own uniform wrangling Bucky earlier. His fingers slipped to his crooked tie and slowly knotted it back into place.

“You callin’ me a prince, Buck Cleven?”

Buck wanted to brush it off, to turn it into a joke, say anything to break the tension. But his tongue felt thick and useless in his mouth. All his brain could process was the proximity of Bucky, the smell of Bucky, and heat of his fingers at Buck’s collar.

Bucky leaned closer, like a he had a secret to share. “That make you my princess?”

And that should not have crackled a hot, thrilling tremor to life that sent him rocking infinitesimally closer to Bucky, a gasp somehow escaping the clutch his teeth had on his lips.

Bucky’s eyes darkened, but before he could say or do anything, the backdoor to the pub opened again and Marge’s golden head popped out.

“If you two are quite done?” she sounded like a teacher scolding the class clowns. “I am fending off almost an entire bomb group in there by myself and they’re like a pack of wild dogs. Some help, if you’d be so kind.”

Buck coughed and stepped back and trotted dutifully to Marge’s side. “Sorry, darlin’,” he said and dropped a kiss to her cheek.

Bucky was left with Marjorie Spencer staring at him, hands on her hips.

“Well?” she said expectantly.

Sheepishly, Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. “In my defence, you could do better?”

He saw murder in her eyes and quickly backtracked. Now was not the time for jokes. Evidently Marge did not appreciate them the way Buck did.

Bucky dropped his arms by his sides and looked her in the eye. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like that, no matter what I thought. I’m not - God, Marge, I’m not a violent man. Bit of a motor mouth sure, and I’ll stand up for any of my boys, but I don’t usually…”

Marge let him stew in the silence for a bit. But eventually, “No you shouldn’t have. I might be thankful that Gale has you looking out for him, but you can’t be such a hot head, John Egan. I don’t appreciate it and Gale don’t like it.”

Gently, Bucky took one of Marge’s hands, tiny in one of his, and raised it to his lips to place a sorry kiss there with a rueful smile “I will never lay hands on someone like that again, unless it's for a very good reason. I promise. But Buck’s pretty good at keeping me in check.”

Marge blessed him with a knowing smile. “I’m sure he is.”

And then Bucky was back in full force. “But seriously, Marge, you’ve got to at least date sideways. You can’t date down. Anyone less than Buck ain’t good enough for you.”

She rolled her eyes and pointed him back inside, letting him offer his arm. “Well when you find him, you let me know. Because I’m shit outta luck.”

They re-entered the pub laughing and any remaining tension in the room seemed to release. As Bucky took Marge for another spin round the dancefloor, he felt Buck’s eyes on them and risked a glance. And what a risk. Gale stared, blue eyes pinned on him over the smooth rim of his glass, tracking Bucky’s every move and licking the moisture off his lips.

Bucky threw him a wink and mouthed, Later, princess.

*

Colonel Huglin did not appreciate having to consider disciplinary action at six am. Yet having a man like Major John Egan under his command meant Huglin’s dreams didn’t count for much.

He watched this respected, no, revered man stand before him, clasp and unclasp his hands, purse his lips, and shift his legs like he was fighting the urge to rock on his heels. Like a misbehaving school boy. If Huglin had never met him, and someone had asked him to pick out the best pilot (on par with Major Cleven), the quickest thinker, an excellent strategist and the man almost single-handedly responsible for morale on base, Huglin wouldn't even have spared John a glance.

And yet.

“I haven’t seen him yet, but I’d bet my commission that the young fella you thrashed good and sound yesterday looks real pretty this morning.”

John grimaced. And, surprisingly enough it was not the wince of one awaiting an unwanted scolding, but one that actually looked like regret. John, who never ever failed to look a man in the eye, looked down at his shoes, lips twisting, and just nodded.

Major Cleven had come to him even earlier, at 5.20am, before Huglin had even had his coffee, and filled him in on what happened last night.

“You know Major Egan, Sir. I know you don’t always see eye to eye but he’s not a violent man, not like that. But,” and Gale and leaned forward in his chair, concern creasing his brow and wringing his hands together, “his sister, before he left, she had some…awful kind of trouble. With a fella. That looked just like the man from last night, John said. You know how much he looks after the men, and he loves his sisters. It drives him crazy he’s not there to look after ‘em with their dad not being around anymore… Sorry Sir, I’m rambling.” He was, and it was unlike Cleven who was a man of few words. Surely, a testament to his worry over his friend and brother-in-arms. “I just mean to say, John thought - John saw -"

And Huglin had cut Cleven off with a wave of his hand. He understood. He’d seen countless men wide eyed, crying or screaming at something or someone who wasn’t really there. It didn’t mean Egan could get entirely off the hook, but he understood.

“You have anything to say for yourself?”

“Can I see him?”

Huglin hadn't been expecting that. “What?”

“The…guy. God I don’t even know his name. But I’d like to apologise, if he’ll let me. He deserves that at least, and I’d like to settle it before I go.”

He wasn’t due to fly to Thorpe Abbots until mid-morning. There was plenty of time. “Evans. Airman First Class Evans. And I’ll ask his superior officer and let you know.”

Bucky released a breath and nodded, more to himself, Huglin thought, before he squared his shoulders at the Colonel.

“I just want to apologise, Sir. What I did yesterday was not becoming of a Major of the US Airforce. I know that. It’s not the kind of man I am or how I want my men to see me. I’m…” John swallowed. “I embarrassed the uniform. And I hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry, Sir.”

Huglin needed a moment to collect himself. He wasn’t stupid. He knew part of the reason the men admired Egan so was because he never backed down from the higher ups, always spoke his mind and said his piece - but Huglin couldn’t think of one time it wasn’t on their behalf. To get them what they needed or give them the best odds, or even distract them on days the base just became too heavy. But this was a side of John that Huglin had never seen: the human man underneath the military man.

And Huglin had sisters, too. He could empathise.

“I’m glad to hear that, Major. Normally, there’d be a disciplinary hearing, and we’d decide what was to be done with you.”

John bit his cheek but nodded, accepting.

“But, I think in this case, I can smooth things over. If, you apologise to Evans and his CO, and goddamn cool it on the liquor, John. I mean it. There might even be a mandatory anger management session with the doc in your future, and if so I won't hear a damn single word of complaint from you, understood?”

John reared back looking stunned, and Huglin let himself enjoy it. “Don’t look so surprised. Your buddy Cleven was by here and told me everything. And be glad he did. Otherwise I’d be tempted to ground you the rest of this damn war.”

John said nothing.

“Alright, get out of here. You’ve got a trip to prepare for. And an apology, too.”

“Yes, sir,. John turned smartly on his heels and headed for the door.

When he reached the jam, Huglin called out,. "And John? Give my best wishes to your sister, will you? If they need anything, you let me know.”

John made a funny noise in his throat and nodded before he all but fled the room.

Buck was waiting for him outside. He leapt to his feet when he saw Bucky emerge looking frazzled.

“Well? How’d it go?”

Bucky fell into step next to him, and out of the corner of his mouth said, “What on earth did you tell Huglin? Because whatever it was, I almost got out of there scot-free.”

And Buck didn't fail to notice that Bucky didn’t sound happy about it. He new in the sober light of day, and with the clarity sleep brings, John would be beating himself up something fierce for attacking that boy. Which he should, by rights, but John did take self-flagellation to extremes sometimes. Gale wondered if it was the Catholic in him, lapsed or not.

“You’re still Air Exec?”

“Yeah?”

Buck nudged him. “Sounds like a punishment to me.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and came to a halt at the mouth of the building, staring out onto the tarmac.

“I want to apologise to the boys,” he said, hands on his hips and head hanging low. “I just, can’t stop thinking about them seeing me like that. I don’t…”

Standing where they were, Buck couldn't do much but clasp his shoulder and lean down to look Bucky in the eye. “Then let’s go find ‘em.”

The boys, as it turned out, were just finishing getting dressed. They didn’t notice the Majors enter the bunk house at first.

“-wonder what happened?”

“None of your business, that’s what happened,” said DeMarco.

“It shouldn’t have happened.” Brady. Bucky flinched.

“Ay,” Curtis dove into the conversation. “You don’t know shit. If he got a bit banged up, then he deserved it. Don’t go thinking anything else.”

And despite himself, Bucky let himself crack a smile at Curt’s friendship and loyalty.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” Brady insisted, stubborn and louder. “John’s our leader. He’s a Major. I’m his co-pilot for crying out loud. He should be setting an example, and starting bar fights isn’t it. I don’t know about you, but I want to head into war with the John Egan who has your back, and keeps his head in the air so good he solves problems before half the crew even notice they’re there. Not the John who’ll flip at a switch. I don’t like that John.”

Several of the boys protested and booed Brady and started yelling and cursing, and they knew a more serious argument was about the break out with Brady bearing the brunt of it if they didn’t step in.

Buck let Bucky go when he stepped further into the room.

“Brady’s right,” he called, and the men snapped to attention and Brady dropped the shoe he’d been polishing and stumbled to his feet.

Buck walked up steady behind Bucky, a solid presence at his shoulder. “At ease, gentlemen.”

Bucky stood tall and true. “Last night, I acted in a way that was unfit for a man of the US Airforce, rank be damned. It should never have happened, and it will never happen again. I just wanted you to know that.” He surveyed the boys and they looked on silent. “We all make mistakes, and things get heated sometimes. This one is my mistake, and I’ll own that. So don’t you boys go thinking that starting fights with your fellow airmen to blow of some steam is acceptable. It’s not. You can all learn that lesson from me. That’s part of my job - teaching you how to avoid making the same mistakes I have.”

And in true Bucky fashion he flipped the solemn mood of the room with a switch and a turn of his lips and he gave them a sincere Bucky grin.

“Like that time I wandered into the Colonel’s quarters by mistake and got stuck on latrine duty for a week.” The boys relaxed into their laughter. “Remember that?” He pointed at Curt. “You made me sleep out in that abandoned storage hut until I was done.”

“You stank!”

“Or that time I yanked Ham back from the shaky step heading into the mess hall?”

Ham howled from his bunk. “Because you’d tripped a week or so before it, and sent your scrambled eggs all down a Red Cross dame. That handprint on your cheek didn’t disappear for a whole day!”

Buck just stood back and marvelled at Bucky's ability to work a room.

“So if me or Buck here ain’t around to give you the benefit of our experience,” he reached out and clasped the back of Brady’s head and scrubbed it playfully, “be damn sure you listen to Brady. Best co-pilot there is.”

The men all hollered and scrambled to rib at Brady, rubbing his head like Bucky did or punching him playfully in the arm or chucking his chin.

But Bucky wasn’t finished. “Because we’re the 100th. The best damn bomb squad there is. And we’ll damn well act like it. Do you hear me?”

“Yes sir!”

Bucky shouted louder. “I said do you hear me?!”

“SIR, YES SIR!”

“Because who are we?!”

“The 100th!”

“Who are we?!!”

“THE 100TH!”

“Then get your gear on, get out there, and show ‘em how it’s done!”

Making a thunderous racket, the boys gathered the last of their things and rushed out the door, Brady the last of the group, shooting Bucky a small, pleased, and proud smile before he disappeared.

The silence they left behind was a stark contrast. Until Buck couldn’t take it anymore.

He snorted and cackled and John threw his hands in the air. “Really, Buck?”

Buck cleared his throat and got himself under control. Adopting the highest voice he could, in something that could barely pass as Bucky's odd not-quite Wisconsin accent, he teased him, “My name’s John Egan, and I’m a terrible leader on the ground!”

Bucky shoved him hard, but yanked him back with a firm arm around his bicep and pulled him in close, so the buckles of their belts gave a soft clack in greeting.

They were alone.

“I’ll be flying at at 10.30 sharp,” Bucky mumbled up close.

Buck nodded. “I know. I’ll see you off, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

“Mm, with a handshake in front of the boys.”

Buck gave him a firm look. “Of course. Don’t you go thinking otherwise.”

Bucky smiled and leaned in closer, and Buck was surprised that he even could. “But the boys aren’t here, now.”

“Oh, that’s what you’re lookin’ for, huh? A little send of?”

Bucky's hands bravely slipped down to his waist and squeezed, and Buck resolutely did not think about how his waist fit all nice in John’s stupidly large hands. He was not a small man - he was tall; he worked hard all his life, and despite a less than stellar childhood, always had enough to eat. But John was just so damn big.

“Just a kiss, Buck. For luck. To tide me over till you get over the pond.”

Buck grinned, a rare one showing his teeth and leaned in until he felt the softness of Bucky's lips skim the edges of his own. He kept it there, just not quite touching until he heard Bucky's breath hitch and his hands tried their hardest not to wander some more.

And against that mouth he’d dreamed about in his sleep, he’d fantasised about in his waking hours, he murmured, playful and sweet, “No.”

He turned sharp in his heels and escaped Bucky's grasp and threw a pleased grin over his shoulder at Bucky gaping in his wake.

“Buck!”

“You’ll just have to wait for me, Johnny!” And Gale ducked out of the bunk house and left Bucky behind, to attend his duties.

And John stood there wondering what on earth he was in for, taking up with a tease like Buck Cleven. But he couldn’t wait to find out.

#clegan #buck x bucky #john egan #gale cleven #mota #masters of the air #fic