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im-a-marvel-ous-hoe · 5 months

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Secret Santa | Bucky Barnes (5th Day of 🎄)

(Credits to the owner of this pic!)

We’re almost half way there! I hope I’m not boring you guys 😅 ya girl had a lot of fun writing this one!

Christmas Masterlist <- check out my other holiday fics!

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Christmas is one of the most wonderful times of the year. It’s a time to be with family, friends and the people who love you. It’s a time where people give back to those in need. It’s a time where the world seems like there’s magic in the air.

It’s also a time where one can express their true feelings towards a special someone.

Though that seems like it’s easier said than done.

My fear of rejection has always held me back ever since I first met you. You have always been so constant and loyal and patient and loving… It's no wonder why I fell for you. You are a true beauty, anyone with common sense could see that. I’ve been waiting for the perfect opportunity to tell you how I feel ever since I realized how important you became to me.

Every year, Tony likes to throw a big Christmas party filled with multiple people who I don’t really care so much for, if I’m being completely honest. Soon right after that event, he’ll throw a small one reserved for family and friends only. There, is where we have our annual Secret Santa and every year I’ve been waiting to draw up your name.

This year, I finally did.

I held onto your box carefully in my hand, making sure I don’t accidentally misplace it while I anxiously fidgeted with my free one as I looked for you in the small crowd. I spotted Steve and Nat chatting at the mini bar while she served him a drink. Bruce was too busy talking to Tony about some new science experiment he’s been working on and wanted his input. Sam chatted away with Thor while playing a losing game of darts against Clint. Why he chose to go against him, I’ll never know.

It seemed like everywhere I looked, the one person I wanted to see wasn’t there. I bit my bottom lip as my eyes continued to search around the room.

“She’s not here yet.”

“Yeah, I know I just – …” I looked to my right and saw Wanda standing next to me, a knowing smile on her face. “Who are you talking about?” She just chuckled and raised a quick eyebrow. “You know who.. Sorry, I couldn’t help it. Your thoughts were just so loud and I had to come over and help quiet them down.”

I bowed my head in embarrassment. “Sorry.” She shook her head. “Don’t be. It’s kinda cute seeing the White Wolf fawn over a girl.” My head lifted back up quickly as she continued. “We never get to see this side of Bucky. It’s a nice pace from the constant brooding and staring contests you and Sam get into.”

“We do not – ”

“Yes you do, but that’s besides the point. Your girl isn’t here yet so I took the liberty of calling her and asking where she was before coming to talk to you. She’s a few minutes away.” She gave me a small smile as I returned one back to her. “So um with that being said.. how long have you..?”

She held her hand up to stop me from talking. “A while. You’re not exactly quiet or subtle with your thoughts.” My face must’ve been crimson red as she just laughed. “Oh my God..” I covered my face with my hand and shook my head. “I am so sorry about that.. um.. you – you haven’t – ”

“Don’t worry, Bucky. I haven’t told anyone, so your secret is safe with me.” She made a motion of locking her lips with her fingers and throwing away the key. “It’s not mine to tell anyway.”

“Thank you.”

She glanced around the room and softly hummed to herself. My thoughts must’ve been too loud and now I’m just paranoid at how long she has heard me. “I didn’t say anything before because one, I wanted to spare you the embarrassment and two, I was too busy freaking out about the fact that you’re in love with my best friend and I’ve been wanting you two to get together since forever.”

I laughed at the absurdity and held your gift close to my chest. “I’m not sure what to say. I’m embarrassed either way.” She turned her head towards the entrance and smiled. “You should fix your tie, Mr. Barnes. Ms. Y/L/N is straight ahead.” I followed her gaze and felt the literal wind get knocked out of me.

There you stood in a dark red dress that hugged your curves perfectly. The v-neck accentuating your assets in the best way possible and the way your hips swayed side to side as you walked more confidently my way made my brain short circuit. You look absolutely breathtaking. “You got this, Bucky. I’m rooting for you.” Wanda spoke as she left my side to meet you halfway to greet you in a hug.

I watched as the two of you started a short conversation. My gaze drifted up and down your figure. You seemed to outshine all of Tony’s expensive decorations as you chatted away with your friend. I guess you seemed to notice the way my feet were glued to the floor and you suddenly made your way in front of me.

“Hey, you.” You smiled and opened your arms, your gift bag swinging back and forth in your hand. “Hey, doll.” I smiled and embraced you in my arms, your perfume overwhelming my senses and becoming intoxicating. I want to dive my face deeper into your neck until I can figure out that sweet scent of yours.

God, what is it you wear that makes you smell so heavenly?

Pulling away, I noticed the gift in your hand. I motioned over to the bag and asked, “Who’s it for?” You lifted it up and proudly smiled to yourself. “Okay, don’t tell, but it’s for Thor. For a guy who’s so easily amused by everything, it was surprisingly difficult to find something.” You looked down at the box in my hand and pointed. “How about you? Who’s your secret Santa?”

“Uhh haha it’s.. It’s a secret.” I watched as your mouth hung open in surprise and couldn’t help but chuckle. “What? That’s not fair! I told you who I got.”

“That’s on you for answering! The whole point of a Secret Santa is to keep it a secret.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms above your chest. “I can keep a secret!” I hummed and shook my head. “Apparently you can’t.” I laughed and looked down at the box in my hand. “And besides, this gift is going to someone really.. special.”

I missed the way your face slightly fell by me being too busy looking at the gift that’s actually meant for you. “Well, I’m sure whoever it is, will love it.” Noticing the slight change in your tone, I glanced up and saw you smile up at me. “I know I would.” I could feel my heart wanting to beat out of my chest at the thought of you opening your gift and you finally realizing how I feel.

I quickly glanced at the box and debated if I should just tell you that it’s yours, before Thor made his way over to us and greeted you in a giant bear hug. “Miss Y/N! You finally made it!” You laughed in his embrace as you hugged him back. “I was beginning to think you would be too late to try any of the Asgardian deserts I brought with me. The tiny human of ants seems to enjoy them.’

“Oh, well if Scott is eating, I better quickly grab something before it’s all gone.” You smiled as you turned your attention back to me. “I’ll see you later?” I nodded and smiled, raising my hand up as if to say ‘go’. “Yeah, sure. Of course. You’ll know where to find me.” She nodded and followed after Thor. “Of course, I can’t help myself too and have eaten more than I’d like to say.”

“Okay, now I definitely need to grab something before you eat the rest!” Your laughter faded away as I stayed rooted in place. I know you’re friends with everyone here and I would never tell you who you can and can’t hang out with, but a selfish part of me just wanted one evening where we wouldn’t be interrupted and I could just tell you everything. The weight of the box in my hand suddenly felt heavier than before.

I sighed and made my way over to the mini bar. I sat the present on the counter next to me and looked up at Nat. “What’ll ya have, soldier?” She asked and raised an eyebrow. “Just a beer, thanks.” I leaned my head against my hand as I kept my gaze on the counter. She placed the opened bottle in front of me and I reached for it and took a swing.

“You doin’ alright there?” She asked once I placed the glass bottle down. “Mmm..”

“Very talkative tonight, are we?” She sighed and placed her hands on the counter, leaning forward. “What’s up?” I met her gaze and sat up. “Nothin’. Nothin’ I just.. it’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” She stated and tilted her head to the side. “Does your brooding have anything to do with a certain long red dressed girl sharing a whatever that is Thor brought?” I pinched my eyebrows together. “What are you talking about?”

“Your crush on Y/N.” She said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “How do you know about that? Wanda swore she wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“She didn’t.”

“I didn’t.”

I heard two different voices at the same time as Wanda sat down on the seat next to me and Nat stood, smirking. “I figured it out on my own.”

“Oh c’mon..” I groaned and took another gulp of my beer. “You, sir, outed yourself.” Wanda spoke while holding her hands up as if to say it’s not her fault.

“So, now that that’s established, I’m gonna go out on a wild limb here and say that based on how close you’re keeping that gift box of yours near you, she’s your Secret Santa?”

“Nat, please, don’t overanalyze me. It’s bad enough Wanda knows my exact thoughts on how I feel. I don’t need you to tease me about it.”

“Hey, I’m not Tony or Sam. I won’t tease you about it ‘til the end of the earth” She joked. “I know how to keep my mouth shut.” I looked to my side and saw Thor’s arms around you, clearly enjoying and thanking you for your gift as you smiled against him. Seeing how happy you looked with him made me second guess if I should just quickly run out to go find something else to give you.

What if my gift was too personal?

“You have nothing to worry about, Buck. Trust me. Because it’ll be from you, I just know we’ll be hearing about it for weeks.”

That’s kind of what I’m afraid of.

Wanda nudged my shoulder and smiled. “C’mon Barnes, Steve told us how much of a charmer you were back in the days. You tellin’ us you can’t sweet talk our Y/N and show her your fun flirty side that I know is deep down inside?”

I chuckled nervously and shook my head. “Heh I – I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I’ve asked someone out on a date.”

They both shared a look that made me feel like I was out of the loop on some kind of inside joke. They seemed to be having a whole conversation in their heads as I sat in between them. Nat's eyes motioned over to me as Wanda tilted her head at me and I suddenly felt like I was being watched and very much exposed.

“You know, you’re both acting as if I can’t tell you’re talking about me.” I raised an eyebrow as Nat waved me off. I chuckled to myself and brought your present closer to me. I know my gift isn’t much and I might make a fool out of myself, but it was give me so much pride to see you show off –

“She won’t reject you.” I looked up at Wanda and furrowed my eyebrows together. “Just.. trust me. She won’t turn you away, in fact she might be very flattered and is dying for you to do something and, oh I don’t know.. make a move?” My eyes slightly widened as I looked back and forth between her and Nat as she just nodded her head.

My gaze found you leaving Thor’s arms and walking over to the back door, opening it and disappearing behind it. “Merry Christmas, Bucky.” Wanda said as I stood up, getting ready to go towards you before stopping my movements as something clicked in my head.

“You..?” She nodded her head. “I couldn’t figure out what to physically give you and I couldn’t go another day hearing you two pine over each other. So I thought of the next best thing, giving you the confidence to go get your girl is the best gift I could give you.” I gave her a smile as she swatted her hand back and forth as if to push me away and laughed. “I can’t wait another minute. Go!”

I quickly grabbed your present and started walking backwards. I couldn’t wipe the smile off of my face. “Thank you, Wanda! I owe you big time!” She waved me off as I turned around and made my way towards the door you just walked out of a few moments ago.

I firmly held the box in my hand and took a deep breath. I reached for the door handle and opened it, leaving the warm atmosphere of people chatting away while soft Christmas music played in the background and followed you outside.

The sound of the door opening and closing caught your attention as you quickly turned to see who now stood out here in the open with you. “Bucky.” You smiled at me. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing..” I slowly walked closer and noticed small goosebumps on your skin as you tried to ignore the cold air. You hugged yourself, trying to keep warm as the wind blew your hair away from your face. “.. Coming out here without a jacket. Don’t you know how cold New York gets during winter?”

I unbuttoned my jacket as you shook your head, holding your hand up as if to stop me. “Bucky, no. I’m fine, really.” I slipped off my sleeve and switched the present to the opposite hand to slip off the remaining sleeve. “Mm-mmm, if my momma could see me now and see that I didn’t offer up my jacket to a beautiful girl to keep warm, she’d smack me on the back of my head and tell me off.” I chuckled and placed my blazer on top of your shoulders.

You brought it closer to your body and softly smiled at me. I can’t quite tell if the pink on your cheeks is from me or the cold, but I’d like to think it had somethin’ to do with what I just did. I couldn’t help the giddy feeling I had in the pit of my stomach of you wearing something of mine. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

“What if you get cold?”

“Doll, don’t you worry about me one bit. I’ll be okay, I promise you.”

We both smiled at each other as you gripped onto my jacket to help shield you from the cold. “By the way, you didn’t answer my question earlier. What are you doin’ out here?”

“Well, Thor suggested we bring out the karaoke machine and I needed to find a way out from embarrassing myself.” You laughed as you turned to look out at the night sky. The moon seemed to shine against your skin, highlighting how soft your features are. It makes you look like a goddess, that you’re too beautiful to even look at.

“Ahh, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

“Tony would’ve recorded it and had blackmail over my head for years! Poor Thor, doesn’t realize what he’s gonna get himself into.”

I laughed and wondered if anyone is tipsy enough to join in or if it’s gonna be a solo concert by our one and only God of Thunder. Here’s hoping he at least has a decent voice. “Ahh, he’ll be okay. He’ll have fun regardless.”

You softly hummed as you took a quick peek at my hand and noticed the present I’ve still yet to give. “I um.. I actually saw you walk out and was wondering if I could steal a little bit of your time? Without any interruptions.” You looked up at me and smiled. “Well… it looks like it’s just the two of us out here. I don’t think anyone is gonna come outside into the cold.”

“You did.”

“That’s besides the point.” You laughed and subtly glanced down at the present once more before meeting my gaze. “Somethin’ you wanna talk about?” I cleared my throat and raised my arm up to scratch the back of my neck. “Yeah, actually um.. I’d say it’s pretty important considering it’s about you.”

“Oh? Okay uh.. what’s goin’ on?”

I took in a shaky breath and held up the box in my hand, extending my arm towards you and watched your eyes slowly widen. “Merry Christmas, doll.” You hesitantly reached for the box and looked down at the pretty wrapping before tilting your head and meeting my eyes.

“Me?”

I nodded.

“You.”

You softly smiled and started unwrapping your gift, the sound of the paper ripping made me hold my breath in anticipation as I watched your reaction once you popped the small box open. Your lips parted as you took in my gift and I waited for any sign of discomfort or disappointment. You reached in and pulled out my dog tags, your thumb running along the metal engraved with my name.

“Bucky..”

“You’re always playing with them whenever I’m not wearing it and.. and I saw you slip it on once when you thought I wouldn’t notice. I just thought.. I thought that maybe you’d like to keep them safe for me.”

You stayed silent as you continued looking at my necklace in your hand. I tried analyzing your reaction, but my nerves wouldn’t let me be rational and my mind went straight to you not liking your gift. Suddenly feeling very exposed and cold, I quickly tried to rush out apologies if your present wasn’t something you would want.

“I’m sorry if it’s kinda shitty. I just figured you’d want it since.. I can just take it back and get you something else if that’s what you – ”

“No!”

I went to reach for the necklace but stopped in my movements at your sudden exclaim. My necklace held tightly in your hands against your chest, your body slightly turned away as if to protect it from being taken away.

“I – I mean..” You looked down at the piece of jewelry in your hands and held it up so it now dangled in front of the both of us as I waited to see what you would do. “I’m known to keep things safe..” You bent your head down and slipped the necklace on, as it now lay nestled against your chest.

You looked down and reached your hands up to it once again as you smiled. “Especially when it’s something as special as this.”

I smiled, finally feeling a sense of warmth spread across my face as I watched you admire something of mine and wearing it with pride. I slowly walked closer to you and lifted my left hand up, reaching for the necklace. My fingers ran through my engraved name, metal meeting metal, and softly smiled looking up at you.

“It looks better on you.”

I watched as your eyes crinkled with happiness in them and your smile continued to grow as I let it fall back against your chest. I reached up and pushed a strand of your hair away and placed it behind your ear as your head tilted towards my hand. I hesitantly held it centimeters away from your cheek as you lifted your hand to place on top of mine, bringing it down so I could feel you against me.

I watched you hold onto me and close your eyes, sighing in content. I slowly rubbed my thumb against your cheek as I studied every feature on your face, not sure when or if I would get this opportunity again. We were standing so close that I was almost so sure you could hear my heart beating erratically against my chest. “If you’re gonna kiss me, Barnes, you should do it before the moments’ gone.”

My lips parted in surprise as your pretty little eyes opened and met mine. I saw you glance at my lips for a moment as you slowly leaned your body in closer towards mine. I bent my head down and brought your face closer to mine. Your breath fanned against my cheek as you fluttered your eyes closed, letting out a soft, “Please..”

Who am I to deny you a kiss?

I closed the distance between us and connected our mouths together, your cold lips finally meeting mine and everything felt like it was slowly falling into place. Your body fit so perfectly in my arms and your perfume engulfed my senses once again. My shoulders raised up slightly in surprise once you brought your hands up to the side of my face and reached behind my neck, bringing me closer to you.

“Mmm..” I moaned against you when I felt your fingers comb through my hair and gave it a slight tug. You smiled into our kiss and held me there, as if there was any other place I’d rather be right now. I slid my hands down to your back and felt the fabric of my jacket you still had on.

I couldn’t feel the cold breeze blowing against me or hear the music coming from inside Tony’s house. I couldn’t focus on anything but you. Now that I finally got a taste of your lips, I knew I was in trouble. You slowly pulled away as my lips chased after yours, not wanting this moment to end just yet. You let out a giggle and pressed one more kiss before leaning back so you could look at me.

“Wow… merry Christmas to me.” You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Oh my God..”

I looked at your lips and felt myself wanting to go in once more so I could feel you again, but before I could lean in, you lifted your hand up and placed your finger against my lips. “We should head back inside. You may be okay out here in the cold, but I am not.” You chuckled as I lifted my hand up to grab yours and puckered my lips, giving your finger a little kiss.

“I could always find a way to keep you warm.”

“Bucky..!” You blushed and turned your face away from me as I laughed and held you close to me. “Okay, okay, okay..” I smiled and held your hand in mine, intertwining our fingers together as I looked down at my dog tags around your neck. Warmth spread all over my chest at the thought of you walking back in and showing off your gift to everyone. “C’mon doll, let’s head back inside.”

You held onto my jacket tightly against you as we both walked back inside, hand in hand. “In case I wasn’t clear earlier about my gift..” You spoke right after I closed the door behind us. “I really love it.”

“And in case I wasn’t clear about my intentions earlier..” I smiled and brought your hand up to my lips, placing a sweet kiss on top. “I would love to be able to call you mine..”

You smiled back at me and nodded.

I don’t care how much teasing I’ll get from Sam or Tony because in the end, I got the best gift I could ever get.

“I would love that.”

I got you.

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I hope y’all liked it! Please let me know your thoughts! Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes christmas #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barns x reader #marvel blog #marvel christmas #🎄✨🎄✨

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wings-of-ink · 1 month

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First Devlog?

Hello everyone...boy, there are a lot of you already, still trying to digest that...

So, I gather that I should do these logs on occasion. I do not know how often, perhaps just when I have a few things to say. I will try not to ramble too much, but my fingies like to talk.

Anyway, I am working on chapter 3 right now. There’s some fun moments so far in it that I hope you’ll like, and we’ll get to meet Zahn, Duri'naan, and then Rundis. I’m trying not to rush because there are some exciting scenes that I’m eager to get to. I’ve outlined them to tide myself over until I get that far. There’s some quiet moments you’ll get to have as well, and right now I feel like that’s what I’m struggling with. Those areas of my story are like bridges to the next, more exciting, parts and sometimes I feel like they fall a little flat. But, I’m trying to keep in mind this is my first draft. I’ll go through it another time or two to perk things up. Those moments are still important for letting the MC get to know each RO.

My mind has been in a million directions lately too, and I’ve had a lot of ‘duh’ moments. I’ve done so much world building since I started this last year (around August/September I think), that I have pockets of important details that I kinda just forgot! So, I plan to re-read all the notes I’ve made and try to also put them into one place. I have some in my phone, in a notebook, and in no less than three folders on my laptop. It’s a wonder I have survived this many years…

What you can expect for coming updates…

-A couple fixes, of course – thank you to those who found some of those pesky buggy bois for me.

-A nicer front page, instead of being slapped with my ramblings, I’d like to actually have a nice start page. I’ll figure it out eventually, lol.

-I’ll be adding a name bank to the MC’s Nameday scene that will also show you what each name means, so if that is important to you, it’ll save you the internet search. If it tickles your fancy, the name selection will correspond in some way to the marks (names meaning "night" or "storm," etc.) so you can theme your MC a bit.

-Extra coding in case you decide to shorten MC’s given name to just “Ravi.” I did not once consider that anyone would do this, and my first play-tester – my own spouse – did….He told me about it since it made some dialog with Oswin make zero sense, and then I published the story without fixing it because I completely forgot about it.

-Different contrast color for dark mode links. I feel like I have drastically improved this with a new gold color. In retrospect, I don’t know why I didn’t use the gold before. I love it as an accent, I use it all over! The blue never felt 100% right, but my brain shut down after thinking about it too long. Here’s a sample and a (M) Zahn tease:

When can you expect an update?

I’d like to make my next update during the Amare Games Festival, ideally containing both chapters 3 and 4 since they go pretty tightly together. This will also insure that you meet the rest of the posse. It’s a tall order for both chapters to be submitted on time, and I don’t want to rush them either, but I’m going to try really really hard, lol. I will focus first on polishing chapter 3, so that no matter what, I can at least get it out in time.

Here’s a link to the post about it:

And this is the submission time frame: open from March 31st 2024 at 11:00 PM to May 1st 2024 at 12:00 AM

As a side message, should you want to read on…

I also wanted to give you all a big, like really big, heartfelt thank you. I have received so many kind messages and comments that I just can’t believe it. I am so happy (and honestly, genuinely shocked) that you’re enjoying my IF, and I’m motivated to work hard so you also enjoy each new chapter of your journey. There’s so many secrets I want to share with you about the world, and I am struggling to be patient myself, lol.

I am not usually a very open or social person, and I was scared for a long time to share anything I wrote. I reached a point in my personal life in the last few years where I just needed to embrace what I loved to do and share it with a community that shares in that love. I encourage you to do the same whether there is a story in your heart, music on your lips, or a paintbrush in your hands. Life is NOT about your 8-5. We may not be able to survive without it, but whatever moment you can, do what you actually love. Put away the those things that don’t matter, the things that stress you - including people, and make time for who you are.

Thank you all and take care!

~Lunan

#if wip #twine if #twine wip #interactive novel #god cursed if #if game #interactive fiction #gc if devlog #amare game #amare

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wwwdotwhatdotcom · 1 year

Note

Hi really love your work🙂. May I repuest

Wolfgang with a gn(or male if you write it of course) reader. So I had this in my mind, Wolfgang and the reader are super close(like best friends) so toshiko tries to get them into a relationship and end the she succseeds.

Sorry if this is confusing

AWW THATS SO CUTE, of course ill write it!! it’ll be in a non killing game au because im all for fluff 🫶

authors note: reader is gonna be shorter then wolfgang because i refuse to believe anyone over 6’0 would want wolfgang.

——

the lawyer’s confession.

(featuring Wolfgang Akire, reader, Toshiko Kayura, and guest appearances from Kai Monteago, Grace Madison, and Cassidy Amber)

It had been a few months since Wolfgang had started attending Eden’s Garden Academy, and he was absolutely smitten with one of his classmates. you, you were perfect. The way you smiled, the way you spoke, the way you acted, the way you looked, you were just… perfect. You were in his class, naturally, and the lawyer felt blessed.

“Oh come on! Yours obviously in love with them, so just confess! It’s not that hard.”

“Miss Kayura, it’s not that simple… they’re my closest friend, i don’t want to lose them over this.”

Toshikosighs, bopping wolfgang on the head with one of her fans. “They’re clearly into you as well, everyone sees how they look at you.”

“I’m… i’m not too sure. they’re a wonderful person, and… and if i do confess, i want it to be perfect.”

“Then leave that to me! wolfgang, you are elegant, well-spoken, and i can’t think of anyone better for y/n then you.” Toshiko chuckled, walking away, leaving Wolfgang alone in the classroom.

“Wolfgang?” It was you. Peaking out from behind the door, you stepped into the classroom. “Um…what were you and toshiko talking about?”

“I- well- we were just-“ Wolfgang stutters, suddenly unable to form words. Maybe it was the curious look on your face, maybe it was the fact you were there- shit, he needed to compose himself. Straighting his tie, Wolfgang takes a deep breath. “We were… discussing you.”

“Me? why?”

“Because… well…. y/n, to put it simply, i’m in love with you.” He glances away, fidgeting with his tie.

Face flushing, you walk towards Wolfgang. “You’re… in love with me?” Your voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Yes. I- I’ve been in love with you since we first met.”

“Oh Wolfgang…” you gently place your hand on his cheek, smiling. “I love you too.”

The man blinks, before smiling as well. “Ah… can I…. may i kiss you?”

You nod, and he leans down, softly kissing you. he wraps his arms around your waist, and you wrap yours around his neck.

“y/n…” Wolfgang mutters, pulling away.

“Yeah?”

“Will… will you go out with me?”

You laugh. “Of course. I would love to.”

Kissing you again, the two of you spend a sweet moment together, just… kissing.

But of course, someone walks in- no, two people.

“Hoooly shit- Wolfgang- and y/n- i gotta get a picture.” It was Kai. Snickering, the influencer took way too many photos of you and Wolfgang.

“Mr Monteago!” Wolfgang exclaims, letting go of you. “Please, delete that!”

“No way, my fans will LOVE this.”

Behind Kai, was Toshiko. She walked over to the two of you, but not before shoving kai out of the room.

“Well, it seems i didn’t need to go through all the trouble i just went through!”

“Toshiko? What do you mean?” You tilt your head, confused.

“I set up an entire scenario where Wolfgang would confess to you, and it was perfect! But it seems he already has.” The girl grumbles, but she quickly gets over it. “Either way, I’m absolutely delighted that the two of you are finally together! I’ve been waiting for one of you to finally say something.”

Looking at one another, then looking at Toshiko, then back at each other, you and Wolfgang laugh.

“I really do appreciate your help, Miss Kayura. If not for you, I wouldn’t have been able to confess in the first place..” Wolfgang smiles.

Because we can’t have just two people running in, Cassidy and Grace RAN into the classroom as well.

“YOURE DATING Y/N?”

“I saw Kai’s post on Instagram holy shit-“

They’re talking over one another.

It looks like this might go on for a while…

“Wolfgang… let’s… let’s get out of here.” You whisper to the lawyer, who simply nods. Taking your hand, the two of you leave the classroom, much to your classmate’s protests.

—

authors note TWO!!: i had a lot of fun writing this, admittedly most of it was written during my homeroom class ;^-^ but enjoy!

#i’m not forgetting tags again #fanfic #p:eg #project eden's garden #project eden’s garden x reader #p:eg x reader #wolfgang akire #wolfgang x reader #toshiko kayura #grace madison #cassidy amber #fluff #gn!reader #wolfgang project eden’s garden #fluff fic #drabble #kai monteago

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writerman · 2 years

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i guess i'll get off your doorstep then lmao.

im not sure what im asking exactly or what i expect you to say but i wondered how you went about finding your interests and found contentment in them disregarding what anyone else around you was doing. seeing that you seem pretty confident among other things.

i feel like ive joined so many communities that were either dying and quiet or theyre pretty clique-ish with no way in. im getting a bit tired at hearing to do things for myself when im specifically looking for a sense of community. how do you manage with things like this?

I’m not sure I can give you an answer that will satisfy you. But I’m going to try anyway!

My interests are writing and playing video games, it is fairly easy to be content with both of those things, unless you mean my interest in a particular set of characters that I write for?

If that is what you mean my answer changes a bit. I suppose mostly I’ve never been interested in what everyone else is and that isn’t to say it’s because I’m “that guy”, you know the one.

It’s just a lot of things people like I don’t have an interest in. I genuinely just do what I want and enjoy what I like.

That doesn’t mean I’ve always been that way, I used to care very much about how I was perceived- now I just don’t.

But finding a sense of community in fandom can be hard, I’ve been there never knowing how to interact with those that enjoy the same things as you.

For a long time I didn’t want to post anything about fandom because I was terrified that people would yell at me for my “wrong opinions” but one day I just realised that didn’t matter, like wtf why am I worried about a faceless person on the internet?

If I appear confident with the things I say and do that’s great but that came with a lot of time to reflect on why I wasn’t confident before and age. Not saying you have to be older to be wiser but it does help a tiny bit.

I can’t tell you how to find that sense of community because I’m not good at that kind of social activity. I don’t talk in big servers, and I don’t have popular posts or popular fanfic.

I’m, unfortunately, doing this for myself and the fact that others have started to enjoy it too is great but it doesn’t always work that way. But I appreciate every interaction I have on this webbed site 😂

I’m really sorry that I can’t help you, a lot of the time I’m not good with words or advice. Maybe a lot of this doesn’t make sense and I’m sorry about that too.

Please know you can always come to my IM or inbox and chat- community starts slow, I think, and it builds bit by bit you just have to be willing to throw your oar in and even if no one else is rowing.

If none of this helps I’ll buy you a pizza as apology ✌️

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lizzygrantarchives · 13 years

Text

Complex, October 7, 2011

The "Video Games" vixen tells us how she's dealing with the sudden fame and what's next for her music.

Ever since her passionate singles "Video Games" and "Blue Jeans" got Lana Del Rey buzzing this past summer, music journalists have gone to great lengths to try and figure her out—with inconclusive results. Lana popped up with a DIY aesthetic, then surprised everyone when it was revealed that she has the support of a major label machine in Interscope. Some love her because her music is awesome. Some hate her because they feel she's manufactured, Trojan Horse-ing her way into the scene.

If you ask Lana to describe herself, or her purpose, she's not much help either. "I don't even have that much to say!" she proclaims over the phone, while stepping off the subway in New York. For a girl with an image that appears so deftly calculated, it's hard to tell if she's being sincere, or whether her coyness is all part of the act.

And really it's this act, her penchant for Old Hollywood cinematics, killer fashion, and dramatic tales of heartbreak, that has us mesmerized. We care about her, just as much, if not more, than her records. Where did this girl come from and why is it so fun to watch her? Lana Del Rey finally opens all the way up to Complex, from the authenticity of her much-discussed lips, to how she really feels about those Internet haters, and the sound of her upcoming debut, tentatively titled Born To Die.

You moved from Lake Placid to New York City seven years ago in search of a career in music. Now you have one. How did that happen?

Just going to open-mic nights and things like that. It was mostly in Brooklyn. It was a folk scene. When I was 19, I signed to an independent record label. I was the only act on their roster, and then that record was shelved. After that, I still wanted to sing, but I started focusing on being an active member of my community. It’s only in the last three months that I’ve had any attention.

You really came out of nowhere. Did you have a relationship with anyone at Interscope before your rise in popularity this summer?

No, I had never met anyone in that capacity. I had gone to record labels in London a year and a half ago and showed them my songs, but no one was interested. I hadn’t met any of the people that I’m signed to now. I know lots of people are wondering about the deal. [Laughs.]

Yeah, when I first heard “Video Games” in July, your record label was mentioned.

Well, I wrote that a few months ago with a composer called Justin Parker. I got a publicist a few weeks ago. I signed my deal a few weeks ago. I’ve had a very diligent manager for the last two years. In terms of assistance, I haven’t had a thing, which is OK. It’s nicer to have help.

No help with your videos? The editing is great.

No, I found and edited all of those clips myself. In the last four weeks, I’ve had to hire copyright specialists to reach out to people to ask for approval for those clips, but I found them ten months ago by searching keywords on YouTube. It’s not like the videos are that good. I’d rather them not be up, but whatever. They’re fucking weird. It’s not like I wanted the videos to look that way; it’s just what I was working with at the time. I’m not sure it’s a perfect representation of what I would have chosen if I’d had more money. [Laughs.]

Well, it’s worked out for you.

Yeah, you’d think so, but there’s definitely a backlash to it that I’m starting to see now. But it’s fine.

Anytime I talk to someone who’s facing backlash, it’s always “Whatever” or “Haters are going to hate.”

I don’t feel that way. I’m not that cool. I feel like I want to fucking kill myself. It’s miserable.

What bothers you about the criticism?

I’m just not interested. Music is secondary to me. I wish I could go back to normal. I’m a really quiet person. I always have been. It’s hard when you see a lot of things written about you. It’s not what I had in mind.

Yeah, there’s a lot of speculation about your lips.

I can tell that’s going to be a fucking problem. I didn’t sign up to be famous, I just wanted to sing. It’s so annoying, but what am I going to do?

Are your lips real?

I haven’t had anything done at all. Anyone who’s known me will tell you that. I’m sorry, but I was living in a trailer park for a few years. I didn’t even have enough money to buy Cocoa Puffs. It’s not like I crawled from under the bridge and got surgery. I’m quite pouty. [Laughs.] That’s just how I look when I sing.

How else has your life changed since your music took off?

It’s just been a lot of moving around, working with a lot of different producers trying to get the sound of the record right. I have like four songs that I think, sonically, are really good. The record’s written, but it’s not produced. I haven’t gotten to fix anything up yet. I’m still living between a million different places. But it’s nice not to be trying to survive on the street. [Laughs.] That’s good. I’m glad that I’m safe and not in any dangerous regions.

Where are these million different places?

I’ve been living in London off-and-on for the last year and a half. I started going over there to work with different producers. I never expected to end up there, but I’ve been spending a lot of time there. I go to Glasgow in Scotland and I go see my friends. That’s really fun, but there’s a lot of other things. My life hasn’t been about music for a long time now. There’s a different side of my life and I don’t really talk about it.

So, you’re 25? That’s what’s mostly out there.

Yeah, I’m 25.

When do you turn 26?

June 21st.

Who was it that broke your heart?

The songs are about two people that I couldn’t hang on to because they got in trouble and had to leave. When you’re an introvert like me and you’ve been lonely for a while, and then you find someone who understands you, you become really attached to them. It’s a real release.

I’ve seen you say things on Twitter like, “I still think about you.” Do you feel like you were supposed to be with one of them?

No. In this particular case, I know that I wasn’t supposed to be with that person, but I was still really lonely. It’s so hard to be alone. I think you know in the back of your mind when you meet someone that could be the right person. I think you know. It’s rare.

It seems like you play up your retro sex appeal intentionally.

Most of the songs are about heartbreak, but maybe the videos and the pictures have added to that perception. They are quite vamped up, aren’t they? [Laughs.] I have fun with it all, but music and taking pictures are not my end-all, be-all. They’re fun, but they’re not important to me. The most important thing, obviously, is the record. I just hope I can create that sonic world that I have in mind.

Who are you working with?

My best friend, who is a film composer in California. He’s been working with [Kanye West producer] Jeff Bhasker and [Kid Cudi producer] Emile Haynie, who are more in the hip-hop world, and we’re creating a really good thing. I don’t think it’s going to be an easy road, but for me, it’s going to be about the songs.

People have high expectations for your album. Are you feeling the pressure?

I don’t feel pressure, but I do feel nervous. I’m not used to having a lot of people hear my music. When you don’t have a lot of people listening to your music for a long time, you start making it for yourself and it takes the pressure off. I really like the record. Of course I hope people like it, because I don’t want to deal with any drama.

Originally published on complex.com with the headline Lana Del Rey Talks Backlash, Plastic Surgery, and New Album.

#2011 #Complex #Ernest Baker

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yuna-writes · 1 year

Text

Social Skills

Some of the biggest mysterious I couldn’t really piece together or articulate well was my childhood. I couldn’t really understand the reason why, but I think I pretty much suppressed much of my childhood memories because they were too painful to deal with. A few days ago, I started to remember what my childhood was like and tears fell from my face. But then realized those tears have been about 15 years late.

I think I couldn’t really bond with my classmates in high school because my interests wasn’t really mainstream or well known. Either way, I missed out on opportunities to develop social skills because of this. I’m not sure who to blame, but it could be on both sides. I may not have developed enough social skills to make more effort to pick up on popular or mainstream interests, but I also felt like other students weren’t very open to diverse interests. If you don’t have popular interests such as partying and hookup culture, than you were considered a weirdo or outcast in school. I always felt like this coldness from other students, but I think the more reasonable answer is that the students are not really being cold. They just weren’t able to find common interests to bond with someone. I always did hear about those stereotypes about nerds being anti-social or lack social skills, but I think the reason is that many nerds have very different interests that isn’t well known so they can’t form relationships if no one knows about it or understand them. Some nerds also struggle to participate in mainstream hobbies and interests.

The ostracization was very challenging to deal with. Regardless, when kids have a bad day at school, home life usually balances things out when they have parents to depend on and ask for help. My home life was also pretty cold as well. Cold in a way in which my parents were not the emotional type because it was viewed as weakness. Therefore, I had no one to talk to in the household. I had past resentment toward my parents for their emotionally absent parenting, but I also discovered they also grew up with traumatic experiences and raised by parents who were also emotionally unavailable to them when they were kids. In modern language, we call this ‘generational trauma.’ In other words, unresolved trauma passes on to the next generation. As an adult, it makes me a bit more empathetic and understanding for my parents, but I’m still left being quiet shattered by that experience.

I suppose many people would wonder how did I get by not having anyone to talk to? I didn’t talk to my parents because they weren’t the ‘loving type’ of people. They associate ‘love’ with just food and shelter. I spent several years in school with no friends. Pretty much, I was existing by being alone. Imagine someone had a child who had no friends to talk to, and no parents by their sides to support them. I can imagine the child will start to develop psychological problems. The things that pretty much ‘saved me’ was really reading fictional books and escapism into fantasy. I guess that sort of made me into a really creative person today. I always see people trying to find a resolution for their unresolved trauma, but I also think it just starts to become a blaming game. There’s some truth that a person definitely contributed to someone’s trauma, but the situation can be described in a way that it could be everyone’s fault, even the person who’s pointing the finger had also hurt someone else in the past. That’s why I haven’t really complained or felt that I was the victim. I had some self destructive behavior in the past which wasn’t healthy, and along the way, I have also caused some emotional damage to other people based on the traumatic experiences I’ve dealt with.

My question would be, how does this cycle of suffering end? Most people say you need love and forgiveness in your heart to find a resolve for past trauma. But what if the person was never taught those emotions the day they were born? Love is a very subjective and abstract emotion. My parents believed love was just food and shelter. Meanwhile, there are emotional and loving parents, but they don’t know how to take care of their children to live in a stable household with decent shelter, food and safety because they are poor. I understand where some people are coming from that I lack certain empathy, because empathy derives from a sense of unconditional love. It’s just the love I was taught wasn’t what the majority believe in. I was pretty much taught on ‘pragmatic love.’

#notes

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Surprise Interview

Pairing: Kenma x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Pseudo-Cest, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Verbal Humiliation, Manipulation

Summary: Kenma sees if you have what it takes to be Bouncing Ball’s newest employee.

A/N: This is for @sugawara-sweetheart ‘s Decadence Collab. So excited to be a part of this collab and to be able to indulge in such a delicious prompt and theme. Be sure to check out everyone else’s works! As always, thanks for beta-ing @sawamooora ~

There’s a familiar peace and a new nervousness about coming back home for the holidays. Mostly because home isn’t quite the same home it used to be. You can feel warmth blooming in your chest at the thought of seeing your mom, telling her about everything and everyone (as if your daily phone calls aren’t enough), and just lounging around while she fills you up with her cooking. But you can also feel a certain shyness as you approach the house, a building that still feels brand new and strange to you.

Your mother had gotten remarried during your earlier college years after your father’s passing and you were elated for her. If anyone deserves all the happiness in the world, it’s her. You had met Mr. Kozume quite a few times and you have no qualms with the man. He treats your mother like a queen and even though you playfully gag as they sweet talk and kiss in front of you, you wholeheartedly approve of their relationship.

However, what you aren’t quite as prepared for is having a new step-sibling.

You don’t know much about Kenma Kozume. Well, not much more than the rest of the world does.

Professional gamer. Successful stock trader. Popular YouTuber. Founder of his own corporation.

You know exactly who your new brother is, but other than seeing him a few times in person at family gatherings and exchanging polite greetings, there’s no real connection. Which is why your heart races as you nervously ring his doorbell, anxiety already making your leg twitch as you wait for the door to open.

Your mother and step-father are on a couple’s vacation and won’t be returning for a few days.

(“We just want some romantic time together before we have a full house again for the holidays. Plus this is a great chance to get to know your older brother better!” You hadn’t even been able to get a word of protest in before she had laughed and hung up on you, leaving you speechless and on your own as you hesitantly texted Kenma, letting him know what day to expect you.)

Kenma is quiet as ever as he nods in greeting, silently leading you to your guest room before quietly telling you to make yourself at home and leaving to do his own thing. You let out a huge sigh of relief as the door closes behind him.

There’s nothing wrong with Kenma. He’s smart and successful. Maybe a bit on the quiet side, but that only adds to his down to earth charm. You know your mother and step-father adore him and you can’t blame them. Yet, you can’t help but feel scrutinized, seen so clearly in a way that terrifies you when his feline eyes gaze at you. It takes everything in you not to immediately scurry away whenever you’re in viewing distance of him, desperate to hide all the flaws you imagine he’s noticing and calculating. Your step-father had mentioned how Kenma used to be the strategist of his high school volleyball team, and has always been able to evaluate and accurately break down situations and people. And you believe it.

You’re just grateful the house is large enough to avoid each other and that Kenma tends to reside mostly in his home office and bedroom.

But even the founder of a company needs a break from time to time. Kenma shuffles towards the gaming room, only to blink in surprise when he sees you already inside of it, happily smiling as Animal Crossing visuals and sounds fill the space.

He had known you owned a Nintendo Switch, a piece of information your mom had shared to break the ice a bit. And it’s really no surprise that this is your go-to game. But knowing and seeing are two different things and he can’t help but let his own lips twitch upwards at how calm and relaxed you are tending to your garden, decorating your home, choosing your outfit.

Kenma’s never been good with people, has never been the one to initiate a friendship. He knows he should have made more of an effort to be friendly and welcoming to you as your new older brother. There’s a slight pang of regret in his chest when he sees how at ease you are while you’re unaware of his presence. His eyes are as sharp as ever and he locks in on the way your body slightly stiffens, fingers nervously fidgeting when you finally notice his figure in the doorway, words already stuttering an apology for using his game room without explicitly asking.

You look like a scared mouse about to flee from the claws of a cat. And it pisses him off.

He hasn’t made the best efforts to bridge the gap between you, but for you to fear him? That seems a tad unnecessary, and more than a tad insulting. It’s more than enough to make the sadistic streak in him want to give you something to be scared about.

But he’s never been impulsive and he just quietly sits beside you on the floor, reassuring you it’s fine to play, smirking when you sneak little side glances his way as you continue collecting fruits.

“Kozume, do you want to play-”

“Just call me Kenma.”

Entranced eyes watch as you grow flustered at his words, mouth silently testing the weight of his given name in your mouth. For once, Kenma could care less about playing video games when a shaky timid “Kenma” slips past your soft lips.

“Kenma, do you want to play something together?”

You have no idea how badly he really does want to play together, but it’s a game you’re not ready for. So he calls upon any restraint he has to pluck your device from your hands and change the game to Mario Kart.

It’s amusing how easily you soften besides him, brow furrowing in concentration, eyes intently and eagerly following the screen, any anxiousness quickly forgotten as you get into the game. He greedily watches as you pout when you make a mistake, as your eyes light up every time you pass someone.

If he had known how easy it would be to make you warm up to him, he’d have done this sooner and he genuinely laughs when you whine and fake glare at him as he wins yet another round.

He asks about school. You ask about work. He tells you about his childhood. You share your own stories.

It’s a comfortable rhythmic back and forth and he’s afraid of ruining it, but a certain question nags at his mind, a question he knows may ruin the entire flow of the conversation.

“You’ll be graduating soon. Have you decided what you want to do after college?”

“Kenma not you too!!!”

His shoulders relax at how well you react to the question, smiling at the way you flop onto your back and groan about how mom and dad are already on your case about future plans.

“I’ve been applying to places, but who knows. Maybe I’ll just work for you at Bouncing Ball.”

There’s a playful lilt in your voice when you say it, a giggle and teasing smile accompanying the words. But there’s nothing funny about it to Kenma and your smile falters a bit when you see how tightly Kenma’s gripping his controller, the way his eyes pin you down.

“Kenma? It’s just a joke. I would never take advantage of-”

You try to get up from your reclined position, only to whimper in confusion when Kenma’s hand on your shoulder forces you back down. And suddenly you’re pinned down by more than just his stare as he moves to straddle you, knees on either side of your body, hands next to your head, his whole body caging yours.

It’s a lighthearted joke in the family that if all else fails, you could always work at Bouncing Ball. A joke your step-father and mother always dish out when the arguments get too tense as the three of you talk about your future. But it’s become less in jest for Kenma, especially after Kuroo sent him a scandalous picture of his newest secretary kneeling between his long legs, lips wrapped around his cock.

It wasn’t the first picture, nor was it the last incriminating photo the older businessman had sent him. Kenma merely rolled his eyes before deleting the image from his phone, wondering when Kuroo would grow bored and find a new toy to play with. But he freezes when he sees the following text message from his long-time friend.

“You’re the CEO of a company, Kenma. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone convenient around? A pretty warm body? I bet that cute new step sister of yours would look really good under your desk. Doesn’t she graduate from college soon? If you don’t make a move, maybe I’ll snatch her up right from under your nose. I’m due for a change of secretary soon.”

There’s absolutely no reason for the hot anger that lances through him at Kuroo’s taunting words and he grimaces at playing right into his ex-captain’s hands, already hearing Kuroo’s braying laughter in his head if the older man saw just how much his words affected him.

But initial irritation aside, he lets himself really think, really imagine what a life with you at his beck and call would be like. And he likes what he sees. He doesn’t delete Kuroo’s photos as quickly as he used to, replacing the female faces with yours in his imagination as his hands slip under the hem of his boxers.

He knows it’s a longshot, knows there’s a high chance you’ll continue your lives as is, never destined to exchange more than a few polite greetings at family outings. But now...now hearing you voice the idea out loud yourself, hearing the way his first name sounds from your lips…

Maybe it’s not the silly pipe dream he had believed it to be.

“I’m in need of an assistant if you really do want to work at Bouncing Ball, but you’d need to prove why it would be worth hiring you.”

He almost laughs at how you perk up despite the precarious position you’re in, almost ready to launch into an elevator pitch of your qualifications flat on your back underneath him. You’re quite the multitasker already and he groans at the thought of having you cockwarm him while he tests out a new video game, making you answer all his calls stuffed full of him and desperately trying to hide the lustful tremble in your voice.

But he’s not here to listen to your carefully crafted speech. (Guess you really were practicing for job interviews like you said you were. What a good girl.) And he firmly presses his lips against yours to silence you, taking his time to immerse himself in the way your mouths mold against each other.

Your taste, your smell, your warmth. It’s all intoxicating and he slips his tongue inside your parted lips, subtly rutting his groin against your body. He can feel your body jostle as you lift your arms and he waits for the weight of your arms to lovingly wrap around his neck, only to be shocked when you weakly press against his shoulders until he finally relents and pulls back just enough to look down at you in irritated confusion.

“We- we shouldn’t be doing this.”

It’s not the words that have him clenching his fists, not even the way your palms still timidly press against him in a laughably weak show of defense.

It’s the fear in your eyes, the way you look at him like he’s some monster. It's the way he can almost palpably feel and hear your desire to be anywhere other than here, with anyone other than him, wishing to put as much space between the two of you as possible.

It’s your rejection.

It hurts to know that he isn’t enough just as he is, that he needs to resort to less...savory and straightforward ways to entrap you. But he’s not Hinata or Kuroo. He doesn’t have an electrifying personality or roguishly handsome features and charm to woo you. He only has his cunning and sharp tongue.

And he fully intends on maximizing his gifts.

“Of course, you don’t have to. You can just keep on applying and getting rejected by every company you speak to, if they even bother meeting with you after seeing your pathetic resume. Average college. Average grades. Average major. Tell me, how many interviews have you actually been reached out to for?”

He’s going out on a bit of a limb, but his suspicions are right and he cruelly smirks at the way tears bubble in your eyes at his words, no comeback or denial rolling off the tip of your tongue. He had a feeling you were struggling from the bits and pieces he’s picked up as your parents quietly talk and fret over you actually being able to find a job after graduation.

“Our parents are too nice to say anything about it, but you know they’re disappointed in you, right? Have you noticed how they always avoid talking about how school is going or asking you about how job hunting is going? How they only ask me how work is going? It’s because they know you’re just a loser whose life is going to amount to nothing.”

“That’s not true! They love me-”

“I’m not saying they don’t love you, but doesn’t that make it even worse? Making your loving and caring parents worry and stress over you when they should be preparing for retirement, an easy life? Instead of letting them finally enjoy a carefree life, you’ll be their freeloader daughter who uses up all their remaining funds. Is that what you want?”

You really are too easy and his lips curl in satisfaction at the way you frantically shake your head side to side, fat wet drops streaming down your face, adorable sniffles filling the air.

“If you become my assistant, I’ll compensate you well. You can live here with me, have your own room, a roof over your head, all the food and clothing you need and want. Think about how relieved and happy our parents will be seeing you provided for, seeing us getting along. Isn’t that what you want? For them to be happy?”

He knows how close you are to your mom, how important this idea of a perfect family is to you. He knows how insecurity and doubt about your own capabilities torment you. And he knows you’re hooked on his claws when your hands that are still pressed against his shoulders drop limply besides you, not even a hint of resistance left in you when he leans down once more to rest his forehead on yours, one hand cupping the side of your face.

“This is all you’re good for anyway. Working underneath me.”

If you notice his pun, you don’t acknowledge it, too busy wincing and squirming as he harshly nips and bites a trail from your lips to your neck as he pushes up the hem of your shirt until your chest is on full display for him. There’s something experimental, cold, meticulous about the way he gropes and fondles your breasts.Your face heats in humiliation at how he treats you like one of the many game consoles he’s reviewed for his audience.

But you don’t do anything about it, telling yourself that this is just his version of an interview as he pinches and prods at you, meanly twisting your nipples and chuckling at your yelp of pain. You obediently let him spread your legs apart, only letting out an agonized cry as he tests your flexibility, staring at him with a trembling lower lip as he sharply tells you to shut up while scrutinizing your panty-covered sex.

“You really are made for this, aren’t you?”

You whimper as he nudges the small wet spot on the thin fabric, clenching your eyes shut in denial at how hot and wound up your body feels from his touch, unable to hide your gasp as he pulls the layer aside and rubs your aroused clit.

There’s something so different about the way his fingers slowly sink into your wet pussy, almost lazily curling against your soft walls, his thumb never stopping its careful massage on the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. So different from your own fingers desperately thrusting in and out of you. So different from the drunk partners you’ve hooked up with at college and their sloppy, rapid, frantic movements.

You can feel something large, something intimidating slowly rising from deep inside of you, a volcano about to erupt compared to the bright and fast to fade shooting stars you’re used to. You’re scared. Scared of the intoxicating feeling, of how easy it is to grow accustomed to Kenma’s presence, of how his cat-like eyes are all you can see and think of.

How can something feel so wrong and so right at the same time?

That’s the last coherent thought you have before your world goes blank, pleasure rocking through you as you soak the carpet and your step-brother’s hand with your juices. You’re moaning as Kenma continues to rock his fingers in and out of you, fingertips insistently massaging your clit and g-spot as you ride out your orgasm, body trembling and convulsing.

But even when the tremors slow, when pleasure becomes something sharper, more overwhelming, he doesn’t stop. You wail, begging him to stop, to let you rest, slumping in relief when he finally drags his hands away from you, carelessly wiping the mess you’ve made of his hand on your skin, covering you in your own essence.

Your heavy eyelids threaten to flutter shut as you let exhaustion wash over you, already dreading having to get up and wash yourself. But you’re shocked back to reality as something hard begins to nudge at your still fluttering entrance.

“Kenma! No! Too much-”

You break off into a sob as surprisingly strong hands dig into your hips, holding you still as he pushes and pushes until he’s fully settled inside of you, balls resting against your ass.

You’re still so tight, your quivering walls clamping around the intrusion, and he groans at the thought of being able to sink into this hole every day, multiple times, whenever he wants. His cock is already aching from holding off for so long, from watching your body and face contorted in pleasure. Kenma can feel his end quickly approaching as you scream and wail underneath him, eyes rolling back in your head, drool trickling from the corner of your mouth. You look absolutely obscene and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this side of you.

But despite the way his balls are tightening, despite the stutter in his hips, he’s determined to watch you fall apart once more, to see you shatter to pieces yet again. He grits his teeth, fingers reaching down to furiously rub at your already oversensitized clit, reveling in how your back arches, thighs shaking in overstimulation, and then you snap.

He wonders what his parents would think of their dear dumb daughter now, looking nothing like their silly angel, looking like a wanton used whore, incoherent garbled noises slipping past your lips as you twitch uncontrollably, your pussy milking him dry as he cums inside of you.

There’s only silence mixed with your pitiful whimpers as he slides out of you, grimacing at the sticky mess you’ve made of yourself and him. But that’s what your other hole is for and he orders you to suck him clean, admiring what a quick learner you are, eager to please as you noisily slurp and lick him clean, moaning at the taste of your combined fluids...

Maybe too eager and he shoves you off of him when you become too enthusiastic, his cock beginning to twitch in interest once more.

You look so lost, still sprawled out on the ground, staring up at him with wide imploring eyes as he pulls up his pants. So vulnerable and in need of guidance.

Good thing you have such a great boss to manage you.

“Not bad. Consider these next few days your internship and if all goes well, I’ll be more than happy to hire you as Bouncing Ball’s newest employee this summer. Now clean up this room and show me that my future assistant can do more than just be a slut.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere kenma #yandere kenma x reader #haikyuu smut #kenma x reader #kenma smut #haikyuu x reader #sweetheart decadence #tw: yandere #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon

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danteinthedevildom · 3 years

Text

There's a Chat in OM where Satan shows concern over Beel because he saw Beel talking to himself, crouched down in the garden, which Beel later reveals to have been him talking to a very frail plant he found because Mammon told him that talking to flowers helps them grow.

And what I adore about this is that it shows things about the brothers involved that we don't always get to see in the main game, or that are sometimes overlooked for the funny hijinks.

- Beel notices incredibly small details. The flower is small and hidden enough that Satan initially thinks he's talking to himself. He doesn’t actually see the plant at all. And Beel is the tallest brother, so it's not as if his height would be any help to him noticing something on the ground that's small, hidden, and frail, especially when he’s doing a task like watering the garden. That’s just a job to be done, and most people would pay more attention to where the water’s going and how much there’s left to do than they would to each individual flower. He must have been paying genuinely close attention to his surroundings to even notice it to begin with.

- Beel's care for things extends even to nature. He talks to the plant because he wants to help it grow. It's just a small, dying flower, one of however many there are in the House’s garden; there’s no reason to fret over it when there’s probably plenty of other flowers around it, and maybe even flowers of the same species.

But Beel’s genuinely invested in bringing it back to health. He’s seen this tiny, sickly, insignificant flower, and his first thought is to make it better. It's why he later clarifies the situation to MC, asking for more help, because the flower hasn't shown any signs of improvement.

(Very quietly, it makes me wonder if part of the reason he does this is guilt. Maybe Beel just doesn’t like to see things that are dying.)

- Despite how the brothers act towards Mammon most of the time, Beel fully takes on his advice. He spends days talking to the flower because Mammon told him that's something that might work, and it's only when the flower hasn't gotten better that he seeks more help.

At no point did he question this advice. At no point did he think that the “scummy” second-born would say something stupid, or irrelevant, or unhelpful. Mammon told him to talk to the plant, and he so did.

He says that he asked because Mammon was nearby, but at any time he could have just walked right past him, found someone else, and asked them. He could have completely ignored the fact that Mammon was there - especially considering how little the brothers tend to think of his ideas, to begin with - and found someone “more competent”. But he didn’t.

Which means he genuinely has no issues turning to Mammon for help. He genuinely thinks Mammon can give competent advice.

Out of all the brothers, Beel is usually the best when it comes to their overall treatment of the second-born, so maybe that isn’t surprising - but he can be derisive as well.

So it's nice to see, in a situation where it was just the two of them, without the antagonising influence of the others, Beel show he's more than willing to listen to Mammon as a voice of authority and knowledge - especially over something he's worried about. He respects and trusts what Mammon says, and believes it.

- Mammon saw Beel worried over a plant - something small and insignificant that has no greater purpose in the world and hosts no real interest for either of them - and gave him the best genuine advice he could.

Mammon likely doesn't actually know how to care for sick plants, but wanted to try and give Beel something to work with. We know he cares for his brothers deeply - almost (if not exactly) to the point of self sacrifice - so it's not a stretch at all to say he probably suggested talking to the plant in full seriousness, hoping it would help Beel.

It's a common piece of advice, after all. I've heard people say it all the time, from the most amateur gardener to the most professional; talking to your plants keeps them happy and helps them grow.

The bit that really gets me about it, though, is the fact that Mammon... knew it? Out of all things, you'd expect him to care about gardening the least - and to suggest talking to a plant even less. It goes completely against his image, but not against what we know of Mammon as a kind and caring (as well as emotional) demon beneath the facade.

Him, in a similar position to Beel, crouched down low and out of sight to murmur quietly to a plant he thinks needs an extra boost, is well within the spectrum of things Mammon would do but deny doing if caught.

And I just think it's sweet, imagining him passing on advice he's used in the past over a similar thing he might have done to try and help his clearly worried little brother.

- Satan, in a chat with Solomon and MC, shows genuine care and concern towards Beel.

His first instinct is to ask MC and Solomon if they might know what’s going on. He’s noticed a pattern of behaviour that’s unusual for Beel - “sitting out in the garden, mumbling to himself”, to quote him directly - and once it’s gotten to a point that he’s worried, he asks if anyone else knows what’s wrong.

It shows a fair bit of forethought, too. Satan didn’t immediately assume something was up, didn’t immediately dogpile on Beel; he let it play out, keeping a close eye, until it went on for long enough that he thought it might be something bigger. He’s often shown as being thoughtful about how others might react to things (at least, when he’s not enraged), but it’s interesting to see the actual depth of not only his caring, but his understanding of emotional states and how to handle them.

Satan isn’t heartless. If he notices something wrong, he’s very likely to approach the person in question (or people he trusts) with his concerns in a very gentle manner explicitly to avoid overwhelming them. He actively cares enough to pay attention to the people around him, and to notice when someone starts acting differently.

This is especially sweet when it comes to Beel. The brothers have a tendency to treat Beel as the big, gentle giant who doesn’t have a worry in the world except for what he wants to eat. He’s quiet, complains little, and shoulders so many burdens in stride that they often overlook his struggles - if they’re even aware that they exist, because Beel loves his family so much he tries to avoid troubling them.

The fact, then, that Satan not only noticed, not only inquired about his health, but then - when Solomon and MC suggest that maybe Beel’s stressed out and bottling up his emotions - openly says this:

Just shows so much love. The game sometimes overlooks just how much Satan loves his family, but this? This shows it, without a doubt.

- Satan messages the chat with Solomon in it.

This surprised me when I went back to look over the conversation; I genuinely remembered it as him talking to Levi, for some reason. Beyond that, if you asked me who I thought it’d be that he questioned for information regarding Beel’s health, it wouldn’t be Solomon that immediately jumped to mind.

In this situation, you’d think it’d make more sense for him to ask MC and Asmo (who he’s shown to have a very close and affectionate relationship with), or maybe MC and Belphie (who would probably be the first demon anyone should go to regarding Beel, and who Satan definitely gets on with).

As far as I’ve seen - which, admittedly, I’m not caught up on any of the Human World events from the main game beyond spoilers I’ve looked up - there’s not a lot of, if any, interactions between Beel and Solomon? Most of them are Solomon trying to give Beel food, and Beel trying to foister that food off onto someone else because Solomon’s cooking is one of the few things he can’t stomach.

So maybe it says more about Satan’s relationship with Solomon. Looking back through the chats, Solomon feels comfortable enough with Satan to outright ask him if he’s kissed MC (in the chat where Luke overheard Satan and MC talking about K.I.S.S.), and Satan doesn’t react negatively even though it’s a genuinely personal question.

Likewise, Satan, when furious over one of his dramas, immediately turns to the chat with MC and Solomon in it. He explicitly states that he doesn’t know what to do with the feelings he’s got left over from the cliffhanger, and wants to talk it over with the two humans. Which is interesting in two ways:

+ It shows that Satan is comfortable enough when angry to go to Solomon and MC, confident that they won’t actively make it worse (which is always possible when it comes to Satan’s Wrath once it’s ignited).

+ It shows that Satan’s more than happy to talk about how he feels in front of Solomon, and actively engaging him in that discussion. Yes, it’s only over a drama, but you don’t often turn to someone you don’t trust when you want to vent over something you’re passionate about.

There’s a fair bit of trust between them, I think, regardless of how either of them are typically viewed. Plus, the chat’s called Cat (3). It’s almost definitely just a pun, but the fact that a chat with Solomon and MC in it is also named after the one thing that can soothe Satan from an outright rage (as we’ve seen both in OtakuFM and in the main game) is interesting in what it implies about their relationship with him.

So, back to what I originally pondered: why did he go to Solomon and MC when he was concerned about Beel, and not Belphie (Beel’s twin, most likely to know what he’s up to) or Asmo (who lives at the House and is absolutely more likely to have seen Beel in the garden)?

He trusts Solomon and MC enough to take the matter seriously, with discretion.

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me solomon

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tf-lover · 3 years

Text

Reflections

“And then he flipped out and threw me out , all because I refused to suck him off!” Leo complained as he sat up from the bench press. “And that was weeks ago! Literally everyone I’ve tried to hook up with since then has told me to fuck off. I swear the little shit must have gone around telling everyone he saw.”

Micah turned to him with a frown. “Seriously dude? Why the hell would you refuse to suck his dick, you are gay, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m a top. If anyone’s getting a blowjob, it's me, not him.”

Micah stood and headed towards the locker room. He knew Leo well enough to know he could be a stubborn ass when he wanted to. He’d just have to leave him to dig himself deeper into the mess he’d got into.

“Bro, I have literally no idea what I’m going to do,” Micah heard Leo say from behind him. Either he had enough of a workout for the day, or he was too sexually frustrated to carry on now they’d started to talk about his situation. Micah gave no response as he walked into the showers with a towel over his shoulder; unlike Leo, he had never wanted to wait until he was home to get rid of the post-workout stink. They’d been through this routine enough times now that they didn’t have to think about it. Leo would hover by the entrance to the showers and talk about whatever was on his mind whilst Micah washed, offering little response unless the other man pushed for one. Micah often just zoned out of what his friend was saying. It was all pretty similar anyway, but this time one thing caught his attention.

“—dominant tops don’t do that stuff, and I’m one of those, so obviously I don’t want to get fucked or suck guys off or whatever.”

That made Micah wonder, was it just him, or did it sound like Leo was trying to convince himself? And despite all the complaining he’d been doing these past four weeks , Micah hardly believed no one in the local area was up for sex with his friend. That definitely sounded like an exaggeration if he’d ever heard one. Maybe there was more of an opportunity here than he had first thought.

~~~

Two weeks later…

“I’ll do it,” Micah said with a shrug.

That caught Leo off guard. He’d been in the middle of yet another tirade about his sudden lack of a sex life when he’d been interrupted by the offer from the man sat across from him.

“What?” Leo blurted out, still unsure he’d heard correctly.

Micha sighed. “I said, I’ll do it. I’ll have sex with you if it means you’ll stop complaining.”

“But you’re—”

“A top, yeah I know. And we can fuck, but I have one condition.”

Leo squinted at Micah, skeptical of what he might ask for in return. “What’s the condition?”

Micah set down his coffee, then looked back up with a challenging look on his face. “You. Tell me. The fucking truth about why you’ve been complaining so much this past month.”

Leo stood up and made his way over to the coffee machine, his back now turned when he said, “What do you mean, bro? I told you, didn't I?”

“Yeah, told me some bullshit.” Coffee discarded, Micah followed his friend into the kitchen and leant against the counter next to him. “Come on, how long have we known each other? I know when something’s actually wrong, and not something stupid like not getting to have sex, so fucking talk to me dude, I’m here for you.”

Leo was still, hands gripped tight around his coffee cup as he refused to meet Micah’s gaze.

“I can’t.”

~~~

It took a week.

Leo hadn’t turned up to Friday night drinks with the guys, but Micah wasn’t exactly surprised. He’d been acting strange ever since the conversation last week. Skipped out on their gym sessions, they’d barely talked at home, and he had even missed the usual Sunday game night.

They were a couple of rounds in when Micah heard a quiet ‘Hey’ from behind him. He turned to look over his shoulder, only to see the last person he expected. Stood behind him was Leo, eyes downcast and hands shoved deep into jeans pockets. He looked miserable.

“Leo, hey! We were wondering when you’d turn up.”

“Can we talk?” Leo asked, his voice barely a whisper. He glanced around at the rest of the guys at the table then said, “But, um, not here.”

Micah just nodded and stood to follow Leo, who was already on his way out of the door. By the time he’d caught up they were already halfway home; living around the corner from their favourite bar had its perks. Neither man uttered a word as they walked; Micah had tried once he caught up, but had been met with a furious stare that made it clear this was a conversation that had to wait until they were in private.

Once inside, both men made their way into the living room, shoes and coats haphazardly discarded to be dealt with later. Micah watched in silence as Leo slumped down onto the sofa with his head in his hands; he wouldn’t rush the conversation he knew was coming.

“So,” Leo said after a minute, still unable to look his friend in the eyes, “You were right.”

“About?”

“Something being wrong.”

Leo finally looked up when he felt a hand rest on his thigh. The soft look he saw on the face of the man beside him spurred him to continue with his confession after he let out a nervous sigh. ”I made a mistake a long time ago. I guess you’d say I made an assumption I shouldn’t have because I didn’t know any better, and only recently realised that assumption isn’t making me happy.”

Leo stood and began to pace back and forth before he continued. “You remember asking me why I refused to suck dick?” Micah nodded. “Well, it’s to do with that. You see, I’d always see these big buff men around when I was a teenager and I just assumed I wanted to be like them. So I started working out and home and going to the gym because I thought that was what I wanted to do.”

“Are you saying that’s not what you wanted to do?” Micah asked.

Leo nodded. “It took a while to realise, figuring out I was gay helped, but yeah. This whole muscular gym bro thing, it isn’t me. I don’t think it ever has been.”

“So, what now?”

Leo’s pacing stopped. “What do you mean, what now?”

Micah shrugged. “If this isn’t you, what do you want now? What do you want to do about it?”

“I don’t know. Not like I can just get rid of all this.” Leo said as he gestured down at his well sculpted body.

“So that’s what you want.” A slight smirk spread over Micah’s face, “To get rid of all that bulk?” Leo blushed and once again refused to meet the other man’s gaze, “Come on, what did I say about being able to talk to me?”

“Fine, yes! If I could snap my fingers and have it all disappear, I would.”

Micah stood without a word and made his way over to the bookshelf by the TV. Once there, he picked up a small, ornately carved wooden box and bought it back over to the sofa where Leo had now sat down.

“You finally going to show me what’s in that thing?” Leo asked as Micah sat down beside him.

Micah held out the box. “Open it and I’ll explain.”

The box had been with Micah since most of his current friends had known him, and in all that time, not one of them had ever learnt what was inside. The box, or more specifically the contents of the box, was a family heirloom that had been given to Micah on his 18th birthday. This was no ordinary family heirloom, though. It was a necklace that when worn would shift your appearance until you ‘reflect your true self’. Micah knew it wasn’t bullshit either, he’d used it himself the day he’d been given it after all.

“Really?” Leo asked, after Micha had finished his explanation. “That’s all true?”

“Will you just shut up and put it on? I’m trying to help you here.”

“Fine, fine! I’ll humour you for now.” Leo lifted the necklace out of its box, which he set aside, and draped it around his neck. It was a fancy golden chain with a mirrored disc attached, not something he’d usually wear. “What now?”

“Now,” Micah said with a mischievous grin, “you get down on your knees and suck me off.”

Leo’s jaw dropped, unable to believe what he’d just heard.

Micah rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to believe, and make the necklace believe, what you want to become. Picture it and act it out. I used my dad’s gym equipment when I used it.”

What Leo didn’t need to know was the second part of what he’d been told wasn’t true at all. There was no need to act out what you wanted to become, but Micah couldn’t help but take advantage of the situation. The thought of the friend he’d been crushing on down on his knees, lips wrapped around his cock as he sucked him off, was too good to pass up.

A furious blush spread over Leo’s face as he slowly dropped to his knees in front of Micah, embarrassed at being forced to admit he wanted this, but unbelievably turned on at the same time.

He nervously fumbled with Micah’s jeans as said man leant back with both arms folded behind his head, relaxed but totally aware of how much he was showing off.

Leo gulped as he stared at the rock hard cock in front of him, whether or not he wanted to admit it, this was it. If he did this, there was no going back.

“Do it, you know you want to,” Leo heard from above him. He glanced up to see a cocky face looking down at him, almost as if he could tell exactly what was going through Leo’s head.

Fuck it. If he didn’t do it now, he never would, and he knew he’d regret that, eventually. He wrapped a hand around his friend's nine inch length and slowly lowered his head towards it, mouth open, ready to tentatively suck on the head. The feeling was euphoric. He knew this was what he’d secretly desired, but shit, now it was real he didn’t want to hold back. He dove in with a new enthusiasm that made Micah let out a surprised moan at the intensity.

He ran a hand into Leo’s hair a moment later, once he’d recovered from the sudden blowjob, and pushed downwards gently, enough to let Leo know who was in control of this situation.

It wasn’t long before the transformation began. The first sign that something was different was as Leo slowly shifted himself forwards, when he started he was sitting back on his heels, but now he had to sit up further just to keep his mouth where it was. He was getting shorter. For a moment it looked like his muscles were growing, but it was just an illusion created as his muscles compacted with his rapid height loss. The short stocky frame wouldn’t last.

As Leo got more and more into sucking on the cock in his mouth, his hard earned muscles dwindled. Broad, round shoulders pulled in on themselves as muscle evaporated, the almost feminine ones left in their place a sign of the direction the changes were going.

Leo brought a hand up to fondle Micah’s balls, and said man watched with interest as his hands slimmed, followed quickly by the rest of his arms. Huge biceps and veiny forearms that Micah had seen Leo spend countless hours working on were gone in seconds; they were now smaller than Micah had ever seen them. Thick pecs and hard cut abs soon followed suit, his whole upper body lost its ‘V’ shape as both flattened out.

Micah could see the transformation speed up as it continued its journey down Leo’s body. His confidence in himself and his skills pushed it on faster as he brought his friend closer and closer to orgasm. His legs shrunk as Leo bobbed his still masculine head up and down, ass lost muscle and tightened into an incredibly fuckable bubble that Micah couldn’t wait to be inside of.

He pulled the partially transformed man off his throbbing cock and threw him over his shoulder, a much easier feat with all the mass he’d lost.

“Hey!” Leo yelped as he was manhandled and deprived of the cock he had been enjoying so much. “What do you thInK yOu’rE DoINg?” his voice cracked as he spoke, rising from a deep rumble to a cuter, more high-pitched tone.

“Taking you somewhere I can fuck the rest of the transformation into you,” Micah grinned.

Leo’s furious blush returned, “O-Okay.”

Leo assumed they’d stop at the bed as they made their way into the bedroom, but was confused when they went straight past it and into the bathroom. He understood why a moment later when he was set down and bent over in front of the mirror. He could see the small, smooth body that'd replaced his previously huge frame, and he couldn’t be happier.

Micah rubbed his cock against Leo’s hole, he wasn’t too worried about prepping. The soon to be full twink could solve that issue for them easily with the necklace. “Baby? You want to make your ass ready for me?”

Leo had to concentrate on this change. Using the necklace to get rid of his jock body was easy enough, but this one was more difficult. He focused on making his hole able to take any guy’s cock with ease, his ass always being lubed and stretched ready at a moment's notice. There was no point in it being temporary, he was never going back to the jock he’d been pretending to be after all.

Both men moaned as Micah slid inside, one far deeper than the other. It was better than anything Leo had felt before. For so long he’d denied himself this out of fear, and now it was here he couldn’t believe he’d waited this long.

They watched in the mirror as Leo’s face softened, the square jaw and rugged features faded along with his well-groomed beard. This left a smooth, cute face that fit far better on his new body than before, a face that left Leo almost in tears at how right it felt looking back at him in the mirror.

Micah reached around and started to jerk Leo off in time with his thrusts. It was strange feeling such a large cock on such a small frame, but he could already tell that wouldn’t last long as it got shorter and thinner in his hand.

Leo could tell the moment his changes had finished. Everything seemed to click into place and the wrongness that’d lingered over him for so long lifted all at once; he was finally the sexy twink getting railed by the hot gym bro he’d secretly dreamed of for years.

That plus the cock that was slamming into his prostate was all he needed to be pushed over the edge of orgasm. Micah followed soon after, the tight ass that was squeezing his cock repeatedly made him cum huge volumes inside the twink.

Leo collapsed into the hunk above him, who cradled Leo in his arms before Micah picked him up bridal style and carried him over to the bed. Once he was set down, Micah carefully removed the necklace and set it down on the bedside table before he climbed in and pulled the other man close. They lay there in silence, Leo’s head rested against a firm chest, until Leo tried to sit up with a panicked look on his face.

“What am I going to tell my friends, my parents I—” A finger on his lips and a muscular arm around his waist silenced his stressed ramble.

“The truth. Together.”

“T-Together?”

“Yeah, together. If you’ll have me?”

He was met with a nod and a shy smile from Leo. Micah grinned back and pulled Leo into a sweet kiss. He was going to have a good life with his new boyfriend.

#muscle loss #jock to twink tf #male transformation #my writing

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iiraven · 3 years

Text

Odyssey

Pairing: Poseidon!Armin x Reader

Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: slow-burn, minor character death, manipulation, stalking, possessiveness, Yandere behaviour, puppy play, piss play, body worship, throne sex, implied age-gap, oral(male receiving), hair pulling, collaring (without consent)

Word count: 9.8K

Synopsis: Armin’s quest for revenge leads him to you, daughter of a merchant and object of his infatuation.

Author’s note: thank you @bubbleteaimagines for hosting this collab and allowing me to join <3 Also, thank you @onyxoverride for teaching me how to write about pee!

Attack on Titan Masterlist

Present day:

If the river could speak, you wonder what it would say.

In the silence that surrounds the rushing of the water, you’re sure you would hear it. Sometimes, you’re sure you can hear it, but then you remember the dangers of trusting unfamiliar voices. Especially unfamiliar voices in a place like this.

No one goes near the river Shiganshina. And you forget the reasons why much too often.

It’s rocky, slippery, there’s no path to walk on, and the nymphs grow sharp teeth when men approach them, hissing and eyes glowing red. But that’s what makes it perfect for you.

Sasha first mentioned the river months ago, recalling the places on the island that her and her father avoided whenever they went hunting. You hadn’t paid much attention to it until days later, when Connie recounted with round eyes how Floch’s body was found beside the river Shiganshina, mouth full of water and eyes gouged out. You knew you needed to go there yourself.

A pearl necklace is what you stole. And under the guise of going to wash clothes at the well, you made your way south of your small island with only Sasha’s vague instructions and your intuition guiding you.

You could hear the ocean as you walked through the untouched woods, your heart hammering in your chest every time the waves crashed against the island’s cliffs. You weren’t allowed to see the ocean- you weren’t allowed to be around any large body of water, for that matter- but you still knew your island well enough to know that a step in the wrong place could lead you tumbling down the cliff.

You would die before you got to feel the water on your skin and that, you thought, would be the most tragic part.

As your feet began to sink into the muddy ground, you could smell the salty water, and a slight metallic scent behind it that only drew you in closer until you reached a clearing. It was small, crowded with foliage with only a few dead plants on the ground where you could only assume people had attempted to step foot.

And there was the river. It was small, its water emerging from underground before the tide pushed it to the edge of the island- to a waterfall. So loud that it could drown out any noise, any screams. You shivered. For a moment, you just stood back and watched. The water was was green, but so clear that you could still see the fish swimming beside the floating objects. Coins, silver, small statues, and whatever else hopefuls had tried to offer. You pulled out your own offering and whispered a short prayer before throwing the necklace in.

It could have been your imagination, but the water calmed. It was quieter. And, like that, you felt as if the river had opened up its arms to you. Strong arms that you have to be cautious not to spend too long within lest you get trapped.

Thankfully, you’ve learned to read the signs. You know when the river wants you to leave, when it wants you to keep your distance, when it wants to keep you close, and even when it wants you to bathe. Those are the special moments. It’s rare the river is calm enough for you to dip your naked body into, but surrounded by the cool water, you feel like you could stay their forever.

If the river could speak now, however, you’re sure it would tell you to fuck off.

Either that or it would tell you to come back when you have something more to offer its god than a single golden bead from your grandmother’s necklace. Only three are left on the thin string, though you think you might keep the last one to honour her death. After that, you’ll have to go back to offering coins and whatever other trinkets that will keep the god of this river sedated long enough for you to dip your feet into the cool water, maybe take a sip, and then return home before your father realises where you’ve been, much less where you’ve been unchaperoned.

The latter is hardly your fault. Sasha and Connie are too scared to step foot in the Shiganshina forest, let alone the river itself. And you can’t trust anyone else to accompany you, especially the servants whose tongue could slip at the drop of a golden coin. Your father would never forgive you for spending time in the territory of the God of the Ocean or- as he liked to call Armin- the destroyer of seas. And thus, being left alone seems to be the only way.

Well, that’s unless Mr Arlert decides to join you.

The owner of the stable who appeared on the island out of nowhere is the last person anyone would expect to be brave enough to spend time at the river Shiganshina. He mostly keeps to himself, only ever seen tending to his horses or immersed in scrolls of literature and poetry. And yet, he’s here almost as often as you are, almost as vulnerable as you are.

Despite his solitary nature, Mr Arlert has been quick to make himself adored. Mothers swoon over his charm, scholars constantly indulge in his curiosity, and sailors are fascinated by his knowledge of the world and its oceans. He’s no warrior, and already in his late twenties, but he’s still without a doubt one of the most eligible bachelors on Paradis. And, yet, to any marriage proposal sent his way, he declines with a polite “A husband is not what I am fated to become”. Even Annie Leonhardt- whose father Mr Arlert would constantly visit- had her heart broken. But no one blames Mr Arlert, of course, who was there to comfort Annie, to make her realise that she just needs to be a better person, that’s all. It’s not his fault her heart broke, Mr Arlert reassured.

Thinking about it now, you’re amongst the handful of women who haven’t been offered to the tall blond. And with that comes a sigh of relief as you drag your fingers through the water.

It’s not like you dislike him- the opposite, actually- but being with Mr Arlert is like taking the hand of an invisible man in the dark and letting him guide you.

His words constantly have your thoughts spiralling in directions that they shouldn’t be. Thoughts about leaving the island, thoughts about going to the ocean, thoughts about becoming a priestess. Thoughts you aren’t allowed to have.

You fate is bound to the home you were born in, a thick rope tied to your ankle, only letting you go as far as this very river. And Mr Arlert sits beside that rope, a knife in his hand, blue eyes staring into your soul, waiting. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. But what you’re sure of is that to be taken away from the life you know of is an inconceivable fantasy. The unknown is a dangerous thing, after all.

The small island of Paradis may lie far away from the rest of the world, but their core values remain the same. A woman must grow up to either serve her father or her husband. Your fate has already been decided for you. And, frankly, if it means not having to share a bed with an old man who marries you for your dowry, you’re very happy with taking care of your father until the day that he’ll be put into the ground.

But then there’s always the third option. A woman who serves neither her father nor her husband will serve her god.

You had never been given that option by your god-hating kin. Simply suggesting a future as priestess would earn you at least five lashes, so why… why can’t you stop thinking about it? Your instincts have you blame Mr Arlert, but you know that your fixation began before he arrived on the island; all he’s done is vocalise your thoughts.

As a gust of wind blows the leaves and the salt from the sea gently caresses your cheek, you wonder who your god would be. Do you resonate with Pieck’s beauty, or Zeke’s creativity? Maybe. But as you look into your reflection, you know that your god is no other than Armin, the god of the ocean. The fates must think this is hilarious, but you just want to scream.

“It’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your father worrying about you.”

You jump at the sudden voice, turning around at the familiar face, leaning against a tree with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Mr Arlert.”

His footsteps are so gentle, as are his apologies.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve come to invade your space, after all.”

“It’s not my space, it’s Armin’s. The god is only letting me stay here.”

He smiles a knowing smile, one that you would usually find patronising on any other man. But Armin is charming, too charming for you ever to think that of him. “I suppose you’re right.”

He comes to sit down beside you, taking his usual place at your right- the voice of reason. It’s quiet for a moment, before you remember.

“Lemnos,” you say.

The blond smiles. “I’m not named after a place.”

And you roll your eyes, as you’ve done every time he’s given you a useless hint. “That hardly narrows it down.”

“Well, I can’t make it too easy of a game.”

“You can’t make it impossible either!”

“It seems like I already have.” And you’re not sure if you want to wipe the smirk off his face or just stare at it.

“What about Tree?”

Arlert laughs. “No, but you have one guess left.”

“What?!” You sit up straight, eyes wide. Now you really want to wipe the smirk off his face.

“You have seven guesses, and in the eleven months we’ve known each other, you’ve used up six.” His explanation is calm and rational enough for you to almost convince yourself that the rule has been there from the start.

“Wait- wait. I never knew about this!”

“I thought everyone did. It’s traditional wager rules.” Mr Arlert’s tone is sorry, but you know he’s everything but. So, you cross your arms and pout, hoping that staring him down might at least give you the smallest chance of winning your wager.

He leans forward, mirthful and you feel a shiver go down your spine. “What is it, little puppy, sulking because you’re afraid you can’t win?”

You flush at the implication of your loss- “No- no not at all- no”- before registering his actual words are and only then can you feel the heat rise and you’re sure it’s doing you no service. “I know I can win!”

“I know you can too,” he assures you.

You frown. “Are you being sarcastic?”

It’s his turn to flush. “No, not at all! You can win- the water god favours you, after all.”

And although you shrug, his words stick. They always do.

Before you go home, you pass by Armin’s temple and place at the foot of his statue the remainder of your grandmother’s necklace.

A year ago:

Amrin knew how fickle the gods were and he thought that this knowledge made him impervious to those feelings. He watched how Eren jumped from woman to woman daily, how Reiner picked and chose his battles without a care, how every single fixation a deity would have never lasted more than a year. He thought of how stupid it was to spend a life of immortality indulging in such temporary pleasures. And he looked down on his kin for that very reason.

It was only after one argument too many that Armin finally let it slip. The god of the sea was usually quiet, offering soft smiles, casual conversation, and minimal conflict. That was his only rule: keeps quiet before the gods of the pantheon as he takes his anger out on the humans below. But that day, he forgot about his rule.

Maybe it was the years of silence that caused the Eathshaker’s outburst, or maybe it was just Eren’s bored expression as he talked about his mistresses in front of Mikasa. Armin couldn’t take it. Gathered at a marble table beside all the Olympians, he scowled and told them how stupid they all were.

“Don’t you realise? You’re all wasting your immortality by being so idiotic, so fickle! Everything you touch becomes a temporary pleasure, ruined by your inability to act like real gods.”

He should have stopped; he really should have stopped. But the crack in the glass bridge had been there for years, and now the shards of glass were dropping down into the sea. “You might as well be human!”

The room went silent. Eyes went wide, and mouths gaped, but the gods opted for silence. Every deity wanted to speak up, maybe even draw their swords, but they were more intelligent than Armin was in that moment, which was more unusual than one might think. He had never snapped so violently before. Armin may have been aggressive, but he knew his place. Knew when to be docile. Now, he felt like he could crumble Olympus itself with his rage and bury the Olympians with their dead parents.

The king of the gods, however, leaned forward. His emerald eyes were unmoving, devoid of emotion though his lips tilted into a monstrous grin.

“You’re just as fickle as the rest of us, brother,” was all Eren said.

When Armin lunged at him, knocking the fine glass off the table, it was Mikasa who pinned him down. Arms locked behind his back, all Armin could do was watch as mirth flooded Eren’s face, and the god of the sky laughed. The bastard laughed and laughed and licked the small wound on his hand from a shard of glass. It healed immediately. Even their pain was temporary.

And like he had been doing for the past millennia, Armin found solice in his only rule: if he couldn’t take out his rage on his brother, Armin would take out his frustration elsewhere.

His first instinct was to find a woman, but the thought of seeking out temporary pleasure, from a mistress no less, reminded him too much of Eren. So, he descended to earth, trident in one hand as the other gripped the reigns of his horse and they rode for three days and three nights. That’s all it took for the god of the sea to find what he was looking for- someone deserving of his hatred.

There are many humans like the merchant. But most of their hatred is silent. And when it’s not, blasphemy often falls upon deaf ears. The merchant just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when his drunk rambles led him up on the deck screaming out Armin’s name like it was venom in his throat, until he could scream no more. He was drunk, but the merchant’s hatred for the god of the sea did not cease when he was sober.

And when Armin heard his name, the god wasted no time calling forth a storm to sink the merchant’s ship. He took care to ensure that the arrogant man watched each and every one of his men be swallowed whole, their bodies only resurfacing lifeless, before the storm calmed.

It took five days for the merchant to swim back to his island.

He never returned to the sea.

As the weeks passed, he relocated his home to help him stay away from any body of water and made sure that his family followed suit.

But Armin followed, and the merchant’s father died weeks later with saltwater water found in his lungs.

Unfortunately, that was not enough to sedate the god of the sea’s need for vengeance. Fortunately, it was not enough to sedate the merchant’s hatred either. The hubris didn’t leave him. Instead, it just grew and grew and grew until the merchant considered himself more of a god than Armin would ever be.

“Oh, oh.” Armin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the man urinate before his temple. “This is perfect, so perfect.”

Armin was going to show his uncaring brother how different he was from the rest of the miserable Olympians. As he stood above the island of Paradis, golden hair blowing in the ocean wind, the god vowed to begin his Odyssey. An eternal Odyssey. A journey that would last longer than the ten fleeting years he had with the Greek hero- a journey that would last longer than the universe itself.

And he knew exactly where to begin. A man’s most valuable possession: his child.

It was only after your grandfather’s death that Armin noticed you. When he first began watching the merchant’s household, under the guise of either a guest or a bird, he had been surprised to learn that the blasphemous man had no wife, nor children. Armin only realised his mistake one night, when you came to lay a blanket on the drunk man’s barely conscious body. The merchant had pulled you towards him, muttering apologies and you had wrinkled your nose before offering him a soft smile. “It’s okay, papa”.

A daughter sheltered from the world, it seemed.

The god had initially thought you were one of the servants. There were only two in the house, and your tasks were all similar. But as Armin began to watch you closer, he saw how you did have a life outside your home with friends, interests, men- a life your father was blissfully unaware of.

The merchant hardly left home- playing the part of the sick man- and you took care of him- playing the part of your dead mother- in a happy sort of agreement.

You didn’t speak about it to your friends, but you detested your doting role. Armin could tell. The way you wrinkled your nose every time your father walked through the door, the eye-roll when you were given a load of laundry. The god couldn’t help by laugh at how pathetic the merchant was that not even his only daughter- his lifeline- cared for him. The merchant didn’t know, of course. Your fake smiles and gentle hands were enough to deceive him, keep him sane. But Armin was going to break that pattern.

The merchant didn’t deserve the care of a woman. He didn’t deserve anything. So, Armin was going to take you away from him.

His initial plan was to kill you. Simple, efficient, quick. And then he thought of dumping your body somewhere far so that the search for you would break your father’s spirit even more. He hesitated, though, he wasn’t sure why, but he did. And then, you changed your routine.

After meeting up with the two individuals you called your friends at the Sunday market- instead of going back home- you carried on walking. Through the houses on the outskirts and into the dense trees, you almost stung your sandal-clad feet twice before reaching a river. The river had no god of itself, but you still threw in an offering and muttered. Stupid human. And then you sat beside the river and- nothing. Your routine was boring, obviously a ritual to let you escape from reality. Yet, he couldn’t tear away from you. The woman at the river Shiganshina was a different one than the woman who served her father. The one here relaxed her shoulders, cursed at the world around her, smiled- albeit randomly but it was real. He decided there that he would kill you tomorrow.

But when, the next day, you led him back to the river, Armin was lost in you again. Lost in your honestly, lost in your need to escape. He wanted to see more, he needed to see more. Metaphorically, of course. But when you began undressing, the pleated robes dropping to reveal soft skin and tender curves, the god of the sea realised that he wouldn’t mind literally seeing more of you. Armin had been with goddesses and nymphs and, hell, even Aphrodite herself, but never had he been this awestruck. He had to hold himself back. Even though the way you were bathing made it seem like you were worshipping him, water dripping from your body, wet hair hiding the swell of your breasts. Armin’s breath stuttered. He couldn’t reveal himself. He couldn’t.

So, he watched, and watched. Trying desperately to take in everything you were from a distance. Armin didn’t count the number of times he visited you before finally decided that killing you was no longer an option. He told himself that his change of mind was progressive. A practical choice to draw out his revenge into the most painful and convoluted Odyssey. To do that, he couldn’t kill you. No. He was going to take you for himself. Armin was going to turn the daughter of the merchant into a servant of the one God he detested.

Putting the thought into your mind was pathetically easy. As you walked past his temple on your way home, an echo of laughter emerged from the marble building. You paused for only a moment, but it was enough for Armin to catch the look in your eyes. It was one of longing, mixed with a curiosity that threatened to pull you in. But you seemed to catch yourself in the act and hastened yourself home.

And so, Armin’s true Odyssey began.

For his journey to progress, he had to meet you. Not as a bird or a horse or through glances as a guest. He had to meet you properly. This was the only way to draw you in, he told himself. The only way for you to submit completely and willingly.

Armin could have forced you too your knees, but he had to ensure that your father watched has his daughter chose Armin over him. And chose Armin you would. Every piece was in perfect place. The fates seemed to have woven a beautiful cloth of gold for the god of the sea.

What he failed to realise was that the cloth was in fact a snare- a trap which he will never be able to escape from.

Eleven months ago:

A short gust of wind had the pears in your thin basket tumbling down onto the rocky ground. You rushed after the fruit, crouching down to pick it up when a shadow appeared, and a hand reached out to pick it up for you. The sandal-clad feet were pale- paler than anyone living on this warm island and the robes a fine, ironed white. He somehow seemed to glow brighter than his clothes, and you purposefully let your fingers graze his as you picked up the fruit.

“Thank you,” you said, standing up.

You were hoping that he wouldn’t catch your staring. But even if he did, you couldn’t tear your eyes off him. He was lean, taller than you but not intimidatingly so and his eyes were like oceans that you found yourself staring into as he introduced himself as Mr Arlert. Just Mr Arlert. The new owner of the stables with a voice so soft, it took a moment before you remembered to introduce yourself.

“Y/N. And thank you, again.” It isn’t appropriate for an unmarried woman to be talking to a man on her own, but you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you have a first name Mr Arlert?”

His smile was contagious. “I do. But names are a powerful thing. I’m afraid I can’t give mine up freely.”

“Oh.” You scrunched your nose. “Can I pay for it then?”

You were dead serious, but the blond man laughed. How can someone look so pretty when they laugh? You wondered.

“I’m serious! I can pay you; name your price.”

Mr Arlert looked down at you, blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll think about it.”

“So, is that a no?”

“It’s a no, for now. One day I’ll tell you my name.”

He was sweet, so sweet, but you still gave him a sceptical frown, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. Mr Arlert in turn gave you a sorry look before his eyes lit up and he pulled out from his brown satchel a small book of yellowed pages and a dusty blue cover, the gold embossing hardly visible. You nose only scrunched further.

“My name is in this story. It’s mentioned few times, but it’s an important one,” he said to you.

You took the book and flipped through the worn pages, immediately recognising the tale of Aphrodite and Ares. The lovers.

Why the challenge? You wanted to ask Mr Arlert but you knew the answer you your get would be too cryptic. Besides, you think, I like a challenge.

“How long do I have?” You asked instead.

“A year and a day.”

“And what will I get if I figure it out?”

At this, he pondered. But it seemed feigned, and you wondered, just for a split second, if the man had planned this from the beginning. But why? This was another one of your questions that went unanswered that day. Because before you could say anything more, Mr Arlert leaned forward and said, “Your reward will be divine”. And he walked away.

Nine months ago:

Life was well after Armin arrived. There was no other way to put it. Your father was confining himself to his room more often than before, and you were finding more opportunities to visit the river, leave the house and, eventually, you met the handsome baker’s son. Jean was kind, a gentleman, but not the arrogant type like most the men your age. You didn’t even feel too much guilt when you thought that spending a future with Jean- taking care of him and his home- wouldn’t be too bad. It’s quite pathetic that your life had been reduced to not being “too bad”, but the idea of marrying Jean sat on the comfortable line between reality and fantasy. Safety.

And then you were visited at the river.

Mr Arlert wasn’t even surprised to find you there, he had just smiled and sat beside you as you clenched your fists and forced yourself to smile back at him. You had always enjoyed him, his company, his challenges, but now it was like he was provoking you. The river Shiganshina was your river, your special place away from the hellscape that was the town. And now Mr Arlert had brought himself and his ordinary life into it.

You pulled your sandals back on, the crease in your brow evident. He clearly couldn’t get the hint. But before you could stand up, he spoke, and you paused.

“I wish I could jump in and swim away,” he said.

Curiosity got the best of you, as it often did with the man.

“The waterfall would kill you.”

The awkward laugh again. It had an effect on you so that your jaw couldn’t help but unclench. “If it means that I get to touch a waterfall, I wouldn’t mind, you know?”

You knew. You knew exactly what he meant. But you didn’t tell him.

“Didn’t take you as the suicidal type,” you said.

“I might get saved, who knows.”

“If you’re counting on me to jump after you, I’m letting you know I won’t.”

“I know,” he laughed. “I was thinking of more of a divine rescue.”

You finally looked at him, and- unsurprisingly- his blue eyes were glued to yours. What was surprising was his unwavering tone, his straight face. Mr Arlert was being serious. Why was he opening up to you this suddenly? So far, your interactions had consisted of him staring, you trying to guess his name, and him continuing to stare. In that order. You knew there was more to him, but it’s only now that you found yourself wanting to seek that out.

“You think Armin would save you?” You didn’t miss Arlert’s smile.

“I’m hoping I’ve gained his favour- done enough for him to allow me freedom via waterfall.”

It was your turn to smile. “You probably have, You’re at the temple often.”

“Thank you.” He blushed and you quickly pushed down the thought of how cute he looked. Sitting beside you, trousers rolled up and feet in the water, Mr Arlert looked more than cute. He looked like he belonged. You weren’t sure how that made you feel but, in that moment, you didn’t mind him entering your world.

“I think you would also be saved if you jumped into the waterfall,” Mr Arlert said.

You laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’m a nice person?”

“Something like that.” He paused. “I think Armin would appreciate your- uh- honesty. You’re like a priestess.” He laughs nervously at your expression. “You know, they have this personal affinity with the water and such.”

You knew exactly what he meant. How a stranger could read you so perfectly, you weren’t sure. But as you hid your smile between your hands, you wondered whether you were prepared to face the fear of the unknown. Maybe, with Mr Arlert, it would be a bit less unknown.

A few days later, Jean was announced missing. A search party was sent out and even Mr Arlert, on his recently acquired brown horse, couldn’t find him.

Present day:

Armin isn’t sure if he likes playing the part of the nice boy or not. Humans are simple creatures who praise him continuously and, without divine responsibilities, there is no need to take his rage out anywhere. But a god is who he is, and every day, he yearns to be seen as one. To be seen as one by you. He watches as you worship him, but you never look at him- not like you do the statues, or even the small river which you think is your only true connection to the god of the ocean.

You both want more, and you both know that, but you only ever admit it to each other when you sit beside that very river. There, in those moments, Armin feels a bit more like a god. Whenever he’s around you, he feels a bit more like a god.

He’s told you before, but your perfect honesty has made it easy for him to unravel around you. He wants to unravel around you in other ways, too, and he wants you to unravel around him. Armin can’t count the number of times he’s sat beside you at the riverside and wanted to do nothing more than to kiss those lips of yours, to press the hard cock that he hides inside of you and watch as your eyes roll back, and you call out his name.

But the God of the Sea is not Eren. Armin will earn you. And he’s very close to doing so. Not Mr Arlert. You have no interest in human men, that much is clear. You yearn for something more powerful. And you’re right. Only a god is worthy enough to stand beside you, lay between your legs, be in your arms. Mr Arlert is simply a means to push you to realising that the god in question is Armin.

In the meantime, he’s been nothing but patient.

It’s only when you come to his door one night, eyes puffy and red, that he lays his hands on you for the first time. He rubs your back as you cry and cry, fat tears refusing stop falling. You tell him about bout your father. About how, since he got better, he’s been refusing to let you out of the house, snapping at every moment and accusing you of being a filthy god-worshipper.

“He s-sai-d- he said we’re ‘gonna move away- said we’re gonna get as far away from the s-sea as possible.” You can hardly speak, though the tears have stopped, your voice still shakes violently. But Armin listens, he holds you close to him and repeats that everything is going to be fine.

You can’t stop thanking him as you leave, and he promises that his door is always open for you. “Whenever you call for me, I’m here,” Armin tells you. “Right beside you, always,” he adds as he watches you walk away.

He’s reached a new chapter of this Odyssey.

Present day:

You suppose your father’s death should have been expected. He was an old man, obviously depressed, and his only lifeline was his daughter who hated him.

You also suppose you should feel guilty. You don’t.

Familiar faces give their condolences and whisper questions of what is to happen to you now. You only pay heed to Sasha and Connie, though, who give you a soft hug before Sasha tells you that her family would be happy to take you in. You reassure her and everyone else that you have a plan, though your best friends are the only ones who seem to believe you.

“I heard Marie has a son who’s single, maybe they can-“

“You’re not actually talking about marriage here are you?”

“Well, the girl is all alone in the world, now! She needs a man to lead her on the right path.”

The old women are wrong, so very wrong. You don’t need a man. You’re fucking sick of men- sick of them all- everything they’ve created and everything they stand for.

What you need is a god.

The head priestess of Armin’s temple in unsurprised when you knock on her door with nothing but a bag and the clothes on your body. Those clothes are burned soon after, along with many of your other things, leaving your old life behind.

She tells you that you’re lucky there’s a place for you. The last priestess left running off with a man, “Which is a cardinal sin”, she makes sure to repeat every-so-often. The head priestess seems to hate men more than you do, sneering whenever Connie comes by.

Sasha and Connie are unsurprisingly shocked at your choice of work and even if they visit almost every day, they always tell you that they miss you. They think you’ve come the temple out of desperation- everyone does- and you let them believe. Because despite cleaning the marble floors or whatever other arduous duty you’ve been given, a smile is never far as you realise that you’re free from man. Indeed, explaining the truth to anyone would be far too difficult.

Well, except one person.

You’ve never missed anyone before. Not with your father keeping you so sheltered for most of your life. But as you push through the Head Priestess’ relentless schedule, you can’t help but miss Mr Arlert. He disappears after your father’s funeral, so you leave him a note at the empty stable with your final guess. You like to think he decided to follow his own path, you also like to think that he too wishes you were beside him, a guide in the unknown.

Present day:

The room is a box of marble, with a throne sat upon a dais at the centre and one fountain at every corner, each one sculped into a horse. The object of your interests, however, is the large bowl of water on the floor in front of the throne.

This is your initiation. You will emerge from this room not as an apprentice, but a Priestess.

You kneel down and lift the pot of clay to your lips. The head priestess kept on repeating how important it is to not put it down until you’re finished. So, you gulp the water down until you can see the image of Armin. You’re the one who selected the pot, with its faded paint depicting Armin and Hange’s fight for patronage of Sina. It’s a powerful image, but when you put the pot down, you come face to face with something very different. Armin is standing in a room-this room, you realise- and crouched down before him is a young woman, looking up in awe. It takes bit longer of a moment for you to realise that the woman is you.

Looking up slowly from the pot, the first thing you see is sandal-clad feet. Golden sandals, just as fine as the robes he wears, draped in perfect waves. The first word you think of to describe him is divine and it’s indeed accurate because-

“Mr Arlert.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

But you know that’s not correct. The man- no, not a man- before you is taller than Mr Arlert, by a foot and a half at least. His muscles are more prominent that the stable boy’s ever were, strong legs visible through the large slit between the layers of fabric draped over the god’s figure. Half of his shoulder-length hair is tied back using a golden pin whilst the rest frames his perfect, perfect face. You can’t help but think that Armin looks nothing like his statues- no medium of art could capture the ocean within his eyes, glowing in the dull light of the room. Then again, the stories didn’t capture the way the god acts either.

“Armin,” you say, this time your voice louder.

Now, you know.

His sad smile is familiar, but there’s something there that never was. “Oh dear,” he says. “I’m afraid you’ve lost out wager.”

Armin can’t help but compare you to a puppy, with large eyes staring up at him from your crouched position and an expression a perfect mix of excitement, curiosity, and shock.

You reach out a hand tentatively, but it hovers in the air between the two of you once you notice Armin’s raised brow. But he doesn’t rebuke you for it. After all, it’s only your first encounter with the god. He can’t expect you to behave perfectly, to adopt the right etiquette- no, he’ll have to train you first. Like he would a baby mutt. The thought makes him smile.

“I’ll accept any consequences, my god,” you say. Your voice sounds so sure of itself, so unlike your usual ramblings, those that Armin could and would listen to for hours. Right now, though, the certainty, it’s laced with desire that sends blood rushing south. You don’t notice. You’re too lost in his eyes to notice anything.

When he places his hand on your chin to hold it up, he can feel you shiver. “Such a perfect little worshipper,” he says. “I couldn’t possibly punish you.”

Armin can swear he sees disappointment in your eyes before he turns around and walks up the dais. The marble of the throne is cold beneath him, but the sight of you looking up at him with such longing is enough to warm him up. Now, Armin is sure you’ve noticed his growing erection because you crawl towards the dais, not yet climbing it, but close enough to see and lick your lips.

“Let me thank you at least, Armin.” He almost groans at the sound of his name. God, he wants to hear you say it over and over.

“Come here.”

And you climb up the dais only to pause before Armin leans forward and grabs your hips. Two lips, as if led by an invisible string, meet. You kiss like you’ve been waiting years for Armin and, in a way, you have. His tongue is inside your mouth quickly and he’s kissing, sucking, letting his teeth gently graze your lips as he revels in the feeling of you. As your bodies lean against each other, you can feel his heart hammering against your own. His chest is stone, but his lips are so soft and your hands find his golden hair. It’s also softer than it looks, and Armin can’t help but let out a moan as you gently tug.

When you pull back, his pupils are blown. “Thank me, then,” Armin says, breathless.

Sitting between his legs, your hand is tiny compared to his cock, and you can’t stop staring at it. Long and somewhat slender, but veiny with a flushed red top- he can see you gulp before you take an experimental lick at him. Armin’s hold on your hair only tightens and you look up at him, doe eyed and seemingly innocent.

“Put it in your mouth, pretty girl,” he says, guiding your head gently. “So obedient- Yes, exactly, just like-ah- just like that.”

But he doesn’t need to push down- no- he lets you set your own pace only because you do it so perfectly, almost as perfect as the wet noises you make. Armin doesn’t have time to be surprised, he’s just able to react fast enough to suppress his own moans so he can hear your wet tongue caress the base of his cock, as your lips create the perfect o-shape to accommodate him. Your drool is everywhere in a matter of seconds- his balls are coated with it, and so is your lap, where the spit seeps through the thin white fabric you call a robe.

“Like a puppy,” he murmurs. And you look up quizzically. “You’re drooling over me like a desperate puppy- a puppy in heat,” he grunts. “You just want to please me, don’t you? ‘S alright, puppy, I’ll let you do that.”

If you could nod your head, you would. Instead, your cheeks burn, and Armin is so lost in the way that you look- not even able to take his entire cock in his mouth- that his hips begin to buck unconsciously. He hits the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden impact, but he hisses and murmurs “What a good, wet hole. So good, good-”

The earthshaker is afraid that if he speaks any louder, his voice will slur into incomprehensible sultry sounds. But as you struggle to take his cock even deeper into his mouth, he lets out groans that go straight between your own legs. You moan around him, and the reverberations make his head roll back. God, you could stare at him forever. And he would let you.

“Look at me,” he says whenever your eyes go astray. “Look at your god.”

As his hips buck more violently, Armin can feel the pressure in his lower stomach, the impending orgasm and he wants to stop- wants to hold out the way he always has. But he can’t, it’s too much and he just cannot pull out of you. He simply pushes further and further into your tight throat, repeating your name like it’s a blessing. “fuck, puppy, ‘m going to- I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that, do you you’re your god’s cum- ah, fuck, ahhh”-

Pushing your head down to the base, both of his hands at the back of your head, Armin cries out you name and you can feel the warm liquid go down your throat, thick ropes filling up your mouth, some of it dribbling out. Armin reflexively pushes it back in your mouth, ordering you to swallow it all, to show how grateful you are. Of course, you oblige. But before you can even regain your breath, Armin suddenly pulls you off his cock. His pupils are dilated, and he wears an expression- anger? Shock?

“You’re not a virgin,” he hisses, teeth gritting against each other. His breath is frantic, uneven. It’s not a question and you begin to recognise his expression. Rage. “You’ve done this before.”

Fuck.

The God of the sea has his fair share of consorts and mistresses. Some of them virgins- though he never chases them the way Eren does- some of them not, but none have made him cum so fast. He would like to blame it on the year of pining, of restraint, but he knows better. It’s you. You do this him. You make him so wild, so willing, so pliant even.

In that moment, as he looks your worried face, so desperate to please, he thinks that he’ll never be able to let it go. You’ve consumed Armin and he wants to do nothing more than burn eternally. You must understand that- that you exist as his beacon, that’s where you’ll be your happiest, but those thoughts are too complex for a human. You, in your fragile state, can’t understand. It’s alright, he’ll just have to show you bit by bit that you’re his. But to do so, he must first take on the role he’s familiar with. That of the punisher.

“Who is he?” Armin snaps.

“It was only-“

“Who is he?”

You pause. Memories of nights spent together, huddled close and trying to keep quiet already fading. “Berthrolt Hoover.”

Armin’s shoulders relax, “I see.”

His breathing slowly goes back to normal, and, at the back of your mind, you know you’ve signed the young warrior’s death. But your worry is fleeting as Armin grabs you by the neck and hoists you over his knees, laying you down on your stomach effortlessly. “A priestess who isn’t a virgin?”

You look up as see Armin’s familiar sweet smile, but it’s laced with mirth that makes you forget the Mr Arlert he was before. You cry out at the first slap of his hand on your ass, more out of surprise than pain.

“I don’t think the people of Paradis will be very happy to hear that,” he says. “An unmarried woman giving herself away to a pathetic boy.”

Slap!

“I’m sorry!” you cry out. “It was a mis-”

He slaps you thrice.

“No excuses, dumb little puppy. I’m afraid you’ll have to endure this punishment.” His voice is deceptively soft, as if he is actually sorry. And when you look back up at Armin, his face betrays no malice. But it doesn’t show any cruelty either. Instead, there’s a fascination.

Armin has you sprawled across his lap, at his mercy and he is discovering you bit by bit. As a god. His cock twitches and then suddenly he tugs off the fabric of your robes and they disappear.

The way you squirm is half- hearted, and Armin has to laugh. “Embarrassed? Now of all times? I didn’t know you were such a prude. Or is this all just to compensate for the fact that you’re a whore in my temple?”

You shake your head, “I swear, I’ve never belonged to any man!”

Fingers trace the expanse of your naked body, soft enough to send shivers down your spine. “Oh? Really?”

“Yes yes, I swear, ah!” His fingers find your naked ass and they grab onto the flesh, massaging, groping, feeling you. Armin’s other hand rests on top of your head, stroking it gently and you’re so lost in his touch that you almost forget to speak.

“I belong to no man, I never have. Only you. It’s always been you, Armin.”

The god’s eyes widen, and he gently pulls you up from his lap only to seat you on it, upright and, this time, there’s so much more to admire. “You’re right,” he says. Armin captures your lips and this time, it’s longer, rougher. He doesn’t want to pull back, doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your soft lips against his, but his hands have already found your breasts and soon, his tongue joins them. You moan as he begins to lap at your breasts, leaving hickeys and spit in his wake as his finally finds your nipples and begins sucking them like a child as you whine and lean into him.

“You do belong to me,” he finally says, his voice partially muffled as he loses himself in the worship your breasts. “You’ve always belonged to me.”

And you can do nothing more than nod your head as your fingers tangle in Armin’s hair and you’re pulled into another kiss. His hand goes down your body, squeezing every single mound of flesh as if it needs to be touched so that when he finds your cunt, Armin can’t help but smile at how wet you are.

“Already, but I’ve hardly done anything to you?”

What a liar, but you don’t have a chance to tell him before he plunges a finger inside of you. “Oh, puppy, my puppy,” he groans at the contact the same time you moan, pushing your hips against his digits. “You like my fingers like that inside of you?”

“Yes, yes, I do, I really love them- it feels, oh my god, it feels too good!” you grip his shoulders, unable to do anything but desperately buck your hips at the smiling Armin. He knows what he’s doing, he knows that his fingers are giving you just that satisfaction, but it’s still not enough to bring you over the edge.

“Please Armin, please.” You squeeze his shoulders.

“Tell me what you want, tell me, I’ll give it to you- I swear.”

“I want to feel you, all- ah- all of you. I need to feel you inside of me!”

You’re not sure at which moment Armin removes his robes, but as he moves both of your legs so that you’re straddling him, your hands are on his bare, lean chest. The god’s nipples are flushed pink and pert, practically calling to you and you respond by brushing your fingers over them and watching him twitch ever-so-slightly in response. You withhold the urge to take them into your mouth, even as Armin rubs his cock against your cunt, releasing the sweetest of sounds.

He’s already leaking precum and it mixes with your juices so perfectly, his cock being dragged back and forth, only making you gush even more. “So messy,” he mumbles as he uses his tip to spreads your juices across your thighs. At this point, you can practically feel it throbbing, ready to be sheathed inside of you and the whimpers of your desperation echo against the temple walls.

When Armin slips inside of you, simultaneous gasps escape your lips. The god pulls your body closer to his as you throw your head back, stars in your eyes.

“Look,” he whispers. “Look how easily I slip in- it’s- it’s like your cunt is made for me.”

“Armin,” you whisper back. “Armin, Armin- ah- Armin.”

He sinks you down slowly, the stretch hitting every single spot that leaves your legs practically limp. The god is holding you up, whispering his own mantra that you can’t hear over your bliss. Once inside, your eyes look lock with Armin’s and he’s staring at you in a way he’s never done before. You’ve never seen pupils so dilated and the two of you stay like that as if making up for the moments when you should have been connected in this way. An eternity, it seems, the two of you have needed each other.

“I’m your god,” Armin finally says. “I’m your god and- hng ah-” He begins moving you up and down his shaft. “And I’m going to make you cum all over this cock- okay? All over your god’s cock.”

You nod your head pathetically as he lifts your hips and slams them down against his own. He is strong, ruthless in the way he bucks his hips up every time he lifts you from his cock, as if he can’t bare the empty feeling of not having your tight pussy clamped around him. At this relentless pace, you’re sure that the sound of your connecting bodies could penetrate even these marble walls. And yet, you don’t hold back. Thanks and praises spill from your swollen lips and Armin can’t help but lean forward and push his tongue between your mouth, as if he can absorb all of your word. “So good, so good, it’s- uah- I just want more, more of your cock, you fill me up so good!”

Armin can’t deny you. He pushes your thighs to your chest and picks up your entire body to fuck himself. He manoeuvres your body like a toy and as your tongue rolls out and your eyes become glassy, you begin to look like one too. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are incomprehensible, even as Armin attaches his mouth to one of your bouncing tits, you can only squeal.

“Such a good puppy,” he says between kisses. “Letting me use her holes like this. A god using a puppy’s holes- you should be- you should be grateful! Tell me, tell me you’re grateful!”

“I am!” you cry out. “I am grateful!”

“Good girl, good puppygirl.”

When Armin flips you over, you’re sat on his throne and he fucks into you harder, harder than he was doing before, and you swear his moans are louder too. He’s looking down at the movement of your stomach as if hypnotized by the way his cock disappears into you. And, in a way, he is. The fascination of being inside of you- just the idea even- is enough to make him want to cum.

The sudden position has him hitting new spots and the build-up is so fast, you hardly have the time to warn him. “Armin, Armin I’m cum-“

He grabs your face as you release around his cock, body spasming but unable to look away as Armin’s gaze burns through you. “Good girl,” he says. “Show me, show me how you cum. Just like that, just like that.”

He continues to plough his hips into yours and the spasms of your pussy leave him unable to hold back. “Inside of you,” he practically growls. “I’m going to cum inside of you- yes, yes, yes I am puppy. I’m going to cum inside of you and you’re going to show me how you take it yeah?”

You’re too far gone to even register the implications of what he’s saying, but he buries his cock in your warm walls and releases his cum inside of you with a heavy groan. “Just like that, just like that- I’m going to fill you up with my seed, puppy, my puppy.”

Armin feels like he’s emptied his balls- two powerful orgasms which leave his legs shaking violently. And yet, he pulls out of you slowly and stands back up to his full height, cock in front of your face. Almost instinctively, you rub your cheek against it, giving Armin soft kitten licks and he coos at you, stroking your hair. But he doesn’t push, he just holds his cock there and pumps softly as he stares at your fucked out face. Messy, covered in his spit, his hickeys, his bites, his cum- you look perfect, divine. Only one thing is missing. “I’m going to give you everything I have, puppy. And you’re going to take it, okay?” You nod and open your mouth for him and, immediately, a strong stream of pee emerges.

At the bitter taste on your tongue, your eyes roll back, and you spread your legs even wider, a welcome to the mess he is about to make. Armin accepts and angles his cock to release his pee over your chest, then your stomach, and then your already-throbbing cunt. He lifts a foot to rest on the throne and Armin doesn’t think he’s even seen such a beautiful sight in his life.

As if guided by an implicit will, Armin’s foot hovers on top of you and suddenly, he presses against your lower stomach. Your eyes snap back into focus as you whine out for him to wait, wait just a moment “I just had water,” you cry out. “It’s gonna- It’s gonna come out!”

But Armin simply grins. “Let it come out,” he says and presses his foot down harder. “Pee yourself dumb little mutt, be a good puppy for your owner.” The trickle that emerges is involuntary, but Armin’s grin is wider. “Yes, good girl, just like that. Let me see more, let me see more of you.”

The pressure that was holding the bowl of water back broke and you felt the warm liquid against your thighs before you realise what’s happening. Armin practically moans as he watches you whimper and struggle to hold your pee back as it spreads over the throne, the dais, and even Armin himself. He doesn’t stop until you’ve given it all to him.

You expect Armin to disappear.

You’ve given him everything. His goal is complete, you think, he has nothing more to do with you. But, as he has done many times before, the god surprises you. Armin’s body is heavy against yours when he collapses on top of you, but the weight is comforting. Despite the malaise of urine and cum rubbing against both of your bodies, you wrap your arms around the god of the ocean and hold him close.

Even as you close your eyes and lean your head back on the marble throne, Armin doesn’t leave you. Even as you open your eyes back up and see blue ones staring back at you, the look he gives you is so familiar and long hair in such unfamiliar disarray that you can’t help but smile.

He doesn’t ask why. Instead, Armin calls forth a stream of warm water from the adjacent fountain to clean the both of you. It feels like a fever dream the way floating droplets caress your bodies, and when Armin stands you up, his hands not leaving you, the perfume that suddenly envelops you is heavenly.

“Can I give you a last kiss, please?” you ask when your robe appears once again. And Armin leans forward to capture your lips, dragging his tongue on your bottom lip as if to taste you.

It doesn’t feel like a final kiss. You’ve had many of them- Jean, Sasha, Berthrold, your father, and even your mother, though you can’t remember it. This kiss is different. It feels less like a kiss and more like a promise, a vow. a shiver runs down your spine.

“I am your god,” he says and lifts his both of his hands slowly to wrap around your neck. “And you’re my worshipper.” You gasp as a cold sensation spreads around your neck, just below Armin’s fingers. It’s sudden, and heavy and when he removes his hands, yours fly to your neck and there’s a metal band there where there was none before.

“It’s sculpted from Hephaestus’ gold,” Armin says as he strokes his fingers along the metal. But he’s not looking at his gift, instead he looks at you.

“Armin- I- this is. But why?”

For the first time, he can’t read your expression. But it doesn’t matter. You belong to him. You always have, but now you know. And if it takes time for you to understand, Armin can wait. He’ll wait right beside you, always, always there to guide you.

“This is not the end of my Odyssey. My Odyssey is eternal,” he says before giving you another short kiss and disappearing, the warmth of his lips still present.

The gods might not all be fickle, you think, so you just smile sadly. But the gods are all selfish, so you touch the collar around your neck.

A/N: This is my first ever collab and I was- as still am- a bit insecure about how this story turned out so I appreciate all of your support ❤️. I would also like to apologise to my fellow history nerds for the historical inaccuracies.

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witcher-and-his-bard-archive · 3 years

Text

Someone Else (I'm Still Right Here)

also on ao3

minor warning for Geralt coming on to Jask when he doesn't know who he is, but nothing comes from it.

They've hardly been in town long enough for anything to go wrong and yet, Jaskier finds his thoughts interrupted by banging on the door of their room. If it was Geralt, he would simply let himself in even if he didn't have his hands free to open the door properly, so it must be important. Jaskier rises from the bed, setting his lute aside with a sigh. He detests being interrupted while he's working for anything less than an emergency - and judging by the fact that the knock hasn't come again, this is hardly an emergency.

He saunters to the door, pulling it open to find the face of the innkeeper's wife staring back at him anxiously.

"Sorry to interrupt," she says, "it's your Witcher, sir. Something's happened and no one is... well, they're all afraid to get too close to him. They called in the healer from the next town, but-"

Jaskier frowns. The contract was for a pair of drowners, not even a nest of the damn things. Geralt could have taken them out in his sleep - so what went so terribly wrong?

Jaskier lets himself be led downstairs, doing his best to mask worry with intrigue, but it isn't working. The innkeeper's wife leads him to the edge of the forest where her husband is waiting, a look of pained concern on his face. Jaskier's stomach drops as the man just points into the trees, and he hurries forward without delay. If the people in town won't help Geralt, he will certainly do his best.

When he finds him, Geralt is in a bad state. His eyes are still dark from the potions - probably why the locals wouldn't come near - and there's blood streaked down the side of his face.

Jaskier stays quiet. It's bad enough that Geralt can hear his pulse racing, he doesn't need to make his fear any more obvious to him. He kneels down on the soft ground, assessing the damage before moving him. He's learned from experience that one wrong move can make a wound worse rather than better.

"Okay," he says once he's satisfied. "I'm just gonna pull this off," he taps on Geralt's left pauldron, "make sure your head is the only thing you banged up." Jaskier frowns as he says it, but Geralt seems, as usual, unconcerned. He's much better behaved than usual though, which strikes Jaskier as being particularly odd.

He ignores it and pushes through, tearing an already ripped piece of Geralt's shirt to wipe away some of the blood. Geralt will be grouchy about it later, but if Jaskier replaces it, he can't be too angry. He does his best to clean Geralt's skin and he finds just the one injury - a hefty blow to the head. Not that it seems to be bothering Geralt any.

But when Jaskier cups his jaw, tipping his head to one side, Geralt hums. It catches him off guard and Jaskier jerks back to look at him.

"Your hands feel nice," Geralt breathes and leans into the touch. Okay. So maybe the head injury is more serious than it appears. The innkeeper's wife said a healer was coming, Jaskier will mention it to them when they arrive. Or maybe it's just the blood loss. Either way, the healer will be better prepared to deal with it than he is.

"What are you doing here?" Geralt asks.

"The innkeeper's wife came to collect me. Figured someone ought to come and collect you."

"No one else would even get near me."

"Yes, well, I'm not everyone else, am I?"

"Hmm. Guess not."

Jaskier comes around to look at him, straddling his thighs and Geralt leans forward, resting his head on his shoulder and nuzzling into his neck.

"Yes yes," Jaskier hums, "I know you're tired, darling, but we have to get you up and back to town."

Geralt is reluctant, but he lets himself be hauled to his feet and doesn't even complain about Jaskier propping him up as they make their way back toward town. He's quiet, which is to be expected, but Jaskier is worried that he's keeping something from him, that he's worse off than he seems because Geralt seems quite happy to let himself be assisted - something he would regularly fight against.

As they make it back to the inn, Jaskier knows everyone is watching them and he scolds a couple of them for not offering to help when a man was injured. He takes Geralt up to their room and ducks out from under his arm, leaving him alone for a moment so he can get the fire lit and ready the bed for him. But before he can do either, he finds himself pressed up against the room door with Geralt's face mere inches from his own.

The dark veins and darker eyes are… sexier than they have any right to be and Jaskier swallows back a groan, pressing a gentle hand to Geralt's chest. The Witcher is still woozy and unsteady on his feet, but he resists being pressed back and Jaskier frowns at him.

"Mm, as much fun as this is, I doubt you'll think so highly of me in the morning, darling." Geralt smiles slyly and, for a split second, Jaskier worries that he's become Geralt's quarry, that the toxins running through Geralt's body are really as bad as he always claims they are and that he is, in fact, in real danger around him. But then Geralt leans in, bumping his nose against Jaskier's and any thoughts of fear dissipate immediately.

Instead, Jaskier ducks down and away, holding both arms out as Geralt follows him.

"Geralt," he asks, "what's gotten into you? Not that I mind, but-" he eyes him carefully and Geralt just grins at him again.

"Don't be coy with me, bard, this is what you brought me here for."

"Um. No? I brought you here to rest, to put you to bed not take you to bed, and find you something to eat. This is our room, Geralt, not my room. They only had one left and I didn't think you'd mind-"

"Our room?" Geralt interrupts and Jaskier nods. Worry creeps in and he looks closely at Geralt. His eyes are black still, though the veins are retreating and he seems brighter than usual, not so gloomy.

"Yes?"

"Why would we be sharing a room," Geralt huffs, "I've only just met you."

Jaskier gawks at him. It's not like Geralt to play games, that's Lambert's area of expertise - and this is stupid and obvious even for Lambert's tastes. But something is off about Geralt tonight. The worry turns to fear and Jaskier suddenly wonders if the man he's brought back is his Witcher at all.

He's never met a doppler, but he's heard Geralt tell stories about them. For the most part, they're harmless, but Jaskier suspects they can be paid or bribed like anyone else and the thought of a stranger here in the room with his things, with Geralt's things-

"I thought you wanted sex," maybe-Gealt says again, slightly confused but not at all dissuaded. Normally Jaskier would take it as a compliment that he was still so enthusiastic about fucking him, but this feels very, very wrong. And yet a part of him still considers it.

If it is a doppler, there's no harm really. He's consenting and Jaskier is more than happy to fuck a man with Geralt's face (he doesn't think too much about how that will affect him after it's fine). Right? But there's still a nagging feeling that this isn't a doppler. He'd know, he thinks, if he brought someone else home with him.

"Can you just-" he says, backing up toward the bed where his bag is sitting on the floor. Maybe-Geralt just watches him with confusion as he crouches down and pulls his dagger from his pack.

It's just a little thing, but it's pure silver, gifted to him by Geralt in case of emergency.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Jaskier says, holding it out, "I just need you to touch this."

Maybe-Geralt gives him a questioning look but reaches out and takes the dagger from him, turning it over in his hand. Nothing happens.

"Hmm," he says, "nice weight, well made. A little decorative maybe-"

"Doesn't hurt?" Jaskier asks and maybe-Geralt, who is seeming more and more like just Geralt laughs.

"Not unless you stab someone with it."

Jaskier valiantly ignores the little smirk and shuts his eyes.

"Okay," he says, "start at the beginning, what do you remember?"

"I… woke up in the forest and then you showed up," he smiles at him and Jaskier is already preparing a refusal.

"Listen, Geralt, I am your friend and you would probably even argue that-"

"How come? You're very handsome and you've been helpful and kind-"

"But it's not like that, Geralt. It never has been. I offered once and you were… less than impressed with me." Geralt says nothing and Jaskier takes the opportunity to reign the conversation in. "Can I clean you up now? Something is obviously wrong and we have to get you to a doctor."

"They said a healer was coming."

"I was thinking of someone a little more professional," Jaskier says and Geralt gives him a look. "We have a mutual friend who may be able to help. But for now, you've got me and I'd like to take a look at that wound."

Geralt relents and Jaskier finally succeeds in getting him sat on the bed without Geralt trying to come on to him again. He pulls Geralt's hair back and ties it out of his face, it'll need to be washed later, but he's not going to try and explain how it's fine for him to wash his hair but not fuck him right now.

The wound itself it's so bad, a bit swollen, a bit bruised, but the actual gash is small and very manageable. He cleans it first with water and then with vodka and applies a good amount of salve. He doesn't know which herbs Geralt combines for a poultice, so he bypasses that for the time being; when he gets him to Shani if the wound isn't healed on its own, she'll be able to tend to it.

He finds linen wrap at the bottom of his bag and presses it to Geralt's forehead, gently wrapping it around and tying it at his temple.

"Should be good for now. I'll go down and have supper brought up. Do you want a bath?"

"No. Thank you."

"Alright. Just… stay here, I'll be back."

As soon as the bedroom door is shut, Jaskier closes his eyes, but he waits until he reaches the main floor to lean against the wall and sigh. He has no idea what he's going to do. He never thought he'd be sad to see the day Geralt tried to get him into bed, but it feels so wrong. He'd rather spend the rest of his life failing to impress Geralt than spend another five minutes with him like this.

He takes his time ordering food, half-hoping that Geralt will be asleep by the time he gets back to the room, but their supper is ready quickly and Jaskier reluctantly takes it back up to their room, setting the tray on the table beside the bed.

Geralt at least spares him conversation while they eat and then Jaskier sets the dishes aside and strips out of his clothes for bed, already dreading having to share a bed. He keeps his shorts on and waits until Geralt is already in bed before climbing in after him.

The fire is burning low already, so he's not worried about it, but he blows out the candle beside the bed and pulls the blankets up over himself. He faces out into the room, preferring not to see Geralt right now. It feels weird to want to avoid him and it makes his chest ache because this is Geralt, but it's not. He just wants his Geralt back.

He shuts his eyes and tries to sleep but Geralt is cuddly like this, shifting closer and pressing up against him. He gets an arm around Jaskier's waist and Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut. It's everything he thinks about during the long nights sleeping around a campfire, but he can't let himself give into it. But it feels good because it's Geralt's arm around him, Geralt's chest pressed to his back, Geralt's breath against his neck. He very nearly whines because it's so damn unfair.

But then Geralt's lips press against the back of his neck and a little gasp escapes his lips, unintentionally. He ignores it the first time, but then he does it again and when he shifts closer, Jaskier can feel the length of his cock pressing against his ass. And fuck, that's hard to turn down, but Jaskier wrenches himself out of Geralt's arms.

"I can't," he whispers, unconvincing even to himself.

"You want it, though," Geralt hums, "I can smell it on you."

"Maybe," Jaskier confesses, "but not like this. Not when you don't know who I am. Not when fucking any other person in this place would be the same for you. I can't, Geralt. Go to sleep."

Jaskier hates how disappointed Geralt sounds when he pulls away, but he doesn't try again and Jaskier almost finds himself wishing he would. He tugs the blanket a little tighter around himself and pulls his knees to his chest, trying to force back the fear that he might not get his Geralt back.

In the morning, Geralt wakes first and Jaskier is relieved to find himself alone in bed, although he worries about where Geralt has gotten to. But when he drags himself out of bed, he finds Geralt packed and ready to go with a hearty breakfast waiting for him.

"What's all this?" Jaskier asks, "trying to get away from me all of a sudden?" It comes out more bitter than he intends and he winces at the tone of his own voice.

"You were so sad, last night," Geralt says quietly. "I don't know how to fix this, how to remember you, but I thought you'd want to get started early. I had breakfast brought up." He offers a soft smile, gesturing to the food and Jaskier's heart flip-flops.

"Oh. Thank you."

"I've eaten. Take your time and we can leave when you're finished."

"Right."

Geralt just sits on the bed while Jaskier eats his breakfast and contemplates the fact that this is still his Geralt, as much as it doesn't seem like it. His own things are still ready to go and he has no idea who to go to to collect the reward for the drowners, but it couldn't have been much anyway, so he's not worried about it. Geralt won't be pleased about it when he remembers himself, but there's only so much Jaskier knows how to handle and he wants to get Geralt to Shani as quickly as possible.

They head out mid-morning, and Geralt insists on letting Jaskier ride, which is… nice, in a concerning way. Roach is equally confused and concerned, but Jaskier does his best to comfort her. Thankfully, they aren't far from Oxenfurt or Jaskier isn't sure how he would cope.

Geralt walks alongside him, happy enough apparently to let Jaskier ride. He hums as they travel, a low wonderful sound that had Jaskier's heart fluttering, but it tears him in two because the song is his which means Geralt does remember something, but he's also so sad to see him this calm and relaxed knowing his goal is to take that away from him.

For now, he won't say anything, will just let Geralt enjoy the journey. When and if they find a way to get his memory back, he'll explain everything and give Geralt the chance to decline if he wishes. The selfish part of him hopes he doesn't.

They carry on in much the same way, but even when Geralt talks, Jaskier struggles to find it in himself to be too enthusiastic about anything. He's already in a difficult spot and he just wants to get through this, whatever the outcome. But it's obvious Geralt notices and that he's trying to distract him from it.

Jaskier tries to cheer up a little, if only for him, but he finds it difficult because he knows Geralt can tell how he's really feeling. But Jaskier appreciates the effort, either way.

"Remind me where we're going?" Geralt asks and Jaskier realizes he hasn't told him, Geralt just trusted him not to be leading him towards certain death.

"To Oxenfurt," he says, trying to sound cheerful, "it's one of my favourite places on the continent. I have a friend who practices medicine, she should be able to help."

"You don't have to pretend for me. I know you're sad, I know you miss him. Me. I wish I could give you your friend back."

Jaskier's heart clenches and he takes a steadying breath. "I'm fine," he says, "and I can't miss him, he's you and you're right here." He feels odd, like he's talking to a child, but Geralt just smiles at him, softly but like he doesn't believe him. Jaskier wouldn't either, he's never been good at lying to Geralt.

There's a heavy silence that falls after that and for some time they continue forward unspeaking. Jaskier twitches to feel the silence, to sing or talk to something just to keep from thinking that Geralt is upset with him. Then, abruptly, Geralt speaks.

"What kind of man am I?" Jaskier doesn't even have to think to answer that.

"You're kind," he says, "more than anyone gives you credit for. You always try to take the less violent route, even though your job is to kill monsters. You're generous and loving and you care so deeply for your friends and family."

He pauses for a moment, swallowing a lump in his throat. Because he's not included in that group. He knows Geralt must care for him, but not in the way he loves Eskel or Lambert, or even in the way his friendship with Shani or Zoltan comes so easily to him. Next to him, Geralt is silent for a moment and then.

"Jaskier are you-" Jaskier shuts his eyes, dreading whatever is coming next. "Do you love me?"

"Of course I do," he says, forcing cheeriness into his voice, "You're my best friend."

"But it's more than that, isn't it?"

"Geralt-"

"I know I don't really know you, but I… think I love you, too."

"Geralt, don't say that," Jaskier shuts his eyes tightly, "you can't know that."

"I feel it."

Jaskier wants to scream. It's so unfair to hear those words from Geralt's mouth and know they’re not true. He pushes Roach a little quicker forward, but Geralt stops him.

Roach comes to a full stop and Jaskier grows frowns at Geralt as he comes to stand next to him. Geralt raised a hand up, cupping his jaw and guiding him downward.

"I feel like you won't hear it from me again, so I love you." He's soft, almost breathless, and when he stretches up to kiss him, Jaskier doesn't stop him.

It's just soft, no urgency, no want for something more than just a kiss and Jaskier can't help but lean into it just a little. Because those are Geralt's hands on him, Geralt's mouth against his own, soft and slow.

But Geralt moans softly against him and Jaskier remembers himself with a start. He pulls back from the Witcher, almost unseating himself, but Geralt steadies him.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, "I can't, it's not fair-"

"To me?" Geralt asks and there's sadness behind the humour in his voice.

"Yes."

After that, they spend the rest of the day in silence and Jaskier feels bad for Geralt - he can't imagine losing his memory and not knowing who he is - but he can't stand the fruitless hope. Because Geralt doesn't love him, he's made it known that they're not friends and how could Jaskier hope for more when he can't even attain friendship?

Then again, the man walking next to him now still is Geralt. He doesn't feel like Geralt and he doesn't act like Geralt, but he is. Jaskier isn't sure how people usually react when they lose their memories, so he doesn't have a basis to judge by, but it is still Geralt.

When they stop for the night, Geralt sleeps close enough to keep him warm but doesn't cuddle up like he did the night before and Jaskier hates himself for it. Maybe Geralt has a chance here at a new life, one where he can be happy and not weighed down by the memory of his childhood. And if he does, if he wants it, who is Jaskier to deny him that?

He's not sure he could be a part of it, though. Even thinking about him now, wishing Geralt would come a little closer, curl an arm around his middle, he feels like he's betraying his friend, betraying the old Geralt as the case may be.

Either way, he'll get Geralt to Oxenfurt so they can speak to Shani and see if there's anything that can be done. If there's not, he doesn't have to worry about making the decision to leave or stay, but if there is- If there is a chance Geralt can regain his memories, Jaskier has to let him make that choice alone and then make his own depending on what Geralt wants.

They reach Oxenfurt a few days later after what feels like a month-long journey and Jaskier is just glad to be somewhere warm where he can have his own room and not have to worry about wanting to be close. He leads them immediately to the inn and rents two separate rooms. It's fairly costly and he's reminded of the reason they needed to take the last contract, but he could be in Oxenfurt for a while depending on how this goes and he'll be able to pick up work easily enough.

Jaskier heads up to his room and makes sure Geralt gets settled, then he heads down and orders food and a bath up to Geralt's room before heading out to find Shani.

The first place he looks is the hospital, but the nurse working informs him that Shani has her own clinic now and she's located near the centre of town. Jaskier thanks her and doubles back, following the directions she'd given. Shani's clinic is tucked between two other buildings and Jaskier knocks before entering. There's no one inside but it's only a moment before Shani emerges from a back room, the neutral look on her face quickly growing into a smile. When Jaskier doesn't return the gesture she frowns.

"I take it this isn't a personal visit," she says and Jaskier can feel something inside him slip. He shakes his head.

"No, I'm sorry. I- we need your help."

"Geralt?" she asks and the last bit of his self-control gives way and he chokes on a sob. "Hey," she says, "come sit down."

Shani guides him to a back room and sits him down on a plush soft, surprisingly nice for a medical clinic. She shuts and locks the door behind them and sits next to him.

"What's wrong?"

"It's Geralt," he chokes, "hes'-" he takes a deep breath, swallowing back another sob. "Shani, he doesn't know who he is. He doesn't know who I am."

"Oh. What happened?"

"I wasn't there. I just- they came to get me because no one else would get near him. It was just supposed to be a drowner contract but he got hit in the head or something. I don't know what to do."

"Where is he now?"

"Back at the inn."

"Here?" she asks. Jaskier nods. "Why don't you take me to him, I'll take a look."

"I- I don't know if he'll want to be fixed? He came with me but Shani, he seems happy."

"Why don't we go and see him first. We'll figure out what's wrong before worrying too much, hm?" Jaskier agrees and Shani packs a bag and they head for the inn.

They find Geralt in his room, having eaten and bathed and he looks good. He's got his hair down around his shoulders and he's shirtless and Jaskier has to avert his eyes. He takes a seat in the corner and lets Shani introduce herself and asks to look him over. Jaskier stays quiet and watches cautiously as Geralt easily lets Shani look him over. Once she's finished with his body, she examines his head.

"Well," she says at last, "you obviously took a pretty hefty blow to your head, but the good news is it should be simple to reverse the memory loss."

"Good," Geralt says quickly. He spares a glance for Jaskier before turning back to Shani. "What do we have to do?"

"It's simple really, just a shock to your system should do it. I have a friend who can help."

As Shani goes into the details, Jaskier tunes out. He hears something about neurons, but he's more concerned about getting Geralt alone for a couple of minutes before he makes a decision. He loves Geralt, wants nothing more than for him to be happy, so he wants him to go into this knowing everything Jaskier can tell him.

"Can we have a moment Shani?" he asks and Geralt looks at him as Shani nods and ducks out of the room.

"You want to do it?" Jaskier asks and Geralt nods.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You're happier like this," Jaskier whispers, "Geralt, I've never seen you this relaxed. In twenty years, you've always been miserable. I just- I want you to make an informed decision."

"You say you want me to be happy," Geralt says, "but since I told you I didn't know who you were you've been so sad. How is it fair for me to be happy like you say when you're still suffering." He tips Jaskier's chin up with two fingers and looks into his eyes. "What I said before, I wasn't lying. I don't know where all these feelings are coming from but I know you are so important to me."

He pulls up a smile and Jaskier knows how this is going to end. And he'll be happy to have his Geralt back, but know him like this? To know this Geralt wants him, even in some weird, imaginary way? He doesn't know how he'll be able to continue.

"Okay," Jaskier relents. "I just… wanted you to know what you were getting into."

"I'm sure it can't be all bad. I have you."

Jaskier's heart clenches, but he doesn't get another chance to speak because Shani enters the room. Thankfully, Geralt has stopped touching him, but he's still close and she gives Jaskier a look.

"I put out a call to my friend," she says, holding up a box that looks vaguely familiar. "Xenovox," she explains, "Marilla is a mage. She should be here in the morning."

It's late afternoon now, so that means spending another night at the inn and Jaskier is torn. On the one hand, he wants Geralt to be back to normal, but on the other- he's selfish and he wants Geralt like this. He wants so badly to have anything and- no. No, he can't.

Shani leaves them shortly after assuring Jaskier that it will be alright, that Geralt will be fine. He wishes these were better circumstances, that they had come to visit Shani instead of asking for her help, but she waves him off with a smile.

"Come and visit when things are back to normal," she says, "I'll see you in the morning."

Jaskier sees her off and then returns to the room to find Geralt sitting on the edge of the bed, contemplating. He's still shirtless and Jaskier finds it hard to look at him directly. He sits in the bed next to him, hands folded in his lap.

"Well," Geralt says, "we have the night. Things will be different after I get my memory back, right?" He turns, reaching out to cup Jaskier's cheek. "Be with me tonight," he breathes, "just for tonight, let me take care of you while I have the chance."

Jaskier huffs a humourless laugh. "That's the problem, you always have the chance, but you never want to take it."

"Then let me now," he hums and his hand falls to Jaskier's thigh.

And it's so tempting. Because Geralt is right here offering everything he's ever wanted, if only for a night. But this is not the Geralt he fell in love with. This is not truly his Geralt's consent. When Jaskier looks up, it's obvious that Geralt knows his answer before he even speaks.

"I'm an idiot," he says softly, "to not jump at the chance to be with you. If I don't remember tomorrow, I want you to know you're important to me." Jaskier nods weakly, but he can't find the words. "Maybe we should turn in early? We have a long day tomorrow, I think."

Jaskier nods and he lets Geralt pull him down to the bed and tonight, he lets himself be held, curls into Geralt's hold and presses his nose into his neck. He doesn't let himself think, just buries himself in Geralt's scent, so warm and familiar and shuts off his mind.

Jaskier awakes to a knock on the door and realizes he's still in his clothes from yesterday. Geralt answers the door to Shani and Marilla, and Jaskier is only just climbing out of bed when they come into the room. He gets a look from Shani, but if she's feeling any particular kind of way about finding him in Geralt's bed, she doesn't say anything.

The actual process doesn't take any time at all. Marilla comes in and does something to Geralt, what she does is unclear but he falls unconscious and Jaskier panics at first, but Shani holds him back.

"Sorry," she says, "I should have warned you."

Jaskier does his best to make Geralt comfortable in the bed and he leaves with the two women to let him sleep. He thanks Marilla desperately and asks her to stay until he wakes, but she tells him she has other business to attend to and after dipping down to kiss Shani briefly, she disappears down the stairs.

"Friend, huh?" Jaskier asks and Shani smiles at him.

"Don't try to change the subject."

"Actually, can I ask you about something?"

"Of course. Why don't we get a drink, he could be out for a couple of hours."

They head down to the common area and Shani orders them a pair of drinks while Jaskier finds a table out of the way. He's never understood why Geralt likes corner tables, but right now he gets it. He doesn't want anyone to talk to him and he just wants to be able to sit and drink with Shani.

When she returns, she slides his drink across to him and slips into her seat.

"What did you want to ask about?"

"Uh," Jaskier starts, turning his mug in his hands, "when I first took Geralt back to our room, just after he was hurt. He tried to kiss me. He… thought I was bringing him back there to fuck him."

"Oh."

"You don't sound surprised."

"I'm not, really. I'm surprised he acted on it, but-"

"What does that mean?"

"Geralt doesn't have any brain damage," Shani explains, "something just… got knocked loose, so to speak. He was still him, Jaskier. His thoughts, his feelings? That was all him, Jask."

"You're telling me-" abruptly, the memory of Geralt telling him he loved him comes back to him and his mouth goes dry. "You're telling me that was just him?"

"Mmhm. Without all the baggage and self-loathing."

"I don't- he can't- if he wanted me that way, I would know."

"Would you?" Shani asks, "because I think you would be the last person to know. Wait till he wakes up, talk to him."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, Shani, for this and for everything."

"Happy to help."

They finish their drinks and Shani heads home. Jaskier thanks her again and promises to visit when things are better and waits until she's gone before heading back up to Geralt's room.

The first thing Geralt knows when he wakes up, is a pain in his head. He blinks awake to find himself in a bed in a nondescript inn. A better look around finds Jaskier asleep in a chair next to him, but he stirs as Geralt sits up and then he's scrambling to pass Geralt a mug of water.

He feels woozy, but Jaskier's presence soothes him; he knows from experience that Jaskier would never let anything happen to him and is willing to risk his own health and safety to assure it. There's no one else he'd rather see upon waking. But he doesn't remember falling asleep. The last thing he remembers is taking a hit and stumbling away from the scene.

"Geralt?" Jaskier asks gently. He looks up and the first thing he notices when he looks at Jaskier is how sad he is. The emotion wafts off of him, but Geralt doesn't need his heightened sense of smell to be able to tell.

"What's wrong?" he mumbles, his voice thick.

"Tell me what you remember. From the start."

Geralt thinks back, going through the events of the hunt, none of which are very interesting until he was thrown into a tree. Water hag, he remembers, chucked mud and blinded him. Then he's stumbling away, all three monsters dead and then- fuck.

His gaze snaps up to Jaskier's face, looking for any sign of recognition, but he remains eerily calm, even as Geralt recollects kissing him, pressing him up against a wall and- fuck, what was he thinking? The more he thinks about it, the more comes back to him, but in bits and pieces.

Kissing him, touching him, pressing up against him in bed. The memories are all foggy, scattered, but they feel too real to have been a dream. But Jaskier shows no signs of being assaulted by him.

"I'm-" he starts, but sorry doesn't feel like it's enough. Jaskier is open with his affections, but he wouldn't be okay with that.

Geralt tries to push himself up, to get out of bed and away from Jaskier because he can't stand the thought of doing something like that. He can't remember why he did, but the more he thinks about it, the more real it feels.

"Geralt," Jaskier says firmly, "I'm not mad. But I think we need to talk if you're up for it."

He doesn't want to talk to Jaskier. He would rather find out from someone else, he can't bear to hear the words from Jaskier. And he knows Shani was there. Shani and another woman who he didn't recognize.

"Where's Shani?" he asks.

"She's gone home, darling. Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?"

Geralt looks up at him and he feels hopeless. Jaskier is exhausted, he can see the bags under his eyes, the dark circles. And he doesn't seem any less sad than he did initially. It doesn't take much to realize what happened.

"I'm sorry," Geralt mumbles, "about what I did- when I kissed you, I-"

Jaskier stops, already halfway toward the door and sighs deeply, stopping in his tracks before turning around.

"Okay," he says, "we're talking about this now, then." He comes back and seats himself on the end of the bed, facing him. "Tell me exactly what you remember, Geralt."

"I remember taking the contract, fighting off the drowners - and a water hag - got mud in my eyes, stumbled and something hit me, threw me into a tree. Probably one of the drowners pushed me. I took them out, started back toward town but I must have passed out, the next thing I remember is-"

"Me."

"Yeah. You took me back to our room, I thought you were- I thought you wanted sex."

"I know, you were fairly adamant about that."

"Fuck. Jaskier I'm sorry-"

"You didn't know who I was. If a handsome stranger took me back to his room, I'd think the same. When you didn't know who I was I was… terrified. I didn't know if I'd get you back." They're both silent for a moment and then Jaskier prompts him to continue.

"I remember that. I remember talking to you," he lowers his eyes, "I told you I loved you, I don't know why." Immediately Jaskier's sadness intensifies and he catches it in the twitch of his lip, the way he glances away.

"You asked if I was in love with you," Jaskier explains, "and told me you loved me. What else do you remember?"

"I remember asking you to- suggesting we- I propositioned you. And I remember being in bed- Jaskier, did we-?" He can't imagine anything worse than sleeping with Jaskier while he's not himself, than having the chance to be with him and not truly being present in the moment.

Because he certainly won't have another chance, especially not now that he's gone and muddled things up.

"No," Jaskier confirms and for the first time a small smile tugs at his lips, "not that you didn't try. But It didn't feel right. I knew when you had your memories back, you'd hate me for it and I couldn't-"

"I could never hate you," Geralt interrupts, "if anything I'd hate myself for pushing you into it."

"No," Jaskier says, shaking his head, "Geralt you don't understand. I wanted to. I wanted so badly to just say yes last night when you asked me. I tried to work it around in some way that you wouldn't hate me for taking advantage, but every time I just feel terrible to even think about it. The reason I didn't sleep with you is because I couldn't bear the thought of fucking you when it wasn't really you. Because I didn't want him, even if he was you. I wanted- I want this you."

"You do," Geralt snorts, "someone who throws himself at his friend because he doesn't remember, someone who tells him he loves him unprompted-"

"Do you think," Jaskier suggests, and it's clear by the look on his face that he's considering his words very carefully. "That maybe what you said to me and what you did- what you offered," he corrects quickly, "was because you do have feelings for me?" His voice shakes just faintly and Geralt can smell the anxiousness coming off of him.

It's cloying, overwhelming and it mingles with the scent of sadness and fear and just the faintest hint of something hopeful.

"It's just that Shani said there was nothing wrong with your mind, it was still you in there when you asked, when you said that." Jaskier looks up at him and Geralt feels years of emotion welling up inside him and he doesn't know how to hold it back any longer, not what Jaskier is asking him outright.

"Jaskier, I-" he takes a deep breath, focuses on a mark on the blanket between them. "I don't remember everything. But I did mean what I said. I do… I love you," he whispers, "I didn't want you to think less of me or," he glances up and Jaskier's eyes are shiny like he's trying not to cry. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to find out like this."

"I'm not sad," Jaskier says, "Geralt, I have been following you around for half my life, caring for you, singing about you and you didn't think for maybe a moment that I could love you back?"

"You-" Geralt stumbles over his words as Jaskier's confession sinks in. "You sleep with everyone. Everyone but-"

"You don't even call me friend, Geralt. Why would I try and take you to bed with me thinking you don't care enough to call me your friend?"

"Oh."

"Oh? You didn't consider that?"

"You're not my friend," Geralt says, by way of explanation, "but you're not a lover, either. You're not a brother. Not a comrade. I don't know what you are."

"Oh."

"But you could be… a lover?" the word feels strangely heavy in his mouth and he nearly regrets saying it at all until he sees the way Jaskier's eyes light up. A smile tugs at Geralt's lips and he leans forward, reaching out to take Jaskier's hand, tentatively turning it over.

"Jaskier," he whispers, "can I kiss you?" A wide grin spreads across his face and Jaskier tips forward toward him.

"Darling, I thought you'd never ask."

#geraskier #memory loss #200 fic celebration #no.1 #the witcher #rex writes

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milkybonya · 3 years

Text

cheer up, buttercup!

order #001: large banana milk tea with pudding and grass jelly for Cha Eunwoo, requested by my lovely @daybreakx !

-> enemies to lovers! & college!Cha Eunwoo x (gn) reader

-> warnings: some angst and food mentions! also drinking/alcohol mentions and everyone is really mean to the reader >:0

-> where Eunwoo is the president of your department and you're the vice president. you work your hardest but always end up second to him.

[a/n]: i'm sorry for the CHAOS that this is and i feel like there is minimal (?) fluff but i hope you enjoYY THIS WAS FUN

You and Eunwoo had major beef. There wasn't even an event that started it all, but Eunwoo treated you with such disrespect from the start. And of course, anyone who disrespected you was on your list of... well, the closest thing to a list of enemies.

The first time you met him was in freshman year at the orientation before classes began. There was a basketball game going on and Eunwoo was playing. You watched from the sidelines in the shade, cheering him on at first because he was playing on behalf of your department.

Then, the ball flew in your direction. Eunwoo had tried to get the ball back for his team, but ended up accidentally throwing it towards you.

Luckily, it fell somewhere to your left, but it gave you such a fright that you stood up and started panting.

A few of the people who were playing rushed over to make sure you were okay, but Eunwoo didn't even throw a look your way.

"You, from our department? Just throw the ball back!" was all he said to you.

It made your blood boil.

Eunwoo was known for being a little blunt anyway, but he definitely went out of his way to grind your gears.

"Where is the president?" the social convenor asked.

You sighed, checking the time and noticing that Eunwoo was fifteen minutes late.

"If I knew where he was... If only I knew," you mumbled.

"Why is Eunwoo even the president, anyway?" another member of the student council asked.

"Because he's hot and cool and everyone likes him!" a girl squealed. You couldn't even remember what her position in the student council was, but judging by her comment, you realized that she must be here just for Eunwoo.

"He's absolutely dumb, does nothing all day yet somehow gets A's! Of course, why wouldn't he be the president?" your tone was dripping with sarcasm and your anger was almost about to overflow.

Until that man walked into the meeting room, at last.

"I'm dumb and do nothing all day? Why, thank you. I'm here, now," Eunwoo declared, strolling towards his seat. He had his black leather jacket slung over a shoulder.

God, I hate my life, you thought to yourself.

"That's what [y/n], said, but I don't think that way!" the girl who squealed earlier spoke.

"Thanks, Stacy."

Eunwoo only flashed her a quick smile before he sat back in his seat.

"So, what are we doing?"

"What do you mean, 'what are we doing'? We have an open house tomorrow and tons of high school students will be checking on our department! You're the president, you were supposed to-"

Eunwoo hushes you by raising up his hand from where it was resting on his thigh.

"It's all good, I've got it sorted."

He slammed down a notebook onto the table.

"I've taken notes on how open houses have been previously organized and have put them all in this book. I highlighted the events that seemed like they had a lot of potential, so look through those and decide on something, alright? I'll be off," Eunwoo explained, standing up.

"Where are you going?" you almost spat out at Eunwoo. He walks in here, makes a fool out of you and then decides to leave?

"To go 'be dumb and do nothing all day'. Isn't that what you said I do?"

He glared at you slightly before leaving the room.

"[y/n], you made Nunu so angry! Nunu, don't be mad, come back!" Stacy screamed, chasing after him.

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

"This idiot really thought I wouldn't know about the past open houses..."

You slam down the notebook that you had also brought.

"Damn... so he really just provided us some useless info and left?" the social convenor asks, shaking their head.

"Yeah, pretty much," you say.

So how did you and Eunwoo end up as vice president and president, anyway? Well, these positions were given to the students with the highest grades. Eunwoo had the highest, so he was given the title of president. You were trailing close behind, and were given the title of vice president.

You always told yourself that you should have been the president, and rightfully so! Eunwoo never did anything but play games on his phone, anyway.

When the open house event finally rolled around, you and Eunwoo were supposed to give a speech in a lecture hall to get the day started. It was mostly to welcome the high school students and lift the spirits of everyone there, not too big of a deal!

But still, big enough of a deal that Eunwoo should have shown up.

He didn't. And you were anything but surprised.

Forced to deliver your speech and somehow improvise along the way to make up for Eunwoo's missing presence, you were shocked to find that the audience started clapping right as you finished. It felt as though your hard work had paid off, and you stepped back, smiling at everyone in the crowd.

Until Eunwoo walked up to the mic, flashing a smile of his own and greeting everyone.

Yep, they had all been clapping for him, not for you.

Eunwoo turned and looked at you, mouthing, "did you prepare my script?"

"You were supposed to do that! Do I look like your secretary?"

Eunwoo scowled at you and turned to everyone who was seated. He ended up repeating a bunch of the same things that you had said and received an enthusiastic applause. You sighed from behind the curtains, wondering why Eunwoo always got the credit for all your hard work. It was probably his looks, but still.

Throughout the day, you walked around campus and ensured that everything was running smoothly. Eunwoo was supposed to be doing the same, you hoped, and you asked him this when you ran into him outside of the campus student centre.

"Have you been walking around like you were supposed to?"

"I'll deal with my business on my own," he said, almost scoffing at you. He was standing there scrolling through his phone.

"This isn't 'your business'? We're literally supposed to be working together!"

"Stop nagging me, [y/n]. I don't like it when you do that," he grumbled.

"Yeah, well I don't like you!" you yelled, storming away from him. You felt... very embarrassed. What kind of comeback was that? It sounded like something a child would say... oh, well.

You saw your friend handing out some goodies at a table outside and approached them.

"How's it going, vice president?" they asked you, handing you a snack.

"Terrible," you groaned, opening it and eating some.

"Why, what's up?"

"Cha Eunwoo is being a pain in the butt, as always," you sighed.

"You might want to watch what you say," your friend mumbled, pointing behind you.

You turned around a little too late as the snack in your hands was whisked away by Cha Eunwoo himself.

"You're the only pain in the butt here, [y/n]," he said, eating your snacks.

"What are you doing here?! You should be on the other side of campus!" you yelled.

"And you shouldn't be here, either," Eunwoo said with a glare.

"Can y'all go argue somewhere else? You're scaring the highschoolers away," your friend complained, nodding in the direction of some highschoolers who were hesitant to approach the snack stand because you and Eunwoo were arguing.

"Go attend to your duties, [y/n]," Eunwoo huffed, walking away from you.

You angrily stomped the ground, walking away and feeling a little embarrassed because you could feel the high schoolers watching you.

"[y/n], why won't you learn from Eunwoo a bit? I understand that he's the president and you're only the vice, but you could have at least prepared what we needed you to prepare!" the director of your department told you, shaking her head at you.

You tried to contain yourself and looked down as you rolled your eyes. The only reason Eunwoo was more prepared than you were today was because he had stolen what you prepared and claimed it was his instead.

"I understand, I'm sorry."

"You're at risk of getting your position taken away, [y/n]! This is a warning."

After leaving the director's office, you were met wih a grinning Eunwoo who was sat on the couches in the lobby.

"What are you looking at?" you asked him.

"Thanks for these papers, [y/n]," he said, holding up your hard work.

"I didn't even give them to you. You took them from me, but okay," you said, leaving him there.

You walked to a coffee shop that was on the same floor to get something to refresh yourself. Since it was so early in the morning on a weekend, the building was fairly quiet and empty. It wasn't hard to overhear a conversation.

"Eunwoo, I think [y/n] has not been taking their vice president duties seriously these days. Do you think we should find someone else?"

The director's voice.

"Do the other members of student council agree?"

Eunwoo's voice.

"I haven't spoken to them-"

"Then [y/n] remains as vice. I haven't seen any sort of slacking or a lack of seriousness from them, and I don't think anyone else is fit for the role."

Did Eunwoo just... compliment and defend you?

You turned around with your drink in hand to find that it was indeed Eunwoo talking with your director. Then, you quickly scurried away to avoid being seen by them, feeling very confused.

"Cheers!" everyone shouted around the table, clinking their glasses together before downing their contents. After a successful open house, everyone had gathered at a bar to celebrate. You squirmed in your spot beside Eunwoo, feeling uncomfortable. He rolled his eyes at you and shifted even closer to you, leaving you with less room to sit than before.

"Is that better?" he asked, smirking at you.

You frowned, pressing your foot on top of his clearly new shoes.

"Is that better?" you asked him.

"Why are you guys so close? Are you about to kiss or something?" one of the student council members asked.

"No! Ew-"

"And what if we did?" Eunwoo asked, glaring at the member.

What the hell?

The member looked down at their drink, unsure of what to say. The atmosphere grew awkwardly quiet until someone asked if everyone wanted more drinks, to which there were murmurs of agreement.

"Hey, [y/n], I overheard the director talking with you in her office today. Did she really threaten to kick you out as vice president?" the student council member next to you asked.

You laughed awkwardly, already feeling uncomfortable.

"Yeah... I'm working hard, though! So I'm sure it won't happen."

"Are you sure? You weren't able to prepare what the director asked you to, and there's been countless times where Eunwoo has always had to do things for you..."

You were in such shock. Everyone in student council knew that Eunwoo just acted like he was on top of everything, meanwhile you were doing all the work. Even for his grades, he never studied but was at the top because of all the people who handed him study notes and past tests to get his attention. You worked so hard...

"... I get that you're the vice president, but shouldn't you be trying a little harder? Hey... [y/n]? Are you crying?"

You couldn't help it... it had all been building up until now. You didn't even realize you were crying, though, until this guy pointed it out to you. His hand on your shoulder felt like it was suffocating you...

"What the hell have you been on about, you idiot?" Eunwoo growled from your right. You turned to him and he was glaring at the boy who had been talking to you.

"I-"

"Don't even talk. There's nothing but garbage coming out of your mouth. Come on, [y/n], let's go," Eunwoo said, grabbing your hand and guiding you out of there.

You were extremely confused, but more than anything, you were just sad. So you didn't stop Eunwoo when he led you outside of the bar.

"Is everything okay? Take some deep breaths." Eunwoo was staring right into your eyes as he spoke to you, reaching out his thumb to gently wipe your tears away.

"What's... going on?"

"That idiot was saying some useless garbage so I brought you out here. I can leave if you want to be alone-"

"No! No, please don't go," you begged, holding on tightly to his sleeve. You couldn't help it, you completely broke down and found yourself sobbing into his chest. What was weirder was that Eunwoo had his arms wrapped around you and was rubbing your back...

After you calmed done, Eunwoo insisted that he walk you back to your dorm.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" you asked him, sniffling quietly.

He threw his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground.

"I don't like it when people are mean to you, [y/n]," he said quietly.

"But you're mean to me all the time!" you pointed out.

"You're the one who started being mean to me!" Eunwoo whined.

You stopped walking.

"I started being mean to you? Eunwoo, you know you're the one who threw a basketball at me that day and never apologized, right?"

Eunwoo stared at the dark sky for a moment as he tried to remember what you were talking about. Then his eyes widened and he looked at you.

"Oh... I swear, there's an explanation-"

"There better be!"

"This is going to sound dumb but... I felt too shy to look at you... which is why I avoided you like that."

What? Eunwoo, the most cocky and arrogant president you know, was shy?

"Why in the world were you shy, Eunwoo?"

It wasn't just the slight breeze in the air that was turning his cheeks red, now. He was about to tell you something important.

"Ever since the first day at the orientation week... I thought you were really... attractive. And then, learning about you through all the icebreakers just made things worse. I don't really know how to handle my feelings, so maybe that's why I came across as so rude."

There was silence as you processed everything and starting walking to your dorm again.

"Eunwoo... if you had just cleared this all up a little sooner, we wouldn't have been like cats and dogs," you said, laughing nervously and touching the back of your neck.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Do you still... like me?" you asked him quietly.

Eunwoo paused before answering. "I don't think I could ever just stop liking you."

Both of you giggled at his cheesy words. You felt like you were on another planet. The boy you'd hated so much turned out to have a crush on you?

"You don't need to tell me how you feel anytime soon. I know there's been a lot of misunderstandings... so let's just clear those up first?" Eunwoo cocked his head to one side.

"If you get to my dorm faster than me, I'll consider it!" you yelled before running in the direction of your residence building.

"I don't even know where you live!" Eunwoo yelled after you, following you along.

"What kind of president are you? You don't even know where your vice president lives?" you yelled back, sticking your tongue out at him.

Suddenly, Eunwoo caught up to you and started racing ahead. Of course he knew where you lived. He liked you.

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

MC is Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lesson 16

Masterlist

Previous part

It’s finally here! The long awaited Lesson 16! Please enjoy, my lovelies!

MC had gone back in time, they didn’t think their year as an exchange student would end up like this, but yet, there they were. They sprinted up the stairs to the attic and burst through the door.

Their heart was in their throat as they made their way down the hallway and peaked through the door.

“MC?”

Belphegor, safe and sound, got up from the bed and rubbed his eyes. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“A lot of stuff… um…” MC tapped their foot and shifted anxiously. “I’m going to get you out of here, okay?”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

MC slammed their palm into the door and slowly wrapped their fingers around the bars as they felt the remnants of Lucifer’s spell coil its way up their arm. The spell had weakened with time, and Lucifer must have neglected to reinforce it.

They gritted their teeth and countered with their own magic, but MC could feel their strength being drained. Their vision blurred ever so slightly as something else countered Lucifer’s magic. It was warm and calming, as if someone had pressed a kiss to MC’s forehead and told them everything was going to be okay.

The door let out a metallic screech as it wrestled against the spell, begging to be opened. Until finally, blue sparks erupted from the door and slowly fizzled out. The door slowly creaked open as the warm energy faded.

Belphie took a tentative step forward, when met with no resistance, he stepped into the hallway. Free at last.

MC stood in silence, fatigue washing over them. That was… exhausting.

“You did it.” Belphie beamed at MC, who looked up and returned the smile.

“I… I did!” MC squeaked, looking at the broken attic door in wonder.

Belphie laughed at their starry eyed expression and held out his arms for a hug. “Nice job, MC.”

MC threw themselves into his arms and let out a laugh of pure joy at their achievement. They had broken a spell put down by their father. They had done it! All by themselves! He was going to be so proud of them! Well, after Belphie and him made up of course.

“You know,” Belphie whispered as he wrapped his arms around MC. “I wonder how long it’s been…”

“Hm?” MC felt Belphie shift slightly in their arms, a new material rested against their face. MC opened their eyes and looked up.

“How many thousands of years it’s been since I’ve held something so human in my arms.”

Belphegor was in his demon form, curved horns jutting out of the side of his head, a tail lazily swishing behind him. He smiled as he looked down at MC.

“What are you-”

MC was cut off by a hand wrapping around their throat as they were yanked upwards. They let out a scream as they immediately shifted into their own demon form, their wings flapping, desperately trying to push Belphegor back.

MC’s hands clawed at the hand wrapped around their neck and slammed their feet into his chest. Their escape attempts were put to a halt as Belphegor slammed MC into the hallway wall, painfully pinning MC’s frantically flapping wings.

Their vision swam as the base of their skull connected with the wall, their ears rang and tears began to prick at the corners of their eyes. Thinking fast, MC tried to sink their rapidly sharpening teeth into Belphegor’s arm but his grip on their neck was holding their head straight.

They were going to die-

They didn’t want to die-

They couldn’t just die like this!

——

Belphegor almost rolled his eyes as he watched MC panic and thrash. He could feel their pulse race beneath his fingers.

A demon’s life or death adrenaline kicking in was no joke, Belphegor knew that. But this kid- this little brat wasn’t even a full demon.

Belphie’s face contorted into a scowl as he let his magic seep through his hands, he soon felt MC’s pulse slow and clarity return to their vision.

——

MC’s kicks and scratches slowed and black spots danced across their vision as their gaze settled on Belphegor.

Every ounce of energy that MC could have mustered was sapped out of them, every single breath they managed to choke out took a massive amount of effort.

“There we go,” Belphegor smiled, his head lolling to the side. “Was that so hard, MC?”

MC let out a low growl, then a whimper when the grip on their throat tightened.

“Now now,” Belphegor sighed. “You’re in no position to get snappy with me, are you?”

MC didn’t respond.

“You know, half breed? If you’re tricked by a demon, you truly have your own stupidity and naivety to blame.” Belphegor continued. “You wouldn’t understand that, would you? You’re half human. Humans are notoriously easy to trick.”

MC gripped the hand holding their neck even tighter, digging their nails into his wrist.

“It’s pathetic, that’s what it is. Are you even Lucifer’s child? Your wings say so, but your ability to fight back leaves something to be desired.”

The insult caused MC to slam their foot into Belphegor’s ribcage, he grimaced, but his grip held firm.

“It’s just so ridiculously pitiful, MC.” Belphie said. “Any real demon would be able to fight back from this easy peasy.”

Belphegor snickered and used his free hand to rub the remaining sleep from his eyes. He was barely half awake and MC was still completely at his mercy.

“So sad… sad indeed.”

“Wh-why?” MC barely managed to whisper, Belphie rolled his eyes.

“I swear, does anyone in this house tell you anything?” Belphie sneered. “I. Hate. Humans. Simple as that. And look at you, the half human kid of the brother that locked me up here, you’ll have to forgive me for being a little upset, MC.”

“Let’s see now,” Belphegor cooed, bringing his face slightly closer. “Does your pride match up to your dear dad’s? Are you willing to beg for your life? If you do it well enough, I might be tempted to let you live.”

The grip around their neck relaxed slightly, MC gasped for air, taking a few deep breaths. Belphegor raised an eyebrow.

“I’m waiting.”

The silence hung in the air, the back of MC’s head throbbed in pain as they tried to focus their gaze to Belphegor’s. They’d say what they were going to say next looking him in the eyes. The child’s black and red eyes slowly narrowed into an icy glare.

“Death first.” MC snarled.

Belphegor’s hand tightened around their neck so much that MC couldn’t even scream, their hands fell to their sides and their kicks slowly subsided. As their vision began to fade, they almost laughed despite themselves.

It seemed they really were their father’s child.

——

“Death first.”

Belphegor tightened his grip and felt MC’s throat practically crumple and fall apart in his grasp.

Even when faced with death they refused to grovel. Belphegor let out a soft laugh. They really were Lucifer’s child!

That look of pure disdain, that refusal to just give up and beg, all Lucifer.

They really were… Lucifer’s…

Belphie snarled and slammed MC’s unconscious form into the wall again, trying to ignore the feeling that twisted his gut.

“I hate you…” he whispered.

“I hate you… I hate you!” Belphie repeated, not daring to look up. “I hate you I hate you I hate you!”

Belphie’s hand slowly slipped from MC’s neck and they crumpled to the floor. his arm fell limp at his side as he caught his breath.

There was no way the kid could have survived that, and yet, Belphie heard breathing. Quiet, shuddering breaths.

He dragged his eyes to look at MC. Their demon form really did look like his brother’s. MC’s horns hadn’t fully grown in yet, but they were just beginning to curve upwards, one a little more than the other. Everything from their wings to the diamond shaped mark on the centre of their forehead, was all Lucifer.

The brother that all of them had once looked up to, the brother that took care of them, the brother that declared war on everything he had known for their sister.

…but MC wasn’t Lucifer, were they? No. No they weren’t. They weren’t the human that Lilith had fallen in love with either, they weren’t the reason for the war.

They were the only person that reached out to help Belphie, the person who went up to visit him, they were someone who saw him as family.

“What did you do?” An all too impossibly familiar voice whispered. “Belphie, what did you do?!”

He felt his throat tighten. A DDD buzzed nearby, it was lying face down a little farther down the hallway. In an almost hypnotic state, Belphegor walked over and picked it up.

Two texts greeted him.

Father: I’ll be home in five minutes.

Father: The student council meeting ran late.

The text wasn’t what caught his attention, it was the picture on the lock screen. It was a picture of MC, Levi, Mammon, and Beel. MC was on Beel’s shoulders and Levi and Mammon were shoving each other around behind them. Mammon looked to be having more fun than Levi, who had just noticed his picture was being taken and looked completely terrified. Beel was eating a bag of chips and MC was in the middle of reaching into the bag to grab a handful, they were looking into the camera like they had just noticed the person taking the picture.

They were walking back from… something. Half of Mammon’s face was covered in RAD’s school colours, and Levi was holding a few poster boards that were also in the school’s colours. MC was wearing one of Beel’s helmets, even though it was way too big on them.

Ah, Belphie knew what they were doing. They were heading home from one of Beel’s games.

Belphie’s eyes were glued to MC and Beel. Beel was… smiling. He was happy. He didn’t notice his picture was being taken and he was looking slightly off-camera. One of his arms was holding one of MC’s legs in place so they wouldn’t topple backwards.

Belphegor felt the DDD slip out of his hands and clatter to the floor, he walked back over to MC. They were still breathing, and Belphie blinked a few times to make sure he was seeing right. The tiny cuts from his claws had completely healed over, and the swelling around MC’s neck had slightly lessened. They were being healed…

He kneeled down next to them and reached out to touch their head, he hesitated for a brief moment before letting his hand rest on their hair. A softer magic ran through his hands, MC’s breathing became less laborious and their throat slowly began to fix itself.

Belphie suppressed a yawn at the exertion, he picked MC up and carried them downstairs. They were still completely unconscious. That was good, Belphie heard that humans healed faster in their sleep anyway.

He set them down gently on one of the living room couches and walked back upstairs. Even as he lay back down in his bed, Belphie still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

——

Lucifer dragged Mammon and Levi up the stairs to the House of Lamentation by their ears, Satan, Asmo, and Beel trailing behind him.

“You both are so lucky Lord Diavolo wasn’t upset.” Lucifer growled.

Levi was in his admiral’s uniform, but it was so wrinkled and smelly that anyone could tell it had been lying at the back of his closet. Mammon was still in his school uniform and was trying to wiggle out of the ear-hold.

“C-come on Lucifer! Ya gotta understand, I can’t get hung from the ceiling today, I have a modelling gig!” Mammon pleaded.

“Y-yeah! There’s a rerun of I Can’t Believe My Girlfriend’s Secretly Been Royalty-eeeeow!” Levi screeched and tried in vain to remove Lucifer’s hand from his ear.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “You two should have thought about that before you and Levi decided it would be a good idea to get into a fight in front of Diavolo and Barbatos.”

“What a functional family we have.” Satan drawled.

Mammon and Levi’s pleas for mercy quieted when everyone stepped into the house, something was… wrong. Very very wrong.

“MC?” Lucifer called out. No reply. He let go of Mammon and Levi.

“Blood…”

Lucifer turned to look at Beel, who had his nose in the air. “What was that, Beel?”

“Smells like blood.”

Everyone stood motionless for a few moments as what Beel said began to sink in. Mammon was the first to break the silence.

“Shit, MC!” He shouted, rushing towards the dining hall.

“MC? MC come on,” Asmo sped towards the bedrooms. “If this is some kind of joke it isn’t funny!”

“M-maybe they’re in the backyard! I’ll check…” Levi ran to the back door of the house.

Satan and Beel went in the direction of the library while Lucifer stalked towards the living room.

If MC was playing some kind of joke on him, he’d wring their neck.

He entered the living room and breathed an immediate sigh of relief upon seeing MC lying on one of the couches, sleeping soundly. They were just napping…

Lucifer’s lips quirked upwards into a fond smile as he ruffled his sleeping child’s hair, then paused upon seeing the rusty substance that now coated his glove. Mostly dried blood.

“MC..?” He whispered, sitting down on the couch and pulling them towards him. “MC?”

When MC didn’t respond, Lucifer’s heart began to race in his chest.

No.

Not again.

Not like Lilith…

“MC, wake up,” Lucifer said in a more commanding tone. “You’re okay, wake up, right now!”

They didn’t stir, they just lay there. Their breathing and his own thundering heartbeat was all Lucifer could hear.

A shriek from Asmodeus brought him back to reality as Lucifer slowly rocked MC back and forth, muttering the names of spells as he tried to use his magic to heal them.

“What happened?!” Asmo rushed forward, hands already glowing white with magic.

Lucifer couldn’t give an answer nor could he look away from MC as Asmodeus ran a glowing hand along their head.

Asmo snapped his hand back towards him like something had burned him, he looked up at Lucifer with a look of pure confusion. “L-Lucifer… do you know whose magical signature that is..?”

“H-huh?! MC?!” Mammon, followed by Satan, Beel, and Levi rushed to MC’s side. The chorus of questions and shock were of no interest to Lucifer, he continued to cradle MC in his lap.

“Lucifer!” Asmo tried to get his attention again, he growled and whipped his head around to his other brothers. “ALL OF YOU, QUIET!”

Such a sharp snarl from Asmo of all demons immediately quieted them down as Asmo turned back to look at Lucifer. “It’s Belphie. That’s Belphie’s magical signature. I’d bet my life on it.”

Lucifer felt his blood run cold, his grip on MC tightened as he pulled them closer to him.

“Belphie is up in the human world, Asmo!” Satan snapped. “How the hell could he have done this?!”

“I don’t know!” Asmo retorted. “But I’m not lying, that’s Belphie’s magic!”

Belphegor got out of the attic.

Belphegor hurt MC.

Lucifer gently set MC back down on the couch, in a matter of seconds his true form was revealed.

“L-Lucifer…” Mammon whispered.

Watch them.” Lucifer growled. He turned and stalked down the hallway towards the attic.

When he burst through the door to the attic staircase the first thing that hit him was the residual magic energy that practically coated the room. His spell keeping his brothers from being able to enter the attic, the spell that hid Belphie from view if they somehow managed to bypass the first spell, and finally most hauntingly, was the spell that kept Belphie sealed in the attic. All of them were dispelled by a counter spell from an all too familiar magic signature.

MC broke the spells.

Lucifer stormed up the stairs and down the hall to where Belphie was supposed to be, the stench of magic and blood got even stronger as he approached the open door.

He stood in the doorway, Belphie was sitting on the bed, hugging his knees, he looked over at Lucifer. The two stared each other down, Belphie’s expression held no malice or anger, it was glassy and far off, like he wasn’t even there. Belphegor wasn’t close enough to see, but Lucifer’s pupils had retracted and stretched.

“Lucifer.”

“What have you done?”

There was no triumph or glee in Belphegor’s voice, it was hollow and empty.

“I ruined the exchange program like I said I would.”

—————

MC’s eyes fluttered open, they expected to wake up to the sound of their DDD alarm buzzing and telling them to wake up for school, but the intense soreness of their neck snapped them back to reality. They were in their father’s room, lying on his bed.

“Ah!” MC rasped, a hand flying to their neck to pull off the hand that was just wrapped around it.

Their thoughts raced. Why were they here? Where was Belphegor? Why weren’t they dead?!

“MC..?”

MC lurched upwards whipped their head back and forth to find the source of the voice. They didn’t have to look very far, Lucifer was sitting next to them with a clipboard and notebook on his lap.

“D-dad?” MC felt tears prick at their eyes, the events of the day crashing down on them all at once. They let out a sob and buried their head in Lucifer’s chest.

Lucifer held MC close, If he wasn’t a demon, the grip MC had on him would have crushed him.

“Sh, it’s okay, you’re okay. You’re safe now.” It sounded to MC like Lucifer was trying to reassure himself as much as he was trying to reassure them.

It hurt to cry, every sound and heavy gulp of air made MC’s neck and ribs throb with pain, every tiny movement of their arms made them want to cry even harder. The only silver lining was that it was less of a sharp recent pain and more of a reminder of a much older injury. The sped up healing courtesy of multiple spells must have aided in that regard.

“I’m sorry…” They whimpered, choking out another sob. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…”

“MC, what on earth are you sorry for?”

MC sniffled before explaining. “I… I-I let him out of the attic… I didn’t listen when you said not to go up there…he said he wanted t-to fix everything… I just wanted to h-help…”

Lucifer hugged them tighter, it hurt a little, but MC didn’t care.

“I’m sorry…” MC whimpered again. “I’m so so sorry…”

“Shh,” Lucifer whispered. “It’s not your fault. I should have been there. I should have…”

Lucifer trailed off and the two fell silent, save for the occasional sniffle or hiccup from MC.

Despite all the reassurances, the guilt didn’t go away, but what was worse was the fear. Every cell in MC’s body seemed to be screaming at them for their sheer stupidity. They had let Belphegor almost kill them, and their failure to fight him off had been made known to the entire house.

MC’s shaking slowly subsided and they pulled away slightly. “H-how did I live through that? How am I okay..? He said he was going to kill me…” MC let out another sob and touched their neck. “What kind of demon am I if I can’t even protect myself?”

“MC, look at me,” Lucifer instructed, MC shakily complied. “You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this was your fault, this fight has been brewing for thousands of years and you just got caught in the crossfire. You’re still a child, there’s no shame in being hurt by a demon thousands of years older that caught you off guard and deceived you.”

MC nodded, wiping their tears with their sleeve. Lucifer did his best to smile comfortingly.

“Besides,” He helped wipe MC’s tears away. “I don’t think any other demon in this house has enough magical power to break all three spells I had in place at once. You’re not weak, MC, nor are you any less of a demon.”

A meow broke its way into the conversation, Bean nestled himself into MC’s lap and began to purr.

“I thought...” MC sniffled, then smiled. “I thought you didn’t want Bean in your room.”

“I’ll make an exception for today.”

“Careful, Father,” MC laughed between hiccups. “Cerberus might think his favourite demon likes the cat more than him.”

“You might be right, and we don’t want to give Cerberus another reason to want to eat the cat.”

MC giggled, then winced at the pain in their neck. Lucifer sighed and pulled them into another hug.

“Asmodeus said that you’ll be back to normal in a few days or less.” Lucifer whispered. “You’ll be okay.”

“Are… are you going to be okay?” MC asked.

Lucifer didn’t respond for a moment, then sighed.

“I will be.”

After a while of absentmindedly petting the cat and leaning on their father’s arm, MC finally asked the question that had been on their mind since they had woken up.

“What happened to Belphegor?”

“He’s with Beel right now.” Lucifer replied, MC half nodded as they stared blankly at the opposite wall.. “He’s not going to hurt you again, I can promise you that.”

“Mm…” MC mumbled, they took a deep breath and braced themselves. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot…”

“MC-”

“No, I messed up,” a lump formed in MC’s throat as they continued. “Beel, Belphie, and I ran away after Belphie escaped the attic the first time… Lord Diavolo found us and took Belphie, I-I made Beel go back to get all of you so I c-could sneak into Barbatos’ room and fix everything…”

MC hiccuped and rubbed at their already puffy eyes. “I just made everything worse…”

Lucifer sighed and absentmindedly clicked his pen. “I know. Barbatos and Diavolo came over before you woke up and explained everything.”

“What about the other future?” MC sniffed.

“According to Barbatos, he merged it with this one.” Lucifer said. “He said that we’ll be getting small batches of memories from that timeline, but that’s it.”

MC blankly nodded again. Their head was filled with emotions and questions they just didn’t have the strength to deal with. It didn’t help that every single one of their limbs felt heavy as lead and they just wanted to go back to sleep.

“Do you need anything, MC?”

“Music would be nice.”

Lucifer smiled and got up to turn on the record player. “Cursed or not?”

——

Belphie was still in the attic. He lay in the bed in the midst of the destroyed room. Nothing was keeping him locked away up there, the door hadn’t closed since MC unlocked it earlier. Despite it all, Belphie didn’t want to leave. Not after what happened earlier.

Lucifer was fully ready to kill him. It had taken Beel, Levi, and Mammon using their full strength to actually hold Lucifer back.

But the hours had passed, Beel had left, Mammon and Levi could barely even look at him, Asmo and Satan hadn’t even come to see him. The youngest had ruined everything, and all he had left to keep him company was the lingering feeling of regret.

“Belphegor.”

Belphie didn’t open his eyes at the sound of his name. He felt a sudden weight on his chest, making it harder to breathe. He was no stranger to sleep paralysis and the unexplainable horrors that often followed, but his thousands of years of experience never could have prepared him for what he saw when he opened his eyes.

Lilith.

Her face was just as he remembered it, her eyes were just as bright and full of life as they were thousands of years ago. Her downy wings were open and fluttered slightly, and to Belphie’s horror, the wound from the arrow that pierced her right wing was still fresh.

But that was all, there were no remnants of the scars that coated her arms and neck from the war, no defeated look of resigned despair…

It was Lilith, just as Belphie remembered her.

She glared at her brother with a rage he hadn’t seen in millennia. She had his shirt balled up in her fists as she asked her first question.

“What the hell were you thinking!?” The pain and agony in her voice when she asked nearly caused Belphie to cry. “Why did you do that?!”

Belphegor couldn’t respond, he just stared up at the ghostly form of his sister. Her glare hardened.

“I didn’t help MC break those spells for you to… do something like this!”

Her form flickered for the briefest of moments, instead of a halo and wings, a dragon-like tail and thin curved horns took their place, Lilith’s eyes darkened and her nails grew longer and sharper before she flickered back to the form Belphegor recognized.

“L-Lilith?” Belphie whispered, she rolled her eyes.

“Using my death as an excuse for that…” She trailed off, her grip on Belphie’s shirt tightening. “You’re terrible! You really are!”

Terrible? Lilith’s childlike way of chiding people for their misdeeds hadn’t changed a bit. Belphie half expected her to cross her arms and puff out her cheeks like a petulant kid.

“What do you mean?”

“MC!” She growled, flickering back to the unfamiliar demon form. “They weren’t involved! They had nothing to do with me! NOTHING!”

“They’re… they’re half human!”

Belphie’s pitiful attempts to justify his actions to Lilith and himself fell flat as the tight knot of guilt in his gut only grew.

“And I’m stuck like this!” Lilith cried, she flickered back and forth from her angelic and demonic forms, her wounds from the war returning and disappearing as she switched back and forth. “Stuck between being an angel and a demon! But you’d have me back in an instant, wouldn’t you?”

She was right, Belphie would have given anything to have his sister back in any form. Angel, demon, human…

“You can’t stop and think for one moment that the humans had nothing to do with my death?!”

“That human was the reason the war even started!” Belphie retorted, trying to push Lilith’s hands off of his shirt. “He’s the reason why you were in trouble in the first place!”

“No he wasn’t! It was me! I made that decision, not him!” Lilith hissed. “You know what you’ve been doing for the past how many millennia? Looking for someone to blame! Looking for someone to hate that you have actual power over! You don’t have power over the Celestial Realm, you don’t have power over father, but you do have power over humans. You hate them because it’s convenient, and MC paid the price for it!”

Belphie shook his head. “That's not true!”

“Then why?!” Lilith snarled. “Why do you hate them so much?! Why don’t you hate the angels with that much ferocity?! What did MC ever do to you other than try and help you?!”

Every accusation hit him like a hammer to the skull. His head throbbed with every single thing Lilith accused him of, no matter how much he denied it, he knew it was true. Every last word.

“Just..!” Lilith’s rage morphed into something much more quiet and fragile, she slowly curled into herself and shook her head. “Just… why? Why haven’t you been able to move on?”

Belphie felt tears prick at the corner of his vision. “You were our sister. They were just going to… just going to kill you like it was nothing. We promised we’d protect you and you died anyway…. and it was all my fault.”

“Belphie…”

“If I had never taken you to the human world this never would have happened…”

“So what?”

“H-huh?”

“So what?” Lilith repeated. “It’s over now. It’s been over and done with for thousands of years. You need to let it go.”

“But-”

“My death wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t Beel’s, and it wasn’t any human’s. We tried to fight the person who was responsible and…” She trailed off, then quickly shook her head and returned her stare to her brother.

“H-how,” Belphie mumbled. “How are they all going to forgive me..?”

Lilith grimaced and shook her head. “I have no idea. Just… try. Try and fix this...”

Belphie sighed and nodded. “I will.”

Lilith finally smiled. Her new tail swished through the air behind her as she slowly faded away.

“Thank you.”

————

Author’s note:

May the muse Calliope have pity on my poor soul, this has been a WIP in my Google Docs SINCE PART 3 OF THE HALF DEMON SERIES CAME OUT.

I hope you all liked the angst… I’m not too proud of my skills in writing the big sad (tm) yet, buuuuut this is ✨ progress ✨, so I’m not going to self deprecate! I’m thinking of doing a version where it’s M!MC or A!MC instead of L!MC, because I know that Belphie and the kids would react very differently to the whole attempted murder thing…

But for now, I must bid you all adieu. I’m going to eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.

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inkyblinders · 3 years

Text

Dancing with the Devil

Pairing: Luca Changretta X Reader

Author’s note: So excited to share my first fic on this blog! I’m still trying to figure out the ins and outs of Tumblr as it’s been a hot minute since I’ve last used it, but if you like my writing please repost and follow for more :)

The story (part one of many, hopefully) is set in early Season 4 and is in second-person, but you’re also a character with a name.

And in case you can’t tell...I think Luca Changretta is criminally underrated.

Warnings: Some mild smut.

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There is a stranger in the Garrison tonight.

He isn’t a shipyard laborer, neither tired nor grimy from the perpetual muck that belongs to Small Heath. In fact, he is more polished and well-dressed than anyone you’ve ever seen, except for perhaps the Shelby brothers who frequent the Garrison.

But this man is no Peaky Blinder.

He leisurely surveys the customers in the pub, eyes obscured by a fedora that slants on his head. An unlit cigarette hangs between thin lips. It’s a halfhearted attempt to blend in, as if he’s doing this as a courtesy but cares not in the slightest if he rouses suspicion.

You are used to breaking up bar fights and mopping up the bloody aftermath, but this man makes you more uneasy than any roughhousing drunkard you’ve dealt with. He is too quiet, his eyes too sly.

“This must be the trouble Tommy was expecting,” you think to yourself.

When he catches your gaze from behind the bar, a hawk-like smile cuts across his face. He winks then, and you flush even as something dangerous spikes in your throat. The whiskey you hold in your hands is just like his. Another prop, another facade.

“Anything else for you then, sir?”

He looks up from beneath the brim of his hat. His face is slyly handsome, with sharp cheekbones and a striking nose you crave to run down lightly with your fingers. Now you understand why he tries to keep himself hidden.

Here is a face that, once seen, would not be soon forgotten.

A tilt of his head, a voice as like raw silk as you shiver.

“Your daddy owns this place?”

So he’s not from Birmingham, after all. Every man within a fifty-mile radius knows who owns the Garrison. They might have never met the man, but they certainly know the name of his younger brother.

“No sir, he doesn’t.” Your voice is carefully polite but clipped, praying it doesn’t betray the pounding of your heart as you watch him take off his hat and run a hand through dark, slicked-back hair. You’ve seen Tommy talk like this with men he mistrusts, and he mistrusts a lot of men. No matter what, you are not volunteering any more information than necessary.

He waits for you to say more, and his smile doesn’t falter when you remain silent. “Well then, signorita, will you tell me who does?”

The Italian. So it is him.

Fuck.

“The Garrison is owned by...a family from these parts. Do you have business with them,” You can’t help but add impulsively, “Signore?”

His dark eyes widen with pleasure at your flippant remark in his own language. He is playing a game, and you are playing along with him.

“What business would I have with Gypsy fucks like them?” He leans forward, “But sweetheart, you on the other hand...”

Working for the Shelbys means minding the pub when Arthur’s gone, and spying for Tommy when he needs intel on whoever he’s feuding with at the time. It’s more serious than simply turning the other cheek when there’s a cutting in the streets. But you are not prepared to face an enemy alone.

Even if he is as charming as the devil.

Even if he wants you, and you want him back.

For the millionth time, you silently curse Tommy for forbidding you from having a gun, a knife, anything to protect yourself while in the pub. You had asked him about it one night, afterwards, and he only replied, “It’s bad for business if a girl like you gets caught with a weapon she can’t handle.”

“Then teach me,” You had retorted, balling up his trousers and chucking it at his head, “You think you can protect me. But what about when you’re gone?”

Tommy had looked up from buttoning his shirt then, his gaze steely and blue. “I have eyes in all of Birmingham. And besides,” He smiled ruefully, “You’re never in danger unless I put you there myself.”

In the pub, the Italian watches your expression. And in a moment of madness, you almost take up his veiled flirtation.

But then there is Tommy. Tommy with his inscrutable blue gaze. Tommy with his whores. And now you are angry at yourself for thinking of him when he was probably fucking some other woman in Camden Town. For business, he would explain, avoiding your eyes.

“What business would you have with a barmaid like me?” A whisper of regret fills you as you turn to leave. You are halfway up the stairs that lead to your room above the pub when you hear a caress of a single word that turns your blood to ice.

“Isabel.”

The Italian is leaning against the banister, eyes drinking in your figure. And now he saunters up the steps. You scamper up the rest of them but he is quicker. In a flash he spins you around, his body snugly against you and the second-floor wall. An arm over your head, caging you with his tall frame.

The intoxicating scent of tobacco and roses fills the crevices between your bodies.

Your eyes flash dangerously as he bends down, daring him to force a kiss. But he only murmurs into the crook of your neck, “Where is Mr. Shelby tonight?”

You answer breathlessly into the shoulder of his freshly-pressed suit, “He could be at the betting shop. Could be with his wife at home. I don’t-- ”

“The other Mr. Shelby, Isabel.”

Maybe he already sent his men after Tommy. Maybe Tommy’s already dead in a ditch, in godforsaken Camden Town. Or maybe, just maybe, this man really doesn’t know where he is, and you are the only person who can tell him.

He has you good and compromised. No one can help you, so you must save yourself. Instincts kick in, your mind feverishly formulating a plan. It won’t be the first time you’ve done something like this, and on Tommy’s orders nonetheless.

Loose lips sink ships, and men are so pliant after a romp in the sheets. Mindful of your mission now, you angle to ask for his secrets, anything you could find out that gives Tommy an advantage.

Only this time, your heart actually catches as you gaze into the mafioso’s lethal eyes.

A pause then, wondering how much you should reveal, and you confess, “Tommy doesn’t tell anyone where he is until he’s already there.” It’s a half-truth—he told you.

“So he’s Tommy to you then?” The man is pleased with your slip of the tongue. You’ve told him a secret he already knows.

“You are his woman.” He caresses your face with the back of his hand, etched with ink. A cross. Rosary beads. And there, a black-palmed hand. Just like the ones he sent the Shelbys.

I want to see where his tattoos lead to.

“You are his woman,” he continues, and something dark and sweet fills his voice as he purrs, “And you are not afraid of me.”

“I’m not giving up Shelby secrets even if you seduce me,” You stifle a whimper as he wedges a leg between your skirts, and you think of nothing except the way you ache for him to come even closer, until there is nothing between you but skin on bare skin.

“Tommy has whores who might give him up for a pound or three. Although,” you smirk, “I won’t tell you where you’d find them, either.”

“Oh sweetheart, didn’t you hear me?” So close you can feel his heartbeat with your fingertips, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

A deathly promise.

“I’ve come for you.”

He slants his mouth, his lips pressing hotly to yours as you surrender to desire. The kiss is swift and hard. The two of you come together, again and again, like lightning and thunder. As he cradles your head with one hand, the other slips underneath your blouse to palm your breast. You arch against the wall. The onyx rings on his hand are cold, and they pucker your nipples as they bite your skin.

Somehow you find your fingers seeking him too. But it’s not enough to touch the exposed skin between the gaps of his buttoned shirt. You want more.

When you pull apart he is panting, lips apart and wet. His once slicked-back hair now mussed, you imagine yours is too. For the first time this evening, his arrogant face is a little shocked, as if the taste of you affected him more deeply than he expected. You unclench your fists from his shirt and slowly take his face into your hands. You draw a line down the bridge of his nose, feeling all its bumps and ridges.

You murmur huskily, “Why did you really come to Birmingham?”

He tilts his head expectantly, and you are lost in his devastating eyes as he replies.

“Pleasure.”

#luca changretta #luca changretta x reader #luca changretta smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders smut

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flareish · 3 years

Text

Anxiety

kuroo x reader

summary: you hide your anxiety from basically everyone including your boyfriend, until he finds out for himself

genre: hurt/comfort

warnings: Emetophobia Warning! description of nausea/vomit, anxiety, bit of angst but ends in fluff

word count: 2.0k

a/n: I tried to make this as close to my anxiety since I hadn’t known anyone with my kind of anxiety(symptom wise) until I was seventeen, which was a good ways into when I realized I had anxiety. So here is some nausea anxiety representation!

masterlist

You tap your fingers in a mindless rhythm. Alternating the fingers and repeating them back and forth, trying to make it a game, a challenge. You did this over and over again to distract yourself from that all too familiar sinking feeling. That feeling like your stomach has managed to twist and knot itself a million times. Each bump of the bus made acid crawl up your throat. You crunched a mint in your mouth hoping the peppermint would soothe some of the nausea. It didn’t, but the thought was there. You just will yourself not to throw up on the bus, anything but that. The thought in itself makes you even more nervous, and in turn even sicker.

You don’t even know why you are anxious. Today is Kuroo’s big game, but it isn’t yours. You’ve been to a hundred of his games before but never before did you feel like this. Normally you get cute little butterflies, not an angry swarm of bees. The worst part is, there is Kuroo sat next to you happy as can be, completely oblivious. He keeps trying to drag you into conversations but you fear if you open your mouth for too long, all that will come up is vomit. So you keep your mouth firmly closed only smiling tightly or shaking your head at his prompts.

It's not exactly his fault though. He doesn’t actually know you have anxiety. It’s not something you really like to talk about. You are all for promoting the acceptance of mental health but you just find every time you tell someone the dynamic changes. Either they flat out don’t believe you since you “don’t seem like the type with anxiety”. Well duh, I don’t have social anxiety, I have situational anxiety. Like here in this situation. That or they suddenly treat me like I am incapable of handling myself. That whenever a slightly stressful event comes up, I am going to melt into a puddle of pure anxiety. Sorry but I’ve made it this far, I may have to throw up a few times on the way but I am still making it.

So you just haven’t told Kuroo. You're just nervous that it will change the dynamic. You also don’t want to steal his spotlight. Today is supposed to be all about him. It's his big game. To suddenly speak up and tell him that his game is giving you anxiety would be selfish. So like you always have, you put a brave face on and face it head-on.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kuroo asks you, now facing you, “You look a little pale.”

“Hmm?,” You also turn to look at him, “Oh I am just a bit tired that’s all. I will be fine in an hour or so.” You hope at least. He nods relieved it's not something worse.

You finally pull into the stadium and everyone is pushing their way off the bus. Luckily Kuroo is right by you to make sure you don't get accidentally pushed down the bus stairs and trampled. The team makes it’s to the bulletin board where they are given their matchups. Nekoma is paired with a pretty hard team. Suddenly, out of nowhere, you dry heave. You knew at the point you were going to throw up and within the next few minutes.

“Hey I think I left something in the bus I’ll be right back.” You say to Kuroo before dashing off. He goes to reply but you are already gone.

You make it around the back of the building before you throw up. At this point you’re kinda out of it, your mind is occupied on emptying your already empty stomach. Then you feel someone pull your hair back and gently rub your back. You don’t even have to look up to know it’s Kuroo. When you finish he hands you his water bottle. You waterfall it and rinse your mouth out of that acidic taste.

“What’s going on are you okay?” Kuroo asks full of concern. You hesitate for a moment, thinking of telling the truth. Then you remember this is supposed to be his day.

“Sorry I must have caught a stomach bug.” He doesn’t completely buy it so you quickly add to it.

“I didn't feel great on the bus but I just thought it was because I was tired.” You feel bad lying, “I also don’t want to distract you before your game.” At that Kuroo quickly pulls you into a hug, “Your not a distraction, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Your cheek is pressed against his chest and your hands grip the front of his shirt.

“We should probably head back.” You mumble.

“Yeah.” He leans down to kiss you but you duck away. He looks incredibly offended and hurt at this.

“Dude I just threw up I don’t know if you want to do that.”

“…Point.”

The two of you head back inside to the team, you feeling much better after throwing up. Before you know it, the competition has begun and Nekoma has won. You run down and celebrate with the team and it’s a happy day.

On the bus ride home Kuroo has a strange energy about him. Not like he’s mad more just like he’s just realized something. You nudge him and smile hoping to break him out of his little funk. He immediately smiles back and goes back to celebrating with the team. His reaction was almost like putting a mask on. You watch him for a moment before slipping into a conversation of your own.

When you make it back to school you go your separate ways. Him going to shower, and you to get home before it gets too late. A big hug before pushing away. You still refusing to kiss him after throwing up earlier in the day.

You are laying on your bed, exhausted. Anxiety really takes a toll on your energy. Your thoughts are broken when your phone chimes with a text. Leaning over to grab your phone off your bedside table you see it is from Kuroo.

“Can you come over? I want to talk.”

No cute pet names. No slowly easing into it. Actually using proper grammar. Nothing in that message was a good sign. Just “I want to talk” was enough to make the acid begin to crawl again. You knew it had to be about today. Especially after you saw him zoning out on the bus. It had to be your anxiety episode. You knew he wouldn’t be happy you lied but going to this extent. Like he just found out you have anxiety and this is what he hits you with? The world’s most nerve-wracking text message. The only worse place than this would be “we need to talk”. That’s when you have really screwed up. So maybe you’ve only minorly screwed up since he said want not need. Does that mean you have the choice to say no? That was kind of tempting but you knew you would be tossing and turning all night thinking about what might be wrong.

“Okay.” You reply to the text. Short and sweet. Putting on some shoes and grabbing a hoodie, you quietly slip out of your house. Kuroo’s house wasn’t too far but it was far enough. Enough to continue to stir in your intrusive and unstoppable thoughts. You eventually make it to his house and head in going straight for his room. Before you reach the door you hesitate and gather yourself. Preparing for whatever was about to come.

When you go in you find Kuroo sat on the floor of his bedroom, back pressed against the bed. He jerkily looks up and you and gives you a tight smile. None of this is giving good signs. Something is very heavy on his mind. You sit down across from him, your back against the wall your feet almost touching.

“So what was it you wanting to talk about.” You break the silence. He doesn’t respond for a moment. Just as you are about to try again he speaks up.

“Do you still love me?” Your face drops into confusion.

“Why wouldn’t I love you anymore?” You ask, suddenly realizing this wasn’t the conversation you were prepping yourself for.

“You’ve been distant lately. You don’t tell me things like when you don’t feel good. I thought about it when I got home and I was wondering if you weren’t actually sick but just making the excuse because you got caught.” He’s very serious at the moment and his words hold a cold edge.

“What do you mean get caught?” You match his tone. You weren’t planning on fighting but something about how he said it just set something off in you.

“You didn’t want to be there. Ever since this morning you were quiet and reserved. Even after the game, you wouldn’t even kiss me-”

“Yeah, cause I threw up! And how could I be faking it when I literally threw up.” You snap.

“You’ve been like this before though! Like last year’s big tournament you would barely talk to me.”

“That’s not true!” Although it kind of was just not the reason he thought.

“Oh yeah? What about at training camp you wouldn’t talk to me then either, you didn’t even eat with us you just sat on your own.” He threw back.

“Yeah, cause I have anxiety!” The words left your mouth before you knew it. Kuroo looked taken back.

“What?” His brow furrows, “Since when?” He’s not sure what to believe. You’re not surprised since you have worked very hard to hide it from everyone, accidentally sabotaging your own relationship without even knowing it.

“Since forever. I just never told anyone.” You quietly say, ducking your head down.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You didn’t even need to look up to see the hurt on his face, it was apparent in his voice. You start playing with your finger, tapping them in rhythms.

“I wanted to,” You mumble, “But whenever I do stuff changes and I didn’t want anything to change.” He shifts forward and you think he’s going to leave. Instead, he grabs your hands, stopping the pattern you had going. You look up.

“Did you think I would judge you?” He was staring straight into you, willing the truth to come out.

“Whenever I tell people they either don’t believe me and brush it off or treat me like I’m incapable of handling any amount of stress. I’ve never seen anyone react any differently so I was scared you would fall into one of those reactions and I didn’t know how I could handle that. I didn’t want my anxiety to be the thing to tear us apart. But I guess it still was.” By the end of your speech, your gaze has returned back to the floor, unable to hold eye contact for that long with him staring at you so strongly. You hear him sigh then you are pulled forward and into his arms.

“I want to be your pillar of support. I want to be that third reaction that is one of acceptance, one that doesn’t drive you crazy.” He strokes your hair soothingly, his words making you tear up, “When you are ready I want you to tell me everything. From when you first noticed it, to where it is now, to how you deal with it, everything.” By now you are fully crying, absolutely collapsed into his chest. “I love you so much.” It gets muffled in his shirt but he hears it.

“I know, and I love you.”

It would take some time for Kuroo to get used to this change but slowly but surely he will be different from the rest and he will support you no matter what. Although he also respects your strength and knows you can handle your anxiety on your own, he is always there when you need it. He becomes the third unexpected and unheard-of reaction; acceptance.

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #nekoma #kuroo #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo scenarios #kuroo hurt/comfort #kuroo x reader #hq kuroo

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