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heich0e · 10 months

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yakuza!suna/escort!reader part 6 - takes place the night following part 5, tw the girlies are fighting (literally), tw mention of blood, happy belated birthday yakuza!shinsuke i want you to step on me series masterlist

The Inarizaki compound is an immaculately maintained estate.

The grounds are vast, tucked away in a quiet corner of Hyogo, just distant enough from the city to feel private. The buildings on the property are old, and traditional in style, but they were built to last and have been cared for to ensure it. The compound is as imposing today as the day it was first built, a truth diligently seen to over the years as its care has passed between hands from one head of the family to the next. It stands as a testament to the power and the influence of those who inherit and inhabit it; a reflection of them built in timber and stone.

Nothing on the property is out of place or unkempt. Every shrub, every blade of grass, every flower in the garden is carefully reared and pruned. Every floor diligently swept. Every surface cleared of any trace of dust. Every window polished to a spotless shine that reflects the sun that looks brightly down upon the sprawling plot of land.

And underneath the Inarizaki compound—in the labyrinthine system of corridors and dim, damp rooms where the sun doesn’t reach—the same diligence, the same control, exists too.

“Well, well, well—would ya look who it is.”

On a ratty leather sofa in one such room, deep below the well-tended grounds, Atsumu lays sprawled with his head tipped back lazily over the arm rest. On the other side of the wide room, a figure stands before him after just stepping through the door—though, given the blonde’s current orientation, he’s upside-down in his line of sight.

Suna’s expression is notably flat—his mouth drawn into a tight, thin line—regardless of whether or not it’s viewed from the right way up.

“How nice of ya to finally join us,” Atsumu continues, picking himself up off the sofa so he’s sitting upright. He turns in his seat to glance over at his brother who's slumped down into a chair not far from him, fiddling with one of his favourite knives. Atsumu snort a little to himself. “‘Specially after ya kicked us outta yer place this mornin’.”

Suna says nothing in response.

The blonde twin smirks, peeking over at him again.

“So, how’s our little Yua-chan?”

If looks could kill, Osamu’s long-held dream of being an only child would have come true a hundred times over in an instant.

“Enough, Tsumu,” his twin grunts, flicking the butterfly knife in his hands closed. “Yer bein’ a slimy little fuck, ’n I’m not patchin’ ya up if he kicks yer ass.”

Atsumu huffs, a look of mild betrayal twisting at his features.

“My own brother,” he laments, a hand melodramatically clasped to his chest. Osamu flips him off with a roll of his eyes, scarcely paying him any attention at all.

With a laugh, Atsumu pitches himself back onto the sofa, snuggling down into the worn old leather to make himself comfortable. His head lolls to the side and his gaze travels once more to the man on the other side of the room who still has yet to venture much further beyond the doorway.

Osamu tucks his knife into the breast-pocket of his button-down shirt before reaching down beside his seat to grab one of the cans of beer he has resting at his feet in a plastic convenience store bag.

“Too bad ya didn’t bring her along, Sunarin. We could really use somethin’ nice to look at around here.” The blonde sighs almost wistfully, but the subtle curl at the corner of his mouth is unmistakably nefarious. “Pretty thing like her could be a huge boost fer morale. ‘Specially with those tits.”

Suna’s hauling Atsumu off the sofa before Osamu even has time to crack the tab on his drink.

“Get off’a me, ya psycho!” the blonde yelps as he hits the cold cement floor, but his cry falls only on deaf (or otherwise completely uncaring) ears.

In an attempt at defence, Atsumu throws a wide, flailing punch, but it doesn’t land. Suna’s got his shirt-collar tightly wrapped around his fist, and with one strong tug he drags his unsuspecting opponent forward, flipping Atsumu onto his chest on the ground. The blonde lets out a pitiful, wheezing grunt as Suna drops a knee to his spine, keeping him pinned, and takes a fistful of his peroxide locks in his hand to roughly draw his head back.

“Just wait," Atsumu grunts, as he tries to free himself from Suna's hold. "I’m gonna fuckin’ kil—“

Osamu opens his beer. The hiss of carbonation only vaguely mutes the sound of fist meeting flesh.

After all these years, the younger of the two Miya twins has learned that when his sibling picks a fight, it’s usually better just to let nature run its course. Sure, he intervenes sometimes if it’s really needed. After all, it’s still his brother—and Osamu’s not one to shy away from a good fight either, though he prefers that they be justified. But if Atsumu gets himself into a scrap, particularly when it comes to infighting like this, Osamu’s generally pretty happy to let him get knocked around a bit.

Not that he’ll ever learn a lesson from it.

Plus, Suna rarely ever gets this fired up. There’s a bit of fun to seeing Atsumu get his ass handed to him by the characteristically apathetic brunette. Osamu’s seen what Suna’s capable of plenty of times, and knows his particular handiwork well, but in the thick of a fight he doesn’t ever really have time to appreciate the distinctly feral way that Rintarou fights—the placid-faced brutality of it—so for once he just sits back and settles in to enjoy the show.

He’s not even halfway through his beer when he hears the sound of footsteps approaching on the concrete floor of the corridor outside, leading towards them. He pauses with the can held to his lips as two figures step into the room, silhouetted in the doorway by the harsh fluorescent light flooding in from the hallway behind them.

The skirmish in the centre of the room stalls upon the newcomers' unexpected arrival—both parties panting raggedly as they shove the other away, separating from the lock of their brawl.

“Get up.”

Neither of the men fighting dare to question the order, nor the man that it comes from.

Suna and Atsumu both stand from the floor, quietly adjusting their rumpled clothes. They keep their eyes averted under the heavy, disappointed gaze of the man who approaches them in unhurried, measured steps. With their gazes downturned, a pair of neatly polished shoes is all they can see when he comes to a stop in front of them.

“What’s all this about?”

When neither of the guilty parties opt to speak up in the wake of the question that was posed, the silence in the room sours.

The man sighs.

He turns on his heel towards Osamu, and the dark-haired Miya struggles to meet his gaze.

“Atsumu started it,” the younger man finally mutters, taking another long, much-needed swig from his beer.

“Rat,” his twin hisses under his breath from across the room.

“Quiet.”

Kita doesn’t yell.

He doesn’t even lift a hand.

Atsumu flinches all the same at the command.

The slighter man, dressed in a nice, neatly-pressed suit, looks between the two battered men in front of him.

“Someone gonna tell the boss what happened here, or what?” Aran remarks from the other side of the room, his tone dry and unenthusiastic—it’s far from the first time he’s broken up one of Atsumu’s squabbles, after all. He's leaning leisurely now against the metal frame of the heavy, industrial door as he watches everything unfold—having not even bothered crossing the threshold into the dingy little space that serves as a makeshift lounge of sorts. He knew his involvement was unlikely to be needed.

He's outranked by his company, after all.

“Suna went nuclear ‘cuz I made a little joke about some girl,” Atsumu complains, ready to talk now it would seem, as blood drips down his philtrum from his nose.

Kita’s eyes flicker to Suna, still slouching indolently at Atsumu’s side with his eyes directed away.

“A girl?” Shinsuke remarks thoughtfully. “What girl?”

“Just some girl Suna’s fuck—seein’,” Atsumu quickly alters his word choice in favour of something less profane when Kita’s eyes meet his. “Samu and I ran into her at his place this mornin’, naked as the day she was born.” As though he simply can’t help himself, like one final swing in the fight, the blonde tacks on one last pointed: “Interestin’ sight to say the least.”

Suna’s face is as expressionless as ever when he finally looks up to meet Kita’s stare, having avoided it for as long as he possibly could. The highest ranking member of the Inarizaki syndicate meets his eyes, his own expression pensive.

“Not the same one ya came to speak with me about this morning, surely?”

Suna’s nose twitches slightly.

Osamu stills, half-way through the motion of lifting his drink to his lips again, his thirst forgotten in the wake of the remark.

Atsumu seems surprised too, somewhere under all the reddish-swelling on his face.

Even Aran's curiosity seems to be piqued.

“This girl’s makin’ ya behave rashly,” Kita comments. The judgement is conversational in tone but still biting—even-tempered and just but somehow all the more damning.

Red flushes into the tips of Suna’s ears.

“I’ll make myself clear, ‘cause it seems like I didn’t in our earlier conversation. It’s neither my place nor my desire to get my hands dirty in the personal matters of yer life. Those affairs are no concern of mine,” Kita says calmly, his eyes fixed so raptly to Rintarou’s face that anyone would be unnerved, much less a subordinate. The older man pauses then, as though thinking quite seriously about what to say next.

Kita does this often: prolonged silences not unusual in the middle of his conversations, as he considers the information available him and his path forward. It’s reminiscent of a man playing go, taking time to carefully choose his next move.

“However,” Kita finally adds, the lines of his face hardening as he comes to his decision, “what is my concern is this family, and it’s my responsibility to intervene when somethin’, or someone, jeopardizes it.”

Suna’s eyes drop to his feet as he nods stiffly, his gaze lowered in shame.

“Suna,” the Oyabun’s voice is low and gentle, which in many ways makes it worse. “You owe yer heart a debt for the way it’s served you ’til now, for the things that it’s helped bear, and I don’t claim to deny that. But don’t forget what debt you owe to this family. What obligation ya have to yer brothers. You can’t allow a temporary novelty to confuse where yer priorities lie.”

The dingy, dank room is quiet for a moment, and then Kita sighs, turning on his heel towards the door. Before he steps away, he glances towards Suna again.

“Go home, Rintarou.”

Everyone in the room freezes.

Suna’s eyes snap up in confusion, a complaint on the tip of his tongue as his lips part to free it. One look at Kita’s face silences him, and any protest he may have wanted to voice dies out before it’s given breath. The elder turns away once more.

He crosses the room towards Aran, and his Wakagashira pushes himself up off the doorframe as he approaches, pulling himself upright as the two prepare to take their leave. Meanwhile, Atsumu and Osamu share a look across the room, communicating their shock—and relative confusion—wordlessly between themselves.

Just before he steps across the threshold to exit, Kita pauses once more. He doesn’t turn around, but there’s no question in anyone’s mind who he’s speaking to when he says:

“Not to that club. Not to that girl. Home.”

#suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #yakuza!suna #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

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sariahsue · 3 years

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Confession

Part two of this (but can be read on its own)

It was barely 9:00 a.m. and Adrien Agreste was already sweating. After an hour of pep talking and encouragement during patrol last night, Ladybug had declared that she wasn’t ready to ask Adrien out yet, but she never would be, so why keep waiting?

And Ladybug was Marinette.

And Marinette wouldn’t stop looking at him.

He hadn’t even gotten through his first class and it was already the longest school day of his life.

(Adrien peeked over his shoulder for the eighth time, just as Marinette turned her face away again and blushed. He whipped around to the front. She was going to get suspicious if he kept doing that, but he couldn’t seem to stop.)

It had been a whole week since Chat Noir had found out Ladybug’s identity, and four days since she’d told him the name of the lucky boy who’d caught her heart. And Adrien still couldn’t believe it was him.

And now she was going to ask him out. When? That was the question floating through his mind as his teachers droned on about algebra. When? Maybe something about the Revolution in history class, but he wasn’t entirely sure. When? Science possibly?

When?

When was she going to talk to him? Today? Tomorrow? Did he smell nice? Had he misunderstood and she meant a different Adrien Agreste? Should he wait for her to approach him or start a conversation to give her an opening? He should have asked her last night! Why didn’t he ask her that?!

One advantage to peeking at her so often was that he could tell he felt more nervous than she looked, which was probably a good thing. Maybe something he said to her last night had helped. He felt scattered and on edge. Marinette’s nervousness was subtle. A tap tap tap of her pencil. The squeak of her shoe as she bounced her knee. Meanwhile, his mind was going in a hundred directions at once, wondering how she would confess.

And that thought sent anticipation swooping through his stomach.

Maybe it would have been better if he’d just told her his identity last night, make sure she knew how crazy he was about her so she could stop worrying.

But Ladybug had made it clear how much she wanted to ask Adrien, and how much effort she had already put in for him, and he didn’t want to minimize her struggle. Plus - and he felt a little guilty for it - he really wanted to hear what she would say. Wanted her to ask him. Wanted to be wanted by her.

Behind him, Marinette let out a breathy sigh. This was going to be a very, very long day.

***

A few hours later, Adrien stood at the top of school stairs, looking down at the waiting limo with its door already open for him, waiting to take him home for the weekend.

His pep talks hadn’t been enough. Even though she’d had plenty of opportunities, Marinette hadn’t asked him. His footsteps were heavy as he walked away from the school doors and waved a limp hello to his driver.

“Adrien, wait!”

He turned back so fast that the world blurred. Marinette ran toward him and then stopped a few inches in front of him, stone still, hands clenched to her sides.

His heart pounded in his mouth. “Yeah?”

“I-” That was as far as she got before her eyes fell to her feet.

“Yes?” Adrien prompted, hoping he was keeping the desperation out of his voice. He was not going to let her get out of talking now. Not if she was finally going to tell him how she really felt about him. “Was there something you wanted?”

“N-no, I don’t want anything,” she said, eyes flicking back up to his. “Just, um.” Paper rustled as she reached in her pocket and held out a small piece of notebook scrap to him. This wasn’t in any of the plans that they’d made together.

“What’s this?” He took it quickly, careful not to let their fingers brush (even though he wanted them to) because it might make her more nervous. On it was a little doodle of a cat face.

“What’s this about?” he whispered, even though he knew exactly what was going to happen next.

“So I have a purr-fect idea.”

This was it. This was it! She was making puns! She was going to ask him out! This excitement and joy were expected. Every single wish he’d ever made was about to come true.

And all of it was almost overshadowed by the single revelation that his Lady trusted him this much, to take his advice on something so important to her, something that was literally keeping her up at night with worry. It wasn’t trust out of necessity. It was trusting him with her vulnerabilities. He hadn’t realized that was going to hit as hard as it did.

“Cat got your tongue?” Marinette asked.

A second cat pun? Adrien leaned against the open car door for support. It swung farther open under his weight and nearly took him off his feet.

Marinette’s face went white.

“Sorry,” he said, standing back up. (He leaned against the frame of the car this time.) He had to pull himself together and not make this harder for her than it already was. “Sun was in my--” The sun beat down on the back of his neck. “Never mind. What’s your idea?”

“Uh.” She pointed to the paper. “Flip it over?”

On the back was a hastily-drawn ice cream cone. One of the many date ideas they had discussed. That had been his favorite one. Low pressure, but still enough to get the point across that it was a date and not just hanging out. She trusted his opinion and went with his idea.

“If you’re free sometime, would you want to get ice cream with me?” Its job complete, Marinette’s mouth clicked shut. Her lips screwed up tight as she politely waited for his answer.

Adrien was having none of it.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you asking me for ice cream?”

“Oh.” Marinette folded her hands in front of her chest, eyes looking everywhere but at him. “I just, you know, thought that you might like some ice cream. Some time. And I like it too, and we know each other, so we could get some at the same time.”

“Is that the only reason? Because you thought we both liked it? Or is there something else?”

She sighed, shoulders dropping suddenly. “Listen, I really like you. A lot.”

“Yeah?” he prompted.

She finally looked at him, searching his face for any sign of impending rejection. Adrien smiled softly to let her know she wasn’t ever going to find any there.

“I think you’re great,” she said. “You’re very kind and you’re fun to be around, and I was hoping you’d want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Yes. I’d love to.”

“Wait.” Marinette took a step back. “Yes? Did you just say yes?!”

“I’m really glad you asked me,” he said. “I’ve had a huge crush on you forever.”

It was Marinette’s turn to be speechless, but she recovered enough to squeak, “How about Monday after school? Do you have time then?”

“Sundaes on Monday? That sounds great!”

Marinette beamed, beautiful and wide and just for him. She liked him! She’d asked him! She trusted him!

She trusted him.

And he couldn’t start a relationship with her when he was keeping a huge secret from her.

“I have something to tell you first though, before our first date, and then you can decide if you still want to go out with me.”

Marinette cocked her head. “Of course I will. What is it?”

Adrien took a deep breath. Would she? He’d effectively tricked her into asking him out.

The Gorilla cleared his throat. A line of cars was forming behind them.

Feeling a little like a coward, Adrien started climbing into the limo. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“But it’s Saturday. We don’t have school tomorrow. And don’t you usually have shoots and fencing?”

He leaned out of the door and grabbed her hand. It would be too much of a hint for him to kiss it, so he squeezed it instead. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll find you.”

***

Author’s note: There will be one more part! Update: Here it is!

#ml #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #mlb #love square #postreveal2021

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blisschi · 3 years

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Hi, can i request a zhongli x male reader angst to fluff hanahaki au where male reader was a God a long time ago who died to hanahaki because of zhongli and guizhong, but male reader is resurrected as a mortal and zhongli sees them again

Hey! I'm not completely sure if that is what you meant nonnie, but this idea was stuck in my head for a while now and I just had to write it! It's certainly not one of my best pieces but.. I hope you like it.. 💕

🌸In another life🌸

Pairing: Zhongli x Hanahaki! M! Reader

Warnings: Major Character Death, Angst to Fluff..? I think.. It's really bittersweet.

Notes: u_u ... I can't english

Zhongli turned his head towards the storyteller, who clearly caught his attention with the words that just left his mouth. Although for most people it was unknown, forgotten, Zhongli never forgot a single event in the story he started.

"Once upon a time, there was a young god who loved every creature in Tayvat."

He lowered the cup that he was holding, focusing his attention on the words of the story.

They always started out the same.

"The god that loved every creature in Tayvat, the same god that would offer everything to everyone by his love, lost life."

They always ended the same way.

Zhongli closed his eyes and took a deep breath, remembering the moment he met the young man with a smile on his face.

The man told him that he was visiting Liyue out of sheer curiosity, and that he was coming back to it out of curiosity as well.

"Do you think I could be any kind of a threat to you?" You laughed softly, turning your head towards your friend. Although you were a weak god and you were far from strong, somehow the Geo Archon decided to devote a moment of his attention to you. The moment that sprouted into feeling.

Morax smiled slightly and walked closer to you, gazing out at the sea of clouds.

"Things that are dangerous, not often have to look like a threat."

Just like love.

Love can be beautiful, but won't it turn into poison in the blink of an eye as soon as you lose control of it?

Like flowers, can delight with their amazing charm, when their roots must dig into the very center of the heart, almost breaking it.

"He taught him to understand."

"The young god introduced himself by the name [Y / N]. He befriended Rex Lapis, despite different views and observations." The storyteller continued.

Zhongli looked down at his cup, half full of tea. His mind was full of the thoughts he always chose to leave to himself. He thought that from the mortals, he probably would never hear this name again.

Morax sighed softly, smiling as you pulled his hand along the fields of flowers. He never really understood why you loved them so much, but he could accept that the time you spent with them made you feel relaxed.

"You have some really beautiful plants here, you know?" You laughed as you let go of his hand and ran to one of the trees, immediately sitting under it. The other male calmly approached you and watched as one of the butterflies sat on your finger.

Maybe it was your charm that all creatures loved so much? Until then, he was unable to answer this question. Why did he choose to protect you? Is it because he really thought you were a dear friend to him? Maybe it was because you seemed so vulnerable and weak, just making him feel pity.

You lifted your hand up, showing the creature to your friend. It's wings were golden that gleamed like the light of the setting sun.

"It's so small. but it was not afraid to sit on my finger.. just like I was not afraid to make contact with you, Morax." Glistening pupils looked at you now, taking their attention away from the butterfly. "If you wanted to, I would have been lying underground a long time ago. If you only thought that I was a threat.. ha.."

You laughed softly as you watched the butterfly fly away from your sight.

"You wouldn't hesitate to attack me, would you?"

"He taught him to look up to the future."

Sometimes being weak has its advantages. Not everyone sees you as their enemy, the stronger will usually ignore you, or offer help caused by feelings of pity. Pity over your existence and weakness.

Where do you see this land in a few hundred years, Morax? It was one of your first questions to him that he had to think seriously about. Of course, he cared about Liyue, but admittedly he never thought about what everything would look like in the future.

Will he still dominate these beautiful landscapes? Will he still be able to be called their Archon?

"He taught him to take care."

Zhongli smiled, closing his eyes. He would never have thought it would end this way. True, his life was not over, but the divine era certainly came to an end. People, although weak - will cope.

A soft laugh broke the silence in the room as you ran one hand through the god's hair. This was one of those days where you spent time together, without any worries. You gently braided Morax's hair, smiling to yourself.

"Maybe you should wear this hairstyle more often?" You asked, gently tangling some pieces of flowers into his hair. He just closed his eyes and relaxed in the feeling of your touch. Your hands always seemed extremely delicate. "No? The great god who rules over all Liyue doesn't have time to spend a few minutes making a hairstyle?"

"I didn't say anything." The man sighed and turned to face you. "Why should I worry about a trivial thing like my hair?"

You raised your eyebrows and tilted your head slightly, apparently surprised by his answer.

"Isn't it nicer to look at Liyue when everything is in its place?" You asked, getting up from the ground and placing both of your hands on his shoulders. "If you take care of every smallest element.. eventually these elements will fit together and create perfection.. No matter if it is the perfect weapon.. power.. or hairstyle.."

You were happy watching your friend become attached to more people. At first you enjoyed it, you thought you helped him open up to the world. On your journey together, you met a large number of amazing beings, but suddenly one goddess appeared that seemed to take the person dearest to you away.

"The young god taught him feelings that Rex Lapis did not understand before. He helped him open up to new things, to new people."

Zhongli gritted his teeth as he remembered the rest of the story. Even though you taught him so much, he still understood so little back then.

"[Y / N] had feelings for Morax stronger than to any other being. But it was not his will that made the love strong." The storyteller continued, drawing the attention of more people. "For one-sided love is the strongest. For one-sided love hurts the most."

Goddess of dust, beautiful and gentle, good-hearted and wise. She was a weak god, just like you, maybe that was why Morax had paid more attention to her back then? Maybe he forgot that in fact your strenght was nothing, but his presence near you. He spent every free moment with the goddess. You dreamt that he could give you more attention, but apparently it was not given to you.

You taught him so much and all he offered you was jealousy. Jealousy was eating you from the inside as you saw the goddess slowly pull Morax towards her. It hurt your heart when you had the opportunity to meet a man less and less. But you yourself didn't have the heart to stop it all, because you knew that this goddess meant well for him.

You understood that it was easy to fall in love with someone like him.

"The years passed, the gods drifted apart. The young god was helping Rex Lapis to understand the newer and newer feelings that the goddess had helped him to experience this time."

You understood that you are not the only one who deserves this feeling to be returned.

Zhongli shook his head and opened his eyes, staring at his reflection in the already cold tea. If he knew you thought so.. If he knew he was slowly breaking your heart while spending time with the goddess, it would have all ended differently.

Anyway, it never came out of his mouth that they were 'just friends', it never came out of his mouth that they were something more..

Zhongli clenched his fist, remembering your last moments with him. He remembered your tears, your painful, but smiling face.

"Over time, his feelings did not diminish, but bloomed like the flower buds that he admired so much on his first visit to Liyue. The feeling became unbearable, breaking his heart, hurting him, making him even weaker. The young god then wanted the feeling of love to become something alien to him. "

He remembered you asking him to tell you one of the old stories that he once told you at the beginning of your friendship.

"Why do you suddenly want to hear it? I must say, it's not one of the most interesting ones.."

You laughed quietly, but apart from the laughter, a choked cough escaped your mouth, which you tried to hide with all your might.

"It just.. this story really brings me good memories.. remember? You told it to me when we were sitting under the same tree.. years ago.."

Morax closed his eyes and leaned against the tree, staring up at the sky.

"Well then.."

Zhongli stared at his hands placed on the table in front of him. If he himself lost his life, would he be able to meet you again?

"It was their last meeting. The young god left after him nothing but flowers, which slowly choked him from the inside. Rex Lapis never lost the abilities he had received from his friend. Rex Lapis never forgot, he carried his feelings to the end. One can only hope that after the death of the God of Geo, the two met again."

"Master Zhongli, right?" A soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts, making him look up at the person that called his name. "Can I sit here?"

A joyful smile on the face of a stranger, unusually similar to the smile of a young god who left this world many years ago. The same gaze, that looked at his face with love and affection.

Zhongli nodded slightly, not taking his eyes away from the face of the newly met person.

"I see you here a lot, so I figured I'd introduce myself!" The male laughed, painting a smile on Zhongli's face as he reached towards the consultant. "[Y/N]."

"Maybe in another life, they'll be happy together'."

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huenjin · 4 years

Text

phobia.

pairing — bang chan x reader

word count — 2.7k words

ratings — 18+

genre — some slight fluff and smut, includes face sitting, cunnilingus.

note — this is the most domestic relationship thing i've written on this blog so far. lmao, i watched chan's room, ep.1 while writing this,,,and at this point, i'm just doing like an unofficial countdown to national boyfriend's day, of sorts, ha! d-3 and here we are. i haven't ever been this content writing for a boy group as much as skz. *cries in alien language*

You are snuggling against Chan, your head on his broad chest as he plays with your hair and your fingers casually and playfully tapping his chest in a rhythm, only to trail downwards slowly. He turns his head slightly to kiss the top of your head.

And just maybe you were horny. There's no other explanation to the hand of yours that slowly trickles its way down to place itself over your boyfriend's crotch.

"Y/N," his voice is laced with strain and you chuckle, kissing the side of your boyfriend's chin. "Don't—"

"But—"

"I mean, unless you intend to solve it after you cause it."

"What if I don't?"

"Sneaky little rat," Chan gasps and he wraps his arms tightly around you, snuggling you closer into him and you laugh.

It is in moments like these that your heart flutters, swells and then bursts with nothing but love for this man that you call yours in this moment. With eyes that sparkle like they can bear every single star in the galaxy and with arms that could possibly hold the whole world with the love he has, he still chooses to hold you close and keep you in his arms and call you his whole world. He chooses to rewrite the stars no matter what happens, all to keep you close to him.

"Do you want me to eat you out?"

He pushes you slightly away from him so that he can look at you as he asks. There's a lot more to the eyes that plead to you though, as if he needs something more secretly.

"Randomly?"

"It's not complete random," he mumbles and you sit up, your arms unwrapping from his physique. You stare at your boyfriend, expecting him to continue on his sudden proposal. And then he drops it.

"Sit on me."

"Huh?"

You are about to sit on top of him, hovering over his crotch when he holds your thigh, mid air, and you look at him, in confusion, "Chan?"

"On my face."

Your eyes widen and you drop you leg back onto the mattress. You're holding him tighter, staring at your boyfriend in surprise and more of a what-the-fuck look.

"You're kidding, right?"

Chan sits up slightly, his arms supporting his body weight up from behind. He bites his lower lips as he looks at you, "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"But Channie—"

"Why don't you give it a try? If you still don't like it, we could stop?"

And when your eyes show a flicker of hesitance, Chan lays back down again and pulls you forward. You cup his face and kiss him, holding his lower lips between yours as you try dragging it out for as long as possible. Chan holds you as you direct the kiss and he moans into you, before pulling back and mumbling, "You'd definitely be great at it."

You pull back and shimmy out of your shorts and panties, Chan's white shirt still on you. Your boyfriend looks at you in awe, like you're the literal sunshine in person and that he was nothing short of a blessed man on earth in this moment.

With unsure, wobbly steps, you crawl over to the side of Chan's face and sit on the back of your ankles as you look at him, "What if I'm too heavy?"

"You couldn't be heavy for me, baby," Chan laughs, and it's so light and soft that it eases you; that maybe, just maybe this would be a good experience. "You're the perfect size for me. You're like my other half. We are compatible. Remember, when you even got our horoscopes matched!"

"But that's a different thing! And my mother did that." You laugh at the memory. It was a year back when you asked Chan for his entire birth or natal chart and even though he persisted and asked you why you required it, you couldn't tell him till you had it, or more like your mother had it. She had been the mastermind behind the entire scheme. Chan learns of it later that day though — when your mother calls him when she couldn't reach through you.

And your mother being the ever jovial person she is, tells your boyfriend of how good the two of your marriage compatibility was. Chan had the best night of his life that day, laughing to you about it and how he'd marry you even if the compatibility had turned out to be crap.

Chan shakes his head and pulls at your thigh, "It's not now. You're my everything. My sun, my moon and my stars."

"You're sugarcoating your words to get me to sit on your face, aren't you?" You laugh, squinting your eyes in response at how adorable and desperate Chan looked at that minute.

Your boyfriend dramatically gasps, hand clutching his chest, hovering right over his heart as he closes his eyes and shakes his head, "How could you doubt my love, my darling," before bursting out into a fit of laughter and confessing, "Was it that obvious?"

"You're a drama queen." You hit his chest and he kisses your nose. "If it gets too overbearing, you'll tell me, right?"

"One hundred percent," he smiles and with that confidence, you lift your leg over his face and sit in such a way that your vulva was right in front of Chan's face, currently glistening from all the anticipation.

"God, you're beautiful," Chan mumbles to himself as he lifts his arms up slightly to grab your thighs, pulling it slightly closer to his face, leaving you like this — your knees dig into the pillow by the side of your boyfriend's face, your core hovering over his face so close that his breath on the skin by the side edges you, running a tingle down your spine.

"Come on, Y/N," he chuckles against your thigh, kissing it and laying out small kisses upwards. "You should know by now that you are not going to break me. Trust me." You look down at your boyfriend and you can't help but agree that it's the first time you're looking at Chan like this and he's still so beautiful.

"I know," you sigh, force downwards to your knee as you lower yourself slightly. Chan is still biting and kissing at your thighs, causing you to cream yourself slightly, embarassing you because he can clearly see it now. You bite down on your lips softly, and after much thought decide to reach out a hand to tangle into his hair.

Seemingly, this is all the encouragement and push your boyfriend needed because now Chan's hands lift themselves, hands on your hip before he pulls you down to come closer on to his face, knees digging into the pillow so much that Chan's face lifts up.

And then Chan's tongue is pressed flat against you. He slowly drags it against your slit, like a kitten with its soft licks and then proceeds to press a kiss to your clit when he gets to the top. You're breaking. You had such a strong conviction that you'd dislike this that you can't help but want to move your hip, to want more of his tongue — to want more of the wet muscle against your now sopping core.

Your legs relax just a bit and you willing push his face against his. Chan's face is still hurried into your core, head focussing on nothing but your pleasure. Chan licks another stripe before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking on it, loud noice of suckle resonating and causing you to move your hips slightly, just to test if it was alright. Turns out Chan loves it because he presses his head further back, hand moving downwards only to place them against your thighs to spread them apart slightly and to see how wet you are all because of him. You look down only to find Chan's eyes shut, lips chasing after your wet ones, tongue protruding out and small whines leaving him that does nothing but harness and comfort your dominant side.

You realise that Chan was still taking it slow, making sure you were comfortable with this and that you were enjoying every single bit of it. The more you let yourself relax and settled onto his face, the more his attention grew. And when Chan knew you were comfortable enough, he grips your hips, hands quickly snaking behind and pulls you further — unimaginably — down. His jaw opens wide and he draws his tongue up and down, lapping at your slit like it's an eternal drink. His warm muscle circles around your clit, causing you to shiver in his hold, chills send up your spine.

Your eyes close, the pleasure unimaginably good as you stretch your left hand to hold the bed post and the other tangles itself amongst Chan's hair roots, pulling it slightly everytime you felt the knot in your stomach tightening. Chan circles around your dripping hole, tongue teasingly poking and pressing in before it is gone again. Your hip gyrate against his face almost like it has a mind of its own. His nose nudges occasionally against your core and your mound that has you biting the insides of your mouth to suppress a large moan.

Chan keeps a rhythm as his tongue laps against your sopping lips, paying equal attention to every part that it send your receptors into snap, endorphins releasing slowly in the build up. His tongue takes in every bit of your wetness that you are left gasping, hips moving against his tongue and eyes squeezing, as your mouth left nothing but his name like a mantra.

Your thighs shake in the pleasure, torn between collapsing and embracing the feeling and you know, for sure, that had it not been for Chan's iron grip on your thighs. Not that Chan seemed too interested in being given the space for him to breathe with how eager he is to bring your hips closer to his face, barely giving him space to breathe.

Slowly and almost what seemed too short, it is all too much for you, the constant sucking and licking and feeling of his warmth against your dripping core. Chan's tongue finally slips into your core and before you really could grasp understanding of what exactly you were doing, you are here, grinding on his face, rocking between his nose pressed against your clit and his tongue buried as far as possible inside you.

Chan moans in ecstacy, his tongue feeling the pressure from your muscles tightening. The slight vibration is enough to slowly spiral you and draw out another loud moan from your dry throat and out through your coral lips. One of his hands grips your thigh, digging in his fingers and the other splays out flat on your back.

It's like all your misconception about this is thrown out through the window. You groan out loud, knuckles turning white as you grip on the bed post tightly as he worked against your slit, letting your hips move as they wished now, his grip on your hips a lot lighter. Your other hand in his hair switches between pulling and petting. You try to focus on the wall in front of you but your vision is all blurry in the slowly becoming euphoria. You can't help but let out small praises in between breaths, "You're a good, good boy," and "Fuck, look at how needy you are," and in all honesty, even you are surprised by the words that leave you. Though, all that does is get Chan more enthusiastic with each one, his tongue moving even more furiously against you.

Before you know it, the knot that built up seems to slowly tense up, close enough to snap and you know you are on the edge. You try desperately to form words though all you can roll from your tongue are desperate whines and moans and chants for Chan to fuck you up more. You pull on his hair, pulling him closer while grinding against him harder.

And then it snaps as you come, like a rope that is knotted so perfectly, pulled apart till you see the fibres so clearing straining away and breaking. You see the white as you close your eyes, the oxytocin rushing through and you are grinding on Chan's face further to ride it all out, your tongue rolling out the words, "Chan, oh my fuck!" over and over again. Your whole body shakes and your legs instinctively try to close though it just ends up pressed against Chan's face, not that he minded it one bit. Chan licks you out soft and slowly, helping you through your orgasm patiently and you want to cry at how blessed you truly are.

Chan keeps up the gentle attention until you finally decide to push his head back, hand off his hair and bedpost, lifting yourself slowly off his face. Or at least you tried and that should count. Your legs that desperately chooses not to cooperate, feeling sore and muscles strained. Chan laughs at you as you try to lift yourself off and he helps you, hand warm against your wet thighs as he lifts them over his face and to his side. You drop down, sliding against the mattress downwards and Chan coos, "Look at my baby."

“Fuck,” is all you can say, heart racing against your chest after one of the better orgasms ever and you close your eyes.

Chan pulls you closer into him, stroking your cheek and kissing your forehead, lips lingering for more than a second. You finally open your eyes, only to lock gazes with your boyfriend and you smile, albeit a tired yet loving smile. Chan press his lips against your nose and tells you, "I'm one lucky man."

"Yes," you chortle, hugging your boyfriend tighter. "Yes, you are."

You take in the sight of Chan in all his glory. His jaw is slick, light hitting off them and making them glisten, cheeks flushed pink and his lips are pulled into a soft smile at you. His eyes don't leave yours for even a minute and they are filled with nothing but soft love coloured in pastel pink in your head. It makes your heart flutter against your ribs.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"More than I should," you sigh contently. You let yourself be swallowed by the beautiful sight before for just a moment longer, to remember every single bit of this in your head. “Now stop looking so sappy and proud.”

If anything, your comment only makes Chan's smile grow wider. Chan still holds you in his arms but he turns his head to look up at the ceiling, smiling so brightly like a dork. “I know I enjoyed it.”

And then, as if he knew you had your eyes trained on his, he sticks his tongue out, slowly dragging it against your wetness left as residues by his mouth. He licks it all up and then finishes it out by licking his lips and you hate that you find yourself clenching your thighs against each other. Why were you such a putty in his hands and to everything he does? Stupid boyfriend that knows he too hot for any good.

“Think I’ll get to do it again sometime?”

You laugh, kissing his cheek. “Maybe,” you say, smiling to yourself. "Who knows? Guess you'll have to wait and see how this pans out now, right?"

Chan looks at you, turning himself to snuggle into your warmth, wanting to be the smaller spoon suddenly. His head hurried against your chest, nose grazing the top of your breast, he closes his eyes, taking in your natural scent. Your hand finds itself on top of his head as you slowly pet his hair, pausing only when you hear him mumble against your skin.

"I've never minded waiting for you."

2K notes · View notes

slipper007 · 3 years

Text

I can't imagine the pain.

Word Count: 3,262

TW: child loss, grief and grieving, discussion of death. See AO3 for complete tags.

Special thanks to @angelfishofthelord and @shirtlesscastiel who both asked for a part 2, as well as @featherasscas , who's reblogged part 1 more times than I can count

Companion to this, + also on AO3. [Masterpost]

Castiel stayed on the ground, broken, for what felt like hours, lacking the strength to look away from the devastation of his grief.

He stayed there so long that the Winchesters gave up hope. They mumbled something about Chuck and the end of all things, of the ghosts that Cas’ total grief had obliterated and how they might not have been all that was released. Castiel didn’t care. He didn’t have it in him to, and maybe the Winchesters saw that. Dean tried to touch his shoulder, maybe even offer an apology, but Castiel shot him a look that ended the conversation they had been dancing around for years. They left him in that graveyard with what was left of his son.

He almost prayed, but what could an angel do to reverse God’s will? No, he needed to do something else. He was desperate enough to try anything he thought would work.

Bargaining. Maybe he could strike up another deal. Whatever the price was, he would pay it happily. He would give his life in a heartbeat, just like before, if it would bring Jack back.

He reached out to Death directly.

He felt Billie’s presence before he saw them and slowly turned as they offered a laid back “Hey.”

“Bring him back.”

“Can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both,” Billie replied. They raised a brow as Castiel drew his blade. “Killing me again? That seems a little redundant.”

“If you won’t bring him back then maybe your replacement will.”

“Everything has its time, Castiel and everything dies.”

“And it wasn’t his time! His story isn’t done!”

“God said otherwise.”

“You’re going to let God do your job? Kill Jack and wreck the order?”

“God isn’t wrecking anything. Every story has different endings. This was one.”

“Then change it.”

“It’s already happened. It can’t be undone.” Billie’s voice was gentler than Castiel expected when they continued. “It’s not fair, or kind, or right, but it’s life. You need to make your peace with that.”

“No.” Billie’s brows drew together and if Castiel didn’t know better, he would think that it was from pity. Even as he spoke, he felt the tip of his angel blade drop. “I can’t accept this, he can’t be...”

“He is. And nothing you do will change that, regardless of what your time with the Winchesters has taught you.”

Castiel felt the lurching ill sensation rise up again.

“What if I go to the Empty directly?”

“Then you die. It keeps both you and Jack. But you know how the Empty works.”

“I still won’t get to see him...say anything...”

Billie touched his shoulder, a rare gesture of remorse from Death incarcerate. “He’s gone, Castiel, but he can live on in you.”

Castiel didn’t answer, and Death left him to grieve.

Even as time ticked by, Castiel was at a loss for what to do. In the dust, he drew the Enochian sigil to create a portal to Heaven, paid it enough attention that for a moment he could pretend Jack was sitting in the truck playing on his phone.

Castiel almost called his brothers and sisters down to open the portal, to take both Jack and him from the Earth, to let them rest for the first time in years. He wanted Jack to know the peace that used to exist in Heaven, the safety of the place he had once called home. More than that, he wanted to be at peace, to quell the anguish and anger writhing in his chest. It would be easier to go back to proper angelhood, forget what it was to feel.

Emotions had never brought him anything but trouble. They’d lost him his family, his home, his friends, his life…

Still, his tongue wouldn’t speak the words to bring his siblings down. He remembered how they’d treated Jack, and him. The angels had manipulated Jack just as the Winchesters had, and they would do so again if given the chance.

Even dead, Jack could still be used as a weapon. His body harbored the remains of not only nephil grace, but also that of the archangel Michael. Those were both cosmic; they would endure longer than his body.

As much as it sickened him, Castiel realized a hard truth.

Not only was Jack unable to come back, but it wasn’t enough to simply lay him to rest. His body needed to be destroyed so completely that he could never be manipulated again.

He only knew one person he could even start to trust with something like that.

“Hello, tweetie pie,” Rowena answered. “Is this a social call?”

“No, I need your help.”

“Now as much as I’d like to, I’m busy. Tell the Winchesters—”

“This isn’t for them,” he said, words coming out harsher than intended. He took a breath and added a gentler, “Please, this is important.”

“More important than—”

“Yes. Can you meet me at...” Castiel faltered. The Bunker wasn’t an option, and he certainly wasn’t going to stay where he was, surrounded by death, destruction, and his son’s wings scorched into the earth. “Uh…”

“I’ll need some time to tie things up in Nevada. Could you perhaps meet me halfway?

“Yes.” Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. “In Colorado? Grand Junction?”

“Alright,” Rowena agreed. “Now tell me what it is you need so I can prepare.”

“I need you to help me burn a body.” He risked a glance to Jack, feeling bile rise up. “So completely that he can’t come back.”

“Dearie—”

“I can’t talk more; I’ll see you tomorrow,” Castiel blurted, hanging up before what little control he had over his emotions could slip.

The drive was even harder than watching him die.

He talked and played music, anything to avoid the screaming silence, the way Jack was growing cold and stiff beside him. It didn’t work. His mind still repeated the horrified knowledge of “this was your child,” a broken record he feared would never stop.

Neither of them would recover from this.

He arrived after Rowena and nearly cried as she offered him a smile in her prim and proper way and asked if Jack would be joining them or staying in the car.

He didn’t know what gave it away. The unnatural stillness and silence of the car, one that he’d grappled with for hundreds of miles, perhaps. Maybe it was a witch’s intuition, since she’d seen enough over the last several hundred years. Maybe it was because he couldn’t answer her, or even look her in the eyes.

“Oh,” was all she said before embracing him. He couldn’t return it. He couldn’t tear his mind from the hug he had given Jack in the graveyard, how he hadn’t hugged back, how he’d kneeled rather than fight, and how he’d died even when Dean couldn’t go through with it. How it felt to hold Jack, limp and soundless in his arms.

The dam broke, and all that pain and grief and anger nearly brought him to his knees.

Rowena saw it: how broken he was, how broken he’d always been. He didn’t know who he was anymore if he wasn’t a father or an angel, yet he was neither anymore. What was he supposed to do now?

Maybe she understood that. She had suffered the loss of a loved one, too. She knew what it was to watch the world die around her, to lose herself for a time.

When Castiel was able to collect himself, pull the broken shards of his being back together, Rowena asked something that almost tore him apart again.

“Dearie, are you sure you want to…”

“I can’t bring him back. I talked to Death, and I can’t bring him back,” Castiel said softly. “I can’t have someone take advantage of what’s… left.”

“But something so permanent…”

“I would do it myself,” he offered, “but I seem to have fallen.”

Rowena gave him a strange look, the likes of which he hadn’t received in years, so he explained.

“I felt it. Something in me breaking. The emotion growing stronger. I don’t know how to describe it… It felt like when the angels fell. The same kind of desperation.”

“My dear, you’re still an angel. You still have your powers.” She looked him up and down. “Maybe you’re not as powerful as you once were, and you’re a smidge weaker than last we saw each other, but you’re far from powerless.”

Castiel looked away, lost.

“Maybe you can’t do it because you don’t want to,” she offered gently.

“What I want is for him to come back. But he needs to be….” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Rowena nodded, understanding.

They found somewhere private, somewhere quiet outside the city. The trees stood tall and proud and vibrantly alive. A felled one became the pyre.

Castiel placed Jack on it, still wrapped in the trenchcoat.

The flames that swallowed him were brilliantly red, orange, and gold like the ochre rocks on the horizon.

It took hours, even with the help of magic. Castiel stood by Jack’s side for all of it, even long after the embers had cooled and all that was left was a small pile of ash and smudges of soot. Rowena collected it up in a jar as the sun rose, and Castiel took it in his hands.

It never should have ended like this.

The day carried on as if Castiel’s world hadn’t ended hours ago. He was grateful to Rowena for what she had done, but even sitting in her kitchen he was too lost in grief to thank her.

Standing by a whistling teapot, she finally asked, “Would you like to talk about the wee boy?”

“It hurts too much.” Castiel bit into his lip, hard. What did it say about him, that he could hardly even say Jack’s name? Shame bubbled up, hatred of himself swift to follow.

“It hurts because of how much you loved him.”

“I still love him.”

“Yes.”

The pair fell silent for a long while and Rowena set a cup of hot tea in front of Cas before settling into her own seat.

“Rowena…”

“Yes, tweetie pie?”

“When did losing Oscar stop hurting?”

Rowena bowed her head, and Castiel knew the answer.

“It didn’t,” she finally said. “Just as losing Fergus hasn’t stopped hurting.”

Castiel’s instinct was right. This was something he would never recover from, would he?

“It’s a different kind of hurt, with time,” Rowena offered. “It stops being so keen. You survive and you try to carry on without them, because that’s what they would have wanted.” She stared deep into her tea. “You learn to talk about them, and to them, even though they’re gone.”

Castiel nodded and held his tea closer. He couldn’t see that happening, not with how much it hurt, but she was right: he would survive. With Jack gone, his deal would never come due. Happiness wouldn’t kill him because he would never feel it again.

Rowena offered him a place to stay for a few weeks, but Castiel declined. He couldn’t stay there, not where the earth was scorched and the air still smelled faintly of smoke. Instead, Castiel drove for hours, not paying much attention to where he was going until he found himself parked outside of the Bunker.

It wasn’t where he wanted to be, not by a longshot, but he had something he needed to do. The door creaked as loudly as it always had, and Castiel was halfway across the library before a voice called out to him.

“Cas.”

Dean.

“I’m here for his things. Then I’ll be on my way.”

“Cas, hey. Stop for a moment, would you?”

Castiel did.

“Look, alright.” Dean walked over until they could look each other in the eye. “I’m not proud of how everything went down. And I’ve given what you said some thought. You’re right. It is our fault, but it’s Chuck’s, too, man. You gotta see that.”

“What I see is that you’re finding any excuse you can to get the blame off yourself.”

Dean’s eyes darkened.

“Chuck has been toying with us—”

“No, you made the decision to kill him, just as I made the decision not to. You told me to get onboard or walk away, and I left you and Chuck both of my own choice. Because you taught me that people and families and love are worth fighting for, and I was going to fight for him!” Castiel tried to keep the waver out of his voice as tears brimmed in his eyes. “Chuck couldn’t have changed that even if he’d tried.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to, huh? You think of that? Maybe he wants us divided.”

“You should have thought about that before you tried to execute him in front of me.”

“Cas—”

“You had a choice and you made the wrong one.”

Castiel left him there in the library and locked himself in Jack’s room. Almost instantly, it proved to be too much, and he slumped down against the door, sobbing.

The room was holding its breath, waiting for Jack to come home. A half-read book sat on the desk, a few stray papers underneath. A pile of clothes waited patiently to be returned to a drawer. The nightstand was bare save for a pencil. One good deed….

Castiel packed it all away. He hated himself for destroying the illusion, for leaving the room as empty as his chest felt, but what he was waiting for would never happen. Jack would never walk through that door again. The decoder ring in the drawer would never be used. Everything had fallen into ruin.

He managed to get the first box into his truck with no issues, no run-ins or confrontations. The second box was smaller, and he rested it on a hip as he closed the bedroom door for the last time.

This time, he wasn’t so lucky. Dean watched him cross the room and quietly said, “You’re not the only one grieving him.”

“It’s not the same, Dean. You never felt his soul. You never took the time to know him: you spent your time trying to make up for wanting him dead. Well, you got what you wanted.”

Dean flinched at that, but Castiel didn’t care. His son was nothing but ash and a box and a half of belongings. Anger flared again.

“You think angels can’t feel.” He laughed bitterly. “Even though I’ve proven that wrong. Did you think killing him wouldn’t kill me, too? As if I haven’t given more for him than you could possibly imagine. As much as you’ve given for Sam. My life. My happiness… I signed away my future in a heartbeat so that he could come back and I would do it again. I tried to do it again.”

If only it would have worked.

“Wait, what?”

“I made a deal to save him. When I’m happy, the Empty will take me forever.”

Dean gaped at him in horror.

“Cas, what’ve you done?”

“What I had to. What any father would do. Don’t give me that look. You’ve done worse for Sam.”

“And it’s always come back to bite me in the ass.”

“Well, I haven’t been happy in years, so don’t worry about the deal.”

“You shouldn’t have made it in the first place.”

“Oh, so now only you get to make deals to save the people you love? Only you get to cheat death time and time again while the rest of us suffer?” Castiel looked at him incredulously, anger seeping through him. “Do you know how many brothers I’ve lost? Sisters? Friends? Now Jack. Why can’t I save them? Why should they stay dead when you and your brother have been raised so many times?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. We would have figured it out without making the deal!”

“We didn’t have the time! If I hadn’t made the deal I would have lost him forever, right then and there. I couldn’t stand by and watch him die!”

It would have killed him. And it had.

“We would have figured it out,” Dean maintained. “Like we always do!”

Castiel shook his head. “Then you figure it out. If you bring him back, I’ll be back, but until then…” Castiel looked around the wide expanse of the Bunker with a strange longing. This had never been home, but it could have been, just as his friendship with the Winchesters could have been more. He was leaving behind an almost.

“Jack’s dead. Chuck’s gone. You and Sam have each other. I think it’s time for me to move on.”

“Cas, wait.”

As angry and tired as he was—as they both were—Castiel wanted to. A decade of comradeship, of camaraderie and pining, did that, made him reluctant to leave. Then he remembered standing between Dean and Jack, realizing that if that gun went off, he’d lose them both. He knew now that he’d lost them both long before that.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

It was years before they saw each other again.

It took longer than Castiel could ever admit to find peace.

He still ached for Jack to come back, felt the pain in every drawn breath, but Rowena was right. Billie was right. The anger lessened and the pain dulled. He missed his son but Jack would have wanted him to try to move on. He would have wanted Cas to be happy, despite the deal still hanging over his head even if Castiel couldn’t see it ever coming to fruition now. He owed it to Jack to try to be happy.

And he would. He had to. No matter how much it hurt, even if he still wanted nothing more than to bring him back or follow him in death. Jack survived through him, in his memories and his love. He couldn’t let what was left of his son go like that.

He’d moved to Washington, made a home of where Jack had been born and Kelly had died. Where he had burned. It was a little too empty, full of broken promises and loss and regret, as if it, too, struggled to let go. One day it would. Another family would come and clean it out, fill this home with love as it always should have been. Children would run out to the sand, oblivious of the ash mixed in, while their parents painted over Kelly’s mural and took down the pale yellow curtains that had reminded Cas of honey.

One day, all memory of Jack and the world his parents had tried to give him would be gone. But it wouldn’t be today.

Castiel made his way outside, stood where the rift had first appeared. If he looked closely, he could still see the imprint of wings in the earth. This was where he and Kelly had both burned.

Cautiously, Castiel looked to the sky, the twinkling lights of stars against an unpolluted sky. Jack loved space. He would have loved it here, able to see the stars every night without fail.

It was time to let go.

Gently, Castiel let the ash catch in the breeze, wander everywhere it liked and more until it was gone. Jack was gone.

Castiel swallowed hard and tilted his head back up to the sky, to the light of a thousand stars. If he looked hard enough, he could see the golden twinkle of Jack’s grace reflecting back, his eyes glowing against a sea of blue.

“Hello, Jack.”

195 notes · View notes

kiiiiiim · 3 years

Text

oh, you got my heartbeat runnin' away

beating like a drum and it's coming your way, Can't you hear that boom badoom boom boom badoom boom bass?

It's been almost 10 months, and Kara still can't hear a damn thing except her own thunderous heartbeat in her ears every single time Lena walks through the door.

***************************************************************

Kara is good at controlling her abilities. She's had plenty of time to learn, for example, how to stop herself from accidentally incinerating some lowlife who has the audacity to catcall her on the street when she's 15 minutes late to work with Ms. Grant’s coffee spilling down her arm. She's good at completing daily tasks at a slower, more human pace - even if she does take advantage of an empty office from time to time in order to speedy-finger-type her way through an article she forgot to finish the night before. She’s good at filtering out the enormous amount of noise her super-hearing picks up, which had been the hardest ability to master right after actual flight - learning how to block out car alarms blaring from two states over, a hundred different conversations around town combining to form an incoherent, garbled din - even the ants marching beneath her feet was a sound so magnified it hurt her ears those first few weeks after arriving at the Danvers' home. But in time, Kara had gotten the hang of that one too - or so she'd thought.

Because they’ve been dating for almost ten months, hit all the "firsts" in any budding relationship from first kiss to first fight to first time holding Lena's hair back as she vomits into the toilet bowl after eating bad sushi, and yet -

Kara still can't hear a damn thing except her own thunderous heartbeat in her ears every single time Lena walks through the door.

"Sorry I'm late, today was an absolute nightmare," Lena sighs as she shuts the apartment door with one heeled foot, dropping her briefcase unceremoniously on Kara's kitchen island with a heavy thud. She sheds her jacket and opens the fridge, pulling out a can of soda - she's been trying to cut back on the scotch - and busies herself with fixing a glass of ice to pour the contents into.

"Someone managed to hack into LCorp's mainframe and, unlike a normal, civilized hacker who might’ve tried to find an access point into our accounts, this individual decided that their time and efforts would be much better spent creating a fully nude animation of my brother that dances across every LCorp screen, every five minutes - All. Day. Long." Lena makes a little noise of distress as the fizz from her soda starts to overflow onto the counter and hastily grabs a dishtowel to sop up the mess.

"It took ages to find the source - I had to cancel all of my meetings and reschedule the demo for the new image inducer with our shareholders from Metropolis, which was just delightful because we've had to change dates twice already and they probably think I'm so incompetent at my job that they may just decide to pull out altogether, and I can't afford to lose their support so I'll have to - darling, why are you looking at me like that?"

Kara has lived on this planet for years - she's adapted to the yellow sun and the powers it gives her, knows how to tune in when she needs to and how to tune out when she has to. It keeps her loved ones safe and keeps Kara sane, a delicate balance that must be maintained in order to protect the planet and still live the full life she's cultivated outside of the cape and sigil.

Kara is good at controlling her abilities - or at least, she was. Now, she feels like she’s 12 years old again, a newcomer to this strange planet with its overwhelming chaos, with not one ounce of practiced focus in her little alien body.

"Do I have something on my face?" Lena laughs, self-consciously touching her cheeks with both hands. "My teeth?" She makes a face that is so unfairly cute it makes the war drums in Kara's ears beat all the faster, a crescendo that she's positive will end with her going slightly deaf if she doesn't get a grip.

"Do you really not hear that?" Kara blurts out - a little too loudly apparently, because Lena visibly starts and spills more of her drink, this time onto the floor. She curses and drops the damp towel on the floor, using her expensively-clad foot as an impromptu mop.

"Hear what?" Lena asks.

"My -" Kara cuts herself off, suddenly shy as she turns her head to hide her face from Lena’s view. "I don't wanna say…"

Lena slips off her shoes and carries her glass to the living room with too much grace for someone who spent the last ten hours battling a cyber menace. She plops herself down on the couch opposite Kara and pokes her playfully with a bare toe. "Well now I have to know. My curiosity has been piqued. Besides," She lowers her voice until she's practically purring. "You've turned such a lovely shade of red that it makes me think I'll like the answer."

Heat engulfs her impenetrable skin, she knows she’s blushing head to toe at this point and she’s not sure if it’s more from embarrassment or the nearly unbearable desire to pin Lena down and kiss the smirk right off her smug face.

This isn't the first time Kara's been in love. At least, she thinks it was love. It still gives her pause years later, trying to figure it out - but with Lena, there's no question. She loves Lena in every sense of the word with an intensity she didn't know was possible. It’s the most real thing she’s ever experienced. Whatever her experiences in the past, this relationship and all the feelings it sparks in her is new territory for Kara, and she doesn't quite know if she's doing it right half the time. She doesn't want Lena to think she's weird or stunted or just… bad at this.

“Karaaa…” Lena singsongs softly, her smile growing wider as Kara turns more and more scarlet with each agonizing second. Finally, Kara groans and buries her face in her hands.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I would never.”

Kara peeks out through her fingers, feeling stupid and sheepish. “I didn’t think I would still be feeling like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like… this!” Kara gestures to her chest, thumps it with one tightly clenched fist. “I thought all those things you feel when you start a relationship - the butterflies, the nerves, the excitement - would fade after a while. Like, not disappear, but that they wouldn’t be so… intense. I mean, we’ve been together for the better part of a year and I still… I’m still so…”

Lena cocks her head and narrows her eyes, but with a smile on her face that is one part endearment and one part utter confusion. “And you still…” Lena prods.

Kara sighs. “When I first came to Earth, it took me a long time to get my super-hearing under control. Everything was so loud and I didn’t know how to filter any of it out. Eventually I got the hang of it, but sometimes… sometimes my heart pounds so hard when I look at you that I literally can’t hear anything else around me, even if you’re the one actually talking. I have no idea what you said when you walked in just now. Not one word.” Kara hides her face again. “I feel so stupid.”

Kara feels the couch shift, knows instinctively rather than actually sees Lena come around and kneel on the floor in front of her. Lena’s hands are cool as they take Kara’s wrists, guiding them away from her flushed face. Her eyes are shiny, green pools filled with nothing but tenderness.

She takes one of Kara’s hands and gently places it on her chest. Lena is wearing a low neck today - advantageous, for it allows Kara to feel Lena’s heartbeat all the better. It’s absolutely hammering underneath her touch.

Kara almost jumps to her feet in alarm. “Oh my God, are you ok? Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Lena’s forehead falls into Kara’s lap as she lets out a hearty, exasperated laugh. Her voice is muffled through the fabric of Kara’s jeans. “No, you silly, wonderful woman.” She picks her head back up, clasping both hands over Kara’s and meeting her confused gaze. “It’s been doing that for years.”

“Like… like a medical condition?”

Lena bites her lip, possibly to keep from calling Kara something rather more than ‘silly,’ even in the most loving way. “Like since the day I met you, Kara.” She says quietly.

There’s a beat of silence that seems to stretch into minutes before Kara’s abashed face splits into a slow grin. “Oh…” She responds. “Well, now I don’t feel so stupid.”

“You shouldn’t,” Lena says. She gently pushes Kara’s knees apart and sidles her way between them, cupping her face in her hands with a smile. “Because if you’re stupid, then I’m stupid. And I have three PHD’s, so, I would really like to not consider myself stupid.”

Kara chuckles, turns her head to kiss the palm of Lena’s hand. “Not stupid.” She whispers. “Although I’m gonna have to relearn how to block out my own heartbeat, because I really like hearing the things you say.”

Lena leans in and kisses her, slow, gentle, pouring as much love as she can into it before she has to pull back for air. She tucks a blonde strand behind Kara’s ear and lets her fingertips trail down her neck, feeling the fire beneath her skin. “That’s fine,” She murmurs. “Just focus on mine instead.”

#supergirl #supercorp #my ficlets #did i really just write a drabble based off a nicki minaj song #yes. yes i did.

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mello-jello · 3 years

Note

hi jello!! what about post timeskip levihan? commander hanji is working very hard and rarely, rarely sleeps (let alone eats and bathes properly. its worse than before now though.).

what if one time levi discovers hanji passed tf out due to sheer exhaustion in the most weird and random of places. he doesn’t want to wake them up bc hanji def needs the rest so he carries/tucks her into bed.🥺❤️

JAZZY thank you for the prompt! I kind of combined it with this one too:

Thank you, Anon!

Preview:

Hange gave a small laugh before saying, “Thank you Levi, I feel much better now.”

“Tch, you haven’t even done what we came here to do,” Levi scoffed.

Hange made a confused sound.

“Drop the dish.”

It had been 3 years since Shiganshina. Levi climbed into the carriage and sat across from Hange, who was still reading through her notes from the long and grueling meeting that lasted for the better part of the day. All the highest ranking military officials had been called to the capital to discuss Paradis’s best course of action. Queen historia was there, along with her staff, advisors, and of course Zackley. Levi had been to plenty of these meetings before, but this time was different in a bit of a distressing way.

Over the years, Levi had watched Erwin defend the scouts countless times. From questionable means of gathering information, to explaining away hundreds of lives lost, he always had an answer for everything and he always managed to leave with a favourable image. It was something Levi truly admired and even envied about Erwin.

But now he had been watching Hange flounder. She has indeed improved over the last 3 years, but she still doubts herself and while it might not be known to those around her, Levi can’t help but feel sympathetic to her situation. Today however, the other officials had been particularly ruthless.

“Take a break, Hange,” Levi ordered. Hange just sighed. Then her stomach growled. “Have you eaten today?”

“Uuuuuuuhhh,” Hange mused as she genuinely struggled to remember.

“Tch, there’s your answer,” Levi crossed his arms. The rest of the officials had a big dinner scheduled for tonight, but of course the Survey Corps got shafted and had to leave early in order to prepare. Hange met his eyes again with an exhausted look he was all too familiar with.

“How have you been sleeping?”

“Not great,” she admitted. Levi’s stomach sank. He had dealt with his own insomnia his whole life, but it seems worse on Hange. Perhaps it was the stark contrast from her former bubbly and loud personality. Hange pinched the bridge of her nose and let out another long sigh. Levi couldn’t help feeling inadequate and helpless. He rarely got himself to sleep, how could he help Hange?

Levi looked out the window at the setting sun when he got an idea. He realized what Hange had been neglecting while trying to be a good commander. Something that wasn’t just eating and sleeping. Something that was unique to Hange.

“Hange, there’s one more thing you need to do before we leave.”

Hange raised an eyebrow.

Levi told the driver to wait for them and escorted Hange to the dining hall.

“Levi, we were technically invited, but I don’t think showing up for food after we already said goodbye is a very good look for us,” Hange practically whispered.

Levi opened the doors and they were greeted with a sweet aroma of bread, appetizers, and whatever was going to be the main dish. Hange’s mouth watered. The long elegant table was decorated with ornate candles, beautiful china, crystal glasses, and there were 4 sets of cutlery for each place setting.

“Relax, they won’t be here just yet. They will all be busy getting dressed for dinner.”

Hange grabbed a bread roll and took a huge bite, not bothering to chew before she commented, “I never understood ‘dressing for dinner’ ugh. What’s the point?”

Levi was about to make a half hearted comment about how Hange could never fit in with “civilized” society, but he stopped himself when he saw she was eating and was a little bit more relaxed. He found a small plate of savoury looking appetizers and handed it to her. She immediately took one.

“MMM, Levi!” she exclaimed, pointing at the plate. She popped another in her mouth before saying, “you gotta try these!”

Levi put up a hand and said, “you enjoy.”

Hange enthusiastically cleared the whole platter in less than a minute, and Levi was watching her, endeared at the behaviour. He had missed this side of her. Despite how gross it was, there was a glimpse of the carefree Hange he once knew. A small hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Then Hange belched.

“Disgusting,” Levi waved the air in front of his nose.

Hange gave a small laugh before saying, “Thank you Levi, I feel much better now.”

“Tch, you haven’t even done what we came here to do,” Levi scoffed.

Hange made a confused sound.

“Drop the dish.”

Hange’s one eye widened as she processed what Levi was saying.

“C’mon, you need to blow off some steam. They were total assholes to you today, and for what? You didn’t know the exact amount of your food budget? And yet,” Levi gestured to the banquet. He then picked up a delicate looking wine glass. He held his arm outstretched, and loosened his grip, letting it crash to the ground. “Oops.”

A mischievous smile stretched across Hange’s lips. “Oops,” she mimicked Levi and let the empty platter fall to the floor, breaking into dozens of pieces. She slowly started to lap around the long luxurious set up, like a predator admiring her prey before pouncing.

“Right? And Nile, ugh, what a hypocrite! Giving me shit for not knowing about that small thing, belittling me in front of everyone,” Hange snapped a salad plate against the edge of the table. “It wasn’t too long ago when he would have been the first to admit he had no idea what the first interior squad were up to! We had to find out for ourselves. Erwin was almost hanged!” Hange kicked a chair over on its side.

“Yeah, fuck Nile,” Levi egged her on. He took a seat at the head of the table and started sipping from one of the water glasses.

“Is this his spot?”

Levi shrugged but Hange was already pouring out a glass of wine all over the white seat, staining it a deep crimson. Levi hid his delight behind another sip.

“And did you catch what he said at the end? ‘Some of us have wives to get home to’”, she imitated in a mocking tone as she casually pushed a platter of dumplings off the table. “Yeah, run home, Nile. Run home to Erwin’s SLOPPY SECONDS!”

Levi blew water out of his nose, and before he could react, Hange reached under the short side of the table and flipped it over, sending its contents hurtling across the room. Hange was elated at the result, laughing almost maniacally.

“Idiot,” Levi hissed, grabbing Hange’s wrist and leading her out the side door. He heard footsteps, and so he instinctively dove into nearby shrubbery, taking Hange down with him.

They hid in the bushes for minutes, Levi pressing his hand to suppress Hange’s uncontrollable laughter. It had been so long since she’d laughed like this. It was infectious and Levi might have actually laughed himself, were it not for the fear of getting caught. He had no problem telling the MPs where to shove it, but he didn’t want Hange to get in trouble. Her whole body was convulsing, and it was rattling the leaves around her. Levi used all his body weight to stop her jerky movements.

After about another minute of total silence, Hange tapped Levi’s arm, signalling to let go. He was hesitant, but he obliged. Hange drew a couple deep breaths, fanning herself, trying to calm down from laughing so hard. Levi was transfixed by the way the moonlight danced on her tear-stained face. They stared at each other for a moment before Hange snickered once more, causing Levi to cover her mouth yet again. “You’re impossible,” he said, pushing her head back down.

Once the coast was clear, they ran back to their carriage, hand in hand. Partly because Levi wanted Hange to keep up, and partly because it felt nice to hold her hand. They ducked their heads until they were off of the main roads. A few minutes later, Hange started giggling again.

“What?” Levi asked.

Hange bit her lip playfully as she reached into her coat and pulled out a bottle of expensive wine she must have swiped from the banquet.

Levi rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help his smile. She looked like a child that just got away with stealing more dessert. She looked joyful for the first time in a long time. She yanked out the cork and took a swig before offering the bottle to Levi. He graciously accepted and tasted the wine for himself. It was too sweet for his taste, but he couldn’t deny that it was spectacular.

“That’s nice,” he commented.

“Pfft! It tastes the same as the cheap stuff!” Hange scoffed as she took the bottle back. Any other time, Levi would have teased her and started an argument, but not today. He wanted to cherish this moment. He leaned over to look at the stars through his window. Not a bad ending to an otherwise terrible day.

After Shiganshina, he and Hange had lost so much. Their comrades, friends; life as they knew it had completely changed and they barely had a moment’s breather to come to grips with it all. Levi was unfortunately accustomed to it, but Hange wasn’t. Hange had been so strong through all of this and Levi wanted to find the right words to tell her. Maybe it was the exhaustion they both felt; maybe it was the close proximity, but for some reason, somehow, Levi felt a tiny bit of courage surge through his veins.

“Hey, Hange, I-”

When he turned to look at her, she was fast asleep, neck crooked as she cradled the bottle of wine. Levi smiled at her. She looked peaceful, like she was getting quality sleep. He took the bottle from her arms and gently maneuvered her to a more comfortable, lying down position. He removed his jacket and draped it over her, as a make-shift blanket.

“Goodnight, Four-Eyes,” he mumbled to himself and returned to his seat. Hange slept the whole way home. When they finally arrived in the southern barracks, Levi couldn’t bring himself to wake her up. He quickly ran their luggage up to their rooms, and came back for Hange.

Being as gentle as he could, he scooped up the commander and ignored the curious look he got from the carriage driver. She was taller than him, and her long limbs made the trek a little difficult, but he was determined. Her steady breaths tickled the skin of his neck.

He carried her up the winding staircase and into her quarters. He lowered her on the bed, careful not to go too fast. He cradled her head for a split second longer than he needed too. He took off her long boots one at a time, placing them silently on the floor at the end of the bed. He undid the top two buttons of her jacket and shirt, just for comfort. Then he pulled the blanket up to her chin, and tucked around the sides.

Finally, he removed her glasses and eyepatch, caressing the tender skin underneath. Placing them on her night stand, he got up to leave. The door hinge creaked as he opened it, and Hange stirred.

“Mmm Levi?” She called out.

Levi wasn’t sure if she was actually awake, or if she was sleep-talking. He was still deciding whether he should answer when she continued, “Thank you, Levi. For everything.”

“You too, Hange,” he spoke just above a whisper, as he closed her door.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #fluff

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

Crimelord Boba Fett proposing to female reader and promises to protect her with his life. :)

Did someone say King of the Underworld Boba Fett? Don’t mind if we do. Goodbye Bib Fortuna, long live the King.

Boba Fett x Fem!Reader; warnings: egregious use of little one

Part 2

Star Wars Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

The air is acrid and thick, feeling like it was suffocating you rather than helping to you live. Raising a hand to your face, you looked around the desolate Dune Sea, wondering why on earth you were being summoned to Maker forsaken Tatooine. And who the kriff was summoning you?

All you knew was that you had been summoned from your home on Corsucant - rather forcefully, and dragged back to this hell hole. Under any other circumstances you would have fought back or questioned what was actually going on, but something about the small but imposing woman that dragged you with her caused you to keep your mouth shut. She hadn’t given you so much as a name - hers or your mysterious summoner, and you hadn’t asked.

She’d watched you closely on the hours long ride to Tatooine, seeming to study and observe you with curiosity. At one point you had wanted to snap back at her but the weapons holstered to her side and stowed around the ship made you bite your tongue and bide your time. The woman didn’t say a single word; neither did you.

If you were being taken to your death, then that was that. You’d made that much up in your mind as soon as you’d stepped foot onto the ship. Harsh and cruel as it was too say, there wasn’t much you would be losing, nor would many people miss you. It was a quiet life you led these days, keeping to yourself and your humble abode in a small, but safe corner of Coruscant.

You’d been there, waiting, hoping, wishing ever since - no.

No, no, no. You weren’t going to let your mind back to that dark, haunted place. It was something that still managed to seep into the front of your mind, no matter how many years you tried to suppress them. It was when a man with dark hair would come into your little shop and you’d only catch a glimpse. When you heard deep, rough laughter that was all consuming. When you’d see a hint of green armor. When you’d hear a voice even remotely similar to his...

Boba Fett might have died many years ago, but he had never left your heart. He was still in everything you did, so many little things reminding you of what was and what could have been.

You hadn’t been back to this living hell since the day he’d died, lost to the sarlacc and left only to become memories that would fade away over generations. You’d wanted to stay there, to wait and see if somehow he would come back to you, but you couldn’t.

You’d left the next day and never looked back. You hated yourself for it, but you also...your heart had been broken into hundreds of millions of tiny shards of transparisteel. Ever since, you’d hoped that maybe one you’d come across your lover.

But the day never came. And while you went along with life, you still held onto the slight hope that maybe one day...maybe, maybe, maybe.

A soft sigh escaped your parched lips as you felt immediately all consumed by the sand, like it was becoming a part of you or you were destined to become a part of it. Either way, it was enough to frustrate you as you shielded your eyes from the harsh heat and blazing light of the twin suns.

“Keep up,” it was the first time she had spoken to you since she’d first called your name and instructed you to come with her. She was commanding for a figure so slight, but you had a feeling she was much deadlier than she looked - and she was already a sight. Biting back a groan you picked up the pace and trailed after her, confusion clouding your features as you began to realize where you were headed.

This was Jabba’s Palace...well no - Bib Fortuna’s. Just like Boba, Jabba, the disgusting, foul, loathsome leader of the galaxy’s biggest syndicate had been dead for some time.

What the kriff would Bib Fortuna want with you?

You’d cut off any ties you’d had with any of them long ago, before Boba was even dead. There was no way you could ever provide anything useful to him...

Autopilot had completely taken over and you were barely aware of the fact that you’d reached the palace and were headed towards its inner sanctum. Your stomach lurched as you walked through the walls you hoped would forever be a memory as you realized just how clearly you remember it all. Sure, the place had seen better days, wearing down from the harsh sandy winds and the hands of time, but it was ever the same.

Except this time - few people were milling about, no workers to be seen and it felt surprisingly...tame. Not something you thought would ever be possible for his place. Something had to have happened... something was off-

“Down,” the woman pointed at the stone staircase, her hand on the small of your back as she gently nudged you towards the top step. You were half surprised that she didn’t just completely shove you down to the bottom, but the energy you were getting from her wasn’t mean or negative...just curious.

“W-what?” you managed to stammer, your throat dry and scratchy the heat and lack of water. She quirked a dark brow and pointed at the stairs again.

“Down,” she repeated, “it’s best not to keep him waiting.”

Kriff. You were going to die at the hands of Fortuna. He was a weak man, bolstered by those he keep around him, ego inflated beyond measure. On his own he was a pathetic little thing, but when surrounded by his goons, he was cruel and merciless at worst.

Accepting your fate, you started your slow descend down the stairs, your heartbeat screaming in your ears with each foot fall. Your chest was thumping so wildly you were sure that it would burst through your chest at any point.

But nothing met your ears, there were no sounds, no talking, no music, nothing. It was almost deafeningly silent.

When your feet hit the soft sand floor, you did a quick survey of the almost empty room. A few torches lined the wall, but that was about all. The throne was in the center of the room as it always was and -

Maker. The Throne.

As you looked at it, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked upon the singular figure in the room besides yourself.

The man was in armor from head to toe. Green armor. With red accents. You knew those colors, those colors you once considered your own, those were his colors.

But no - it couldn’t have been. No, no, no, this was an impostor, this was -

“Hello little one,” that voice. You knew it more intimately than anything else, you know that voice inside and out. That voice that had laughed at you a million times, that voice that been in your ear during the heat of passion, the one that teased you, the one that scolded you when you did something dangerous. That voice.

It was his. Boba’s.

“No,” you shook your head as you refused to move closer to the man that was surely a pretender - a great one, but still not your Boba, “y-y-you aren’t...no.”

He remained silent for a long moment, the dark T of his visor trained on your as he refused to look away. You stared right back, as if you were seeing a ghost - in some ways you were.

Slowly, he rose to his full height, stepping down from his throne, imposing as ever as he slowly walked over to you. You stilled in your actions, wondering if you should run away or fight or something. Instead you watched as he came closer and closer and closer - right until he stopped dead in front of you.

“You’re just as pretty as then,” his voice was soft as he reached a gloved hand up touch your cheek. He hesitated before making contact with your skin, stripping the worn leather gloves off and tossing them mindlessly onto the sandy floor. He watched you closely before finally touching your cheek to his see if you would stop him or flinch out of his touch.

But you didn’t; despite believing he was gone all of these years, a small bit of you still had hope.

“Boba?” it was a weak, pathetic little whimper as you keened into his touch. He stalled for just a moment, his heart almost stopping at the sound of his name from your lips. It was even sweeter than he remembered, “is it really you?”

“I told you I’d never leave you, little one,” he rasped as you worked to blink back tears that had started to well up in your eyes. You looked at him with wide doe eyes as he made a small sound in the back of his throat. As a single tear pearled up and ran down your cheek, he tenderly wiped it away, “it just took me a little longer than planned to get back to you.”

And then you laughed; despite the situation and the overwhelming onslaught of emotions, you just laughed. Before you knew it, he was laughing as well, a warm, rich sound that you remembered like it had been yesterday.

“Boba,” you couldn’t believe it. This whole time, all these years, your hope wasn’t wasted after all, “you’re alive. You’re here - I’m here. I-I...I dreamed of this day so many times.”

“As have I,” he promised, “I’m just...I’m afraid that I might be a little different than you last remembered - the sarlacc was not a kind friend to me.”

“I don’t care,” you promised him, “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. You’re alive and that’s all...I...please, let me look at your face. I need to see you, Boba.”

He gave a curt nod before dropping his hand from your cheek and exhaling deeply. Slowly, he put his hands on either of the helmet - newly painted, you noted - and tugged it up and off. You swallowed nervously, anxious to see the eyes of your lover once again.

Boba let the helmet fall to the ground, the thud dulled by the pillowy sand, nervous for you to say something, anything. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting, but this? This was nothing; scarred and more weathered than when he had been a younger man, he was still the same as always. Boba - your Boba.

“At least one of us is - “

Before he could say anything in the negative, your put your hands on either side of his face before crashing your lips onto his. He was taken aback for a moment at your sudden action, but it didn’t take more than a beat for him to wrap his arms around you and hold you tightly against his chest. It was like no time had passed at all, and you still knew each other just as you always had.

Only when you needed a breath of air did you pull apart, staring back into his soft brown eyes.

“Boba,” it was soft - reverent - and worked to thaw the icy harshness that had settled over his heart, “I love you. I’ve always loved you so much. I never stopped. I always hoped that somehow you would make your way back to me.”

“Always, my little one,” he promised with a gentle kiss to your forehead, “I will always protect you. No harm shall ever come to you so long as I live and breathe.”

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” you wrapped your arms his neck and held him, just held him, as the two of your synced your breathing and become reacquainted with each other’s bodies.

“Will you stay?” he asked quietly as you pulled back and nodded. For Boba, you would have done anything and gone anywhere in the galaxy, “w-with me?”

“Yes,” you promised him softly as you traced over his features delicately with the tip of your finger, “always. There’s nothing that would make me happier.”

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered as you nodded, “I promise we’ll never be apart again.”

“I’ll hold you to that Boba Fett,” you sighed contentedly, “I love you, Boba.”

“I love you too, little one,” he kissed the top of your head, “come on, we have much to talk about.”

“And now have all the time in the galaxy.”

#boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba is my king 😌#the Mandalorian #star wars #temeura morrison

741 notes · View notes

hqamore · 3 years

Text

boreal star ✵ chapter six

now, he’s pissed off. general kirigan was going to get his sun summoner and blast all of ravka to hell. he was so close to reaching his goals and no one was going to stop him.

chapter genre: action

series pairing: [past?] aleksander morozova (general kirigan) x reader

word count: 2.2k

author’s babble: surprise! so soon? i know. i cranked this chapter because i finally decided how this series would end. enjoy and tell me your thoughts!

here’s the masterlist

three days, you and mal agreed on. you procrastinated for the first two. well, not really procrastinated. you purchased some food and extra layers in balakirev the first day. the second day, you made your way to ryevost. to your misfortune, you were almost caught by aleksander and his merry band of misfits. but, his attention was stolen by teenagers? it was certainly entertaining to see the grisha get outwitted by the bunch.

you waited until you couldn’t detect them anymore. swiftly and careful to hide your face, you made your way to tsibeya on the third day. by high noon, the white forest greeted you with light snowfall. about 5km in, two huddled teens came into view. the crisp sounds of your steps alerted them, their eyes darting to you.

“[y/n]?” alina stepped in front of mal in a defensive position, light drawn at the ready. you surrendered your hands as mal lightly pushed away hers.

“alina, i told you they were coming,” he said.

with some reluctance, the sun summoner lowered her hands and eyed her. “why would baghra send you? you arrived at the palace the same time as i did.”

you smiled, ignoring her question, and strode past them, only pausing for them to follow. mal slung his sack over his shoulder and gave alina’s hand a light squeeze before jogging ahead of you. “i’ll look out for the stag. but, it’d be better for all of us if you answered her questions,” he whispered. “she’s naturally curious and very stubborn.”

you sighed and slowed your pace, matching your strides with alina’s. “baghra and i have a mutual understanding, one that precedes the importance of the second army,” you said.

alina glanced at you warily. “which is?”

“the black heretic cannot gain any more power.”

her lips pursed. “but, you arrived at the same time i did,” she quipped, “and i still can’t do much.”

you offered a dry chuckle. “i guess i picked it up that much faster.”

silence fell between you two, the crunching snow and distance chirps of birds filling the air. you took this opportunity to take in alina’s appearance. she wore ill-fitted clothing that couldn’t have been providing any warmth. her profile was worn, sunken eyes accompanied by an angry blush from the cool temperature. you shrugged your coat off, leaving you in your kefta, and draped it over her shoulders. she looked at you in surprise which made you smile softly.

with this small bridge, you spoke. “it must’ve been difficult escaping the palace without help.”

alina sheepishly smiled as she tugged the coat on, shuddering in the extra warmth. “not really. i just snuck into the trunk of a carriage and waited until it stopped.”

“you snuck into a stranger’s carriage?” you raised in an eyebrow, mirth evident in your eyes.

“not my best idea, but i’m safe now!”

you laughed at her embarrassed look, causing mal to look back. you saw as his lips quirked when his eyes met alina’s blushing face. warmth spread in your heart as you witnessed his loving gaze, almost feeling as if you were intruding on a secret conversation. you peered at alina who just returned mal’s stare with a blinding smile native only to one alina starkov. you envied their relationship, wordlessly intimate and completely trusting. sadness stirred at the bottom of your heart, memories of hushed giggles and longing gazes bubbling.

all lies, it was.

—

the sun was setting and, luckily, the three of you had already arrived where mal had last seen the stag. mal said he doubted that the stag moved on, leaving you guys to wait around.

brushing some snow off of a log, you sat and hugged your knees closer to conserve some warmth. alina and mal joined you, leaning into each other to share their body heat.

“when we find the stag, i need to be the one to kill it,” alina grimly stated.

mal looked down at her. “you’re a terrible shot. they made you a cartographer for a reason.”

you snickered as alina feigned offense and mal grinned unapologetically. “besides, i thought we weren’t killing it,” the tracker said, glancing at you. alina’s forehead scrunched in confusion when she turned to you.

a puff of fog appeared as you let out a sigh. “we’re not. unless absolutely necessary.”

“if we don’t, kiri—”

“i have a plan, alina,” you interrupted. “all we need to do is guide the stag away. with a combination of your abilities and mine, it’ll be fairly easy.”

“that won’t stop him from finding it,” alina protested.

you gently placed a hand on alina’s head. “that’s why, once we get it out of fjerdan territory, i’m taking it to the wandering isle. the distance will prevent aleksander from coming for it personally and give me more time to work out a permanent solution.”

she stayed silent for a moment, mulling over your plan, before she frowned. “aleksander.”

your head tilted questioningly when her body faced you, a serious look on her face. “how do you know his name?” she asked.

sucking in a deep breath, you realized you had relaxed too soon. her sharp eyes trained on you as you rubbed your face. mal remained confused, leaning forward to observe the two of you.

“it’s difficult not to know the name of your warden,” you replied.

“warden?”

you debated whether or not to tell alina the complete truth, but you threw caution into the wind and exhaled. “my arrival at the palace was not the first time i had been there. some time ago, i actually called that place home. but, one day, i woke up from the false reality and escaped from the place that was, retrospectively, my prison.”

too intelligent, alina connected the dots in record time. “you’re the lover the servants talked about,” she said breathily. “the person baghra thought would change him.”

a bitter smile danced on your lips. “i’m not sure if he loved me as i did him, but i would’ve hung the stars if he asked me to.”

alina clasped your hand in hers, offering a weak smile. you returned it before continuing. “i met him about four-hundred years ago, when he was hiding from the crown. i was young and enchanted. i believed in everything he wanted for grisha and became his willing accomplice.

“when he returned to the palace, i followed. when he locked me in my room, i complied. as naive as i was, i was in love,” you paused to glance at the pair in front of you, reminded of their small moments that paralleled your memories.

“i was in love...” you trailed, staring at your lap as your chest panged dully. you shook yourself out of your daze and cleared your throat. “no matter, i saw him for the crazed tyrant he was and, when i found out you had been discovered, i returned to thwart his plans.”

faint rustling drew mal’s attention away, the tracker slowly stepping towards the source. alina’s eyes followed him as did yours. after a few seconds, he turned. “that way.”

like meerkats, you and alina shot up and crept beside mal. his eyes darted around the clearing you were approaching and, there in all its glory, was the stag. the three of you stopped at a safe distance when it turned to look in your direction.

you started laying out the plan. “okay. alina, you need to—”

“wait,” alina said, stepping forward, with her eyes trained on the stag. “i— i’ve been seeing it in these visions ever since i arrived at the palace. i don’t know why, but i think it’s been trying to reach out to me.”

then, the stag walked towards alina who took several more steps. she gingerly reached her hand out and the stag met her with its snout. light erupted from them and alina let out soft laughs, basking in the warmth of the light. you softly gasped at the sight. it chose—

suddenly, an arrow shot the stag, causing it to lurch away from alina in pain. she tumbled backwards as people rushed in from all sides. mal raised his gun and shot at the bowman, knocking him down. he swiftly notched an arrow in his bow, prepared to shoot the stag, when a strong wind forced it out of his hand. you turned and was faced with a familiar-looking squaller. you loosened gravity’s hold on her and forced her to float. when you were about to fling her away, a grunt sounded behind you.

“mal!”

your focus disappeared; you pivoted to see mal embedded with an arrow, effectively dropping zoya and incapacitating her. you went to help him when an intense pressure hit your chest, your heart beating erratically. it forced you onto your knees next to mal. your heart was pounding in your ear before it stopped.

bright flashes threw off the heartrender and bowman. you greedily breathed in air as alina darted to mal. you could hear the snap of the arrow followed by mal’s agonizing scream. glancing up, your vision slightly blurred, you saw shadows gathering behind you. at the sound of a billowing cloak, you rushed to create a gravitational downforce around you, not allowing anyone to move. you slowly stood up, facing aleksander with a glare.

he let out a haughty laugh. “i should’ve known you would be with her.”

“alina, i need you to get to the stag,” you commanded.

“but, mal! he’s— he’s dying!”

you glanced behind you to see her applying pressure on his wounds. thoughts raced in your mind before settling on one solution. “i promise you he won’t so long as you follow my instructions.”

desperation evident in her eyes, alina could only nod.

“get to the stag and shield us on my count.”

you inhaled deeply. “3, 2, 1!”

alina ran for the stag and created a barrier. you dove under it before it separated you from the others. outside of it, aleksander found himself free to move. creeping closer, he called out. “you can’t save them, alina. you may have the power of light but not the power to heal.”

alina’s resolve wavered as her eyes flicker to mal. “don’t listen to him, alina! i promised you, didn’t i?” you reassured.

alina bit her lip as she kept up the barrier. you made mal float and pulled him closer to the stag. you gently set him down and reached for the stag. it groaned and flailed in protest.

“i know i’m not your chosen, but please. i must heal him and then i can heal you,” you whispered.

the stag quieted and allowed you to touch it. with one hand on the stag, you hovered the other near mal’s wound.

“i’m sorry, mal, but this is gonna hurt like hell.”

you manipulated time on his body. blood slowly returned to the wound whilst the arrow pieced itself together, ripping itself out of him afterwards. mal let out a painful howl before the wound stitches itself back together, like no arrow had been there in the first place. as he recovered, you quickly moved around to the other side of the stag.

“i see you’ve been busy,” aleksander said sharply.

rage gathered in the pit of your stomach when you shot a glare at aleksander. “and you’ve been a complete fool. after all this time, you still can’t get it through your thick skull that morozova’s amplifiers have to choose you,” you spat.

you returned your attention to the stag’s wound. you murmured an apology before you worked on it. it whined through the pain but stilled once you finished. your hands trembled as you shakily pushed yourself off the ground. the stag stirred and stood on its legs, causing alina to follow in suit. you ran your hand through its fur and whispered. “just once more, friend.”

as if it reads your mind, it knelt before alina. you looked at her, mal now standing beside her.

“you two, get on.”

alina gave you a bewildered look. you returned it with a pleading one. without protest, she and mal both mounted the stag. then, it rose, looking towards you. you leaned your forehead against its snout. “take them far from here.”

you stepped to the side and took alina’s hand. “now, i only have so much energy left to keep them here. so, ride fast.”

“what? you’re not coming with us?” alina’s jaw dropped.

you offered her a melancholic smile. “please, if i have to witness anymore of your loving gazes, i’ll become a bitter spinster,” you teased before growing serious. “alina, keep the shield up until you’ve left fjerdan territory. only make it as big as it has to be. mal, you’re going to have to make sure she doesn’t fall off.”

you let go of her hand and gave mal a nod. inching away from them, you approached the center of the field, barely covered by alina’s light. you glanced back and jerked your head, signaling them to leave. you immobilized aleksander and his men once more, allowing alina and mal to slip through and disappear into the winter night. despite your raging headache, you kept your focus until you couldn’t see the light. you collapsed, the snow cushioning your fall. your vision blurred as you heard footsteps approach you.

“we’ll find them eventually.”

you squinted at your former lover. “no, i don’t think you will, aleks.”

aleksander crouched down and whispered in your ear. “i should kill you where you lay.”

“be my guest. you are well within your rights, general kirigan,” you taunted.

he sneered. “out of respect for our past, i won’t. but, you will be my prisoner.”

“what’s new?” you asked before promptly passing out.

taglist (couldn’t tag the ones in bold): @kykymyeon @shelivesindaydreamswme @blackbirddaredevil23 @amortentiaaaa @safetyhtom @savannah-elliott @deceivedeer @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @sarcastic-and-cool @supersouthy @let-love-bleeds-red @andwhatofthelight @all-art-is-quite-useless @mixed-imagination @ashdab2611 @aria-grace-scott @multifandom-addict @aleksanderwh0r3 @p3nny4urth0ught5 @kirigansgf @evyiione @theoutsidelandhere @wizardwheezes @partiesandblurrypolaroids @pansysgirlfriend @takethee @imrann123456 @rachellovesharry

author’s babble pt.2: ohoho! can you believe they did that? now, you may be wondering why [y/n] is able to manipulate time. it has to do with spacetime being 4 dimensional and the complexity that comes with the concept of gravity. a bit wibbly wobbly timey wimey (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

continue to chapter seven? yes

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #grishaverse fanfiction #shadow and bone imagine #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan imagine #the darkling x reader #the darkling imagine #aleksander morozova x reader #boreal star

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kimnjss · 3 years

Note

OOH DRABBLES!? Can you please do one from groupie love and yn is like whining for Hobi to finish working in the studio so he puts her on his lap and fingers her or something and then she gets all tired and falls asleep

groupie love drabble. explicit. 1.5K words.

you've been here all day. not even an exaggeration, you've been here all day. it was a cute idea on paper. showing up at the studio unannounced to surprise your boyfriend, he always loved when you popped in... especially if you came with snacks. with the hopes of him saying 'fuck it' and turning in early, you bring more than just snacks.

dressed in the dress you know he loves to see you in, a pastel-colored mini that hugged the soft lines of your body nicely. hair pulled back to show off the dazzling necklace he had got for you for one anniversary or another. and then there was the kicker... two large bento boxes in hand with his name on it.

hoseok turns for no more than a few seconds, just enough time to flash you that pretty smile of his. he mouths something, but you don't catch it too focused on the lack of excitement in his features. and then he's turning back to the computer as if you're not standing there waiting for his attention.

maybe he didn't notice it was you. setting the food down on the table, you're moving to stand behind him. a single manicured finger poking into his shoulder just before you're leaning into his view. “helloooo!” nose scrunching at the sight of the large headphone covering his ear, you don't hesitate to pull it back. “baby. you didn't see me?”

all he does is nod, gently pulling the earphone from your grip to secure it back in place. he does, though, lean up to press a soft kiss to your lips – keeping the pout from fully forming. “give me a minute, princess. i'm almost done,” he smiles softly, hand reaching up to pat your head in the way that he does before he was turning his attention back to the monitor.

that was hours ago. the sun had set, and his food had gone cold. you've gone from restless to annoyed at least ten times and you were just seconds from flicking objects at the back of his head. it's bobbing along to the beat of whatever song he's making and while you loved the sight of your boyfriend doing what he loved, you can't help but roll your eyes.

“hoseokkkk!” his name dragged out through a huff as you're hopping back up. “are you done yet?” words falling on deaf ears, he doesn't even budge. you're stomping in his direction, arms crossed over his chest. “are you done yet?” you repeat, stood beside him this time and he doesn't even look!

you're reaching for his ear, but he's quicker than you, jerking his head to the side before you can touch it. oh, so now he wants to acknowledge you. it's an obvious sign to let him work, but you can't bring yourself to care. so once again, you're reaching out – this time for the wire that connects his headphones to the computer. you're tugging it before he can bat your hand away. “are you done yet?”

the angry expression on his face melts into a mildly annoyed one when his eyes land on the pout of your lips at how big and sad your eyes are. “i said one minute, baby.” he speaks much softer than he initially intended.

“you said that three hundred-fifty-three minutes ago,” that has a laugh falling from his lips, eyes shifting to the computer screen where the time is displayed. well after eleven at night and if he remembered correctly, you had come barreling in around five. now he felt bad, it had only felt like a few minutes since you got here.

he's turning his chair to face you fully, arms reaching out to wrap around your waist. easily pulling your body toward his, he's able to maneuver your body into his lap. “i'm sorry, love. i just got caught up... i'm almost done, though.” that's obviously not what you wanted to hear, because you're huffing again, moving to stand from his grip.

hoseok is quickly tightening his arms around your body, keeping you pinned to him. “just a little longer, i promise. why don't you sit in my lap while i finish?” he offers with an all too convincing smile. it doesn't take long for you to loosen up, allowing him to pull you comfortably between his legs before he's turning to face the screen again.

you stay like that for twenty minutes. his hand resting innocently on your stomach as he plays around with the track in front of him. your back is pressed into his chest, the soft breaths he lets out tickling the side of your neck. he's humming, tapping his fingers against your stomach and although you know he's still 'in the zone', it's much better than being sat on that uncomfortable couch.

it's calming, being cradled by him. the way you sink into his chest is involuntary, head resting on his shoulder just so you're able to nuzzle your face in the crook of your neck. the feeling of your soft lips against his skin is what snaps him out of his musically induced trance. you leave a trail of soft kisses, mixing in a few mind-numbing swipes of your tongue.

one hand resting on the other side of his neck, holding him in place as your mouth moves. he doesn't even have it in him to remind you that he has work to do because your mouth feels so good and he can't keep his mind from wandering to how good it feels in other places.

the hand on your stomach moves on its own accord, gliding down the front of your body until his fingers are finding the skin of your thigh. fingers gripping the flesh underneath them, eyes fluttering as you invite your teeth to the party. you're wiggling above him, ass just barely brushing against his covered cock.

that was the farthest thing from your mind, though, your real focus was spreading your legs apart for the next thing that you wanted from him. free hand reaching for his on your thigh, leading it underneath the hem of your dress until it's completely covering your mound.

“fuck,” he's groaning, fingers making quick work to nudge your panties to the side. he finds your clit instantly, the pads of his fingers rubbing slow circles into it. the breathy moans you let out fan over his ear, urging him on. toying with you until your hips are rolling into his touch, slit growing wetter with each push of his finger.

it's not until you're dripping, squirming underneath his touch does he reach down. the tips of his fingers finding your entrance and slipping in with ease. sharp teeth sinking into the skin of his neck to muffle the whine he knows you want to let out. so wet and warm around his fingers, it's a bummer it's not his dick buried inside of you instead.

this was good enough for now, though. he pushes his way past your walls until his knuckles meet your wetness. the pace he sets is slow at first, allowing you to get yourself together, but the moment you're rolling your tongue onto the fresh bite marks – he's picking up the pace.

pulling a gargled curse from your lips as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. you try, desperately, to keep up, hips rolling and bucking into his palm. “hobi-,” your hand searches for something to grip on, going from his thigh to his wrist to your breast. eyes fighting to stay open as the pleasure washes through your body.

you're panting, chanting for him to keep going, so of course, he slows down. fingers reaching deep inside of you at a much slower pace. he's finding the rough patch of skin deep inside of you, teasing it at first before full-on pressing his fingers into it. you're not truly falling apart until his fingers are reaching down to tug on your clit, in rhythm with the way he presses into your gspot.

“already?” he teases, feeling the way your walls tighten around your fingers. smiling smugly but feigning confusion as if he's not speed rolling you to the edge. “let me have a kiss, baby.” he requests and even though your brain is basically mush, you're able to pull it together enough to press your lips against his.

he licks into your mouth, sucks on your lips, swallows every last one of your whiny moans up until you're pulling back to let out a scream. fingers sped up enough to cause a ripple in your thighs and you feel the snap throughout your entire body. incoherent sentences falling from your lips as your body moves in tandem with his fingers.

although his pace gradually comes to a stop, he's not pulling his fingers out until your whines have turned to soft sighs. head heavy with no choice but to lay it on his shoulder, eyes hooded and a dopey smile on your face. hoseok is craning his neck to get a good look at your face, a grin lighting up his features. “feel good?”

you're not sure you remember how to talk, so you're simply nodding your head. a sleepy giggle leaving your lips as you move your face further into your neck. he says something else, but you can't place what it is or what it means – sleeping taking over your body.

#groupie love sm au #hoseok #jung hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok imagine #hoseok drabble #hoseok sm au #hoseok fic

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may-fanfic · 3 years

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Hiya,may I request romanoff!reader (of course lol) like she's a civilian and no one really knows apart from a few that nat even has a daughter to keep her safe. So Nat finds out that she's started dating this amazing girl she met (maybe like a book shop) so surprise surprise the day Nat visits she finds out yn has a date and the door knocks sp Nat decides to open it, not expecting Wanda to be there, both shocked as hell till its reveled wanda is the date and nat is her mum :D please and thanku x

Broken Agreements

summary: when Natasha had you, she kept you out of the public eye but one day you go out and meet someone unbeknownst to you, your mom and wanda already know each other

warning: none, correct me if I'm wrong

paring: wanda maximoff x reader, mom!nat x reader

word count: 2,062

a/n: sorry this took so long, I wasn’t home for a couple of days but I hope you enjoy 💕

((feel free to send in any request you may have 💕))

masterlist

---------

when Natasha had you, she knew that it was the best bet to keep you out of the public eye. it wasn't that she wanted to keep you locked up in the house all day but she knew there were far too many risks when it came to introducing you. it was easy for her to keep you in her sight when you were younger but the older you got, you began to crave more than just visits to Clint's house. she secretly hated that you were older now because she knew you need more and when you uttered that out to her, she couldn't stand the puppy dog eyes you were giving her. "okay fine." she rolled her eyes as you squealed, relieved that she was understanding enough.

so with that, Natasha allowed occasional outings, warning you that you had a set time to be back because she couldn't stand the idea of you being alone in the middle of the night. you were understanding of that, promising that nothing would stop you from returning home before the sunset.

---

Natasha was gone for the day, leaving just after she made you breakfast and despite promising your mom that you wouldn't leave without telling her first, you had just finished your last book. you wished that you picked an extra one-up the last time you were out because now boredom struck and you had nothing else to do. you knew you could make it back before your mom ever returned home so with that you dressed, checking the time before you went. 1:22 pm. you had more than enough time you reminded yourself with a small grin.

knowing that you weren't allowed to be out, only made it more exciting. you hardly ever broke rules when it came to your mom, not only because she was intimidating but because you respected her and you knew she always had your best interest in mind. you finally reached your favorite book shop with a certain book in mind already you moved through the small shop. you browsed for a moment, not turning up with anything more interesting than the book that you saw last time. you knew exactly where it was because you knew that store like the back of your hand so you moved to the section you could find it, grinning when you saw that there was only one left. you hardly noticed the girl beside you until you reached forward to grab the book just as she did, her hand softly brushing against yours. you shyly retrieved your hand, your gaze fixed to the floor. "sorry." you uttered out causing the girl beside you to chuckle lightly.

"it's okay," she reassured, nudging you lightly with said book causing you to look up at her, only now taking note of her breathtaking features. you could feel your heart pound in your throat as you swallowed hard, she had been smiling sweetly at you, far more relaxed than you. "here, take it." she offered but you quickly shook your head. "you can have it, I'll wait for the restock," you muttered despite, really wanting to read that exact book. she shook her head, her smile growing with every passing second.

"I couldn't," she muttered, extending her hand forward for you to take the book but when you didn't move a muscle, the girl sighed, the smile still prominent on her lips. "how about this-" she paused for a moment when she noticed that she had peeped your interest. your eyebrows rose in question waiting patiently for her proposal. "I'll give you the book if you buy me a coffee," she stated, her smile growing when your cheeks seemed to flush over. "it's only fair," she stated, shrugging lightly.

you knew your mother always warned you about strangers but your interest in the young woman had been strong and you couldn't help but wanna get to know her more so with a nod, you took the book from her hand, letting her follow you through the shop and out the door.

she uttered out her coffee order to you, smiling when you moved to go to the counter. she called out that she'd find both of your seats. you could feel your heart pound as you made your way over to the table that she settled down on, placing her mug right in front of her. she had been looking through the book, setting it aside when you came to greet her. "you're gonna like the book." she whispered causing you to nod lightly.

"I hope so, I've been meaning to buy it," you stated, her expressions had been soft as she brought the hot mug to her lips, looking over at you from over the top of it. once the awkwardness of the situation died down, the conversation seemed to flow naturally and you noticed that you were losing all of yourself in the conversation, time hadn't been a thing.

realization seemed to dawn on you when the shop owner announced that they'd be closed in less than 5 minutes and then your heart sunk and you felt the nervousness eat at your once joyful mood. "I had a really good time, wanda but I gotta go," you whispered suddenly noticing that the sunset and the street were lit up by the streetlights, there hadn't been a sign of sun anywhere. "let me take you home." she offered but you knew your mom would throw even more of a cow if she knew you gave your address to a stranger. "thank you but I'm okay." before wanda could even completely process what happened, you were gone.

you looked at your watch, reading the time only made you feel so much worse. 8:56 pm. you let out a soft sigh, rushing home as quickly as possible. you were breathing heavy and hard when you finally made it to your house, hoping that the redhead was still stuck at work.

you opened the door after catching your breath, meeting the faces of every Avenger. they had all been like uncles to you but you'd never seen them all in the same room, suited up before. it made you feel guilty, you knew you had worried them before you could even talk, Natasha rushed over to you, her fear outweighed any anger she felt because you were okay and that's the most important thing to her. "oh my god! where were you? what would you thinking?" she rambled, tugging you into a tight hug that you melted into, feeling yourself relax because she wasn't as mad as you thought.

you spoke too soon because as soon as she pulled away from the hug, you could see her relieved expression turn into pure anger because how could you leave and have her worry like that?

"what were you thinking, Y/n Romanoff?" the use of your full name made your eyes widen as you stared back at the woman who gave you life. "I wanted a book." you stated softly causing a huff to slip past her lips. "you couldn't pick up your phone? that's why you have it y/n! I called at least a hundred times!"

your gaze snapped from her eyes to the floor, finding it to be the most interesting thing right about now. "I even had to call uncle tony, steve, and bruce. you know how worried you made us?" you swallowed hard, hating the feeling of disappointment. "don't you ever do that again, you hear me?" she lectured causing you to mutter out a soft 'yes ma'am'.

"go to your room." she was done as she turned away from you, you didn't think twice before speed walking up those stairs and into your room.

it only now dawned on you that you didn't get the girl's number. the only proof of your day was the book and coffee receipt. sighing softly, you set the paper aside, taking a seat on the foot of your bed, staring down at the book in disappointment. it wasn't until you flip open the book and settled on the front page did the lecture you received from your mom seem worth it because on the paper, neat handwriting could be made out. you smiled down at it, feeling your heart skipped a beat tracing the words with your pointer finger.

I still want the book, call me when you're finished - wanda

you smiled down at the number in disbelief, determined to finish the book as quickly as possible so you could call wanda.

you read the book much faster than expected, you were eager to finish it and when you finally called wanda to tell her that she could have the book, muttering about how good you thought it was, she had been grinning madly because almost every day she waited by her phone hoping and praying that it'd ring and now she could hear your voice so clearly. she didn't hesitate to cut you off about the book and ask you on a date.

-----

as much as you enjoyed having your mom around, you were glad when she told you she'd be out that day because it gave you the chance to invite wanda over for dinner. wanda happily accepted the invite, glad that she would finally spend some alone time with you.

for the past couple of months, you’ve had occasional meet-ups at coffee shops and restaurants but Wanda always wanted more and now she had been given exactly what she wanted. she couldn't be more excited.

your excitement seemed to wear off when your mom arrived home much early than expected, questioning you about the candles and seemingly put-together dinner. your eyes flushed over, stumbling over your words when you told her you had a date and thought she'd be out much longer. she wiggled her eyebrows at you, a smirk playing on her lips. she knew that you had been involved with someone because one day after returning from a date with wanda, you had been too giddy and couldn't hold back when she asked you why you were so happy.

"I can't wait to finally meet this mystery girl." she teased, smiling at the redness in your cheeks. you knew she'd met her eventually but you were still nervous, your mom had always been a hard person to please and you wanted her to like Wanda as much as you did.

when the knock at your door sounded, your mom's eyes met yours, her grin grew even more. "I got it," she spoke, her voice filled with excitement before you could even stop her from opening the door, she had already been there, turning the doorknob with ease. you took a couple of steps forward to stand behind your mom so the girl didn't feel too bombarded.

when the door was pulled open, her smile was the first thing you saw, and then it was the flowers she held, you could feel your heart swoon but then you noticed the way her smile dropped when she looked at your mom, confusion written in her expressions. "Wanda?" Natasha uttered out as she looked over the girl intensely enough to make the girl's gaze drop to the ground. "what are you doing here?" your mother questioned as she stared blankly at the youngest Avenger. "I'm here for-"

"you know each other?" you suddenly questioned, looking between wanda and your mom. you searched their faces for an answer but turned up with nothing until your mom spoke softly. "she's been recruited." that was enough for you to know exactly what your mom meant.

Natasha couldn't be upset at Wanda, there was no way she could've ever known that you were her child and if she was honest, she was glad wanda turned up instead of an unfamiliar face. "come in, wanda." your mom's voice came out gentle and almost reassuring.

"aren't you supposed to be on lockdown?" she questioned once wanda had entered and taken her coat off, holding the roses tightly in her hands.

it finally occurred to Natasha why the witch was never around. every time they had been looking for wanda, she was with you.

"cap let me out for the day." she lied causing Natasha to raise an eyebrow at the teenager but she didn't press. "lockdown for what?" you stared up at the witch, feeling like you knew absolutely nothing about her. wanda hated the way you were looking at her. she opened her mouth to talk but was quickly cut off by your mom's soft voice.

"that's not important, babes." but it felt pretty important to you and Natasha knew you wouldn't drop it. "I'm gonna head out," she spoke softly, offering the both of you a smile. she knew you'd both have a lot to talk about and she wanted nothing to do with that.

once the door closed, you turned to wanda with a wary look on your face. "I was gonna tell you." her words had been shaky, her gaze struggled to meet yours but she still did. wanda had looked beautiful that night all dressed in a flowy red dress. "why didn't you?" you questioned, a frown taking over your lips as she breathed out a sigh.

"I didn't want to ruin things. you're the only person who's ever really seen me for who I am and I was scared you wouldn't look at me the same," she confessed and you couldn't be mad at Wanda so instead you nodded, looking at the roses that she had a tight grip on.

"are those for me?" you asked softly, her usual smile tugging at her plump lips, her cheeks turning bright pink. she extended her hand, her smile only growing when you took them, along with her hand leading her through the house and to the dining room. as you did so, wanda couldn't help but swoon. she was relieved that nothing really changed and you'd still have you at the end of the day.

she didn't know what she was worried about before, it was clear that you were different.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romonova #natalie rushman #black widow #black widow x you #black widow x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #wandavision #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #avenger #the avengers

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jiminisnotavirgin · 3 years

Text

A+

Pairing: professor!taehyung | collegestudent!reader

Genre: smut

Description: A one-on-one video call with your hot, college professor takes a surprising turn.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: inappropriate student/teacher relations, mutual masturbation, fingering, clit-stimulation, and innapropriate language.

Note: After much anticipation, I hope this is my return to the writing part of the lovely fanfic world. Here’s a little something mischievous and self-indulgent (clearly!). I started writing this when quarantine and remote-learning first began last year and I returned to it earlier this week. Let me know what you think :) I hope you enjoy A+. Love, Phoenix.

Email after email, document after document, the light from Taehyung’s laptop shines bright blue across his features. The hours go by and the sky grows darker but he remains at his desk, only taking small breaks to lighten the strain on his eyes. His chair creaks as he leans back and glances outside the window. Like most nights lately, only the stars keep him company tonight.

His courses shifted to an online-only remote format due to the need for social distancing. Despite the initial confidence he displayed to his boss and colleagues over the change, Taehyung is more unsure than ever. Frustration sneaks its way into his mind like a viper wrapped around its squirming prey. His life has turned into a turbulent sea of e-mails and complaints from upset students. What’s the best way for him to support his students? How can he assure them that their mental health is more important than any essay or assignment they’ll ever complete?

A sudden knock at the door steals his attention. Jungkook, his roommate and best friend, leans against the doorway with crossed arms. “Professor Kim,” he begins with a smirk. “Do you have a minute to speak?”

“What’s up?” asks Taehyung, ignoring his friend’s use of the name his students address him with.

“Did you see Jimin’s text? He invited us over for drinks at his apartment. Are you coming?”

“Can’t,” answers Taehyung. His computer glows in his peripheral vision. “I have—“

“Emails to write, work to do. I get it, you’re a busy man.” Jungkook shrugs. “I thought I’d ask anyway since it’s Saturday night.”

“Maybe next time.” Guilt floods Taehyung’s chest and makes it difficult to look Jungkook directly in the eye. Not only is he a shitty professor but he’s a shitty friend, too.

Jungkook finally steps inside the room, occasionally tinkering with Taehyung’s things until he reaches his desk. “Whatever. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Jungkook’s already-large doe eyes go wider. “Because all you do is sit at that damn computer all day!”

“I have to teach classes online, what do you expect?”

“It’s not healthy. You barely even leave your room to eat.”

“Who are you, the food police?”

“No, I’m your best friend,” Jungkook answers. “When was the last time you did anything fun? Or normal? You’re twenty-six, Tae, not a hundred and six.”

Taehyung sighs. “I can’t think about any of that right now. Actually, I should get back to my work...”

Jungkook takes the hint and leaves, but not without shooting a glare that makes Taehyung regret his choice of words. He can’t worry about it right now though—not when he has a call planned with you in about two minutes.

He was surprised to see an email from you in his inbox yesterday. You’re one of the students that hasn’t reached out all semester unlike most of the others in his courses. He knows just what kind of student you are: the type who floats through classes quietly but still gets high marks. You’re an older student. You fade into the background by avoiding the attention of your peers but your work stands out, therefore, you do too. He recognizes it because he was that student, too.

Taehyung opens the app for the call, expecting you to pick up after a minute or two but you answer within seconds. “Hello,” he greets you.

You tuck a stand of hair behind your ear and speak but no sound follows the movement of your mouth. He waits but nothing changes.

Taehyung clears his throat. “I think your microphone is off,” he says and types the same words into the chat box at the bottom of his screen.

You squint as you bring your face closer to the monitor. “Can you hear me now?”

He smiles. “Perfect. So, how are you doing? How’s the semester been so far?”

You shrug. “It’s been okay. I’m just trying my best, you know? What about you?”

“Pretty much the same. There’s nothing to do besides read and grade assignments.”

“I wanted to talk to you about the midterm, actually...” your voice fades out and your eyes drift away from the camera. He digs through his memory for what you wrote but his mind comes out empty-handed.

“Let me pull it up on my computer.” He searches through his saved files and documents.

“Oh, you don’t have to do all of that.” You pause for a few seconds. “It’s about my grade.”

“Let’s see... B-plus. Nice work.” When he looks away from your paper, he catches you frowning.

“Could you give me some feedback on it?” you ask.

“I left a few comments on the side,” he answers, eyes still glued to the document. He exits the window and focuses on your face once again. “I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you. You’re a lovely writer.”

“Not good enough if I can only get B-pluses,” you answer with a sigh. Taehyung sits up in his chair, surprised by your shift in tone.

Are you looking for an explanation? A justification for the grades he’s given you? “Most students would be satisfied with a B-plus in an almost graduate level course.”

“With all due respect, sir, I’m not your other students.”

His brows twitches. “Oh?”

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an arrogant jerk but I’m not used to getting anything lower than an A on my papers. The fact that I’m about to graduate and can’t hack yours is pretty... frustrating.”

He presses his lips together. “I don’t know what to tell you.” What do you want to hear? Can anything he’ll say wipe that glare off your face? It’s interesting to see you lose your cool after all this time.

You refuse to back down from the challenge. In this impromptu staring contest, your brown eyes penetrate his through the computer screen.

Taehyung decides to give in. Slightly. “One thing I will say,” he continues, “is that I’m particularly tough on my best students. If I gave you an A-plus on every essay you handed in, what would you work up to? There’s no doubt about the strength of your writing.”

Your expression changes immediately. “Oh,” is the only word that leaves your lips. The lines of anger decorating your forehead smooth out as your mouth eases into a relieved smile.

It’s in this moment that Taehyung finds himself looking at you. Truly looking at you.

There’s something about the determination in your face as you plead your case, as though nothing else in the world matters more. Your glossy, heart-shaped lips possess a reddish tint that reminds him of cherries, or rubies. Even through the pixels on the computer screen, you retain the same freshness he remembers from a few months ago, if not more now.

All this time on the computer has gone to your head, he thinks to himself. Perhaps there’s still a chance for him to catch up to Jungkook and the others.

A giggle erupts from your side of the call. “So my papers are good? And here I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“I didn’t mean to make you suffer,” he murmurs and runs a hand through the waves in his raven hair. His eyelids flutter closed as he sinks into his chair and stretches his arms. Finally, a meeting he can consider a success; a meeting where the student leaves the call less frustrated than when it began. He prepares to end the call and log off for the night.

Then he hears it.

It’s faint and quiet and quick but he hears it, as if all sounds in the world were turned off and yours was amplified. The sound echoes in his mind as though you were right there beside him: “If only you knew how you make me suffer.”

This progression of thoughts occurs in a matter of seconds. By the time he’s processed your statement, his eyes have been forced open and any chance of relaxation for the rest of the night disappears into thin air.

“What?” he asks, voice betraying the casualness he wishes to exude.

“Oh, nothing.” You blink innocently, long lashes fluttering like a pair of butterfly wings. “I just care about your opinion, Professor Kim, if you can’t tell.”

“Right...” His eyes trail to the messy display of pens and papers spread out across his desk—anything to avoid your gaze. Its intensity has multiplied a thousandfold and threatens to melt him like a popsicle in the sun. He ignores the surge of anxious heat flowing through his veins.

“I mean,” you continue, lips pursed. “Who doesn’t love hearing a little bit of praise every once in a while, right?”

Your statement hangs in the air for what feels like an eternity. His shirt suddenly squeezes his torso. His pants suffocate his thighs. The room feels like a furnace and dizzying all at once, but the tension in the air keeps him in the moment.

“What are you doing?” he finally asks.

All the blood drains from your face and your limbs freeze. You hold your hands up in the air. “I’m sorry, professor. I didn’t mean to—“

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” warns Taehyung. A new fire fuels his gaze. With his thick brows, chiseled face, and beautiful black hair to match, your professor is a flame and you’ve been dying to get burned since you first laid eyes on him.

You pull off your hoodie and toss it onto the ground behind you. With a small tug of your index finger, you adjust the spaghetti straps of your pink tank top, underneath which you wear no bra. Your nipples prick at the thin fabric that stretches with each of your breaths.

“You deserve so much more than a little bit of praise,” he murmurs, erasing any doubts over your advances towards him.

“I do?”

“Mmhmm. Especially since you’ve been such a good girl.”

This man couldn’t possibly be the same one that lectured your class all semester. Something sinful replaces the innocent, awkward mannerisms you’ve grown to know over time. No more does he hesitate with his words or actions. Instead, he leans towards the camera with his shoulders pushed back. You’re greeted by his neck and the tan slope of his chest that hides beneath the loose collar of his button-down. You want nothing more than to rip off his shirt with your bare hands. For now, you can only imagine what lies beneath.

“Good girls deserve rewards,” he says with a swipe of his tongue across his plump bottom lip, snapping you out of your daze.

“What should I do?” you ask and glance at your closed bedroom door. Fortunately, you locked it before the call started. You don’t want any intrusions from your roommate.

“You should wind down and take care of yourself. You’ve been working so hard.” His eyes dart down to your tank top. “Close your eyes and imagine it’s me worshipping your chest.”

Your eyes fall closed as your hands drift to the hem of your top. Your fingertips graze your stomach and stop when your skin begins to slope up into the mounds of your breasts. “What would you do if you were here with me right now?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d make it my mission to kiss every part of you but first, I’d focus on those beautiful breasts of yours. They’d fit in my hands perfectly.”

With your left hand, you grasp one breast and tighten your grip just the slightest bit. The squeeze forces a sigh from your lips and although your eyes are closed, Taehyung struggles to control his own breathing as he watches you begin to unfold. With the other hand, you bring two fingers to your mouth and coat them in saliva only to bring them down to your nipples which harden with each squeeze and stroke.

Taehyung swallows in anticipation. “Just like that. Keep going.”

“Wait, what about you?” you ask, voice raspy and slightly out of breath.

“What about me?”

“I’m not the only one who deserves a reward.”

“Watching you wriggle and writhe in desire is enough for me.”

You cross your arms. “Nope.”

He chuckles. “What do you suggest I do, then?”

“I want you to fuck yourself with your hand and imagine it’s my pussy squeezing the life out of you.”

Your words knock the air out of Taehyung’s lungs but he manages to recover quickly. “You may be a good girl but you’ve got a dirty mouth.”

You smirk. “What are you going to do about it?”

The sound of his metal belt buckle clinks from his end. “Touch yourself right now. Play with your clit and we’ll see if you’ve still got that nasty mouth of yours when you’re begging me to cum.”

You raise your brows. “I fully intend on cumming at least once in your presence tonight, professor, whether I have your permission or not.”

“Call me Taehyung.” He takes a moment to reflect on the current situation versus the dynamic you had only minutes ago. “Why now? Why did you initiate—”

“My grades go above all else. I didn’t want to jeopardize any of that,” you answer. “And I also waited for your sake.”

“My sake? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were doing this to secure your grades,” he muses.

“Nothing boosts my ego like getting an A-plus based solely off my hard work,” you answer. “Fucking my hot professor is for my own personal pleasure.”

You description makes it sound so typical, just another everyday thing like washing the dishes. Are you using him? Deep inside, the thought of you using him arouses him. He wants to be used by you.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, suddenly absorbed by you and the way you carefully orchestrated this interaction. How long did you think about this moment? Were you afraid of rejection?

“I know. Everyone likes me but I always want what I can’t have.” You wink. “Life’s more fun that way.”

Fun. “Enough talk. Let me see.”

“Yes, of course,” you stutter, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. You don’t mind his demands or commanding tone. In fact, you invite them.

“Slide back,” he instructs you. “I want to see everything.”

You swallow and obey immediately, rising to pull your chair further away from the camera. You take the chance to slip off your sweatpants which leaves you in nothing but your underwear and tank top. Your underwear isn’t fancy but it’s what’s below that he’s interested in.

You lower yourself onto the seat, not bothering to keep your legs pressed together. You spread your knees slowly, as if your legs were a book with pages waiting to be read.

“Good. Open up more and show me how bad you want it,” he says. The smile in his voice urges you on.

Your hand creeps along the stretchy waistband of your underwear. The material works against you, forcing your wrist against your pelvis and the area you so desperately wish to touch. You have to be patient since you seek to milk this moment for as long as possible.

Your middle finger searches for any sign of dampness and you gasp when you find a small pool already built up at your core. When you look back at the monitor to see what he’d like you to do next, you watch as he adjusts himself into a similar position to yours.

“Your turn. Take off your shirt,” you instruct.

He raises his eyebrows. A mischievous smile dawns on his face. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“So demanding. That’s what got us here in the first place,” he remarks but proceeds to unbutton his shirt.

“I’m not afraid to go out and get what I want.”

“I know, and I admire you for it,” he says. His shirt begins to crinkle as he unbuttons lower and lower until eventually, the front parts to reveal his chest. His abs are soft and his warm honey skin looks smooth. You wonder what it would it taste like.

As he rolls up his sleeves, you observe every movement of his hands. They’re large. One of the first things you noticed about him when he spoke in class and lead discussions. You always wondered what his hands would look like if they were doing something else entirely... Now, your fantasies have come to life.

You force your jaw closed but he’s already caught you staring. “Like what you see?” he asks through his low lids.

“Oh, please. As if you don’t know you’re attractive as hell.”

A low laugh emerges from the man and you smile. If only you could bottle it up and keep it. When he reaches into his pants, you follow along, taking the slick from your finger up to your clit in one smooth stroke. You hum and bite at your lips to contain your reaction.

He shakes his head. “Don’t hide it. You sound beautiful.”

Your other hand starts to wander as you go to work on your clit. From your head to your chest, you seek something to ground you as your soft bud puffs with pleasure. No longer does it hide, tucked away beneath the crevices of your lips. You grind against it using your hand and a slow swivel of your hips from left to right.

“You’re doing so good. I’m so proud of you,” coos Taehyung. “Your body was made for this. For pleasure.”

The sight of him gripping the base of his cock is almost enough to send you over. A light glaze of sweat builds on your forehead but you make no effort to wipe it. Taehyung wishes to feel the heat of your body on his. It’s probably better than anything he could ever imagine.

Perhaps now more than ever, he longs for the days before the virus took over and broke everyone apart. He misses those times so much he could cry, especially since he took them for granted. At the same time though, he thinks about the effort those close to him have made to keep in contact. Even old friends he hadn’t spoken to in years called to catch up with him. His students have stuck out the most out of anyone. One or two of them don’t even own laptops but they show up to class on time and bring their A-game. He believes he should take a note or two from them.

As he studies you, the way you squirm in delight, and the way your body responds to the ministrations of your hand, a wave of relief washes over him. If it weren’t for these circumstances, he wouldn’t have had this moment with you.

“Taehyung,” you moan, bringing him back.

The sound of you calling his name shoots heat straight to his cock. With the precum glistening at the top, he grabs his cock and works the tip using his thumb. “Fuck. Look at what you do to me,” he groans at the sensitivity.

“Please,” you take in a breath and continue, “t-tell me more.”

If praise is what you want, praise is what you’ll get. “You’re so hardworking in everything that you do. Look at you now. Touching yourself just for me.”

“Yes, yes.” You moan as your fingers settle into the one position that feels like you’ve struck gold.

“How far inside can those fingers go? I bet you can put them in real deep.”

It’s as though your hands were waiting for his approval. You slip inside your clenching, gaping hole using two fingers. They slide in easily but the initial stretch is foreign since it’s been so long.

Taehyung groans and for the first time tonight, you begin to see him lose control. His cool exterior sinks into the pleasure of his hand—and of you—leaving him a sweaty, desirable mess. His hair sticks to his forehead and his stomach clenches with each stroke of his hand. He moves slowly, trying to match the pace of your hand. You pick up speed and allow your body to move against the rhythm of your hand. Your insides feel warm and soft and slippery. You close your eyes and imagine he’s the one fingering you with those gorgeous hands of his.

The rubber band of pleasure in your stomach begins to stretch. The squelch of your pussy grows louder with each passing second.

Taehyung is well-endowed but never did you imagine his dick would expand so much in length and girth. He could spear your pussy in one fell swoop, destroying your insides and anything else that gets in his way.

“Taehyung, I’m close,” you say with a sigh. You barely have the energy to speak.

“Fuck, me too,” he adds. “I’m almost there. Cum with me.”

His hand travels from base to tip and each part of the journey is smoother than the last. He massages each vein and ripple and moves even faster when he catches a glimpse of the uneven quiver of your thighs. Heat churns in his stomach and all he can do is chase it desperately. He needs it like oxygen, to breathe in the sight of you along with the pleasure of his nether regions.

The rubber band snaps. It strikes you in waves, each crash stronger the last. You let the waves overtake you and succumb to the burst of pleasure spreading through your limbs. You pull out your hand and clench around nothing as the sensitivity forces your legs closed.

Just when you thought things were over, Taehyung makes a request: “Taste it.”

You waste no time in taking your fingers to your mouth, gliding your tongue on the pads of your fingertips, and spreading the salty fluid in your mouth. All you can focus on is the heavenly sight of Taehyung coming. Each breath he lets out comes with a moan. You swear you can feel the vibration of his low voice against your own chest. His hair covers his eyes but you know they’re closed in pleasure. He intakes one sharp breath before it finally takes him over.

He can feel nothing but release. Release of stress. Release of work. Release of anything except you. As white spurts of cum squirt from his dick in a messy stream of strings, all you can think about is the beauty of his body.

“This was fun,” you admit with a smile. “I’m glad my attempt didn’t flop.”

“No, that would’ve been a huge mistake on my part.”

As you look down, your eyelashes brush the top of your cheeks and you bite your lip in anticipation. “I know I’m graduating and all, but we should do this again sometime. If you’re interested.”

He rests his elbows on his desk and brings himself closer to the camera. With his hand holding the side of his face, he takes in the sweet sight of you. “Did you enjoy it that much?”

“Oh yes. In fact, unlike some people, I’d give you an A-plus.”

#bts #bts smut #kim taehyung #fanfic #bts au fanfic #bts au fic #bts fic #bts au #bts taehyung #bts kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #Taehyung #jiminisnotavirgin #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you

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withoneheadlight · 3 years

Note

I’m s o r r y but I made myself sad over this one so naturally I’m here to share the pain

Okay so I was thinking about the alternate timelines//realities thing and what if there’s a universe where Billy dies, and a universe where Steve dies,, and somehow they meet ~maybe in the Upside Down???~ and Steve is like 🥺 b i l l y,,, but Billy can’t deal with it??? Like, “you’re A Steve, but you’re not MY Steve”

| quick heads up!: mentions of death and mourning ahead |

Ahhhhhh, Kelly!. Bring the pain, bring the pain, we’ll deal with it together, cry together, blow our noses together! 😢😢

i’ve been having my mind full of that alt timelines/realities idea these last few days, and that’s surely the reason why that’s what I saw in your beautiful 3-sentence fic, both because a post i saw about one of the boys dying (i can’t find it now. please human who posted it, tell me if it was yours!) and bc of this marvel @edith-moonshadow (<3) wrote in one of my posts. and then you sent me this ask and wrote that fantastic piece and-- IT'S ALL BEEN VERY COSMIC AND PLANETARY ALINGTMENLY and i didn’t want to make myself sadder or make you sadder but,

I can imagine how it’d go. Both of them trapped on the upside-down. Both of them bleeding out. Sliced down as they are, right through the middle. Half a Billy and half a Steve, the wound still fresh with the part they’re missing and I imagine they could barely stand it, right at the beginning, the mere sight of that other that’s not― That’ just not. What was once love rotting into hate, into feeling trapped, doomed, to live in this cage with the constant reminder of their loss.

And Billy’d miss the way Steve used to roll his eyes at him, and the way Steve used to sigh all dramatic like ‘God, Billy Hargrove, you’re too much for me I swear’ but would then wink and pull him close and steal a kiss, voice falling low to smile a ‘Definitely way more than I deserve’ into his mouth. Would miss the way Steve used to brush his hair to the side, bite at the curve of his neck, and words, they always sounded better when Steve traced them against the shell of his ear ‘Tell me I’m your pretty boy’ he’d say and Billy would tell him, would try to catch his lips but ‘Ah-ah’ and Steve’d shake his head, brush their lips together ‘First babe, you gotta tell me how much I love you’, holding him tight and not letting him go ‘till Billy would get over the way his cheeks were blushing, and tell him. But―

This Steve. This Steve doesn’t love this Billy. Doesn’t love Billy. This Steve gets mad and yells at him when Billy’s been ‘Too fucking much, I swear! You’re too fucking much’ and it hurts, when he puts his hands on his hips and looks exactly like his Steve. And it hurts even worse, when he sets his jaw and looks wrong and like somebody else completely (And it hurts even worseworseworse, when he finally says it, what they both think. When he opens up those pretty lips Billy used to kiss, to love, those pretty lips that used to say ‘I love you’: “Of all the monsters in here, you’re the only one that gives me nightmares”).

This Steve never calls him by his name. This Steve doesn’t look him in the eye. This Steve hates him.

And weeks pass, and months pass, and they repel each other, can't stand each other but ―they can’t, either, even if none of them ever says it, bear the idea of splitting apart. And Steve’s house is not Steve’s house, but it makes do, with its walls re-painted in horrors and damp seeping through the floral wallpaper of the hallway his mama used to be so proud of. And there’s mold growing in the mattress and invisible night-terrors that bite living in the blankets and it gets cold at night. Cold and lonely and hopeless. And Steve doesn't want to and Billy doesn't want to but. They sleep together. Back to back. Touch only where they have to touch. Not to freeze (not to feel. Except they― ). Wake up together (like they used to). Steve's face buried in Billy's curls and the smell, the smell is the same. Exactly, perfectly, dishearteningly. The same. Right there, all along the tenderness at the curve of Billy’s (this. Not his. Thisthisthis. Never his) neck.

And weeks pass, and months pass, and it hurts. Every minute, every second and every tiny, tiny particle of time. Because this Billy is not Billy and Steve―

Steve’s missing a half. Steve’s an open wound and it doesn't matter how much alike they are, how much they feel (exactly, perfectly, dishearteningly) the same under Steve’s touch, because this Billy is another Steve's and he doesn't fit, and he wouldn’t ever heal, against his skin but― his blue eyes are the same and those curls of his look like they’ve forever captured the sun in the same way and his scars are gone but when the creatures hurt him and draw new ones Steve recognizes under his fingertips the familiar shapes of his back, the way Billy bleeds, the way his skin feels warmth against his palms and,

Billy.

Billy recognizes the way Steve touches him, the way he groans a "Be quiet for frikin’ once. And hold still!" but then, lower, softer, a whisper “Shhh. C’mon. Shhh. Just a second, alright? I promise I’ll be careful” and Billy does and bites down his tongue and the pain and the tears as Steve stitches the wound and Billy wants to ask him to sew his whole body, too, all along that wide wide line where it used to fit that half he’s missing, but what he says is "Would you kiss me once? Just once? So I can feel like I still have him?".

And it's the same. And it's different. And it's not Steve. But it is. Steve. And they kiss and Steve’s crying, because is thesamethesamethesame, the way Billy’s lashes are falling and Billy wants to say ‘I love you’, but he doesn't, and it becomes a lump in his throat as they kiss and kiss and kiss for hours, on that bed they’ve been sharing, that bed they’ve only been touching for survival, and when they're done, Billy wants to ask Steve to sew his lips together too. So he can’t ask him again. So he can not want to but― the nights are cold and lonely and hopeless. So they touch. And they kiss. And weeks pass. And they touch and they kiss and they fuck. And months pass. And they kiss and touch and fuck and fight. And they need each other. Want each other. Hate each other. Hate themselves. And then Steve says "I'll never love you. I'll never love you like I loved him" and Billy says "Neither I will”. And they’re both are bleeding. Been bleeding for so long. Bleeding out. And they won’t heal, a Billy-less and a Steve-less, as they are. So it spreads. The rot. And it's even worse like this, hating what there’s left of themselves. Because they don’t fit but it feels like they do, when they touch and they kiss and they fuck. When they fight.

(When it feels like love but― isn’t).

(Can’t be)

And weeks pass and months pass and neither of them says it (‘Wanna touch you again, kiss you again, fuck you again’), even though they're both thinking it and it’s been almost two and a half years. Five hundred days. Five hundred nights. Of hiding from each other, of finding each other in this endless night, when the dormant creatures start to crawl out of their nests, when the darkness is filled again with growls and howls and screeches. With danger. Vines coming back to life after their hundred years of sleep and then something’s coming something’s coming something’s coming and,

“Take all you can”

“Get the bat!”

“Run, Billy run!”

“Block the door! Block the door!”

“The head! Steve! Slam ‘m on the head!”

“Come on, come on, come on! Let’s get the shit outta here”

and then,

“The gate. Somebody must be opening the gate”

They find it.

Seven feet. That’s how far it is. That's how close they are from making it. And must be some kind of cosmic joke, so Billy laughs at it. Gives that one to the universe. Chokes on his own blood.

Steve’s blurred, less and less clear every time he blinks. Still the most beautiful thing Billy’s ever seen.

“C’mon, pretty boy” he says. Squeezes Steve's hand tighter. Just one second. It’s the end of the end of the world and Billy feels like he’s spent a whole lifetime like this. Stealing Steve Harrington in seconds. So he can steal one more. That’s always been the deal. Just a little more, a little more, since the moment he saw him “You know you hafta go”

Salt. Tears. That detail, Billy always forgets: they taste exactly like the ocean.

“Nah. I’m thinking that― they won't split us apart. Not this time”

Tears. Salt. The ocean on Steve’s lips. Taste like coming back. Coming Back home. But,

“It’s ok, pretty boy. I’m not him”

Steve shrugs. Smiles. Dots on the curve of his cheek. Eyes like the first day of fall. It’s in the curve of his lips, where Billy’s history has always been rewritten.

“But there was a me, that loved you. And there was a you, that loved me. And I guess it’s just impossible. Not to do it again so―” and words, they always sound better when Steve traces them against the shell of his ear, says,

“Can you kiss me? So I can know how it is to have you?”

And it’s the end of the end of the world.

(But,

Time Swirls. Space wraps around itself. Reality flickers. So maybe― maybe it really is. The end. But. Maybe,

There's a house. Steve’s house. And is not the same. But it’s not different, either. And there’s daylight pouring down the hallways, burning bright against that soft-gold wallpaper his mama’s always been so proud of. And the mattress is soft and warm and feels familiar. And the blankets smell like softener and old memories. Like new memories. Like us. Us.

“Tell me how much you love me”

Steve brushes Billy’s hair to the side, runs his lips all along the curve of his neck, leaves a kiss behind his ear. And it’s the same, but it’s different and Billy know it’s always, always gonna hurt. Because they’re still a Billy-less and a Steve-less but. They’re always gonna be a Billy one Steve loved, a Steve one Billy loved. They’re this Billy and this Steve.

But there’s this one thing, that’s always gonna be the same. This one thing neither of them would ever do in halves.

“I love you with all my heart,” he says, and draws Steve closer, closer, ‘till there’s barely any space left between them.

And they allow themselves to feel, where their wounds touch.

Allow themselves to love.)

#harringrove #i'm sorry #for the terribleness of this #but thank you so So much for making me feel inspired #and for being SUCH a dear <3<3<3 #i wrote this and still can't shake the all other possible ideas out of my head #the sadder and happier possibilities #ahhh #ill stop or ill just ramble essssndlessly #<3<3<3<33<#also!#@lovebillyhargorve my lof #this is a 'this billy with this steve' sorta thing?#look at what you've made to me <3<3<#edith. u there? as always. thanks for adding magic to my brain #tw: death #tw: mourning #also yep its not a trick of your mind i keep on paraphrasing my favorite oscar wild line #xharringrove

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battybatzgirl · 3 years

Text

Hey Mr. Sandman, You Missed a Spot

AO3

Summary:

It's not that Hunter doesn't ever sleep, Eda's come to realize. It was that he falls asleep sporadically, most of the time in really weird places.

Or: 5 times Eda catches Hunter taking a nap

Part 1 of the Finders Keepers Series

---

Here’s the thing about Eda: she loves naps. Eda likes to be cozy, so usually, that equated to curling up under a blanket, lazing around, and falling asleep. The Owl Beast shared that sentiment, the creature that lived within her constantly wanting to nest. Those animalistic instincts were weird, but when you lived in a house with a demon who also liked to bury himself under a pile of stuffed animals, you kind of got used to it.

Here’s the thing about Hunter: he doesn’t sleep.

The kid has been living with them for only about two weeks, officially replacing Eda as Public Enemy Numero Uno in the eyes of the Emperor. When he’d showed up on Hooty’s doorstep, all bloody and barely conscious, Eda thought it was some kind of cosmic trick. The Powers That Be had to be pulling her leg because this was the second time the leader of the Emperor’s Coven had shown up to the Owl House with nowhere else to go.

Luz had been ecstatic to welcome him in, apparently excited to finally fulfill her dreams of becoming a middle child in their weird little found family. King was less thrilled, but eventually warmed up to the idea of Hunter staying with them as long as he taught King his secrets on how to command an army.

Hunter himself even seemed unnerved at the thought of living with them. He tried to leave a few times when he was still wounded, but his little bird palisman (Rascal, she’s heard him say) effectively herded him back into the house by continuously dive-bombing him and nipping at his ears. And after Belos put out a wanted poster for the kid, making him the Isles’ number one most wanted traitor, leaving wasn’t really an option. Not if he wanted to stay alive.

So eventually, Hunter begrudgingly accepted that yeah, he lived in the Owl House now.

And alright, Eda isn’t heartless. The kid was lost, wounded, and an enemy of the Emperor. She can work with that.

Getting to know him has been a challenge, though. Hunter has a lot of weird quirks. He holds himself so seriously that Eda has a hard time remembering that he’s a teenager and not a fully grown middle-aged man. He hardly ever smiles. He’s jumpy, practically jolting out of his skin every time you walk into the same room. He’s clearly Going Through Some Shit, as Eda so eloquently calls it, remembering how Lily went through the same thing when she slowly broke free of Belos’s freaky subjugation.

But still. The kid doesn’t sleep.

Eda first notices it around day four of his residence. She’s up early to go to the market, stepping into the living room and nearly transforming into her Harpy Form out of pure shock when she sees a figure messing with her bookshelf in the back of the room. Wide maroon eyes lock on hers from across the room and she feels the feathers that sprung to her skin recede.

“Titan, kid,” she breaths, “You nearly killed me. What are you doing up? It’s Saturday, you should be sleeping in.”

“Um…I did sleep in,” Hunter responds, as if it’s obvious.

Eda feels a frown tug at her lips, “The sun isn’t even up yet.”

The kid just shrugs a little lamely, and Eda feels a twinge of concern in her chest. (And ugh, feeling concerned for a guy who dangled you over the Boiling Sea is certainly weird.) If this was sleeping in for him, he couldn’t have rested more than five hours.

She steps closer, taking a second look at what he’s doing. Half the books are spread out on the floor, the other half stacked neatly back on the shelves in some kind of order.

He notices her looking, “I, uh, took the liberty of reorganizing your bookshelf. Or organizing it, since it didn’t really seem to have a system.” The kid ducks his head, the tips of his ears flushing pink. “I- I can put it back the way it was if you want, or organize them in a different way.”

That’s another thing about Hunter: he always has to be doing something. Being useful. Without direction, he crumples. It was always, What do you want me to do now, Miss Clawthorne this and I completed this task, Miss Clawthorne, what’s next that. His brain operated on a transactional level—I do this thing for you, you do this thing for me. And since Eda was housing him, he felt like he had to constantly be doing things for her. Constantly proving himself worthy to be here, repaying her. Hunter couldn’t seem to wrap his head around that she didn’t want him to do anything except stay comfortable.

Eda has thought up a hundred different little tasks for him to do in just his first four days. She’s running out of odd jobs to give him, and if she has to keep telling him what to do she’s going to start pulling out her hair.

“You’re fine, kid,” she says. “Keep doin’ what you’re doin’ if it makes ya happy. But you shouldn’t be up this early. You should at least take a nap later.”

Hunter tilts his head. “But that wouldn’t be accomplishing anything.”

“You don’t hafta be working all the time,” Eda stresses. “It’s okay to sit around and just exist once and a while. Actually, I think that should be your priority. Take a nap, relax, go cloud watching, take a walk—any or all of the above.”

“That sounds like doing nothing.”

“That’s because it is doing nothing.”

His face hardens, taking on that soldier-like seriousness that encompasses his entire demeanor. “Being lazy can’t be a priority.”

“Don’t think of it like that, then,” Eda almost snaps, wishing for a nice hot mug of apple blood. It was too damn early to deal with the repercussions of Belos’s all-work-no-play mindset. “Think of it as acting your age. Did you ever get to take naps as a kid in the Emperor’s Coven? Is relaxing just a foreign concept to you?”

He doesn’t answer, staring at her with those bagged eyes and guarded expression, and Eda throws up her hands in defeat.

She leaves then, her patience running too thin to continue arguing with him. She doubts he’ll actually go back to sleep. He probably goes back to doing whatever he was doing with that bookshelf. Eda makes a mental note to tell King to knock all the books off, just so Hunter can reorganize it later. Just for something for him to keep him occupied.

Eda doesn’t even notice the first time it happens. It was one of Luz’s friends, Gus, who pointed it out.

The kids were gathered at her home after school, spread out on the floor of the living room along with various pillows and blankets. Luz found some card game she knew buried somewhere in the piles of human trash Eda has laying around, and the girl has been spending the better part of an hour trying to explain how it works.

“So the Wild Card doesn’t make you turn into a wild animal?” Willow questions, holding up a black card with looks like a colorful pie chart on it.

“Nope!” Luz says cheerfully. “It just becomes any color you want it to be to go with the rest of your hand.”

“But the card doesn’t actually change color?” Amity asks.

“No, it only represents the color,” Luz clarifies, and Eda has to admit, her girl has a ton of patience. She’s been quietly watching from her place on the couch, half-listening to their conversation, half-reading the Isles’ latest edition of You Gossipy Witch, a tabloid where a writer is speculating about her true form. Apparently, some people think she was raised by feral, wild owls on some far away barrier island, and has come to reside in Bonesborough just because she ran out of mutant rats to eat.

Weird.

But entertaining!

Gus holds up one of his cards, “So are blank cards bad, or—"

King jumps over his shoulder, landing on the deck of cards in the middle of their little circle and making them fly everywhere. “I have taken dominion over ALL YOUR CARDS. All of you must grovel for a taste of my wealth!”

“Actually, the point of the game is to get rid of all your cards,” Luz reminds him gently. “That way, when you get down to one card, you shout Uno! And you win! If no one else makes you draw anymore, that is.”

King deflates a little, apparently put off by the idea of less is more. “Oh.” Luz smiles and pats him on the head, and he brightens up. “Okay, let’s play, because I wanna make all of you draw as many cards as possible! You'll drown in your cards! Choke on them, even!”

As they start gathering up the cards that King threw everywhere, Gus lets out a little gasp. “You guys—is Hunter asleep?”

That immediately draws Eda’s attention away from the magazine. Her eyes flicker to the blond witch, laying on his stomach just on the edge of their group. He was still having a hard time socializing, especially with Amity, but Luz was determined to include him in all friendship activities. She said wanted to teach him how to be a kid, and hell, if anyone could knock some seriousness out of that boy it would be Luz.

Hunter is indeed asleep—his face is mushed into the forearms pillowed under his head, and his red palisman has weaseled its way to nestle in between the crook of his elbow. His breath comes out in soft little sighs, and Eda feels something in her melt.

“Awwww, he looks so peaceful,” Luz croons, mushing her palms against her cheeks. Amity’s already scooched past her, snapping photos on her scroll. Eda can’t blame her. She knows a good blackmail opportunity when she sees one.

Eda’s off the couch and catches King mid-pounce. “Whoa there, none of that buddy.”

“But Edaaaa,” the demon whines, his little arms and legs flailing in mid-air. “I have to conquer him when he least expects it!”

“Ehhh, let the kid sleep. Save your conquests for when he’s awake and can put up a fight.” Eda sets him down in his place in the circle, and the kids all glance at each other before turning back to the cards.

She notices that they’re more mindful to keep their tones softer, probably to not disturb the sleeping boy. And when Hunter wakes himself up about half an hour later, they don’t mention it, seamlessly integrating him back into their game.

The second time it happens, Raine is walking Eda home. It’s early in the evening, and the pair just got done with a fabulous date—a picnic with apple blood and sweet (and stolen) baked goods? Titan, take Eda now, she’s found her perfect match.

She’s still riding that high, not noticing Raine stopping until they tug on their clasped hands. “Hey, who’s that? Is he okay?”

Eda follows where they’re pointing their finger. It’s Hunter, slumped against the base of an oak tree, fast asleep. His chin is tipped forward and a book open on his chest, and even more strangely, there’s a small pile of leaves on his lap.

“Oh, that’s just my—” Eda stops herself, the word catching in her throat. Hunter was a child in her care, yes, but he wasn’t quite her kid. Not like Luz or King. The blond witch was still too jumpy, baring his teeth and snarling at anything that tried to get close to him.

He calls her Miss Clawthorne, for Titan’s sake.

“—Hunter,” Eda finishes lamely.

Raine raises an eyebrow. “Your Hunter?”

“He’s uhhh, one of Luz’s friends who just so happens to be living with us. Not a big thing.”

Raine shoots her a deadpan look but strides forward anyway, kneeling next to the sleeping blond. They keep their voice to a low murmur, “Should we wake him? That can’t be comfortable for his neck. He’ll probably be sore later.”

“Eh, let him rest. This is more sleep than he usually gets.” Eda steps closer, kneeling down on his other side. It’s the side that has his scar, the slightly raised red tissue standing out even more so than usual now that he wasn’t constantly moving. She’s almost asked him how he got it, but he’s clearly sensitive about the subject. She’s seen the similar marks on his arms, and something tells her there are a whole lot more scars that he’s hiding.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who gave them to him.

Still, it’s hard to ignore just how young he looks. When he’s stripped of all of his snappy comebacks, quick defenses, and that guarded demeanor Belos forced onto him, he’s reduced to exactly what he should be:

A kid.

“Oh!” Raine startles in surprise. Eda looks up to see the cardinal palisman fluttering down from above them, carrying a few leaves in its beak. It hops down onto Hunter’s lap and deposits the leaves in the little growing pile on his leg.

A smile worms its way onto Eda’s face. She runs a finger across the little bird’s head, “Trying to keep him warm, huh?” The bird lets out a trilling note of confirmation. She lets the bird be, turning back to Raine, “I think Rascal’s got this covered. If he hasn’t come in before nightfall I’ll come out and get ‘em.”

The bard casts one last glance down at the sleeping boy before they stand. “Y’know, he kind of reminds me of someone.”

“Oh yeah?” Eda weaves her arm through Raine’s as the pair reassumes their walk.

“Yeah,” Raine hums. “He kind of has the same build as someone I met when I was held hostage in the Emperor’s palace. The Golden Guard. Did you hear that he ran away from the palace? There've been rumors that the Emperor himself is tearing apart the Right Arm looking for him.”

“Uh, about that...”

Raine stops, turning to look at her square in the face. Eda gives them a sheepish, toothy grin.

“Oh my god,” Raine says. “You adopted the Golden Guard?”

“Hey now, adopted is a very strong word—”

The bard cuts her off with a delighted laugh. “How am I not surprised?” Eda feels heat rise to her face, but can’t help but return Raine’s infectious smile. “Only you, Eda. Only you.”

The third time it happens, Eda’s passing through the upstairs hallway, intent on curling up into her nest for an afternoon nap of her own. She hears a shuffling noise as she passes by the glorified storage closet that they gave Hunter as a room, and can’t resist a peek inside.

What she finds is definitely…not what she was expecting. Hunter is laying flat on his back on the floor, his feet elevated on the little cot they’d given him. Yeesh, that couldn’t be comfortable. Soft snores woosh past his open lips, his face turned toward a crystal ball that’s playing some cartoon he must have been watching before he fell asleep.

His body is nearly covered in stuffed animals.

“King,” Eda hisses. The horned perpetrator is in the middle of dumping his entire army onto the blond witch’s chest, pinning down his arms with plushies. “What did I tell you about burying people alive?”

The demon pauses from where he’s been slowly arranging his army over Hunter’s sleeping form. “He’s got plenty of room to breathe! I didn’t cover his face,” King protests. “Can’t subjugate someone who’s dead.”

“No subjugating—” your brother, she almost says, “—Hunter.”

King squints at her, but then grumbles and starts slowly taking the stuffed animals off the boy’s body. Crisis averted, Eda slips back out into the hall, mind swirling. That was the second time she’d almost referred to Hunter as hers in passing. The feeling is too raw to speak out loud yet, but there’s a growing warmth in her as she watches Hunter acclimate to his surroundings in the Owl House. With every day that goes by, he’s more comfortable around her, around Luz and King and Hooty, and he’s starting to come out of his shell. He’s growing softer, less quick to snarl, becoming more Hunter and less Golden Guard.

Unconsciously, Eda’s started viewing him as part of their little family. Two weeks ago, that thought would have made her uncomfortable. Now, she welcomes it with open arms.

Ugh, she’s getting so soft.

The fourth time it happens is when Eda’s flying home from visiting Lilith. She’s only been gone for the day, and is hoping that leaving Luz in charge hasn’t led to any freak fires, the resurrection of the dead, or other various natural disasters. Unfortunately, even her most responsible kid is pretty reckless, so Eda’s expectations are set pretty low.

It’s probably sometime around 2 a.m. when she makes it home sweet home. She swoops in close, intent on landing on the front door but stilling mid-air when she sees something on the roof of the tower. Even from up here, it’s not hard to distinguish the form of a looming body.

Eda’s heart leaps into her throat and she takes Owlbert down into a dive. Her body is tense when she lands, her staff already aimed toward the person lurking by the edge of the roof. “Alright listen bucko, you better step back or—wait.” She sees what looks like a lump of feathers sitting on top of the person’s head, and Eda squints in the darkness. She quickly pulls out a light glyph, sending the tiny ball of sun forward.

“Hunter?!” Eda’s tense posture relaxes. The kid doesn’t answer, and it takes her a beat to figure out why. He’s dead asleep, slumped precariously over the telescope they use for stargazing. Eda has no idea how he’s even standing at all. Kid probably had a ton of practice of falling asleep on his feet during long, boring meetings with the Emperor.

“Wakey, wakey.” She places her hand on his shoulder, gently, but he wakes up with a full-body jerk, startling the palisman on top of his head. The cardinal chirps once in irritation, fluttering to rest on Eda’s shoulder instead.

Hunter’s eyes are wild for a moment until he seems to register where he is and who he’s with. He relaxes then, letting out a yawn so huge it would put any lion to shame. “…Eda?”

“The one and only,” Eda says, ignoring how her heart squeezes at the kid finally calling her by her name. “Wanna tell me why you’re up here in the middle of the night?”

“Waitin’ for you,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. His eyelids drop and he sways dangerously on his feet. “Wanted to… t’make sure y’got home safe.”

The warmth in her chest expands and eclipses her entire body in that fuzzy feeling she gets whenever one of her kids does something particularly adorable. Thank Titan it’s dark and Hunter is too out of it to notice the smile that spreads across her face. If he was fully awake, Eda gets the feeling that A) he probably never would have admitted that he was worried about her, and B) would have snapped at her for smiling at him like that. “Well, I’m home now, so let’s get you to bed before you topple over.”

Eda wraps her arm around his waist and nudges him along, practically carrying him back downstairs, their palismen following close behind. She doesn’t mind. Someone had to make sure he didn’t fall off the roof.

“Night, kid,” she says, tucking him under the blankets on his cot. Hunter doesn’t respond, already having slipped back into unconsciousness. And if she brushes his bangs tenderly out of his face, no one ever has to be the wiser.

The fifth time it happens, Eda’s gotten used to it. It's not that Hunter doesn’t sleep, she’s come to realize. He just falls asleep in weird places. Why, she has no idea, but honestly, the kid looked so tired all the time, she wasn’t going to question it. They had bigger things to worry about.

The Day of Unity is just around the corner, and Belos has become more irritating than ever.

Eda hadn’t even thought that was possible for him, but apparently, it was. The scouts around Bonesborough have tripled, their captains leading more and more raids, butting into shops to check everyone’s papers, and invading random districts.

Oddly, Belos’s priorities seem to have shifted. He’s still sending out grunts to round up any wild witches, but the guards have been playing a weird sort of hide-and-seek, going beyond just patrolling the marketplaces to actually tearing into people’s homes. From what she’s heard, the guards never take anything, just searching the place top-to-bottom before leaving empty-handed and moving on to the next house.

Belos was looking for something.

And unfortunately, Eda’s got a pretty good idea of what he’s after.

Said thing just so happens to be slumped across from her at the kitchen table, dead to the world. It’s late into the night, and most of the kids have already gone to sleep. Too on edge to lie down, Eda’s been keeping herself busy by concocting more potions while the late-night news plays on her crystal ball in the background.

Hunter, striving to be helpful, volunteered to stay up and help.

It wasn’t long before the kid slowly started to nod off, face supported by his palm as his eyelids started to droop. He’d been in the middle of mixing two ingredients—highly flammable ingredients, mind you—and Eda plucked the vials out of his lax grip just in time. Honestly, it was a miracle the kid never killed himself in the Emperor’s Coven with how randomly he falls asleep.

He probably never got the chance to sleep at all, a voice reminds her. She remembers how dead-exhausted Lily was during her first few days at the Owl House. It was probably safe to assume that the Emperor had a habit of running the head of his Coven into the ground.

Hunter has been picking up on Belos’s tightening grip, too. He’s been getting quieter, more reserved. He’s come to the same conclusion that Eda has: the Emperor was tearing apart the whole of the Isles to get him back.

Why, though, is anyone’s guess. Hunter has long since explained that his uncle always said that the Titan had big plans for him, and it probably has something to do with the Day of Unity, but beyond that, the Emperor had always kept him in the dark. Luz has a crazy theory involving clones and blood magic, but that sounds like it’s a plot point straight out of one of her Azura books. King thinks Belos wants his artificial staff back, and Hooty predicts the Emperor is just sad because all his Coven leaders are leaving him to join Hooty’s superior best friends club.

Whatever the reason, Eda’s made it pretty clear that she’s not gonna bend to Belos’s intimidation tactics and turn him over. That smarmy gold jerk could set the whole Isles on fire and Eda still wouldn’t hand him over. Hunter’s part of the Bad Girl’s Coven now, and Belos can just suck it. And she’s not afraid to say that to his stupid face, either.

So when the cauldron at the end of the table that holds the scrying potion suddenly begins bubbling on its own, Eda may very well get her chance.

She’s up on her feet in an instant, dashing to the other end of the table just as the steam rising off the potion begins to warp into a familiar figure.

“Edalyn,” Belos greets, his voice sharp like a dagger. “I do hope I’m not interrupting your evening, but I needed a word with you.”

Ugh, scrying potions weren’t supposed to work both ways! Belos was too damn powerful. He could probably peer into their lives as much as they could peer into his.

“Sorry, but now’s a bad time,” Eda shoots back. “Why don’t you hang up and call back literally never?”

“It’s come to my attention that you have something of mine,” the masked man continues smoothly as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’d ever so appreciate it if you gave it back.”

Eda’s lip curls back, feeling the itch of feathers poking out of her joints. She wants to shift into her harpy form and leap through the potion to claw out his eyes. “Sorry, Belos,” she says, dripping smug bravado, “We wild witches operate solely under the laws of finders keepers. Your kid? Mine now.”

Eda expects that the Emperor would very much like to vaporize her. “Make your threats wisely, Owl Lady. You have no idea what you’re up against. Everything will be easier for you and your little friends if you just hand the boy back over to me.”

“Fat chance.” Eda throws back her shoulders and shoots him a sharp grin. “Sounds to me like you’re threatening one of my kids, and we weirdos stick together. Going after one of us is basically asking for all of us to bring you down. Remember how well that went last time? How my human cracked your mask and publicly humiliated you during your big let’s-turn-Eda-to-stone ceremony?”

The Emperor looks as though he has some choice words to say, but Eda doesn’t care. Hunter is her kid now. She glowers at him through that mist, voice lowering in with deadly promise. “You’ll have to drag him back to your Coven over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged,” sneers Belos.

“Try me, antler boy.” Then Eda whacks the cauldron and sends it tipping over the edge of the table. The connection is immediately severed as the potion goes splattering over the hardwood, and the resounding CLANG of the bowl makes Hunter shoot violently out of sleep.

“Huh?! Whassit—Eda? What happened? Are you alright?”

“Fine, kid,” she says, swallowing down the rage that’s still bubbling hot in her throat. “’S alright, just got a little clumsy and knocked over a cauldron. Sorry for waking you.”

“Sorry for falling asleep,” Hunter responds. He grabs a towel and hurries to clean up the oozing purple goo.

Eda waves him off, “Eh, I don’t mind. You kids need your rest. Growing bodies and all that.”

Hunter still hesitates, looking at her for a beat too long as if double-checking to make sure she wasn’t really upset. Eda holds back a sigh, a twinge of pity flickering through her that he’d even have to look at her like that in the first place. All the damage from Belos couldn’t be wrapped up in a month, she supposed.

She snatches up the cauldron, still dripping with the ruined potion. Peachy. She’ll have to call Lilith to get her scrying potion recipe. Though maybe not having this in the house was a good idea. Eda doesn’t want to risk His Royal Highness dropping in on any more unexpected house calls.

“Eda?”

She looks up at Hunter. The kid chewing on his bottom lip, wringing the half-soiled towel between scarred hands.

“I just…I wanted to say thank you,” Hunter says shyly. “I know having me here hasn’t exactly been easy—not only because of the fugitive thing, but because I’m…” He flounders for a moment, and Eda can only pretend to know what’s going through his mind right now. “…me,” he finishes finally. “You’ve been so kind and patient with me, it’s so much more than I deserve, and no matter what happens next—”

“Hey, no.” Eda cuts him off with a swift and gentle beratement. She sets the cauldron on the table and crowds closer to him, curling one hand around his cheek. The kid automatically leans into the touch, and Eda can’t help but wonder how Belos could have ever hurt a child who was as sweet as this one.

“You may be one bratty little shit, but you’re my bratty little shit. And Mama says you deserve all the smothering that comes with being a child of the Owl Lady.”

Then, to prove her point, she swoops down and quickly places feather-light kisses on the tip of his nose, forehead, and his scar, until Hunter squawks and shoves her away. He’s practically glowing, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Gross,” he snaps, rubbing furiously at his face. “I’m never helping you with your potions ever again.”

“I’ll accept your terms. Now get upstairs, it’s way past your bedtime.”

“I don’t have a bedtime, I’m not a baby.” Hunter sticks out his tongue but obeys, slipping out of the kitchen and disappearing into the rest of the house. Eda shakes her head as she watches him go.

Kids. What could ya do with ‘em?

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mochiimiiki · 3 years

Text

| Act one: Possibility |

[Xiao x F!reader]

[Pyro vision reader]

Summary: Feelings are something of a concept, humans determine their meaning and everyone else simply accepts. But what if he has no concept of emotions and you’re in denial? What becomes of it then?

Warnings: spoilers for xiao’s story, angst, violence, blood, slow burn

A/N: first time writing a proper fic sooo be nice! also italics are being used for past events!!

Masterlist

- - - - - -

Your encounter was an accident. A mistake, a flaw in the matrix. However, It was a memory you held onto even after all of those years. Staring across Dihua Marsh, your mind couldn’t help but wonder, wonder all the way back to the vigilant yaksha. Whom refused to converse his name. His real name.

It was in the depths of night where the demons lurked, and as an adventurer you often encountered such mutated creatures. It was not your duty to defend the land nor protect the innocent from the midnight stalkers. Yet, you felt obligated to. Perhaps it was a form of misconception or the chivalry in which your father had brought you up with. Nevertheless, you found yourself stalking a possessed abyss mage. In hopes of vanquishing it before the mutant could perform damage upon any civillians.

The moon guided you, luring you to where the beast crept. Through squinted eyes, you could just about see a sleeping village a few hundred metres from where you stood. Determination pumped through your veins, urging you onwards with a singular goal; vanquish your opponent.

In the brief moments that you were distracted the target had vanished. Frantically, you begun searching. ‘Where’d it go...?’ You breathed to yourself. Fear creeping along your spine and infecting your mind.

Suddenly, a cryo shot sent you flying back into a rock. Your back hit it with a thud and the wind was knocked from you. Dazed it took you a moment to adjust your senses. As your vision became focused you quickly rolled out of the way as another cryo shot narrowly missed you. Reaching for your bow you aimed at the abyss mage.

You scoffed. A cryo abyss mage? The fight would be over in no time. Your bow charged quickly and you launched your attack. You jumped with glee, You’d hit the shield directly in a patch you’d grown accustomed to know as a weak spot. However, as the steam cleared from the melt combination you realised you’d done little to no damage. The unsettling anxiety seeped it’s way into your heart once more. “I-Impossible!” You declared, to no one in particular. “I hit you!” The abyss mage let out a low chuckle. It’s sonar voice vibrating off of the trees and rocks that littered your midnight hunt. However, you realised something was off with this mage. Not only was it’s voice an octave lower but a strange black mist eminated from its being. Was it possible this was the kind of creature your father had warned you about...?

Before you got a chance to react the abyss mage launched you backwards once more. This time you landed in the soggy pits of the marsh. You blindly fumbled with your bow attempting to ignite it with your pyro element. However, the dampness of both yourself and the weapon caused evaporate. You silently cursed. No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening not now, not when you were so close. Repeatedly you tried again. Only looking up as you heard the familiar chuckle of your enemy.

Squeezing your eyes shut you begged Rex Lapis to not let your life end so soon. You had so much to learn! So many places to be and you still had to find the truth of...

You thoughts came to an abrupt end.

Suddenly, a gush of wind sped past your face, in turn your eyes shot open. It was just in time too, as you witnessed your saviour.

In the moonlight his hair appeared dark grey and his clothings multiple shades of silver however, black and turquoise mist eminated off of his being. Your eyes widened in shock as one blast of his power shattered the cryo abyss mage’s shield. “EVIL CONQUERING!” He cried throwing it back into the same rock it had once thrown you into.

Pulling enough energy from your damaged body you limped over to your saviour. “You saved me!” Exclaiming in delight. “How did you... no I should be thanking you! Thank-” Yet, before you could continue your praise a final blast of cryo hit you from the dying mage. Falling to the ground you felt your senses dim. Blurry vision caught sight of your masked hero finishing off the job only to finally pass out. A deep, charcoal black enveloping you in an everlasting grip.

- - -

Upon awakening you had found yourself placed in a bed in a familiar building. One you had only viewed on the outside: Wangshu Inn. Clambering out of the comfort of the bed you stumbled to the doorway.

A violet sky was clear from the room in which you occupied. Dim stars twinkled as a rouge sun dawned. You stumbled over to the balcony, confusion clouding your thoughts and erroding the pain.

You collapsed onto the railing of the balcony, thanking the red painted wood for the sturdiness it granted. You glanced out across Dihua Marsh. It’s landscape accentuated by the red light from the dawning sun, her face glowing brightly and guiding adventurers and monsters alike into the unknown.

“What are you doing?” A low voice growled behind you. Instantly you jumped from the disturbance to the peace, immediately after regretting it as a sharp pain jolted through your side. Glancing down your eyes settled upon a bandage wrapped around your waist. You realised the only material shielding you against the harshness of the cool autumn morn was the bandages that started at your chest and ending at your waist. Instantaneously a flush crept over your face and along your neck. “Y-You did this? Pervert!” You shouted, a finger pointing accusingly.

For a moment the boy appeared taken aback before scoffing. “First of all.” He growled taking a menacing step towards you. “I didn’t do that.” He glanced down, taking another step. “Second I saved your life, so even if I had you should have been grateful.” Another step. “And last of all, it was the Inn keeper who helped you. You can thank her later.” He was inches away from you, his brows furrowed in irritation and it was clear your comment had irked him.

You swallowed thickly and uncomfortably. You pushed against his chest, attempting to create distance between himself and you. However, he remained rooted in place. Whether, or not he intended to intimidate you or was simply setting straight facts you were unsure of.

Eventually, he acknowledged your efforts and with a grunt stepped backwards. You tried to steady your thoughts, and clear your mind. Up until now you’d been thinking irrationally and it had ended with you in a critical state.

You opened your mouth to speak once more when with a dismissal of his hand the man spoke first, “Unfortunately, there are other matters that require my assistance. If you’ll excuse me.” Though he seemingly asked for his departure you knew that it was more of a statement than a request. “W-wait!” you cried suddenly, grasping his wrist as he leaped onto the railing of the Wangshu inn.

The man stared puzzlingly at your hand, almost in a way that suggested he’d never been touched by a mortal before. “I didn’t ask your name.”

“I go by many names.” The figure retorted bluntly, an action that caused your hand to retract and your face to drop. With a sigh he spoke once more, his tone etched with a little less aggression. “However, you may call me vigilant Yaksha Xiao. Or for short Xiao. Should you ever need my help, or cannot face killing a monster call my name. I will aid you.”

With that he vanished before your eyes. Taking on the form of shadows and fleeing into the Abyss.

- - -

Staring across the Marsh now it appeared so different. Not only had it been two years since your return to Liyue but it was also daytime upon your arrival, a splintering summer sun sparkled brightly amongst the leaping clouds. It suddenly occurred to you amongst your reminiscing that you had never gazed upon the marsh in the daylight. To bestow it the title of breath taking was an understatement, to simply put it, it was exquisite. How the summer rays of light bounced across the murky waters of the marsh and that they illuminated the once gloomy surroundings. It was a sight to behold, it was beyond enchanting as it bewitched its onlookers and lured them to an untimely death.

“Ma’am?” A voice called for you, intruding your thoughts. She gave you a gentle smile, one you knew was plastered on to appease customers. “Your room is ready madam.” She spoke so softly that had you been immersed in a conversation with another you may not have heard her. You exchanged a polite nod as she led you up the stairs of the Wangshu Inn.

Despite your absence from Liyue for two years the Inn had not particularly changed. It was still lined in the same ruby red railings albeit faded to a salmon blush. And it had the same wooden floors, that creaked and squeaked ever so slightly under foot.

“Here is your room, I hope you enjoy your stay.” Quietly excused the girl as she departed. Leaving you standing alone in the doorway to a room too large to fit a single person.

Hauling in your luggage you flopped down onto the bed. The scent of Fresh linen tickled your nostrils, a particularly summery smell.

As the night progressed you had departed from your room and explored a little more of the grounds belonging to the Wangshu Inn. Fully satisfied with your miniature expedition you retired to the cafe and settled in for a long night.

- - -

The evening wore on tranquility reflected in the expressionless faces of the Inn stayers and keepers alike. As the café grew quieter you had taken it upon yourself to mark out your journey on your map. Small red exes marked the spots of your previous journeys, and although you wanted to pursue the land of the unmarked you had unfinished business to complete in Liyue harbour. Tapping your pencil on the page as you pondered your next move a shout caught your attention. Your quiet night had come to an abrupt end when a face you believed you’d never set your eyes on again appeared before you.

It was the dead of night. The only two souls that remained in the lobby of the Inn were you and the owner’s wife. When suddenly, a third party joined.

In stumbled an extremely battered and bruised man. His hair was knotted in scruffs and a deep gash seeped into the skin in his chest. With a startled cry the woman behind the reception desk ran to his side.

You stared in horror into the cat like eyes of this man. A flash of a familiarity flickered in them, in a brief possibility that he recognised you a bubbling emotion of hope fluttered in your stomach. However, the feeling was all but short lived as his eyes fluttered closed and he collapsed, toppling to the floor. Completely unconscious.

#genshin impact #genshin diluc #genshin kaeya #genshin traveler #genshin xiao #genshin zhongli #design #genshin childe #genshin impact xiao #anime #xiao headcanons #xiao x reader #xiao imagines #xiaolumi #xiaoven #zhongli headcanons

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