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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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Anakin and the Jedi Babies: A Child's Ink

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

WARNINGS: underage characters get tattoos/piercings

Word Count: 5680 Rating: T Ships: primarily Gen (Disaster Lineage + Shmi), offscreen JangoShmi, past Obitine, past Anidala ----

Ylliben Skywalker is known as a preternaturally calm and quiet child, serious and pensive.

He jokes. He roughhouses. He is as responsive to tickle attacks and shoulder rides and warm hugs as any other child.

But he is Jetii'Manda, not just Mando'ade, and that fact is impossible to forget.

This is a child that can read before he can speak, a child who can talk at length about 'grassroots antiestablishment propaganda and its influence on rural sociological development' before he can say the words without a lisp. This is a child who looks a man in the eye and tells him to check over his blaster one last time, or it will explode in his hand only minutes into the next engagement. This is a child who is not only willing, but capable of discussing the plausible ramifications of Duke Adonai Kryze's latest decrees with Jaster Mereel himself, while still in possession of all his baby teeth.

(His father is not worried by this. Upset, sometimes, pained and tired, but not worried.)

(His sister only laughs.)

It is, as a result, not as surprising as it could be, when a six-year-old wanders his way into Na-Tsuyon's parlor and asks her what the risks of getting a tattoo at his age are.

"I'm not having that conversation with you unless your parent is here," she says. A few of the other artists crane their heads in her direction, but she waves them off.

"I'm not trying to get it right this moment," Ben protests. "I'm just gathering information. He said that was fine."

"Still need your parent here here," she tells him.

He leaves for about ten minutes, and then comes back with a tall, gangling figure in tow.

"I hear this isn't the place for unaccompanied minors," Knight Skywalker jokes.

(She has heard him called a General. She does not know which war he fought. Nobody does.)

(They no longer ask.)

"Well, he is young," she says, brushing her tentacles back over a shoulder. "I don't let anyone under human-fourteen get tattooed without a parent on hand, and giving preliminary information to anyone under twelve is... generally not worth it, shall we say."

Skywalker smiles, oddly amused in the way he always is when someone points out his children need supervision. "Glad to hear it. Are you the Na-Tsuyon whose name is on the door?"

"I am," she says. "And you're Knight Skywalker."

He's pleased at that. She can feel it in the chemical receptors of her head tails, and wonders. "Yep. So, do we jump right into the discussion or do you need me to sign something, or..."

"No, it's enough that you're here," she assures him. "Now, the main reasons we discourage tattoos for younger sentients is the distortion factor. While the level of pain is much lower than it would have been several millennia ago, and we have the technology to remove ink from below the skin, a tattoo before your body stops growing will distort as you grow and your skin stretches. You would need to come in yearly for touch-ups, to remove the sections that have moved out of place, and fill in where the ink is no longer settled."

"That makes sense," Ylliben says. He looks up at his father, and then back to her. "You'd be able to tell me if any of my choices would be... bad for a Mandalorian, yes?"

"I would," she confirms. She glances up at Knight Skywalker. "I don't suppose you have any history of getting tattoos?"

"No," he says. "I'm from Tatooine, so..."

Different connotations to the very act of it, for him.

She ducks her head in a nod. "I understand. Generally it's easier if the parent has experience in the process, but it's far from mandatory. You're willing to work with the distortion maintenance?"

"Yes'm," Ylliben says, and his father shrugs and gestures, as if the word of a six-year-old is thus law.

"I'll walk you through the details of the process, including the care, relevant allergies, and so on. I don't suppose you have anything in mind already?" she asks.

"I do," he says. He doesn't tell her what it is, yet.

Anakin Skywalker stays there the entire time, and they make an appointment for later in the week.

----

"My buir isn't my only father," Ylliben says quietly, when it comes time to get details on what he's getting tattooed. "I had another father before him. A Jedi. He died, to protect me, and a lot of other people. So, um..."

He shoves a picture to her, the symbol of the Jedi, plain and simple. She looks at him.

"In red," he says, shifting on his feet, looking up at his father and then back down at the page. "For, um, to honor a parent."

"Your first father was a Jedi?" she asks, gentle as she can.

"Mm-hm," Ylliben says. "He died, um... he saved buir from slavery, too, a long time ago. Both my dads were Jedi, and I'm going to be one, too, and so is Sokanth. It's--it's about where I come from, and--"

"You don't have to justify it if you don't want to," Na-Tsuyon tells him, reaching out to place one hand on his. It's very warm and dry, in her opinion, but she finds that most humans are. Mandalorians are some 80% human, or near human.

Nautolan Mandalorians aren't unheard of, but she's a rare one.

Ben sucks in a breath, and says, "I want it up here, on my right shoulder, like a pauldron."

Na-Tsuyon nods, and looks up to Skywalker. "You'll have to sign some papers to approve it, Master Jedi. You approve of the design?"

Skywalker hesitates, and then goes to one knee in front of his son, and speaks so quietly she can only hear "--remind you of the generator complex?"

Whatever Ben's answer is, it's too quiet for her to catch. It satisfies Skywalker, though, and he stands. "Alright, let's see this paperwork."

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a year later to get his slightly-twisting tattoo fixed, it's with Miss Shmi in tow. Na-Tsuyon greets the middle Skywalker, for all that she's still not entirely sure how to address the girl. "I heard you've been attending the university at Sundari. Some kind of engineering?"

"Mechanical, yes," Shmi says, oddly soft. "I'm going to spend another year to specialize in vehicular engineering. I'd like to design starships, since I already know how to fix them."

"A worthy goal," Na-Tsuyon says, as she leads them over to one of the stations and starts sanitizing Ylliben's inked shoulder. She doesn't entirely see why a university education is needed for something that, in her opinion, an apprenticeship could more thoroughly cover. It certainly worked well enough Na-Tsuyon herself. "You're on vacation, then?"

"I am," Shmi confirms. "It's... unfortunate that Anakin couldn't be here a the same time, but we'll see each other in a few days."

Ylliben fidgets for a bit as his jedi symbol is fixed, and then finally asks, "Ori'vod can approve new tattoos, right?"

"Sokanth, no. Shmi..." Na-Tsuyon looks up at her. "I have no idea if you're listed as his legal guardian anywhere, and I'd need proof of that."

"Secondary to Anakin," Shmi confirms. "Ben would like this to be a surprise for Ani."

Ben pulls out a sheet, with a careful design on it, and presses it into Na-Tsuyon's lap when she lifts the tattoo gun and he's not at risk of ruining his own ink. It's simpler than the Jedi symbol, though it's two colors instead of one.

"It's the Open Circle Fleet," Ben says, shy in a way she's given to understand he usually isn't. She thinks his shyer moments may be connected to admitting to emotion, something that he's tying quite closely to his choice of Tattoos. "I thought, um, since I'm already--already honoring one buir, then, er..."

"The Open Circle Fleet was under the command of my brother's Jedi Master," Shmi explains, one hand on Ben's. "And I am given to understand that the symbol was designed as a subtle nod, of sorts, to the two of them as a team. Ben's looking to honor Anakin as he has his first father."

Ben looks down at his lap, and doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes.

"Bring me proof of guardianship," she tells them. "And I'll make sure you get it finished early enough that the bacta comes off before Knight Skywalker makes it home."

She holds true to her word, and talks her way into being there to see the reunion and reveal.

The emotions that cross Skywalker's face are complicated and unexpected in ways that she can't identify.

Then it's all too simple, because he starts crying on little Ylliben in the middle of the hangar.

----

It doesn't take a full year for Ylliben to come in for another set. It's only five months, maybe six. He has a sketch again, a geometric design of something she doesn't recognize, but still pings as familiar for some reason.

"It needs to be the right shade of blue," he tells her, serious as anything. Knight Skwyalker is right next to him, smiling all soft and indulgent, and maybe a little sad. "It's for Soka."

Oh. This is based on her facial markings, then. Or... what they will be, maybe. This doesn't look quite like what she's seen on the girl, but everyone knows little Ben is more touched by visions than his father and sister.

Na-Tsuyon thinks she knows where this is going. "The same blue as her montrals and lekku?"

Ben shakes his head. "No, 501st blue."

Or not.

"It's close, but a little darker and more saturated," Skywalker offers, and shrugs when she looks his way. "It's a long story, but the 501st was the legion I led before I arrived at Mandalore. It had a specific shade of blue assigned for armor paint, so legions could easily identify each other in the field."

That's... odd. She doesn't ask for more detail, though. It's not her business. "Where do you want this one?"

Ben shows her his left forearm and frames a section about two-thirds the length of it, along the outer side. Like a vambrace.

She has a feeling all these symbols will be on his armor, once he's old enough for it.

"Let's go through my inks and see which one will work best," she says, and does not comment on the rest.

----

When Ylliben comes in again, a few months before his next touch-up appointment, he doesn't have an image on hand. His father is trailing him again, and Na-Tsuyon has a guess.

"Time for Shmi?" she asks.

Ben ducks his head, flushing and not meeting Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "Yes'm."

"I thought as much," she says, and smiles at Skywalker. "General."

"Don't start."

"There have been oh so many rumors flying since the last Jedi run-in, you know."

"I don't care," he grouses, dropping into a seat. "Hells, a man takes emergency command for one battle, and it's all anyone can talk about."

"You ended a civil war, sir."

Ben giggles into his hands as Skywalker groans and slaps a hand over his eyes.

"No respect," the man complains. "Ben, be nice to me, I'm your dad."

"Nuh-uh," Ben says. "I know all the most embarrassing secrets."

"A cruel child," Skywalker accuses. "Ruthless."

"You're the one raising me," Ben says, swinging his legs back and forth. He's got plastoid training vambraces, now, and greaves that clink against the legs of the chair.

"Somehow, yes." Skywalker sighs, with great drama and all such things. He drags himself up to sitting. "Anyway. Moving on."

"Do you have something in mind already?" Na-Tsuyon asks.

"Binary suns," Ben says. "Just two overlapping circles, coin-sized, one bigger than the other, in sunset colors. In a gradient, with a sort of... flare to it? Halo? The... oh! The stellar corona. Buir knows the colors better."

"I want to see what you have to work with before I sketch out the design," Skywalker says. "But yeah, sort of pink and yellow and peachy."

"I can do almost any color," Na-Tsuyon promises. "Especially on fair human skin like Ylliben's. I won't have a problem getting those to show up the way I would on myself."

Na-Tsuyon is a color most would call 'aquamarine.' She's a light shade between blue and green, and much as she likes her skin, it's an absolute pain to make red and orange show up.

She can do it.

It's just annoying.

Ben asks for this one to be on the inside of the left forearm, high and opposite to the widest point of the mark for Sokanth.

----

"Can I see your fonts?"

Ben's alone, for the moment, but Na-Tsuyon knows that when he makes his decision, his father or Shmi will approve it without question. It's no harm to let him browse.

"Basic, Mando'a, or Huttese alphabet?" she asks. "Or something more esoteric?"

"Mando'a, please."

He's eight years old, now. He's still far younger than most of her clients, but she's long gotten used to him. Even when he's acting like a child, there's something to it that doesn't quite sit right. 'Born middle-aged,' a few of the other civilians on base had joked.

She wasn't sure if she thought it was just a joke, these days.

Na-Tsuyon passes her fonts book to the boy, and settles back in her chair for a long afternoon of running numbers. He, meanwhile, goes to sit in the lobby, legs still not long enough to reach the floor, paging through with unwavering, unsettling gravitas.

Half an hour, and then Ben returns.

He points to a font. "This one."

"What's it going to say?"

"Vode An," he tells her, as serious as can be. "In black, over my heart. It's important."

"It's a fairly common phrase," she notes idly. "Should be quick."

She doesn't expect much of a response, and certainly not the one she gets.

"It was different for them," Ben mutters, not looking at her. She sees him twisting the toes of one shoe into the floor. "It was... it was different. I can't talk about it. They were brothers, actually brothers, and they had--they had nothing, they were basically slaves, but--"

"You don't have to talk about it," Na-Tsuyon assures him, a hand on his. "You don't have to explain it to me. If it means something to you, that's all that matters. I just need you to be sure."

"And buir to sign the paperwork," Ben quips, smiling at her. She notices that several teeth are missing. It's cute. "You need that too."

"That too," she agrees.

When Skywalker shows up, he hears what it is that Ben would like, and makes a few suggestions for a border--a gear that sounded too much like the Republic's symbol for a Mando'a phrase, a building on stilts from a city she's never heard of on a planet that rings no bells, a human genetic strand for reasons she can't imagine--most of which are soundly ignored, until Skywalker sketched out a stylized ship of... some sort.

"Venator," Skywalker says, and taps the image. "Nobody will know it except us, but it'll mean something to you, for them."

Ben looks at it for a long moment, and then takes the scrap of flimsi with Mando'a on it and lays it overtop the center of the sketch.

He stares at it for a few long moments, and then nods sharply and pushes it to Na-Tsuyon. "This, please."

He's such a polite child.

It makes it easier to ignore the more confusing parts of his presence in her parlor.

----

"Hi!"

Sokanth Skywalker is in her shop.

That's new.

"Hello," Na-Tsuyon says. "I didn't know you were thinking of getting ink."

"I'm not," she says, hopping up on a stool across the counter. She holds out a hand, and Na-Tsuyon clasps it with bemusement. "But you guys do piercings too, right?"

"We do," she confirms. "You're... ten?"

"Yep!" Sokanth chirps, kicking her legs back and forth. "Is that old enough to get these without permission, or should I ask my dad to come by?"

"At least twelve for piercings without in-person, signed approval from a parent or guardian," Na-Tsuyon says. "Though if you're anything like your brother, I don't imagine that'll be a problem for you."

Sokanth grins at her, bright and a little wild. "Nose, bottom lip, eyebrow. I don't know the actual terms, but I know what I want. Which do you suggest getting first?"

"I'd say nostril," Na-Tsuyon tells her. Most species even vaguely humanoid kick off with the ears, but that's not exactly an option for a togruta. "Let me get a chart and you can figure out what type of piercing you want, and what kind of hoop or stud. I don't actually do the piercings myself, though. Comm the General if you want this done today, though."

"Thank you~!"

----

Nostril, labret, and a horizontal brow, the piercer notes down at the end of the latest Skywalker visit. Na-Tsuyon wonders if the brow piercing will look strange with Soka's markings, and then doesn't think on it further.

----

Ylliben, almost nine, is silent as he gets the touch-up.

His father isn't here. Neither is Shmi. It's pre-approved, signed permission and all, but it's still odd that neither of Ben's adults is here.

Sokanth is, but she's almost as quiet as Ben is.

Na-Tsuyon has heard the rumors, but she's not going to say anything. She's not. It's not her business.

"Ben," Soka speaks up, towards the end of the appointment. "Ask her the thing."

Ben shakes his head. "No way."

"She knows more about tattoos and how important they are than anyone!" Soka urges. "Ask her!"

"Do you want to wait for your father?" Na-Tsuyon suggests.

"No!" both immediately yelp.

She pauses, glad the needle hadn't been to skin, and levels a look at Ben. He flushes and settles down, mumbling an apology for jerking as he had. She goes back to fixing the stretch of the binary suns tattoo.

Soka shifts in her seat, watching them intently.

"Shmi's upset with buir," Ben suddenly says. He doesn't meet Na-Tsuyon's eyes. "I'm... I don't know if you heard what's going on."

"I do my best to avoid rumors," she says, keeping her voice as neutral as she can. "I did hear that the Mand'alor is about to have a grandchild, and something about an upcoming wedding. That much has been announced officially."

"Dad freaked out," Soka says, legs kicking back and forth. "He's happy for her, and he's fine with Jango being the other parent, but it kicked off a... philosophical crisis? Ben, what do you think?"

"Metaphysical, maybe," Ben mumbles. "Definitely existential."

"And he told Shmi some stuff and now she's hurt that he didn't tell her before and it's all a mess," Soka finishes. "So, uh, we don't... want either of them involved. Until. Um. Until that's settled."

Na-Tsuyon bites back any deeper questions she might have. "Alright. I won't pry. What did you want to know from me?"

"I had a plan for what I was going to get next," Ben says, staring at the fold of fabric over his sister's knees in lieu of something more pertinent. "A peace lily, on the inside of my wrist, for..."

"You don't have to tell me," she reminds him.

Ben bites his lip, and closes his eyes, and breathes in deep. Neither of the girls comment.

"She was important," Ben finally says. "In the big memories. But she doesn't... she's not... she isn't here. And Jango is. And he's marrying Shmi, and they're having a baby, so I should put a mark down for him first, right?"

"He's gonna be Mand'alor, too," Soka adds.

"He is," Na-Tsuyon says, as neutral as she can.

"He's joining the family," Ben says, his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. "And there's going to be a baby, and that's. That's important."

"There's no order that you have to get things in," Na-Tsuyon assures him, squeezing his shoulder in a light gesture of support. "You've prioritized family so far, so I think it would make sense to get a mark for the coming cousin, at least. Unless... is the lily for your birth mother?"

Ben's face twists, uncomfortable for some reason she can't begin to guess at.

"No," Ben says.

"Skyguy's Jedi Master did almost marry her when they were younger," Soka explains. She glances at Na-Tsuyon and then away and at the wall. "They had a whole dramatic 'forbidden romance' thing going on, 'cause Jedi aren't supposed to get married. She died before Ben came into the picture, though."

It's a neat enough explanation.

It feels fake, but much of what the Skywalkers say about their pasts does.

She's sure it's true in some way. In some perspective. From... from a certain point of view, maybe.

"Alright, then," Na-Tsuyon dismisses. "All things aside, I would suggest adjusting your order of tattoo acquisition, but there's no particular requirement by Mandalorian standards. Your choices are rarely anything that intersects with set traditions, nor do you have a historic clan or house that comes with mandates of the sort. It seems that you're leaning towards prioritizing something for the new additions to your family, though; you've made it clear that these things are important to you, and I think you should pursue it if you're comfortable with it."

Ben nods, eyes somewhere far off.

"It'll make him flustered," Soka pushes, kicking lightly at her brother's ankle. "Jan-Jan's still worried you don't like him anymore."

"He is not," Ben huffs. "He's just scared of buir."

"Nah, your opinion matters too," Soka argues. "And you've been avoiding everyone 'cuz Skyguy freaked out and Shmi's upset, so Jango's worried you're mad at him about the baby happening. If you get a tattoo about him, he might actually cry."

"Is that why you want me to take that route?"

"Not the only one," Soka says, utterly guileless. She blinks at him, bright and innocent. "But I definitely do want to see the future Mand'alor crying because you made it obvious he's family now. It'll be funny."

Ben sighs, very clearly being dramatic about it. "Soka, I'm not going to pick a tattoo based on what you think will be funny."

"Imagine his face, though."

Na-Tsuyon doesn't comment at the expressions Ben makes as he very clearly does exactly that.

"Well, kriff," Ben sighs, and Soka giggles at the swear. "I'll have to get a tattoo for Jango, then."

----

Ben is already nine by the time he comes in with his father to actually get the tattoo for Jango's addition to the family. The choice he makes isn't particularly imaginative, but it'll suit well enough. A mythosaur skull, the symbol of the Haat Mando'ade, in a grey the same shade as beskar.

There actually are traditions to this one, specific adjustments to the framing and stylization meant to indicate how one fits into the faction, but also how one is associated with the Mand'alor. Ben is family, and close family, but not related by blood, nor adopted directly by the Mand'alor, rather a relative through the riduur be alor.

Na-Tsuyon explains each element and adjustment in detail, lets them process and agree, until she's taking a needle to Ben's skin once more.

"Will you be getting one for the coming child as well?" Na-Tsuyon asks while shading in a curve of bone.

"Not yet," Ben tells her, quiet and oddly contemplating. "I need to meet them, first. Figure out who they are."

"Sensible," she agrees. There's the usual oddity in his phrasing, and she ignores it as ever. "Did you tell Fett that you were getting this?"

"No, it's intended as a surprise," Ben says, watching her work.

She can almost feel the coming question.

It does not come from the human she expects.

"Do you know any Mando tattoo artists in Little Keldabe?" the General asks, voice low.

She finishes the line she's on, lifts the needle away from skin, and turns to him. "You're leaving for Coruscant?"

"Not yet," Skywalker says. He meets her eyes evenly. "But... soon. The time's coming. A year, maybe two. The Force will let us know when the time is right."

"Uh-huh," Na-Tsuyon acknowledges this. She does not comment further. The Force is not her wheelhouse. If they think it wants them back on Coruscant, with the Temple, then that's what they believe.

"These are Mando work," Skywalker continues, almost painfully earnest, "and I'd like to ensure whoever maintains them until Ben stops growing knows the right way to handle Mando art."

It's really not that different from a standard tattoo artist, but she's a little charmed anyway. Enchanted, almost. The man really does care.

"I can get you some names and addresses next time you stop by," she promises him. "It's been a few years since I checked in on their work, and I'll need to look them over before I make any recommendations."

He smiles at her, relieved in a manner she finds appallingly open for a Jedi like himself.

Ben mimics his father.

----

She gets to attend the wedding, months later.

The food is very, very good.

(Ben waits until the reception to show off his new tattoo, and the future Mand'alor does, in fact, cry.)

(So does Shmi.)

(So does their eight-week-old daughter, but that's probably unrelated to the tattoo.)

----

"Do you think getting a belly button ring would be good?"

Na-Tsuyon doesn't lift her head from her paperwork when Sokanth poses the question to the piercer. She's in for the horizontal brow bar, this time, and the labret is going to be somewhere a few months down the line.

"That's really up to you," the piercer says. His name is Hujnak, and he's a Devaronian that's been working here since Na-Tsuyon opened up the place. She loves him dearly, but he stole the last piece of cake and for that he will have no help with difficult customers for the next fortnight.

Or until she gets bored.

"I'm leaning towards 'no,' but I'm not sure," Soka muses. "I like the idea of it, but I feel like it might get snagged on things more easily. Plus, it's going to be a point of higher damage and pressure if I get a gut punch. It's one of the parts of my body I'm never really going to armor up, you know?"

They do know. There have been screaming matches about all the Jedi's refusal to wear enough armor on many occasions. The Jedi prioritize their agility to such a degree that armorweave is more reasonable than actual armor, in their opinion. This is an opinion that Fett and Mereel both take issue with.

At great volume.

(Shmi has vambraces, a gorget, and greaves, Na-Tsuyon knows. Some of it was exchanged at the wedding. Shmi doesn't wear much armor, certainly less than even the children. Shmi, crucially, isn't a warrior or otherwise planning to see battle.)

"Then I would say it may be best to hold off."

"Phooey," Soka says, though she doesn't seem particularly upset. "Ben's gonna be cooler than me forever, then."

"You think tattoos are cooler than piercings?" Hujnak challenges. "I'm offended."

"He can just get more," Soka protests. "Without it looking weird or getting dangerous, I mean."

Hujnak hums, noncommittal. "And you're worried about being cooler than the younger brother you have told me is, and I quote, the biggest nerd ever?"

"Well, yeah," Sokanth scoffs. "He's gonna start acting older than me as soon as he thinks he can get away with it. I gotta have something to hold over his head, you know?"

"Seeing as you are the older sibling..."

"Ehhhh..."

Nope.

Not paying attention.

----

"These are House Kryze colors."

Ylliben's breath hitches.

He is ten. He doesn't seem ready to provide answers. She turns to the father instead.

"Will that be a problem?" the general asks, calm and even.

"Yes," she says, and Ben slumps. She continues, because this is her job, and for a reason. "Unless you have a ready justification for when House Kryze asks, yes, it will be a problem. If it were a landscape or an animal, it wouldn't matter, but the pairing of the colors and the peace lily is an explicit statement of loyalty to Adonai and his heir, Satine. Unless you've suddenly decided to adjust your political stance to total pacifism instead of your Jedi approach, or have another reason to take on House Kryze colors, I'd warn against it at all, and would refuse to perform the work myself."

Ylliben's eyes are fixed somewhere behind her, and shining wetly.

"Okay," the general says. "Ben, do you have any other pallettes in mind?

"These were her colors," Ben whispers, and then he swallows thickly. "I just..."

"Simplify," Skywalker suggests. He fiddles with a necklace half-hidden in his Jedi layers; the japor one is visible, but a dull gold glint is all Na-Tsuyon can see of the other before it's tucked away again. "She'd understand, yeah? There's political ramifications. Dangerous ones, especially to you."

Interesting thing to say about a woman who, by Soka's earlier statements, died well before Ben was born.

They could at least try to stop dropping hints about their oddities. She doesn't want to know more.

"Lilac," Ben finally decides. "And... pale silver. With a filigree pattern in the shading?"

"I can do that," Na-Tsuyon promises.

She does not ask further.

----

"We're moving to Coruscant in a month."

Na-Tsuyon's head snaps up, head tails jolting almost painfully with the movement.

Sokanth is getting her labret, finally. She's gossiping as Hujnak prepares the tools, as usual, and Na-Tsuyon tries to ignore it when they Skywalkers do that, she does, but...

"You're leaving," she repeats, feeling oddly blank.

"Um... yeah?" Soka answers. She scratches at one stubby montral. "We've talked about it before. I thought you knew."

"I didn't realize it was so soon," Na-Tsuyon defends. She's more upset than she should be. "I thought you'd be waiting until the little princess was older."

Sokanth blinks at her, slow and... not judging, no. Evaluating, maybe.

"I'm almost thirteen," she says, slow and deliberate and heavy. "And Ben's eleven. There's no hard age limit for becoming a padawan, but I'm getting into the peak years for getting chosen, and I've been living here instead of in the Temple. I haven't had years to impress a potential Master like the others. That might not matter; sometimes a Master sees their future student and just knows, but... I need to have other Jedi to spar with, not just Skyguy and Ben. And Ben's visions are getting stronger, and Dad was never that good with his own in the first place, so he's worried about being able to help at all. We could stay longer, but..."

She trails off, and shrugs, and the weighted air disappears. "It's not the same thing as a verd'goten, at all, but it's about the same age, you know? I should be in the Temple for it."

"What would a verd'goten equivalent be?" Hujnak prompts, when Na-Tsuyon fails to find her words. "Being an adult and equal member and all such things?"

"Knighthood," Soka answers immediately. "Dad got knighted when he was twenty, but that's really young, usually. His master was knighted at twenty-five, which was a bit late, but apparently there was a whole dramatic thing going on there that Dad never got all the details about."

"Becoming a Padawan is a sign that your teachers see you as someone that is ready to take on the responsibilities of a Jedi, yes?" Hujnak asks. "That you may not be ready to go out on your own, but that you're old enough to understand your oaths and choose how to follow them, and to protect others?"

Sokanth considers this, and then nods. "Yeah, I guess it's similar to using the verd'goten to gauge if someone's ready to swear the Resol'nare, that way. Still not moving out, and just about entering an apprenticeship, but enough of an adult to make the choice of how to change the world."

"I think most cultures have something like that around the same age," Hujnak comments. "Some do it a bit later in the teens, but it's usually around your age that most... well, most cultures who age at the 'human standard' rate--"

Na-Tsuyon can't help the reflexive snort of derision. Neither can Soka. Hujnak, the closest to human in the room and yet still very much not, smiles like this is exactly what he intended.

"--most who age at that rate do have it somewhere in that eleven-to-seventeen range, I'd think."

Soka shrugs. "Yeah, well. Still gotta go to the Temple for it, you know?"

"Are you going to take the verd'goten at all?" Na-Tsuyon asks, suddenly a little desperate to keep the Skywalkers here, with Mandalore and all its people, just a fraction of a moment longer.

"I don't think so," Soka muses. "I've been thinking about it, but I should probably talk about it with Jango, yeah?"

"Yeah," Na-Tsuyon says, and feels like she's swallowing down around rocks.

----

As it turns out, the timing is very deliberate. Three weeks later, Jaster transfers the title of Mand'alor to his son.

(Though Na-Tsuyon does not know this, twenty-six is older than Jango was when he lost the title, once upon another life.)

There is a week of festivity. There is food, and drink, and dancing. Some people get married. Some people make announcements of impending births. Some people reveal songs they composed in preparation for this very day.

For a week, Mandalore celebrates a new king.

Then, the Jedi and his children leave.

(Ben gives Na-Tsuyon a hug before he goes.)

(She tries to understand why she feels like she's losing something when he does.)

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Shmi Skywalker #JangoShmi #Jango Fett #Disaster Lineage #star wars #time travel #de aging #mandalore #mandalorian culture #phoenix posts #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #tattoos #original characters #outsider pov #this is part one of three I think #it's two in the diddly darn morning and I am going to bed

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waka-chan-out · 3 years

Note

your fics are so good!!

idk if you take requests but if you do, could you do a third gym fic (tsukki, bokuto, kuroo, akaashi) with a switch reader?

Third Gym Reunion

akaashi, kuroo, tsukishima, & bokuto x switch!reader

Plot: Your boyfriend, Akaashi Keiji, gets invited to meet up with his old practice buddies. His friends already know you have an open relationship and are fully ready to take advantage of it.

post-timeskip, obviously.

word count: 8.5k (jesus christ !!)

content warning: (deep breath) established relationship, open relationship, five-some (if that’s even a word), sub!bokuto, reader calls bokuto puppy, bokuto with mommy kink, oral (m. and f. receiving), praise kink, degradation, snowballing, spanking, hair pulling, spit-roasting, finger sucking, calling tsukki his given name, spitting, in my canon akaashi and bokuto have hooked up before so you’ll see the repercussions of that in this story, don’t mind me putting in an anal warning for them here, slight exibitionism but not really, slight overstim but not really, essentially it’s filth.

“For the last time, no,” Keiji said.

“Why not? I want to meet the boys,” you whined, grasping at his forearm. He kept staring straight at the road, seemingly immune to your pleading.

“Because I know my friends. It will not end well.”

“How come? Don’t you trust them?”

Keiji laughed. “Absolutely not. Bokuto I can talk into behaving. Tsukishima and -- oh god -- Kuroo? Absolutely not.”

“What could they possibly do?”

“They know we’re more . . . open, love. They’ll try to take advantage of that.”

“What’s so wrong with that?”

“Babe!”

“What? You said they’re all tall, right? Are they handsome?”

Keiji shrugged, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. My answer is no.”

“Why don’t you just take me along? I’m sure they’d bring a girlfriend if they had one. You’re the lucky guy out of the three of you.”

“What if they try to . . . proposition you?”

“If they’re icky, I’ll say no.”

He turned to you, alarmed. “And if they aren’t?”

“Are you saying they aren’t?”

“Answer the question.”

“If they aren’t, I’ll look to you for approval.”

“No.”

“What? You don’t even know they’re gonna ask.”

“You haven’t met them. Bokuto is going to take one look at you and be latched onto you all night. God only knows what Kuroo will do.”

“What about the other one?”

“Who?”

“The blond.”

“Oh, Tsukki? He’ll just insult you. I doubt he’d ever sink to asking me.”

You smirked. “He sounds fun.”

“Only some --” Keiji noticed your cheeky expression. “Hey! No.”

“You never know.”

“I know.”

“Whatever you say, Kei.”

“Don’t call me that around them.”

You pouted. “Why?”

“That’s Tsukishima’s first name.”

You grinned. “So you’re saying I get to come as long as I don’t use your nickname?”

Keiji sighed. “I guess so. I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t.”

“Yay!” You hummed happily, then turned to him with a cheeky smile on your face. “Wait . . . is Bokuto the one that you--” Keiji cut you off by clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t.”

“I’m right! Oh my god, Keiji, I’m excited to meet him.”

“It’s been a long time, love. He probably doesn’t even remember.”

“Oh please, if it was with you, he remembers.”

Keiji’s brows knitted together.

“What does that mean?” he asked. You wiggled your fingers at him.

“You’ve got very memorable hands.”

His face flushed a bright red and he turned away from you.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your confident demeanor only faltered slightly when you arrived at gym three, where they all used to practice together. Only Kuroo and Bokuto were there and, as you suspected, they weren’t even remotely icky. Kuroo was tall with dark hair, his dress shirt and pants hiding a slim but muscular frame. He looked like he had just come from work. Bokuto on the other hand was huge. He wore simple sweatpants and a sweatshirt and looked thoroughly happy to be there. He was holding a volleyball and yelling when you and Keiji stepped through the doorway.

“What do you mean I’ve gotten worse? I’m a professional!”

“You’re a dumbass that can’t receive the ball.”

“And you’re a scammer!”

“Bokuto, this is my work uniform. I don’t scam people.”

“You look like a scammer.”

“I work for a legitimate company!”

“Yeah? Prove it.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m not kidding. See? Scammer.”

“Bokuto-san,” Keiji called from the doorway. “His company is real. You need to calm down.”

“Aghakshi!” Bokuto sprinted for his friend while Kuroo fell into step behind him, a pleased smile on his face. Bokuto wrapped Keiji up in a bear hug.

“You’re late, ‘Kashi. Kuroo was mean without you.”

“I’m not mean.” Kuroo placed a hand on his chest. “I am a very nice man.”

“No, you’re a scammer and a liar.”

“I’m not --”

“Guys,” Keiji butted in. He gestured behind himself to you. “This is my partner, Y/N. Please behave around them.” Both men’s eyes froze on you, making you distinctly aware of your height difference. Keiji wasn’t short by any means, but these men were huge.

“Hi,” you said, pasting a cheerful smile across your face. “It’s nice to finally meet you guys. I’ve heard all about you.”

“I guarantee we’re worse in person,” Kuroo said, eyes sparkling as he reached out to shake your hand.

“Why do you do that?” Bokuto asked, eyebrows drawn down in a frown.

“It’s the truth.”

“It’s not the truth,” Keiji stepped in, separating your hand from Kuroo’s. You hadn’t realized you were still holding it. “You’re both dorks and they know it already. Stop being weird.”

“Hi,” a bored sounding voice came from directly behind you. You turned around and shrunk against Keiji. Tsukishima stood behind you, shaggy blonde hair just barely hiding his serious eyebrows. He was thin, too, but tall. He and Kuroo were about the same size, but seeing Tsukishima so close to you made your heart pound.

“Tsukki-poo, how are you, buddy?” Bokuto yelled, pushing past you to wrap his friend up in his arms.

“Don’t call me that.” Tsukki sounded bored and annoyed, but you knew he wouldn’t have come if he didn’t miss his friends just a little bit. “Who’s the little one?” he asked, staring down at you with cold eyes. Bokuto grinned, still hanging onto him.

“That’s Akaashi’s partner. Isn’t that cool?”

“Sure. You guys fuck other people, don’t you?”

Silence. You stared at the ground, eyes wide in amused disbelief.

“That. Well. You aren’t wrong but that seems inappropriate.” Keiji was bright red and only burned brighter as he spoke.

“Not as inappropriate as you describing your sex life to us. Do they know you do that?”

“Yes, I do,” you said, staring up at him. “Slow down, lamp post. I think you need to relax.”

Kuroo let out a hyena laugh. “I like them,” he said.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Are we playing or not?”

“Playing,” Keiji said.

“Fine. Akaashi, you help tiny. Bokuto, you can be on their team.”

Bokuto frowned. “Why? You guys just have two middle blockers.”

“Kuroo can receive and both of us can spike.”

“Who’s going to set for you?” Keiji asked.

“I can,” you chimed in. Keiji’s friends all turned to you in surprise.

“I played through college. It’s only fair. Bokuto and Akaashi against me, Tsukishima, and Kuroo.”

Kuroo smiled, eyes glinting again as he stared at you. “I think that’s a brilliant plan. Ok with you, ‘Kashi?” Keiji narrowed his eyes at his friend, who still had his eyes trained on you.

“They can play setter for you. That’s it.”

The three other men looked at each other in surprise. The implication of his words was . . . jarring. You smiled nervously and walked to one side of the net. You shrugged off your jacket, revealing a thin long-sleeved shirt that no longer covered the back of your leggings. You could feel at least two men’s eyes on you, but you ignored it. All you had to do now was prove you could still play volleyball.

“You know the rules, then?” Tsukishima asked, tying his shoes tighter.

“I’ll be just fine, Tsukki-babe,” you said. He cringed at the nickname. “I’m more concerned with how Kuroo is going to play in his work clothes.

“Give me a minute, dearest,” he said, walking past you with a bag in his hands. “I brought clothes.”

“Hustle up, buddy, or we’ll start without you.”

“Shut up and practice before we lose to the chaos twins.”

Tsukki scoffed. “Like we’re going to lose to them. Bokuto’s going to go emo-mode in ten minutes, guaranteed.”

“Emo mode?” you asked. Tsukki’s brows raised and he smiled for the first time since you had met him.

“You’re dating Akaashi and you don’t know about Bokuto’s emo mode?”

“I guess not.”

He let out a delighted laugh, completely out of character but quite sweet. “God, you’re in for a treat.”

Kuroo returned in a short pair of red athletic shorts and a black t-shirt.

“Is that the same outfit you had in high school?” Keiji asked, a smile on his face.

“The very same,” Kuroo said, laughing and stretching his arms across his chest. “Well, not the exact same clothes, but the same colors. I outgrew my old stuff. I’ve gotten much bigger since high school.” He winked in your direction.

“Gross,” Tsukki said.

“Shut up.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Can we start?” He shrugged off his own jacket, revealing a long-sleeved shirt and athletic shorts.

“Who gets first serve?” Keiji asked.

“There are more of us. You guys can start,” Kuroo said.

“Bokuto, do you want to serve or should I?” Keiji turned to Bokuto, who looked grumpy at the lack of attention he was getting.

“You do it, ‘Kashi.”

“Are you sure?”

Bokuto nodded vigorously and Keiji walked to the back line. You stood up towards the net while the other men backed up on the court.

“Nice serve,” you yelled.

“Shut up. He’s on the other team,” Tsukki said, sounding exasperated.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

“So, you should want to kick his ass,” Kuroo said. You laughed and Keiji hit the ball over the net.

It went to Tsukki, who easily bumped it up. It traveled high in the air, thank goodness. You were a little rusty, but this made it much easier on you.

“Left!” Kuroo called, hand in the air. You pushed the ball his way, satisfied at the way it lifted off your fingers. You missed this feeling. It landed right against Kuroo’s hand, who slammed it down. It barely grazed the top of Bokuto’s fingers before spinning off and hitting the ground. Kuroo ran for you immediately, grin on his face.

“That was great! I gotta say, I thought you were going to suck, but that was great.” He continued rambling as you turned to Tsukki.

“What did you think, tough guy? That was a nice receive.”

“It wasn’t that impressive. I just knew it had to go high so your dumbass could actually hit it.” He sneered as he spoke, but from the way he was rubbing his forearms you could tell he was excited too. Though he played on his own, you were sure he missed practicing with this group.

“I’d like to see one of your famous blocks next time,” you teased.

“Then tell Bokuto-san to receive the damn ball.” He turned away from you and walked to the back line.

“Hey!” Bokuto had gotten into a receiving position, hands on his knees waiting for your team to serve. You couldn’t help but notice how thick his thighs were, even through his sweatpants. “Can we go or is Tsukki-dude gonna keep complaining?”

“We’re going,” Tsukishima replied, picking up the volleyball that Keiji had rolled over to his feet. “Relax before you use up all the energy in your brain.” You couldn’t help but snicker. His responses were so quick. He was an ass, but he was charming in his own way.

Tsukishima took his place on the back line and easily popped the ball over the net. Bokuto received it and sent it up high. Keiji had to run for it but he got under the ball. Tsukishima and Kuroo took their places on the net, following Bokuto closely with their eyes. You backed up and bent your knees, ready to receive if they somehow missed it.

They didn’t miss it.

The ball hammered into Tsukishima’s hand and he flexed his fingers, sending it straight back down over the net. Kuroo hollered and slapped him on the back, while Bokuto drooped down and a pouty expression came over his face.

“It wasn’t a hard spike. I don’t know why you’re freaking out,” Tsukishima said as Kuroo continued chattering on about how much he’s improved.

“Aghashkiii,” Bokuto said. Tsukishima’s attention was on him in an instant, eyes twinkling.

“Oh fuck, it’s happening.” He gestured for you to come closer. “Shortie, are you watching?”

“Yes, I’m watching. What’s going on?” You approached and watched as your boyfriend’s shoulders fell in a deep sigh.

“Kashi, we have to switch,” Bokuto whined. “You can’t set it to me anymore.”

“Told you it’d be less than ten minutes,” Tsukishima said, expression smug.

“Is he gonna be okay?” you asked. Kuroo laughed.

“He’ll be fine,” he said. “He just needs his setter. Akaashi, on the other hand, will barely survive. He hasn’t had to deal with this in years.” You snickered, then briefly wondered if they knew about Bokuto and Keiji’s . . . antics back in the day.

“Does he do this on his pro team?” you asked.

“Not that I’ve seen. Either they’re better at managing it or Bokuto just goes full baby for Akaashi.” Kuroo rolled his eyes and walked away.

You laughed to yourself. What an idiot. However, he was an idiot that was wrapped around your boyfriend’s finger. Interesting.

“Bokuto-san, are you sure?” Keiji was saying. “Your setting isn’t very precise.”

“Apparently neither is my spiking.”

“Fine. Good luck.” Bokuto didn’t see Keiji shake his head as he spoke. Tsukishima grabbed the volleyball again, a wide smile on his face.

“God, I can’t wait to see this one,” he said, then raised his voice so the other men could hear him. “Akaashi, it’s coming to you!” Keiji nodded and got into position. Bokuto’s eyes were still wide and blank as he got closer to the net.

Tsukishima hit the ball right into Keiji’s arms. He bumped it up without much trouble and shouted for Bokuto.

“Get under the ball, Bokuto!” He backed up to start a spiking approach.

“I got it!” Bokuto sounded frustrated. He ran for the ball, settled underneath it, and . . .

It clattered to the gym floor behind him. His expression remained blank and focused on the air above him, even when his arms flopped down to his sides.

“Our point!” Tsukishima called, smiling again. He ducked to the other side of the net and grabbed the ball. He really was a brat.

“Bokuto --” Keiji started.

“I don’t want to play anymore,” Bokuto said, slumping to the gym floor.

“You can’t just give up like that,” Kuroo interjected, sounding more amused than frustrated.

“I can and I will. Let’s just go to dinner. I don’t want to be sweaty if we’re going somewhere nice.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were grateful that Keiji had convinced you to bring something nice to wear to the restaurant, otherwise you would have looked completely out of place. Kuroo had put his work clothes back on. Keiji had thrown on a sweater. Tsukishima wore a button-up and a vest and Bokuto was wearing a blazer with a t-shirt. Somehow, the outfits suited them.

“So,” Kuroo said between sips from a bottle of beer. “Akaashi has told us all about you.” You chuckled, pushing around the remaining rice on your plate.

“Is that so?” You glanced at Keiji, who sat beside you. His cheeks were slightly pink. He looked precious, like he was skating right on the edge of a giggle fit.

“Yep,” Kuroo continued. He had a sly smile on his face and looked all too happy to be talking to you. He leaned toward you across Tsukishima’s lap, who frowned and shoved him off. Kuroo flopped back down, leaning on an elbow on the table in front of his tall friend. “I’d say we know more about you than you know about us.”

“You know, that’s probably true.” You leaned on the table and matched his posture.

“Lame. Akaashi, why don’t you talk about us?”

Keiji took a deep sip of his drink and shook his head.

“Because I knew meeting you guys would do all the talking,” he said.

“What’s that mean?” Bokuto said a little too loudly, leaning into Keiji’s lap. Keiji looked down at him patiently, cheeks flushing a bit darker.

“It means your personalities are so aggressive that they need no explanation.”

“I’m not aggressive!”

“But your personality is.”

Bokuto frowned, not understanding but accepting the answer.

“So, what do you know about me?” you asked, turning back to Kuroo. He shrugged, staring into space to consider your question before giggling.

“What are you laughing at?” You narrowed your eyes at him. You knew exactly what he was thinking, but you wanted him to say it.

“The…nature…of your relationship with our boy Akaashi.”

“Yeah?” You tipped back your glass and grinned.

“We’ve heard all about it.”

“All?” You turned your face towards your boyfriend.

“Not even close,” he said through a smirk.

“What?” Kuroo asked, snapping his gaze to Keiji. “You’ve told us so much.”

“And there’s so much more to explore,” you said with a smug smile and exaggerated gesture.

“Yeah? With who?” Bokuto chimed in. You leaned over to Keiji.

“You’re right. That didn’t take long.” Keiji shook his head at your words and finished off his drink.

“I told you not to trust them,” he said. He turned his attention back to Bokuto. “With anyone, Bokuto-san.” Bokuto’s eyebrows nearly raised off his head.

“Anyone?”

“Anyone.”

“Truly anyone? Or are you one of those couples that acts like they’re kinky but really just watches porn together or something?” You were surprised that Tsukishima decided to chime in now, but you weren’t surprised by his comment. He was the type that had to see to believe. You narrowed your eyes at him and ran a finger down the back of his hand, which still clutched his glass on the table.

“Try me and find out,” you said. His eyebrows twitched and he looked away.

“Wait wait wait wait,” Kuroo cried, leaning over Tsukishima again. “Is that an offer?”

“What would you say if it was?” you asked. Keiji scoffed.

“Seriously?” Bokuto asked, eyes huge. You shrugged and looked at your boyfriend.

“What do you think, Kei?”

Tsukishima choked on his drink, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Kei?” he asked, a deep flush crawling up his cheeks.

“Jesus Christ,” Keiji said, rubbing his eyes. You laughed.

“Sorry, Tsukki. Short for Keiji.” Tsukki’s eyes remained trained on your face, looking not-quite-convinced with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. You turned back to Keiji before you could get more distracted. “Well?” He let out a long sigh.

“Whatever you want, love.” He looked defeated, but you could tell he wasn’t unenthusiastic about the idea. You saw the way he had cupped a hand on Bokuto’s hip earlier, supposedly to keep him steady as he leaned into his lap. You couldn’t suppress a grin as you glanced back at the other men at the table. Bokuto looked confused, eyes still wide. Kuroo had paled, and Tsukishima seemed to still be reeling from you accidentally using his given name.

“Our place is closest,” you said. All three men looked like they had just been slapped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It started off awkard. There was plenty of time between your statement at the bar, getting the check, everyone finding their way back to your and Keiji’s shared apartment, and getting in a mental place where you could bring them all into your bedroom. Keiji had thrown a box of condoms and a small bottle of lube onto the foot of the bed, making everyone’s eyes go wide. Without kissing, touching, some sort of foreplay, it felt awkward, but truthfully, you had no connection to these men. They were just hot strangers that knew your boyfriend. You could do this.

“Who do you want first, love?” Keiji asked. You stared at the expectant faces in front of you. Kuroo’s eyes were glinting. He would be fun, but you didn’t want to jump into him right away. Tsukki was a silent brat, sitting on the couch with his arms crossed. You’d fix that later. He wasn’t a problem to deal with first.

“Bo?” you said. The large man perked up at your words, wide eyes trained on yours. “Come here, baby.” You gestured for him and he complied, swallowing hard as he crossed the room to you. You stood as he got to you and pushed him to a seated position on the bed.

“You seem eager, puppy,” you said, sinking to your knees in front of him. He inhaled sharply.

“I’m not--oh!” His sentence was cut off as you palmed him through his sweatpants.

“You aren’t what, Bo? You can tell me.”

“I-- shit.” His eyes fluttered closed as you established a slow rhythm, feeling him getting harder at your touch.

“You aren’t going to talk to me?” you pouted. You tried to sound sympathetic but you spoke through a small smile. “You haven’t been touched like this in a while, have you?” He shook his head and let out an unsteady breath.

“Want me to help?” you asked. “Want me to suck your cock?” There were several inhales from the wall behind you, but you kept going. You rose up a bit, keeping a hand between his legs as you kissed along his neck.

“Yes,” he breathed.

“Aw, puppy, you know you have to ask better than that.”

“Will you -- fuck -- will you suck my cock?”

“So close, Bo. What do you call me?” There was the sound of Tsukki saying “seriously?” before he made a quiet grunting noise. Someone had elbowed him in the side.

“Ma’am?” Bokuto asked.

“Is that what you want to call me?”

He inhaled sharply and your hand ground into him harder. “I don’t want to say it.”

“Aw, puppy, why? You know I’m here to help.” You closed your teeth lightly on his earlobe and he exhaled hard, making you almost worried for his poor lungs. You whispered into his ear. “I want to hear you call me something pretty when you come down my throat.” His hips bucked up into your hand and he muttered something under his breath.

“What did you say, Bo? I couldn’t hear you.”

“M--” his eyes darted to the other men standing against the wall. You grabbed his face and made him look at you.

“Don’t worry about them. What do you want to call me, pup?”

“Mommy,” he said, so quiet you could barely hear him. You drew in a sharp breath. You were expecting something good, but that exceeded expectations. Your reaction seemed to give him a little confidence, because he spoke louder this time. “Mommy, please suck my cock.”

“Jesus Christ,” said a voice behind you. It sounded like Kuroo.

You grinned. “Good boy. Help mommy take off your pants.”

He immediately did as he was told, tugging them off and letting you throw them to the side. He was big, a little longer and thicker than Keiji. You felt heat rising in your stomach imagining your boyfriend in this same position years ago, using his adept fingers and skilled tongue on the man sitting in front of you.

“So big, puppy,” you said, smiling up at him. Let me help.” Before he could respond you had settled your lips over the head of his cock, swirling your tongue before taking him in deeper. He swore loudly and buried a hand in your hair. You hummed at his noises and moved your head faster. The room was filled with lewd noises that were quickly drowned out by Bokuto’s breathy whimpers.

“Talk to her, Bokuto-san, don’t be shy,” Keiji said. This is why you loved Keiji. He could swap personalities so fast, especially with the right partner.

“Feels good,” Bokuto stuttered, head tipping back. You heard footsteps approaching and felt a warm figure kneeling down behind you.

“Good girl.” It was Keiji. He leaned his face into the side of yours and undid your pants, slipping his hand down the front of them. “So wet already, love. I knew you were a slut, but Jesus.” He slipped his fingers inside you for a moment, wetting them before circling your clit quickly. He had a setter’s hands, precise and sure in every movement. You moaned and took Bokuto all the way into your mouth. He exhaled sharply and swore above you.

“You look so pretty with his cock down your throat, darling. Go faster for him, yeah? He likes it.” You complied, bobbing your head up and down and eliciting a series of loud noises from Bokuto.

“I want you to come when he comes, love. You’ll be good and do that for me, right?” You hummed in what you hoped would be interpreted as agreement and you sunk into Keiji’s touch. He knew exactly what to do to send you reeling in no time at all.

“Bokuto-san, tell her when you’re about to cum, yeah?” Bokuto nodded frantically and Keiji slapped his thigh. Bokuto jumped at the sudden strike, bucking his hips deeper into your mouth. “Use your words, Bokuto-san.”

“Yes. Fuck. I will, I promise.”

“Good boy,” Keiji said, rubbing faster circles against you. You continued to moan and you felt Bokuto twitch in your mouth. You knew he was close and thankfully, you were, too.

“Close, ‘Kashi.”

“Tell them, not me.”

“Mommy, please.” Bokuto moaned loudly. “Gonna cum soon.” Keiji leaned in close to your ear again, never losing his pace on you.

“Don’t swallow. Make him clean up his mess,” he said. You reached behind and squeezed his arm so he knew you understood, shaking a bit with your own approaching orgasm.

“Fuck. Holy shit,” Bokuto groaned, hips bucking as he came into your mouth. You continued moving on him as Keiji sent you over the edge, moaning around Bokuto’s cock.

“Dirty girl,” Keiji said through a laugh, pulling his hand away and returning to the wall. You pulled off of Bokuto, making sure not to accidentally swallow as you straddled his lap. He twitched at your advances, staring wide-eyed at your still-full mouth.

“Mommy, too -- fuck. Too sensitive.” You smiled and pressed your lips against his. He parted his lips instinctively, allowing you to kiss his own cum into his mouth. He swallowed obediently, moaning a bit as he did so. You smiled into the kiss, grinding your hips a little against him. He inhaled in a panic and pulled away, burying his face into your chest. You laughed and ran a hand lovingly through his hair.

“Good boy, Bokuto. Such a good boy. Should we let Kuroo go next? Wanna watch him fuck mommy?” Bokuto nodded against you, chest still heaving. You turned your head to face the wall. Keiji was smirking. Kuroo’s face was bright red. Tsukki didn’t look too phased, although you could see that he was fully hard.

“Kuroo, hon,” you said. He stiffened and pushed off the wall. “Bokuto says he wants to watch you fuck me.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Don’t be difficult. Get over here.”

Kuroo swallowed hard and approached you. You planted a quick kiss on Bokuto’s head and climbed off of him. He let out a gasp at the loss and laid back on the bed.

“Where do you want me?” Kuroo asked. You stared down at his hands and the growing bulge in his shorts and shook your head.

“No. Tell me where you want me.” You began working off the buttons of his shirt.

He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

You nodded.

“Lay back.”

You smiled and did as you were told, scooting farther up onto the bed. Bokuto shifted so he wasn’t in the way. Kuroo smiled and leaned on top of you, capturing your lips in his. He was eager, tongue slipping easily into your mouth. You could still feel the happy curve of his lips as he moved against you, sliding one hand deep in your hair and the other curving around your waist. You kissed him back enthusiastically, surprised but delighted by the genuine affection. The hand on your waist slipped up under your shirt, like he wanted to pull it off but was too focused on the kiss to pull away. You tugged away from his lips and he followed, eyes still closed. You chuckled and sat up a bit under him, pulling your shirt over your head and capturing his face between your hands, pulling into another eager kiss. He breathed a sigh of appreciation and ran his hands over your newly exposed skin.

He pulled away and buried his face into the crook of your neck, kissing and lightly biting the sensitive skin. You sighed and tangled your hands in his insane hair. He kissed down, stopping just above the fabric of your bra. He tipped his head up to look at you, eyes bright. He licked his lips and you felt heat reaching the very tips of your fingers. You ran your fingers through his hair and nodded, giving him all the go ahead he needed to pull down the front of your bra and take a nipple into his mouth. You sighed again, grip in his hair tightening. He let out a huff at your reaction and circled his tongue. He bit down gently and you let out a gasp, locking your legs around his midsection.

“Kuroo,” you breathed. He didn’t break away from you, just let his eyes flicker up to meet yours. You felt a blissed out smile reach your lips at the sight. “Take off your fucking clothes.” He sucked harder on your chest for just a moment, eliciting a gasp from you, then leaned back down to kiss you again, grin on his lips. He only kissed you for a moment, tongue hungry in your mouth, before tugging his shirt over his head and throwing it to the side recklessly.

“Oi!” Tsukishima called out from the side of the room. You and Kuroo both laughed as you worked in tandem to get his belt loose and pants open, kissing clumsily as you went. As soon as you got them down and he kicked them to the side, you pulled your legs up and wiggled your pants down. Kuroo reached behind you and unclasped your bra (something that took even Keiji several tries and a hearty laugh) and began to kiss over your chest again. You tipped your head back and reached down, wrapping your hand around his already hard cock through his boxer briefs. He hissed against you, biting down where he was. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Jesus,” he said as he pulled away again, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your lace undergarments and tugging them down. He stared at you for just a second before snatching up a condom and ripping it open with his teeth. “Flip over,” he said, voice rougher. You complied instantly, breathing heavily from the kisses and adrenaline. You were faced with a stunned Bokuto, who you had forgotten was still laying -- or now, sitting up -- on the bed. You laughed and reached out for him. His eyes were wide as he laced his fingers through yours. From behind you, Kuroo teased your entrance. You sighed and leaned your head forward onto your arm, bracing yourself. He pushed in gently at first, shuddering out a deep breath at the contact. Impatiently, you pushed back onto him, feeling his full length sinking into you.

“Fuck,” he groaned. He leaned forward on top of you while your fingernails dug into the back of Bokuto’s hand. He began moving his hips slowly, the curve of his dick hitting perfectly inside of you. You leaned forward onto your hand, still clasped with Bokuto’s. Kuroo sped up his strokes, leaning back up and getting a bit rougher. His hands found their way to your hips, tugging you back against him as he moved. You choked out a moan as he pushed into you deeper with the new motion.

“Kuroo,” Keiji said. Kuroo apparently didn’t hear, swearing under his breath. Keiji scoffed. “Tetsuro!”

“Fuck -- what, Akaashi?”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Kuroo ignored him, slowing down for a moment, hitting a particularly deep part of you that made you whine and bury your face further against Bokuto’s hand. “Kuroo, hit them.”

“What?” Kuroo sounded slightly incredulous, or at least as incredulous as he could sound when out of breath and buried inside of you.

“Spank. Them.”

Kuroo chuckled slightly and brought one of his hands back to rest on your ass, rubbing it before winding it back and landing a heavy smack against you. You bucked up at the motion, your back losing its arch for a moment. Your mouth fell open and you felt Bokuto reach up, running a finger along your lip in fascination. You looked up at him, tongue lolling out to make contact with the digit. His eyes widened and he pressed the finger onto your tongue. Kuroo landed another hit on your ass and you jumped forward, taking Bokuto’s finger far into your mouth. He shuddered out a breath. Kuroo smacked you again and you moaned loudly, still maintaining eye contact with Bokuto. His breath was picking up as he watched you, tongue swirling around his finger.

“God, you really like this, don’t you?” Kuroo asked, a smile evident in his voice. “What if I . . .” he reached forward and gathered the hair at the nape of your neck, tightening his fist so he was pulling it without yanking your head backwards. Your eyes fell shut and you let out a muffled moan, the sensation adding a layer of delicious pain on top of the pleasure racking your body.

“I knew it,” Kuroo continued. “Jesus, you’re fun.” He gasped, hips jumping slightly. You heard a scoff at his words. Your eyes flickered open and found the two men still sitting on the side of the room. Keiji was smiling, but Tsukishima looked like he was trapped in a haze, unable to fully comprehend what was happening in front of him. You pulled off of Bokuto’s finger with one last slide of your tongue. He shivered and brought his hand back against his chest.

“Tsukki,” you sang. Tsukishima looked up, eyebrow cocked. You let out a gasp and your eyes flickered closed for a second as Kuroo landed another smack. You smiled at the tall blond and the expression dropped off his face. “Come here, Tsukishima.” He rolled his eyes.

“You seem occupied,” he said, voice wavering just a bit. You bit down on your hand as Kuroo slowed down again, dragging his cock nearly fully out before steadily driving back in.

“Tsukishima, I’m not playing that game,” you managed through a gasp. “Get over here.” He rolled his eyes and stood, beginning to approach you. Your eyes met his hungrily. “Take off your shirt,” you said as he stopped in front of you. You moved so you could face him, Kuroo moving with you and adjusting to the new angle easily. Tsukishima made no move to follow your instruction, staring down at you with an unreadable but distinctly gruff expression on his face. You scoffed and reached out, grabbing his waistband and pulling him to you. You could see his dick, long and thin, fully hard through his slacks. Impatiently, you pulled at the button until it opened. You yanked down, freeing him from his pants and undergarments in one motion. You wasted no time leaning forward and wrapping your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks and moaning as Kuroo picked up his pace again.

“Jesus fuck,” Kuroo gasped. Tsukishima didn’t look like he knew what to do with his hands, holding them up by his chest in surprise. You hummed around his cock, looking up at him. He held eye contact, previously cocky eyes wide. Kuroo let out a groan and dug the tips of his fingers into your hips.

“Fuck. I’m cl -- fuck!” he groaned, hips stuttering. He wasn’t even capable of finishing a coherent thought, pounding into you from behind. He moved your entire body with each stroke, making you involuntarily take Tsukishima deeper into your mouth at every forward motion. Tsukki finally relaxed a bit, hands gently burying in your hair as Kuroo’s swearing got louder. He leaned down, supporting himself with one arm on the bed and the other wrapped around your midsection. He plucked at your nipples, elliciting surprised sounds from you that were muffled against Tsukishima.

You felt the moment Kuroo came. His face pushed into your back, panting breaths heavy against your skin as his hips broke their rhythm. He pulsed inside of you, dragging a groan from deep in your chest. Tsukishima’s grip on your hair tightened and he let out a sharp hiss, clearly trying to hold back any noise.

Kuroo finally pulled out and tipped away from you, probably realizing how close he was to Tsukishima. He stood up and took a few steps back, brushing his black hair, now sticky with sweat, out of his eyes. You popped your mouth off of Tsukishima and ran your hands up quickly, popping the buttons of his shirt open from the bottom up.

“What--” he started. You cut him off.

“Bo, baby, move.” Your order was gentle but firm. Bokuto recognized your tone immediately, scrambling pantsless up from the bed and moving out of your way. You sat up on your heels and pulled on Tsukishima’s shoulders, pushing him down onto the bed. He sat down and backed against the headboard, brows furrowed. His face flushed when he looked down and realized he was fully exposed, but you remedied that easily, crawling into his lap and silencing whatever snarky remarks were boiling in his brain to calm his nerves. You planted a heated kiss against his lips.

He was a gentler and less smiley kisser than Kuroo, but more precise. Every movement of his tongue felt like a calculated effort, feeling out your weak spots and taking advantage of them once he found them. You sighed and sat farther down in his lap, grazing his cock between your legs. You ground down slightly before realizing -- shit. You were so distracted by the kiss that you almost forgot. You leaned back, breaking the kiss but remaining in his lap. You snatched up a condom and wagged it in front of Tsukishima’s eyes. He scoffed.

“No need to act so giddy,” he said. You just smiled at him, taking in the vision of the red faced man in front of you. His lips were slick and parted, like he was desperately waiting for another kiss, and his glasses were slowly de-fogging. You laughed and captured his lips in yours again, biting lightly at his bottom lip and just barely teasing him with your tongue. When you pulled away, he followed you slightly, then immediately sat back and blinked, like he was trying to cover up the motion. You huffed a laugh and slid his glasses off his face.

“Kashi,” you said, holding them out behind you without breaking eye contact with Tsukishima. You felt them leave your hand and you returned your touch to Tsukki’s face, running your thumb along his bottom lip.

“Cute,” you mumbled, nearly laughing again at the way his face turned an even darker shade of red.

“Agashi,” Bokuto whined behind you. You laughed and peered over your shoulder. Bokuto was squirming. He had put his boxer-briefs back on, but you could see that he was hard again, probably painfully so.

“Keiji, love, take care of him,” you said, carefully putting on the gentle tone you used with Bokuto. Keiji slid next to Bokuto, whose eyes were now wide, and you turned back to Tsukishima knowing your boyfriend had everything under control. You heard Bokuto gasp and Kuroo mutter “Jesus,” but you just held the condom up to Tsukishima’s mouth. He looked at you with confusion written on his face.

“What?” he asked.

“Open,” you replied, holding it closer to his mouth. His eyes grew wide but he leaned in, opening his mouth and closing his teeth on the wrapper. You smirked at him and tugged at the foil. You pulled out the condom when it was finally open and tossed the wrapper from Tsukishima’s lips to the side. You replaced it with your lips as you moved your hand between your legs and slipped the condom onto Tsukki. He gasped at the contact, leaning his head back against the headboard. You followed him with your lips and deepened the kiss as you wrapped a hand around him, lining him up with your entrance. You sunk down, not giving either of you a chance to really react until he was fully sheathed inside of you. He broke from your lips and leaned his forehead against your cheek. He let out a shuddering gasp and wrapped his arms around your waist. You turned your face and kissed his forehead, then lifted up slightly and sunk back down onto him. He gasped and you began to rock more steadily, slowly picking up the energy and pace.

“Fuck,” he muttered. His head fell to the crook of your neck and he let out a sigh, fingers burying into your skin.

“God, you feel good, Tsukki,” you breathed into his hair. He grunted in response, lips pursing to kiss at your skin. You sighed and tipped your head back, exposing more of your neck to his eager lips. His hands shifted to your hips and he gripped them tightly, pulling down as you slid over him, making him hit you somehow even deeper. You gasped and threw your arms around his neck.

“Shit,” you whispered as he took control of your pace, pulling you down hard. “Tsukki,” you sighed, ruffling his hair.

“I--” he started, but was cut off by a sweet, choked sound that came from deep in his throat. “Say my name again.”

“Tsukki,” you said. He shook his head against you. As he tipped his head up towards yours, you heard the familar click of the lube cap and felt weight sink onto the edge of the bed. You were unsure who it was until Bokuto let out a strangled gasp. Ah. Keiji really was taking care of him. You pressed a quick kiss against Tsukishima’s lips and leaned your forehead against his.

“Say my name like earlier,” he said. “The other one.” Your eyes widened and you smiled.

“Are you sure, Kei?” you teased. He groaned. “Aw, you like that?” He didn’t respond, but his face was screwed up into a look of concentration and pleasure that almost looked like pain.

“Again.”

“You feel so good, Kei.” He moaned, a sound you didn’t think you were going to be lucky enough to hear. “So good. Fuck, Kei.” You scattered his name into bouts of praise and swearing. He removed one of his hands from you, making you have to keep up the pace with your hips. You didn’t understand why until his thumb pressed firmly against your clit, starting to draw small, focused circles against it. Your hips stuttered out of pace and you moaned, tightening your grip around his neck. You were so oversensitive from Kuroo and Keiji’s advances that the movement on your clit was almost too much. Your breathing was coming in gasps.

“Bokuto-san, relax,” you heard Keiji say, though it felt like it was a thousand miles away.

“Get off of my fucking foot,” Tsukishima said, sounding frustrated even though the words were strained. Your eyebrows pinched together, frustrated.

“Move, Bokuto,” Keiji said, and you felt the weight shift again.

“Kei,” you said, loud enough to give Tsukishima pause. “Don’t pay attention to them.” He looked suprised.

“I --” he started.

“No.” You cut him off with a particularly devastating buck of your hips, and his expression changed. Just a moment later, though, he was glancing behind you at the source of the muffled gasps and whines behind you. You grabbed him by the jaw and stopped moving.

“Open,” you said. His eyebrows knit together.

“What?”

“Open.” You ran your thumb down his bottom lip, holding it for a moment before he complied. You leaned above him and spat.

Shock was the first thing to flash over Tsukki’s eyes, followed very quickly by something dark. He swallowed, staring into your eyes like you just set him on fire.

“Learn your lesson?” you asked. He said nothing, but his hands returned to your hips and dug into them, like he was begging you to move. “Good,” you said through a smile. You began to rock into his lap once more.

He let out a genuine moan, choppy and desperate and gorgeous. It was like that one motion made him yours, completely. His thumb returned to your clit, rubbing faster and more desperate circles. You crashed your lips into his, moaning into his mouth as he returned the favor. There was something so intimate in his motions. It was hard to believe this Tsukishima was the same asshole from earlier.

“Fuck, Kei, I’m close,” you said. Tsukki nodded, forehead still pressed against yours.

“Come with me,” he mumbled. If you weren’t so close to him you wouldn’t have believed he said it, but sure enough, you were both leaning against each other like your lives depended on it. He started swearing, small “fuck”s that grew in volume the closer he got. You could feel yourself reaching the peak, eyes squeezing shut and body locking. Right when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, right when you were about to beg Tsukishima to hurry up and finish so you could die against him, his grip around you tightened. He could still move you, riding out his orgasm inside of you, but he squeezed you so close you thought you could shift into his chest if you really wanted to. Your body shook, jerking involuntarily against his thumb. Both of you were panting, and it felt like the world went black around you as you kept your faces pressed together.

You couldn’t tell when the moment ended, but when it did Tsukishima was kissing along your shoulders and allowing you to slump against him, arms barely holding you up.

“Why don’t you lay down?” he whispered, and you nodded, feeling almost drunk. You swung your leg off of him, shuddering at the loss of him inside of you. He laughed at your reaction and pressed a kiss against your forehead as you laid on your back.

“Love, scoot closer,” you heard Keiji say. Fuck. They weren’t done with you yet. You opened your eyes to finally see what had been happening behind you while you were falling apart in Tsukishima’s lap.

Bokuto was laying on his back, legs pitched up slightly. Keiji’s hand was pressed flush up against him, preparing him for who knows what else. Your eyes widened and, without thinking, you did what your boyfriend told you to do.

“Bokuto, turn around,” Keiji said, and Bokuto did as he was instructed. He looked blissed out and shaky, but allowed himself to be pushed forward until his face was laying against one of your thighs. He smiled up at you, as if he was greeting an old friend intead of laying ass up with your boyfriend positioning himself behind him.

“Y/n, open your legs.” Fuck. Bokuto’s cheeks flushed and he turned to look back at Keiji.

“‘Kashi, I--” He was cut off by one slow, perfect thrust by Keiji. You did as you were told, staring up at Keiji’s face in awe. His eyes had closed and he looked unbelievably content.

“You know what to do, Bokuto,” he said. “Just make sure you breathe.”

With that, Bokuto buried his mouth against you.

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation, like Keiji’s commands were magic. He had been like this as long as you had known him, but judging by the surprised sounds Kuroo and Tsukki made, it wasn’t the Akaashi they knew.

Bokuto seemed hungry, like you were the one thing holding him back from starvation. His tongue made long strokes against you, making your hips shake. He stopped every so often to focus on your clit, swirling his tongue or sucking harshly. You weren’t even sure what kind of noises you were making at this point, just that someone was making a lot of sound and it was more than likely you. Akaashi’s thrusts were slow and deep, making Bokuto groan against you. It was an overwhelming feeling, your boyfriend fucking someone else into you. With how oversensitive you were, you didn’t think you’d last long.

Your orgasm wasn’t a slow build this time. It was choppy and harsh, almost painful as Bokuto sucked enthusiastically on your clit. Your legs couldn’t stay open on their own, crushing his head between your thighs as you made a panicked noise. The rumble of another groan from Bokuto is what sent you over, back arching and head leaning back into the bed. You were breathless, not making much sound as your body reacted out of your control. You had to push Bokuto off of you and slide away in order to get him to stop. He was so eager it seemed like he would have tried for another if you hadn’t escaped.

Now all you could do was watch as Akaashi leaned forward, taking Bokuto’s cock in his hand and timing movement with his hips. Bokuto was drooling onto the bed, making the sweetest whining noises you had ever heard. He came quickly after that, crying Akaashi’s name into the comforter as his lower body jerked. Akaashi fucked him through it and followed soon behind, face scrunching and breaths coming out as gasps.

Bokuto collapsed against the bed as Keiji pulled out, yanking off the condom and tucking himself back into his slacks like nothing had happened. God, he was a piece of work sometimes.

You stood, collecting your clothing from the floor. You pulled on your shirt, not bothering with your bra. You didn’t even know where it was.

You missed the left leg hole of your pants twice before Kuroo finally wrapped an arm around you and helped you get them up, even buttoning them for you once they were on.

“Well,” you said, but it came out strained. You coughed, smiling up at the group of men. “That was . . .” You couldn’t finish the sentence, letting out a choppy laugh instead.

“That was,” Kuroo agreed, laughing with you.

“If you guys would be willing . . .” Tsukishima said.

“Can we please do that again?” Bokuto said, a bit too loud for the room. Keiji’s eyes grew wide.

“Not right now!” he said. Bokuto laughed.

“Not right now. But sometime?” They all turned to face you, looking precious and eager. You laughed, then sighed heavily.

“Absolutely.”

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader #tsukki smut #tsukki x reader #tsukishima smut #tsukishima x reader #akaashi smut #akaashi x reader #third gym smut #third gym x reader

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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Devil-May-Care

Pairing: demon!Dream / Clay x demon hunter!gn!reader

Summary: [Demon Hunter!AU] When you went in search of the most powerful demon known to mankind, you didn’t expect him to be so charming.

Warnings: a little horror + some violence + tw// weapons (crossbow, gun)

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this was requested by a passionate anon! i fell in love with the request at first sight and had loads of fun writing this, although i did take some creative liberty with it. i hope you all enjoy :)

You huffed as you pushed past the branch hanging in your face, wrinkling your nose as you trudged onward. The forest was almost eerily silent around you, the pitch black night doing nothing to ease the tension that had gathered in your shoulders. Above you, the moon and stars twinkled soundlessly, peering down at you with wide, watching eyes.

Where could he possibly be hiding? you thought to yourself with a grimace. Is he even in this forest?

Your mentor had told you that this forest was the last place he’d ever been seen, and that it would be your best bet. But she also told you not to get your hopes too high, since he was known to be a trickster who never stayed in one spot for too long.

You sighed as you stepped over a fallen log, making sure not to trip. Despite how young the night was, you were already getting tired. Tracking was arguably the hardest part of your job, and easily your least favourite part of it.

Then again, no one said being a demon hunter was easy.

With a slight grumble, you squinted through the darkness while walking past another tree. So far, all you’d seen was tree after after tree, and you were getting fed up. Heck, you could have sworn there was a clearing just ahead of you here.

It was at that moment that the trees suddenly parted before you, and you found yourself standing in the middle of a clearing. The soft grass rustled beneath your feet as you took a tentative step forward, your ears perking up for any noise or movement. When nothing came, the muscles in your legs tensed.

This was the first clearing you had found in hours, and something about it just felt off.

“What are you looking for, little hunter?”

You whirled at the sound of the low, curling voice, your gaze frantically darting around the darkness for its source. You kept your lips pursed as your head whipped this way and that, nothing but silence filling the forest air. Even with the light of the moon, all you could make out between the shadows were the silhouettes of trees and their taunting branches looming over you.

There was no way it was who you thought it was... right?

“Not gonna say anything? Hm. Perhaps that’s just because you can’t see me. Here.”

You heard the snap of a finger, and the clearing around you suddenly lit up in a faint, greenish hue. Your eyes widened as the earth you stood upon began to glow, your fingers twitching at your side. Turning again, you quickly searched your surroundings once more for the voice’s owner. Everything seemed to be exactly how it appeared when you first arrived—the trees were just trees and the grass was just grass, even if they were both admittedly glowing.

Just then, there came a whistle from above you.

You lifted your head, and your gaze fell upon a figure sitting atop a tree branch a few feet away. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight.

Piercing, emerald eyes. A green fitted shirt to match. Dark, golden hair. A smattering of freckles. A cold, wicked grin.

The man smiled at you, swinging his legs leisurely as he tilted his head. “Hello there, pet.”

You didn’t wait another second before your arms were reaching up behind you, pulling your crossbow off your back. You slotted the arrow into the flight groove in near record time before aiming it up at him, aiming for but a split second before you pulled the trigger. In a flash, the arrow went flying through the night sky, pointed directly at his face. You could have sworn you caught his eyes turn red before he suddenly vanished, your arrow passing through empty space before pinning itself into the tree trunk he had been leaning against just seconds prior.

You panted, quickly pulling another arrow out of your quiver and reloading your crossbow as you turned in a circle, not a single detail going unnoticed by your watchful eyes. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you tried to focus on the rustling leaves around you. Your fingers curled around the stock of your bow a fraction tighter, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Where is he? Where did he go?

A smooth voice curled around the back of your neck.

“Is this how you greet everyone you meet, or am I just special?”

Whipping around again, you pulled the trigger without even an ounce of hesitation. A twang of satisfaction shot through you as you heard the distinct sound of flesh being pierced, followed by a tumble to the ground. You rushed over at the sight of the man—or demon, as you should be calling him—lying sprawled on the ground, his arms casually tucked under his head as if he hadn’t just been shot.

“Ooh,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around the arrow sticking out of his chest, “your arrows are made of dreamshade.” He grinned at you. “Smart one, aren’t you?”

Before you could even react, he ripped the arrow out, watching with amusement as crimson slowly dripped onto the front of his shirt. You stared at the hole in his chest, left behind by your arrow, a glimmer of glee expanding in your chest. Yes! you thought, your lips quirking as your hand floated toward the pistol hanging at your side. Now’s my cha—

All of a sudden, you watched in horror as the skin began to reform, the sinew and muscle stitching themselves back together to fill the gap. In an instant, his chest was whole again, the hole having disappeared entirely with nothing to even hint at its existence, were it not for the tear in his shirt.

“Unfortunately for you,” he said, tossing the arrow behind his head with a flick of his fingers, “I’m tougher than most demons out there.”

In a flash, you were standing over him, one foot digging into his chest. You didn’t even give him the chance to blink before you were pointing your crossbow at him once more, this time just barely allowing the arrow tip to hover above his neck. You tried to calm your breaths, pushing back the sick sense of joy you could feel starting to boil over inside you. You were so, so close to just killing hi—

“Don’t you think it’s a little rude to attack me without even asking for my name?” he calmly drawled, looking bored out of his mind.

You blinked in surprise, your thoughts faltering for a moment before your expression hardened once more. “I know who you are.”

He cocked his head at you, something like delight swimming in his viridian eyes. “Do you, now?”

You gulped, hesitating only for a moment before you began to speak. “Y-You’re Dream. Lord of chaos. Progenitor of destruction. Harbinger of nightmares.” You nearly choked on your own words.

“The world’s most powerful demon.”

He grinned at you, clapping his hands together above his head as he let out a small hoot. “Aw, you know all my titles?” He winked. “That’s cute.”

Cute, your brain repeated dumbly, a fuzzy feeling forming in your chest, but you quickly shook the thought from your head with a scowl. You should not be happy that one of the most powerful demon’s known to mankind called you cute.

(Okay, well. Maybe you were a little happy. Not that you would ever admit it.)

With a stony look, your finger wrapped around the crossbow trigger, the cool metal sending a shiver down you spine. “I’m here to kill you, Dream.”

He didn’t look fazed. “Oh? Even though we only just met?”

A snarl ripped itself out of your throat, fury slowly beginning to claw up your insides. Why did he sound so calm? Didn’t he understand that he was about to die to your hand?

“That doesn’t matter,” you said bluntly, trying to ignore your heart ramming away at your ribcage. “You’re a monster that needs to be disposed of.”

He hummed, absentmindedly picking at his nail. “That’s bold of you to say.” His tone was dull and interested, and his eyes seemed to shine even brighter thanks the green glow surrounding his head. “I can’t remember the last time a demon hunter has ever been so upfront with me.”

The string tying your restraint together snapped. That was it. How could he be so nonchalant? So apathetic? Didn’t he care?

“You’ve killed so many people,” you spat, “taken so many innocent lives, and for what?” You narrowed your eyes, nothing but pure disgust running through your veins as you dug the tip of your crossbow into the soft flesh of his neck. “What reason do I have to stop myself from ending your life right here, right now?”

Below you, Dream only stared blankly at you, his eyebrows raised. Then, he let out a sigh, wrapping a hand around the stock of your crossbow. Panic shot through you as he pulled it away from his throat with ease, his fingers curling around the polished wood. “First of all,” he said lowly, “that little thing isn’t going to do anything.”

In a blink of an eye, you heard the snapping of metal and wood, your gaze going wide. He shot you a cocky grin. “Not anymore.”

You leapt back, gritting you teeth and tossing your now useless crossbow onto the earth beside you. Your hand moved in a blur as you reached down and pulled out your pistol from its holster, pointing it toward him. “Each and every one of these bullets is soaked in holy water,” you shouted, your hand cocking back the safety. “Don’t think I won’t shoot.”

Dream rolled over onto his stomach, his grin widening as he rested his chin on his hand. “Tell me,” he drawled, tilting his head, “do you really think you scare me?”

You ignored the shaking of your fingers. “I—I can and will shoot you.”

He laughed, an uncomfortable warmth wrapping around your gut. “Please, darling—I’ve been alive for longer than you can even fathom. As if you’d be the first to pin me down, let alone try to shoot me.” His eyes flashed crimson, and you felt your stomach drop. “I know all your hunter tricks and tactics, and believe me when I say they won’t work.”

Suddenly, he floated up off the ground, not changing his position whatsoever. In only a matter of seconds, he was hovering above you, blinking down at your shocked expression with mirth glimmering in his scarlet gaze.

Of course he could levitate—what were you expecting?

“Second,” he said, “I did a lot of those things a long time ago, especially in human years. How long has it been?” He tapped his chin. “Probably centuries by now, which is like forever for you guys.”

You scowled at him, your pistol still pointed at him. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t caused any chaos recently.”

“That’s true!” he chirped, snapping his fingers. “But my more recent activities have been much more... tame in comparison to my golden years, don’t you think?”

As much as you wanted to shoot him right here and now, you also wanted to punch him in the face before you did. “Lives are lives, Dream!” you shouted. “Any more or less lost doesn’t make you any more redeemable.”

A chuckle slipped from his lips, flipping onto his back as he continued to hover in the cool, night air. “Oh, you humans and your morality. How entertaining you all are.”

There was only one word running through your mind as you glared at him, your jaw clenching tight as your rage only multiplied inside you. Monster, monster, monster.

His eyelids fluttered shut as he allowed himself to drift a fraction lower toward you. “Well, I do believe I should ask—who’s to say that I was the one who killed those people, anyways?”

Your heart stopped in your chest. “...what are you talking about?”

He peeked an eye open at you. “It’s not like I flew down from the sky and shot them all with a rifle, and it’s not like I just snapped my fingers and everyone dropped dead.” He hummed at the thought. “Just what kind of person do you take me for?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, your toes curling in your boots. “Stop distracting me—you’re dodging the question.”

“On the contrary,” he shot back without missing a beat, “I’d argue that you’re dodging mine, pet.” You could hear the laughter threatening to bubble up his throat as he spoke. “Do you really think I was the one purely responsible for all that destruction?”

You tried to ignore the slight tremble of your hands. “A-Aren’t you?” you stammered out. “You’ve started wars, detonated massive bombs, pushed people to their absolute limits. That stuff’s all your fault.” You gulped. “...isn’t it?”

For a second, he simply stared at you. Then, he burst into a fit of giggles. “Oh, how naïve you are, pet. Just what were you taught?” As he clutched his chest, he sunk a little lower toward you. “I didn’t fight on those battlefields. I didn’t press the red button. I didn’t kick men and women to the ground, pointing guns in their faces. But do you know who did?”

The cogs in your head began to turn as you wracked your mind over his words. Then, a wave of understanding slammed into you, and you lowered your pistol, your arm going limp at your side.

He couldn’t possibly mean...

“Ding, ding, ding! You guessed it.” His lips curled up into a delighted smirk. “Humanity did.”

Your eyes widened in horror. Oh, no.

The manic look in his eyes only grew. “Oh, yes.” He cackled at the look on your face, pointing at you. “I didn’t even have to lift a finger for you to all walk straight into your own demise! How pathetic is that?”

You took a shaky step back, your pistol dropping to the ground. “B-B—”

“B-B-B-But what?” he said mockingly, mimicking you in a high-pitched tone. “Did they tell you that I’m the big, bad wolf and that humanity is Little Red? Because they lied, pet. They lied to you.” He pointed his fingers together to form an X, tilting his head at you. “I’ll have you know that I’m not a liar. A trickster, perhaps. But a liar?” He narrowed his eyes. “Never.”

He bent down where he hovered in the air, waggling a finger in your face. “The truth is, darling, is that I didn’t do anything. I just stood in the room and watched. I might have pointed out that that one little duke was in perfect view, or that that one city only had so many people living in it, but I never took any lives myself.” He lightly tapped your nose, and you shrunk back as he crooned, “Humanity did all that, pet. They’re the real monsters to blame here.”

You wanted to sink to your knees and melt into a puddle on the ground. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. Your mentor told you that Dream killed all those people—that he was the one to stab the knife in and twist it while pulling it out. She wouldn’t lie to you, never in a million years.

You wanted to believe him, you really did. But there was something about the freckles scattered across Dream’s face and the way the moonlight bounced off his eyes that made you realize.

He was telling the truth.

A few moments passed in silence as you stared long and hard down at your feet. You could feel Dream’s gaze boring into your figure, eyeing you up and down as you struggled to steady the beating of your heart. You half-expected him to mock you even more, but to your surprise, he didn’t. Maybe he was more human than you thought.

“Why?” you finally whispered after god knows how long.

When you were met with silence, you raised your eyes to meet his once more. “Why did you do it?” you said, louder this time. “Why did you interact with us at all if you wouldn’t even get your own hands dirty? If you knew it would only end like this?”

His eyes flashed, the tiniest hint of carmine swirling in their murky depths. “Isn’t the answer obvious, pet?” He flashed you a wicked grin. “I was bored.”

You blinked, realization slowly setting in. “Bored? Bored?” You were about to lose it, now. “You did all that just because you were bored?”

He shrugged. “Sure did. Chaos makes the world so much more interesting, don’t you think? If only good things happened, you would be bored, too.”

Your stomach churned with disgust. “You’re twisted.”

His smile only widened. “At least I’m having fun.”

All you could do was stare at him in defeat. This wasn’t right. There were more ways to have fun than to toy with humanity’s psyche and drive them to end people’s lives, even for a demon like him. There had to be something you could do. For some inexplicable reason you couldn’t bring yourself to name, a part of you almost wanted to help him.

I must be losing my mind, you thought. What person in their right mind would try to save a demon, let alone the most powerful one of them all?

You, apparently.

The cogs in your head began to churn, your mind bustling as it tried to come up with some alternative, no matter how silly. There had to be something he could do that wasn’t just this.

That was when it hit you.

“Why,” you started slowly, your voice coming out shaky and unsure, “don’t you have fun in a way that doesn’t destroy things... but creates them?”

He blinked lazily at you. “Hm?”

You swallowed, raising your chin. “You—you can have chaos, but it doesn’t need to be destructive.”

He raised his brows. “It doesn’t?”

Your gaze hardened. “Not at all.”

Just then, a flash of memory shot through your skull, and you gasped. “Say, Dream,” you began, “do you—do you know how the Greeks thought the universe came to be?”

You didn’t wait for him to answer. “First,” you said, “there was chaos. And from chaos, life was born. Gods and goddesses, plants and animals.”

“And humans,” he added.

You nodded. “And humans—like me.” You pressed a hand to your chest. “See? Chaos can create things. It doesn’t have to be so full of death and terror.”

While his expression was bemused, there was something sad about it that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. “You do realize that that’s just a story that you human made up?” he hummed. “How the universe came to be is far more different.”

You blinked. “You were alive for that?”

He sent you a blank smile, the look in his eyes betraying nothing. “Maybe, maybe not.” Waving his hand, he flipped over onto his back, floating a fraction higher than before. “Point is, that kind of chaos probably doesn’t exist.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your side. “But it could,” you whispered.

He paused, curiosity flickering in his gaze. “What?”

You dug your heel into the ground, raising your voice. “It could! You don’t know that it doesn’t.” You took a step toward him, throwing your arms out. “Isn’t that fun? Isn’t that exciting? That there’s a whole other form of chaos you’ve never discovered before?!”

Your shout rang out into the quiet forest as Dream stared at you, his lips parted the tiniest bit. Rather than looking amused or arrogant, he almost looked... raw. Real. This might just the most vulnerable look you’d gotten of him all night.

Then, he burst into laughter.

Lowering your arms, you huffed at him, trying and failing to ignore the warmth blossoming between your lungs as you took in his wheezing face. “W-What?”

“Oh,” he gasped between peals of laughter, “what a treat you are, pet.”

Heat flashed across your cheeks as he wiped away a tear from his eye, his chuckles slowly dying down. His laugh should not sound as attractive as it was—he should not be as attractive as he was.

“Tell you what,” he said as he caught his breath once more, sending you a devilish grin. “If you tell me your name, I’ll tell you my real one.”

You stared at him for a moment, then your jaw dropped. “What?”

He stared at you, his emerald eyes glowing in the dim light. “You heard me.”

For a few seconds, you simply gaped, your brain still struggling to process his words. “But... but why?” you finally blurted. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

He hummed at you, flipping upside down. “What about it doesn’t make sense? It seems like a fair trade to me.”

Sputtering, you threw your hands into the air. “A demon’s true name is the source of their power! By handing it over to me, you’re basically putting your life in my hands—in a demon hunter’s hands.” Your face blanched at the mere thought. “A human name and demon name aren’t even remotely comparable.”

He blinked at you, slow and lazy. “I know.”

You didn’t understand—you couldn’t understand. “Then why are you doing this?”

He dipped his down toward you, his face hovering mere inches away from yours. “Isn’t it obvious?” he murmured. “You’re interesting. And rather cute, I suppose.”

You back-pedaled, your eyes wide as you stammered, “I-I could kill you if you told me your real name.”

He hummed, tucking his hand under his chin. “Perhaps, I suppose.” His lips curled upward. “But you won’t.”

Your hand squeezed around nothing. “You don’t know that.”

He chuckled again, and your heart skipped a beat in your chest. “Oh, yes I do, pet. Don’t act as though I can’t see right through you. I know you’re too wishy-washy to kill me off just like that.”

He tilted his head at you, his gaze brimming with mischief. “That’s the thing about humans—you’re all so greedy. You all want something you don’t have, something that fuels you to acquire more. It might be power, or fame, or fortune, or love. It’s quite pathetic, really. But curiosity?”

Lowering himself, he pushed himself up until he was standing flat on the ground again, his hands sliding into his pockets. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and your mouth went dry. “Why, curiosity is your greatest flaw of all. You humans always want to know more, and I know that you want to know what I do next, whether you’re aware of it or not.”

You felt like your blood was going to tear right out of your veins. You hated how right he was, how well he seemed to know you. “You’re insane,” you said.

His smile was lazy and wide as he took a single step toward you. “Probably. But I’ve been alive for ages now, and you might be the most fun thing I’ve seen in millennia. I want to know your name, pet.”

This was crazy in every sense of the word. Any other demon wouldn’t even dare utter their true name aloud, even to themselves, yet here Dream was, bargaining his for yours.

You’d be an idiot not to tell him your name, now.

Swallowing, you didn’t dare look away from his piercing eyes. “It—my name is [Y/N].”

His lips parted in awe, and he stepped toward you once more. “[Y/N],” he repeated, slowly. Carefully, like a wolf stalking its prey. “Fascinating name. Haven’t met too many of those in my lifetime, shocking as it may be.” He paused for a moment, and you could have sworn his smile looked different. “It’s pretty.”

A rush of heat went shooting down your spine, your stomach doing a flip. Biting the inside of your cheek, you glared at him. “Well, stop dawdling! What’s your real name, Dream?”

For a long, excruciatingly slow minute, he only stared at you, scanning every inch of your face. You could feel anxiety begin to crawl up your throat as he did nothing more than watch the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed.

All of a sudden, he was standing in front of you, his hand tucked underneath your chin and lifting it upward. You barely had the chance to gasp before you felt a soft warmth pressing against your lips, light as a feather and tasting like ash and smoke.

Before you could even register what had just happened, he was gone.

You whirled, your face growing astronomically hot. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears again, but for an entirely different reason this time. You raised your hand to touch your lips while your cheeks burned furiously.

Did he just... kiss me?

Just then, a whisper ran along the shell of your ear, so soft that you almost missed it.

“My name is Clay.”

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snowywrites · 3 years

Text

Monika x Fem!reader

summary: fluffy fic of Monika and the reader on the reader's birthday.

word count: 2.4k

As far as birthdays go, this one wasn't really anything too special. Well, maybe you're being a little too cynical. After all, last year you hadn't really gotten to spend your birthday with any friends- you'd been preoccupied with getting home to watch the newest season of your favorite anime.

This year, however, Sayori had managed to get you into the Literature Club, and it had, not to be dramatic, changed your life. For better or worse, that was yet to be seen.

"Y/N, is everything okay?" Sayori asks expectantly, bright blue eyes examining you with bewilderment.

You focus back on the present, giving your friend a reassuring smile. "Yeah, sorry! Everything's great." And you aren't lying; today for the club meeting, Natsuki had brought cupcakes for everyone to share, Sayori had actually not realized what day it was and so gave you a 'birthday hug,' Yuri had given you a copy of one of her favorite horror novels as a gift, even signed by the author, and yet...

You can't help but give a very small sigh. "I just kind of miss Monika, I guess."

Sayori, Natsuki, and Yuri all exchange glances in their respective chairs at one of the club tables. They then all focus on you with varying expressions: Sayori with mischief, Natsuki with exasperation, and Yuri with knowing amusement.

"What? Don't look at me like that!" You squeak defensively, feeling your face begin to heat up at what they were implying. "I only meant that it's- it's weird being at a meeting without our club president! T-That's all." Not that this could be called a meeting per se- more like a celebration between friends.

Sayori giggles at your reaction, and you hear Yuri whisper to Natsuki, "The lady doth protest too much," which elicits a snort of laughter from the pink-haired tsundere.

You groan, standing up abruptly from your seat and smoothing down your school uniform a bit, self-conscious all of a sudden. As your embarrassment dies down though, you feel a wave of affection for your fellow club members. As much as they tend to tease you about your little crush on Monika, they had made your birthday really special this year, and you were grateful. "Anyway, thank you guys again for everything! I had a lot of fun," you say earnestly, deciding it was probably time to wrap up and head home.

Sayori bounces up to join you, and you bid your farewells to Natsuki and Yuri, gathering up your things and heading out of the classroom.

Sayori glances back to make sure that Natsuki and Yuri are in fact walking away, and then she reaches out to stop you. "Uhm, Y/N...?"

You pause to look at her expectantly, unsure of why she's much less energetic now than she was a few minutes ago. "Yes?"

"I-I was actually supposed to tell you something," your best friend begins, uncharacteristically quiet. You wonder briefly why she hadn't mentioned this before... maybe she had been debating on whether or not she actually wanted to tell you whatever it is, considering how the words are practically being dragged from her at this point. "Ah, well, Monika asked me to, that is. The reason she couldn't come to the Literature Club today was because she was stuck at a meeting with the student council, but..." Sayori exhales in what could be a sigh. "She did still wanna see you for your birthday, so she hoped you could stop by there and wait for her."

You stand there in the mostly empty hall of the school, puzzled at why this news would bring such a reaction from your friend- especially when it makes you feel so fluttery inside. "Oh!" You try not to let it show, but you're fairly certain you're lighting up like a Christmas tree. "I see. Thank you for telling me, Sayori!"

As you turn to leave, you feel Sayori reach out to touch your shoulder, but she retracts her hand quickly. When you look back at her, she's her old self, giving you a big smile. "Yeah, I guess you're gonna go see her, huh? Well, I'll catch you later, Y/N!"

Before you can respond, Sayori dashes off, forgetting to wish you a happy birthday.

Well, that was weird. Then again, Sayori's been pretty off lately whenever you and Monika are involved.

The thought of the brunette is enough to make you forget all about whatever might be troubling your best friend, and you make your way through the school to the student council room with a giddy spring in your step. They must not be out yet since the halls are pretty deserted still.

You risk taking a peek through the little glass window on the door, and your hunch is confirmed. Students belonging to the council are all sitting in a circle of chairs, discussing... well, school-related business stuff. You aren't really sure what they do, exactly.

You catch sight of Monika at the head of them, naturally because she is the president, but you aren't expecting to see her with such an expression.

Usually, Monika seems to you warm, open, patient, and friendly... but here, she looks... not even bored, but more like she's utterly apathetic towards all the conversations going on around her. You've never seen her so uncaring, to the point where she seems almost irritated by the presence of everyone in the room with her.

Maybe she's having a bad day? The thought makes you a bit sad, and you find yourself wondering if she would even want to see you. Do the others in the council even realize she's so unlike herself?

As if to answer your silent question, one of the other students turns to Monika to say something, and when they do, the familiar expression you're used to your club president wearing slips back with ease onto her face. She listens attentively to whatever it is she's being told, and then she smiles and nods, commenting something you can't hear in return.

You watch the exchange, too fascinated to stop watching even if you do worry someone might notice you peeking inside for such a long minute. As soon as the student turns away from her, Monika is once again the picture of discontentment; you even notice her tapping her nails listlessly against the surface of the table they're all seated at.

The sound of the doorknob rattling causes you to leap backwards in shock, stumbling slightly over your own two feet. The meeting must be over, because someone is stepping out, and then another, and then you're hurriedly dodging out of the path of the entire student body as they file out, talking and laughing with one another as they head down the hall, eventually leaving you alone.

"Y/N?"

Looking away from their retreating figures, you face Monika and find her as she always is with you- curious emerald eyes and a friendly air about her. "Ah- hello," you greet her, trying not to sound as awkward as you feel about your... let's be honest, spying.

"I wasn't really sure that you'd show!" She exclaims, startling you with a sudden hug.

You've actually never gotten a hug from Monika, although you have a ton of hugs to compare hers to- Sayori throws herself at you pretty much daily, and hers tend to be suffocating, always too tight and lasting a bit too long.

From Monika, though? Her hug, despite making your head spin and your heart skip a beat, makes you feel so safe, secure... she's so warm and you can't help but be enamored with whatever perfume she uses.

Unfortunately, you're too stunned to return the embrace in time before Monika pulls back from you, and you could swear she has a faint blush on her cheeks. She doesn't apologize for her impromptu action, though, and you're glad for that.

"Why wouldn't I?" You ask, dumbstruck.

She studies you for a few seconds, and you get the idea that she's trying to detect if you're being serious or not. Eventually she says, "Oh, nevermind that! I am glad to see you, though. I have something I wanted to give you."

'Please refrain from saying something really stupid and cheesy like, 'the best gift you could give me is just getting to see you on my birthday,' you think to yourself. "A gift? You really didn't have to- or, I mean, you shouldn't have-! Not that I don't appreciate it, though...!" You don't typically struggle so much with your words, but you're still a little off your game after the lovely hug. It's like your mind is foggy, your tongue is twisted, and you simply can't think straight. Which isn't really new when you're around Monika, but today it's impacting you even more than normal. Maybe because you two are all alone for once, not surrounded by Sayori, Yuri, or Natsuki, or even any other students for that matter.

Monika gives a soft laugh. "I wanted to. Technically it's two somethings rather than one," she admits.

You find your mind racing as it tries to go over the potential possibilities. A book like Yuri? That would be very fitting, since you'd befriended Monika through the Literature Club.

You watch as she takes a gift box out of her bookbag, offering it to you with a sweet, "Happy birthday, Y/N."

God, you're definitely blushing. Like, fierce blushing. Either that or the school suddenly decided to turn fifty heaters on all at once. 'Geez, pull yourself together!! Act normal!' You internally berate yourself. If there had been any doubt before, it was all erased in this one instant- you were head over heels for your club president.

"Awh, thank you! It's nice of you." You accept the gift, examining it momentarily. As expected of the class star Monika, the box itself is wrapped perfectly. It's even your favorite color, with a matching ribbon tying it shut. Whether or not you're a sentimental person, you recognize that this is the sort of memento that could easily be kept for a long, long time. You glance back to your friend. "May I open it now?"

Monika nods. "Please do!"

You feel her gaze on you as you carefully untie the ribbon and open up the gift box to see what's inside.

She was right, it is more than one thing. They sort of go together though, you realize as you lift one of the presents up to admire it.

In your hand is a necklace. The chain is a light silver, and the pendant contains a pretty stone in the shape of a heart. The stone shimmers slightly as it reflects the light of the school hall.

"It's so pretty...!" You breathe.

"I'm glad, I thought it was pretty too," Monika says. She sounds calm, but when you glance at her you think she's ecstatic, but the expression is gone as soon as you blink, leaving you to wonder if it had been your imagination playing tricks on you. "It's your birthstone, did you notice?"

You hadn't noticed until she'd pointed it out, but it was indeed your birthstone. Monika is just... so very thoughtful. It's really no wonder she's so popular. "Thank you so much!!" You chirp, still somewhat surprised that she would go so far just for a birthday gift for you. You hadn't known her personally for very long, after all.

You set the necklace back down inside the box to bring out the other gift, another accessory- it's the same color as your birthstone necklace, but it actually reminds you of something else.

Yes, it's a big bow similar to Monika's own. If you were to wear it, it could even look like she and you were matching. You could just be reading too much into things, though...

"I.. love them. So much." You have an overwhelming urge to put your thoughts onto paper in order to give Monika the proper thanks that she deserves for being possibly the most generous person in existence, and because you feel like you're failing miserably at voicing just how touched you really are by these gifts. "I almost want to get you something in return...!"

Monika shakes her head in amusement. "It's your birthday, not mine." A contemplative finger rests on her chin as she adds, "Although... there is something you could do for me. If you wouldn't mind, of course."

Perplexed, you respond without giving yourself a chance to think about it. "Anything!"

You're rewarded with an affectionate smile from Monika, but it seems as though she was expecting that to be your answer.

She extends a hand for the gift box that you've already set both the bow and necklace back in, inquiring, "May I?"

Wordlessly, your intrigue piqued, you hand it back to her. She takes the bow out first, stepping closer to you.

It's not foolish of you to have been anticipating a kiss- even now you could very easily initiate one if you so chose, because of how terrifyingly close Monika is to you as she gently pulls your hair back for you, tying it back with the Y/FC bow and even brushing a stray lock of hair from your face after she does so.

While you're struggling to recover from your short-circuiting, Monika takes the necklace and places it around your neck. The brush of her fingers sends sparks of static against your skin, and you feel as if time is standing completely still, and it's just you and her in this world.

The faint click of the necklace as it clasps shut is what brings you back to reality, and all too soon Monika is stepping away from you again, still close but at a much more reasonable distance away.

She appraises your appearance and then smiles softly. "As I thought."

Is she being mysterious on purpose or does being around her just happen to kill your brain cells? "E-Eh?"

"You look lovely, Y/N."

The compliment makes you want to bury your face in your hands in the futile hopes of hiding your blush, but by now it's probably too late for that.

You stutter out your thanks, desperately trying to mend your scattered thoughts, and she once again wishes you a happy birthday, reminding you as well to bring your poetry assignment to the club meeting tomorrow.

As she's leaving, you realize you never got the chance to ask about the strange behavior she'd exhibited during the meeting with the other students.

#ddlc x reader #monika x reader #fem reader #ddlc reader insert #doki doki literature club #imagine #scenario #preference

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miyagihawk · 3 years

Text

“idfc; blackbear (again it’s so easily related to hawk vibes, maybe he’s afraid to open up again for a relationship after moon so he acts like he doesn’t care about the reader but the mfs actually so in love😩✋🏻)” - @hawkwhore

ugh i love this sm and blackbear 😛 ty for the request as always <3

idfc | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

warnings: just cursing?

summary: based on idfc by blackbear :) hawk doesn’t like you and you don’t know why

a/n: soooo i kinda strayed from the song LOL sorry but this is kinda more cutesy and less angsty than the song. i actually like it though :)

You don’t know why he seemed to hate you.

Ever since you walked into the dojo for the first time, it was like you couldn’t escape his death stare.

Eventually, you got closer to Miguel, his best friend, so you two started going to the same parties and hanging out more often. But he never seemed to warm up to you.

Miguel said Hawk was just intimidated by you because you always beat him when Sensei calls you both to spar. So you let him win one time, but he seemed to hate you even more after.

Which is why you started Operation Get Hawk To Like Me.

It seemed like a fun challenge to get the broody boy to enjoy your company, but you also sincerely wanted to be friends with him. When he would laugh with Miguel and he smiled like the sun, it made you sad that he was so cold towards you but so warm towards others. You wanted the sun.

You decided that the first part of O.G.H.T.L.M was to subtlety be nicer; you didn’t want to be desperately kind out of nowhere and make him dislike you even more.

“Hey!” you called after the red haired boy who was about to open the door to the dojo.

Hawk turned around slowly at the sound of your voice, and you winced at the annoyed look on his face.

“I- uh, I got this for you,” you held out a blueberry smoothie. When everyone hung out at Golf N Stuff, you saw that he got that flavor and took a mental note.

The boy stood in front of you with a twisted face, not reaching out to take the drink. “Why?” he asked.

You shifted awkwardly, feeling nervous under his stare. Was this too forward? “Um... I accidentally got an extra one?” you made the excuse lamely. “Just take it.”

“Give it to Miguel,” Hawk turned around and sauntered into the dojo, leaving you with a frown. But you wiped off any trace of your disappointed expression and walked into practice too.

You tried everything.

You waved at him every time you passed each other in the halls. You got him drinks at parties and you even offered to be the designated driver so that he could get wasted with Miguel.

When you two sparred, you lost on purpose each time. Sensei even pulled you aside to ask if something was wrong. “Hawk is getting better,” was all you said, but he didn’t seem convinced.

The list of things you were trying to do for Operation Get Hawk To Like Me seemed endless and you were totally kissing his ass. His feelings about you weren’t budging, and it seemed like this was just a hopeless mission.

“I just don’t get why he hates me so much. I’m trying so hard,” you groaned.

“Maybe that’s why. You’re trying too hard,” Miguel said across from you with a mouthful of fries.

“Well I don’t know what to do then. I want him to know I’m trying.”

“He knows,” your best friend nodded his head nonchalantly.

Your face scrunched up in confusion, causing Miguel to give you an amused look. “Then why doesn’t he care? I’m starting to think there’s just something wrong with me,” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“You should just talk to him if it’s bothering you so much,” Miguel shrugged.

“I guess I should,” you slumped, feeling intimidated by the thought of confronting Hawk. Was it even worth it? If he didn’t want to be your friend now, then what would change if you talked to him? If he would even agree to talk.

Tonight. The final step that would determine if you were going to give up on Hawk.

The truth is, it really hurt your feelings how little he cared about you. And it hurt even more when you went out of your way to get him to even acknowledge you as an acquaintance.

You don’t know why it affected you so badly; maybe you’ve always had a teensy crush on him. And maybe this little plan you formulated was actually motivated by your subconscious desire to really get to know him, even though you passed it off as wanting to simply be his friend.

So tonight, at the party you were all going to, you were going to talk to him. And get the truth on why he was so persistent in shoving you away.

“Woah, slow down Y/N. Miss lightweight,” Miguel eyed you cautiously when you downed another cup of beer.

“I just need some liquid courage to face Hawk,” you licked your lips, already feeling the effect of the alcohol clouding your mind. You started to sway without noticing, making Miguel laugh at you amusingly.

“Well good luck with that. But that’s enough, or you won’t even get any words out,” he took the cup from you and you pouted. Miguel subtly motioned behind you, and you turned around to look.

It was the red haired boy you’ve been avoiding all night; the one who made your palms sweat when you thought about the conversation you were planning to have.

But with the alcohol giving you a rush of confidence, you walked up to him with no anxiety. His eyes widened when he saw you rushing forward, and he almost looked afraid.

“Can I talk to you?” you said solidly, feeling braver than you usually are. Hawk looked at you, confused, but nodded to his friends before following you to go somewhere quieter.

He traced behind you as you opened the door to go outside, where there were less people and the music wasn’t so loud.

“Um... is something wrong?” Hawk stood awkwardly in front of you, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

“Of course there’s something wrong,” you replied in a meaner tone than you intended, but you brushed off the guilt.

“Well what is it?” he asked in his usual annoyed tone that he used only when he needed to speak to you.

You felt your cheeks heat up with frustration. “Why don’t you like me?” you blurted out, and the expression on his face told you that he wasn’t prepared for it at all.

“W-What?” Hawk stuttered, his previously composed persona was gone.

“Why don’t you like me?” you repeated, more forcefully. “I am so nice to you. But you just hate me and I have no idea why! And you’re just best buds with everyone else, so I know you aren’t incapable of having friends. Do you know how shitty that feels? Especially when I try so hard to just get you to treat me decently!” your mouth ran on and on and words were coming out without you thinking.

Your blurred vision from your anger cleared after you caught your breath, and you focused on his shocked expression. It was the most expression he’s ever shown you.

“I-I-” Hawk stammered, but you cut him off.

“Look, I’ll leave you alone if you just tell me to. But tell me why, so I can give up. I’m sorry, okay? For whatever I’ve done that makes you not even want to be near me. And I don’t even know why I feel like I need you to like me, I just-”

This time he was the one to interrupt you. “I do like you.”

You blinked in confusion, taken aback by his words.

Hawk licked his lips anxiously, taking a breath in before speaking, “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a dick. The truth is... I’ve been... um... catching feelings for you. And I guess I was trying to protect myself by pushing you away.”

Your mouth dropped open at his confession. Out of all the responses you were expecting when you were overthinking about the conversation, this one was one you could have never seen coming. But surprisingly, it made your stomach turn and your heartbeat accelerate.

He continued, this time looking into your eyes with his blue ones. “I don’t hate you at all. I just... I just felt like last time I caught feelings for someone I just got hurt. And I was all in, but they weren’t. That’s why I keep myself from getting close to you. I’m sorry Y/N,” Hawk confessed his whole heart, leaving you speechless.

After barely getting a few words out of him everyday, his confession of feelings was overwhelming. But you finally understood him. You knew about his relationship with Moon and how it went down from all the school gossip, but for some reason you never pieced together that it was why his guard was up so high.

“I don’t really know what to say,” you admitted, still feeling woozy from both the alcohol and his speech. You weren’t sure about your feelings and you didn’t want to say something you didn’t mean. Yes, you had feelings for him too, but everything was going so fast.

Hawk gave you a smile that calmed you from your worry. “It’s okay, sorry. It was a lot. But if you still want we can be friends.” He reached out his hand for you to shake and confirm your partnership.

Instead of taking it, you took him by surprise by wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He melted into the hug after a few seconds, and you smiled from behind his view. “Friends,” you pulled away and he beamed at you warmly.

You finally got the sun.

a/n: omg bye this was not like the song at all SORRY there wasn’t that much action it was just fluffy IVE BEEN WATCHING TOO MUCH MIRACULOUS LADYBUG like they r so soft and u can see the influence of it on my writing lmaoo anyways hope u enjoyed!! :)

#cobra kai #eli moskowitz #hawk cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai x reader #eli moskowitz imagine #eli moskowitz x reader #hawk imagine #hawk x reader #cobrakai

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sweaterkittensahoy · 3 years

Note

I don't really fancy established relationships but i love drawn out onesided pining, so maybe something about seeing Lestrade at work at the station or at a crime scene, being the right mix of disheveled & professional

(You and I are very different people; but I will do my very best because a good pining is a fun time)

Mycroft stands at the edge of the scene and twitches when the first few raindrops hit his collar. He opens his umbrella without thinking and lifts it to protect him as his gaze falls back to the scene.

Or, Lestrade on the scene, to be more correct.

He's standing several dozen meters away, lit up by the high-powered mobile lights from forensics. His shirt is in a state, wrinkled and creased. This is his third scene in nineteen hours, Mycroft knows, because this is the third scene he has been to as well. Someone is targeting informants to some of Mycroft's lower colleagues, and they're moving swiftly. Mycroft's people, led by Anthea, are working the angles they have. Sherlock is buried in information to find the angles they do not see. Lestrade is doing what he does the very best: being the boots on the ground.

Mycroft watches Lestrade yawn hugely, then turn and say something to a tech that makes the tired man flash him a brief, amused smile. Lestrade scrubs a hand over his hair, then looks up, squinting as the rain hits his face. It's nothing more than a light misting, truly, but Mycroft steps forward anyway, pleased at the people who nod at him in recognition. Lestrade had been insistent that his people know Mycroft on sight so he could move as easily as needed at these particular scenes, and Mycroft appreciates as always how well Lestrade understands what people need.

"Detective Inspector," Mycroft says when he's a few meters away. Out of Lestrade's personal space but close enough to be easily heard.

Lestrade holds up a finger. "Two ticks," he says, flashing Mycroft a quick look to see his agreeing nod.

Mycroft watches Lestrade walk over to Donovan and have a brief conversation. The tension in her shoulders loosens minutely, and she flicks Lestrade on the chest in a friendly fashion that makes him grin.

Oh, that grin, Mycroft thinks. Such a dangerous weapon on the wrong man. Possibly even more dangerous on the right one.

Lestrade squats down to look at what Anderson is photographing, then he's back on his feet, working his way across the scene to the constables keeping watch at the tape. He says a few words, hands three cigarettes to one of them, laughs quietly at some reply, then leaves them to their work.

Mycroft is somehow certain the constable only requested a single cigarette, but Lestrade would never hand over one when he has several. It is yet another sign of the goodness of his heart. The goodness of the man.

"Mycroft," Lestrade says when he finishes his circuit and comes to a stop in front of Mycroft, hands jammed in the pockets of his trousers, his coat pushed back off his hips due to the stance. It makes him one very lovely masculine line from the top of his head to the tips of his shoes. The mist is just starting to flatten his hair, but the water makes it glimmer, and Mycroft cannot believe how devastating the mere existence of this man is to his being.

"I was going to offer you a bit of protection," Mycroft says, tipping his umbrella slightly forward. "But I am not sure you'll feel its use now that you've gotten damp."

Lestrade takes his hands out of his pockets and shakes his coat by its lapels. Water droplets fly off to the sides. "Waterproof," he says, "so I'm pretty dry overall. But I wouldn't say no to a little head protection while we compare notes."

"Certainly," Mycroft says. He steps forward at the same time as Greg, and they meet perfectly centered under Mycroft's umbrella. For a moment, all Mycroft can catalogue is the warmth that radiates from Greg's torso, the tiny cut on his chin where he nicked himself shaving, the scent of bitter, burned coffee that clings to his collar.

"Same as the others," Lestrade says, reaching up and pushing his hair backwards through his fingers. It makes it stick up more.

Mycroft gets a brief hint of mint and lavender shampoo mixed with the smell of new rain, and oh, that's new. The addition of the water to that smell that Mycroft has known for what feels like a very long time. This is what Lestrade would smell like in the shower, Mycroft thinks, and then blinks the thought away. "Stabbed through the back of the neck with signs of torture pre-death?" Mycroft asks to keep his mind focused on the present.

Lestrade sighs deeply, and there's sadness in his eyes. He feels every death he investigates, Mycroft knows, but he also carries that weight with a grace that Mycroft has very rarely seen. It is cousin to the grace Lestrade has that has him taking a moment to cheer his team. To give three cigarettes to a random constable. A relation to the grace Lestrade showed Sherlock and then Mycroft the day they all met.

Mycroft has been unquestionably and foolishly in love for a very long time. There is no other way to be in the face of a grace so casual given by a man so effortlessly beautiful.

"Yeah," Lestrade says. "How's it going on your side of things?"

"No updates, I'm afraid. And nothing from Sherlock."

Lestrade quirks a smile, then a small, dry laugh. "So, he has nothing, or he's hared off and doing something stupid."

"I would hope Dr. Watson would inform us if that were happening, but he is...occasionally unreliable."

Lestrade smiles at Mycroft, wide and amused, the flash of happiness in his eyes making Mycroft feel like he can't breathe at all. "John's entirely reliable. He will always be by Sherlock's side when he's being a fucking berk."

Mycroft huffs a laugh. There's warm annoyance and fondness in Lestarde's tone. Signs of friendship and care. Of sincere concern and affection. "I cannot argue against your accurate description."

The rain suddenly comes down harder, switching from mist to a proper downpour. There's shouts of displeasure from the scene techs, all rushing to try and preserve what they can. Mycroft is not surprised that Lestrade does not dart away to help. He is a man with a keen sense of when he's useful versus when he's not, and he will only be in the way as the techs rush with precise teamwork to cover the scene in sheeting.

"Shit," Lestrade mutters, pulling his coat around him and tying it closed. "I know we haven't found fuck-all at the other scenes, but the possibility we just lost something is going to hit the team right in morale."

"You will overcome it," Mycroft says. "Your people knows you will not blame them."

Lestrade looks at Mycroft, gaze flittering over his face. Mycroft stays still, allowing his face to stay open and readable. There's a shift to Lestarde's gaze when their eyes meet. From curious to pleased, and then from pleased to...Mycroft isn't quite sure.

Or, he is sure but he fears that to put a name to what he's seeing will mean it will go away.

Lestrade takes a half-step forward, just enough that they're truly close together under the protection of Mycroft's umbrella. "What do you see when you stand here and watch me?" he asks.

Mycroft takes a moment to answer. His heart is thundering in his chest louder than the rain hitting the umbrella just above their heads. "Everything," he finally says because it's the truest answer.

Lestrade nods slowly. He glances over his shoulder and takes in the scene. "Scene's basically useless now," he says. "But I need to check a few more things. When I'm done," Lestrade turns to look at Mycroft again, "me and you, let's get a pint. Warm ourselves up a bit and get a breather. Been a rough couple of days."

Lestrade's face tells Mycroft everything. It's not just a pint. Not just a chance to wind down with someone who understands the strain of being in charge. It's exactly what Mycroft saw and was afraid to name. Hope. Interest. Curiosity. Warmth.

"I'll wait in my car," Mycroft says. He tips the umbrella towards Greg. "Please make use of this."

Greg takes the umbrella. He gives Mycroft one more warm look, the hint of a smile, and then a sharp nod. "Ta," he says and walks away.

The way his shoulders and back straighten as he makes his way back to Donovan makes Mycroft feel warm even as the rain drenches him. He'd relaxed with Mycroft, comfortable to show a bit more of himself.

Mycroft walks briskly to his car, ignoring Anthea's amused look when she sees how wet he is. She shifts her umbrella so it covers them both.

"Any change, Sir?" Anthea asks.

Mycroft snorts at the utter flatness of her tone. Anthea cuts him an amused look. "Not in regards to leads," he says and lets her read on his face that, yes, there has been one change.

"Shall I fetch your spare suit from the boot?"

Mycroft glances over his shoulder. Greg has left the umbrella with Donovan and is making his way around without it. Were he a Renaissance painting, Mycroft thinks, his grace would glow around him like a lantern. "I am sure the heat in the car will be adequate," he says. He will never have Greg's grace, but he is very curious to try it on in some small way. They'll both be disheveled and damp when they sit down for their pint. It warms Mycroft to think of it.

"Very good," Anthea says with a blank look that laughs at his romantic fancy as she opens the door. "I assume we are waiting for the Detective Inspector to join us."

"Yes," Mycroft says. "Thank you."

#mystrade #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes #ask #answer #get together #sort of #i hope this is enough pining!#anthea

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amchara · 3 years

Text

In Cold Blood - (Whumptober prompts 4, 7, 22)

Kit Herondale, Belial, Sammael, Tessa Gray, Jem Carstairs, Mina Carstairs

The Princes of Hell are looking for the perfect pawn and Johnny Rook's protection spells performed on Kit as a baby aren't enough to save him... (Or- my take on this thread about possessed!Kit in TWP)

Prompts: Taken hostage (Prompt Four), helplessness (Prompt Seven) and Demon (Prompt 22) for Whumptober

TW: offscreen violence, demon possession?

The two demons watched as the teenage boy shifted uneasily and cried out in his sleep. “No Ty… not if you do this, not if…” he fell silent. Then his body locked and stiffened. He called out in horror and despair-- “LIVVY!”

Sammael looked appreciatively at the boy’s long limbs, which, despite their coltish appearance, had nascent muscles- the promise of a powerful warrior if trained properly. And his face was fair, framed by golden curls and a strong jaw, and despite his nightmares, sweet and open. All the better for seduction and persuading the unwary to trust him, Sammael thought.

“Well done, brother- I think he will do well for our plans,” he said, adjusting the portal window so that he and Belial could spy further into the room.

Belial smiled. “He’s not of my line but his protection spells are weak- they were not completed properly. And there’s a hint-” he sniffed. “A hint of dark magic around him- that should speed the possession.”

He started forward, clawed hand descending towards the opened portal to draw the shadowhunter boy into his realm. But his brother’s arm thumped across his chest, stopping him.

“You have him for three days,” Sammael reminded him. “And then you must allow our brothers to take their turns.”

“You should find your own,” Belial said, a sulky note entering his voice. “I want this one.”

“Most shadowhunters have intact protection spells so you know that would be challenging. Also, this one…” Sammael said, watching the boy carefully. “His faerie blood will do nicely for the final stage of our plan. You must share.”

Belial tossed his head, moonlight glinting off his immaculate dark hair. “Understood,” he said shortly. His grey eyes glowed. “No matter- I should be able to accomplish my goals by that time. Starting with my plans for the inhabitants of this house.”

Kit opened his eyes, blinking as he took in his surroundings. His limbs felt oddly heavy and his mind felt unfocused, and he tried to shake his head to clear it. Strange. He couldn’t quite manage it.

He was in Mina’s room, dressed in normal street clothes and standing by the door, hand resting lightly on her dollhouse.

Mina was awake and sitting upright in her bed. But something was wrong, Kit realised. She was watching him with a wary look, her dark eyes solemn and unsure as she huddled in her covers.

“Where’s Kit?” she asked, her voice small and tentative.

What was Mina talking about?

To his horror, Kit could feel his face move into a rictus of a smile and he walked forward even as she shrank back from him on the bed.

Was he sleepwalking? Was this a waking nightmare?

No. The voice was low and seductive, caressing across his mind. You’re under my control now, Kit Herondale.

Mina screamed as he grabbed her.

But suddenly he was the one screaming, as his hands burned uncontrollably and he dropped her, her light yellow magic trailing away like smoke wisps. She scrambled away and the fear on her face sent a stab of pain through his heart. The… presence, whatever, whoever it was seemed to find delight in this, almost broadcasting its feelings directly into Kit’s mind.

There was a thundering noise in the hallway and Jem and Tessa burst into the room. Jem was an incongruous but deadly sight holding a long broadsword and clothed in only an undershirt and tight white underwear, while Tessa, despite the late hour and wild hair, projected an air of sharp competence as she held her hands up, blue flames dancing between her fingers.

They took in the sight of their two children.

Tessa was the one who understood it first, a look of shock and dismay crossing her face. “Kit?” she asked, slowly.

“Hello, daughter,” it said, the words leaving his mouth in an unnatural way, and Kit could feel a cold amusement from the being currently controlling him.

“Belial,” Tessa whispered, and Jem let out a muffled gasp but his grip on the sword didn’t waver.

Panic rose through Kit as he considered Tessa’s response. He tried to push, strain his muscles, blink his eyes. Anything to regain control over his body that was being controlled by a freaking Prince of Hell.

Nothing worked.

“I know we said we were even, the last time we spoke-” and Kit could feel his focus switch to include Jem as well. “But I’m afraid I… lied.” He gestured down his body. “And it was rather careless of you to have left such shoddy protection spells on another of your children.”

Tessa narrowed her eyes. “Let him go.” She raised her hands again.

“Or what?” His arms crossed, and he leaned casually against the bedside table. “You’re hardly about to attack me away, not while I’m wearing this.”

And Kit thought he would do a million chores, and a thousand tough training sessions, if it meant he was never again referenced as a demon fashion accessory.

Tessa’s eyes flickered almost imperceptibly towards Jem. It was the smallest of gestures and if he wasn’t so aware of their tiny tells, having lived for three years with them, he wouldn’t have realised that they had just shared a plan. Unfortunately, Kit realised with growing horror, as his hand suddenly raised in a familiar gesture, Belial seemed to have direct access to his very thoughts.

I do indeed. Thank you

Jem lunged towards the bed, arms outstretched to scoop up Mina. But he was intercepted by Belial taking control of Kit’s powers - the same powers he and Tessa and Jem had spent hours carefully training, safely- and knocking him with a giant invisible force, slamming Jem into the opposite wall of the nursery, where he lay crumpled but still conscious, eyes wide with pain.

Tessa snarled and with a couple elegant gestures, a crying Mina flew into the air, landing safely into her arms. Mina burrowed her head into her mother’s shoulder.

“I do need both your children, Tessa, my darling.” Kit sauntered over to her but stopped short as a solid, invisible wall stood in between them.

“Over my dead body,” she told him, her eyes furious as she stroked Mina’s back protectively.

“How very dramatic,” Kit heard himself drawl, looking down at his fingernails in a bored manner.

There was a growing sense of a burning, hungry power building in him and Kit summoned all his willpower to fight Belial if he tried to hurt Tessa or Mina or Jem again.

I won’t let you hurt my family.

He could feel the demon scoff at him, as he stepped away. With a few sharp gestures, he outlined a door frame, and reality bent and shivered for a moment before a doorway opened. On the other side, Kit could see city lights and hear cars honking, as a balmy breeze drifted through.

“I’ll go have fun with this one first, and we can return to discuss your daughter later,” Belial told her as he stepped through, easily sidestepping Jem’s pained attempt to try and tackle him.

“Kit!” Tessa’s cry was suddenly cut off as the doorway winked close.

Kit raged and swore and drew on every scrap of knowledge he knew- Shadowhunter and Downworlder alike- but it did no good. He was powerless and worst of all, as he walked down the busy urban road, he felt insignificant, a feeling that was highlighted by Belial’s next words to him.

Oh, you’re still here. I don’t think I need you around for this part. In fact, I think for this first time- it’ll be more fun if you’re not.

The next time Kit returned to consciousness, he was lying in an alley somewhere, his head throbbing and it felt like a bucket of paint had been thrown over his face and body, his clothes tacky with it. But instinctively Kit knew it wasn’t paint. He looked down.

There was blood on his hands.

So. Much. Blood.

(Yes there will probably be more to this story - this was too much fun to write. Which Prince of Hell takes control next?? Also, am thinking a Kit / Ty reunion while Kit is still possessed... )

Taglist: @sandersgrey @dontmindmyshadowhunting @shadowhunting-hooligans @of-same-steel-and-temper @hardlymatters @storm-of-ruination @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @roundtom

Previous Whumptober fics:

Prompt One - "You Have To Let Go" (James Herondale, Cordelia Carstairs, Matthew Fairchild)

Prompt Two - Choking/Gagged (Dru Blackthorn, Ash Morgenstern, Ty Blackthorn, Kit Blackthorn, L.A. Institute inhabitants)

Prompt Three - "Who Did This To You?" (Cristina Rosales, Mark Blackthorn, Kieran Kingson)

(link to prompts)

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Total Eclipse (P.2)

Title: Total Eclipse (Part Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Sherlock Holmes (RDJ). Sherlock had an impression on the reader from a formative age but he was always so busy running with cases. Their moments of passions were coveted between the two but they were few and far between. He left with Watson on a case and in that time, her parents found her a suitable man to give her to. Wealthy and accomplished. Sherlock and her have not been able to let go of each other though. Words: 3,792 Warnings (for the whole fic): Angst, infidelity, smut, swearing, substance abuse, non liner storyline, character death, 18+ as always Author’s Note: There is heavy backstory here in italics! I was reading up on Victorian customs and tbh, I’m not privy to it at all, so I apologize if things are not historically accurate!

Part One || Part Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

You walked away from where your ladies tea was going on, brushing your skirts out. You had begun to become uncomfortable sitting on the blanket and wanted to stretch your legs.

“Do not wander too far,” your mother called out to you.

“Of course not, mother,” you called back over your shoulder.

She would not notice how far you wandered when she was this engrossed in the latest gossip from the castle.

Coming onto the cobblestone, your eyes set on the fountain. There were goldfish inside and you made a point to always come to the fountain when you visited this park. You nodded at a couple as you passed them, exchanging pleasant smiles. They did eye you somewhat curiously at the fact you were walking alone but pleasant, nonetheless. Reaching the edge of the fountain, you leaned over, peering into it.

Just as you were reaching into the fountain, a small gust of wind hit you and you felt your hat fly off the top of your head. You let out a noise of frustration, turning around, eyes searching. It was tumbling away and coming to the feet of a gentleman sitting on a bench. His eyes were on you, and you had a feeling they had been for a bit.

He dipped down, picking your hat up from the cobble stone and stood up from the bench. His hands came up to brush at it as he walked towards you. He was careful with the fabric, his own coat bristling in the small breeze at his sides.

“Your hat, miss,” he said holding it out to you, giving a small bow.

You thanked him and took it.

He was terribly handsome. Dark hair, tousled just so, not to the point that he looked unkempt. His eyes were an alluring shade of chocolate. There was a playfulness in them and they excited you.

“You must keep a good hold on that. It’s woven perfectly,” he continued.

“Perfectly?” you asked, putting the hat back on.

“Yes. It’s immaculate. The stitchwork. Whoever did it took great care. I believe it is the work of the hatter on Bishop’s Gate, east end?” Your mouth fell open in surprise as you pulled the ribbon down beneath your chin and you froze. He gave a light chuckle at your expression, “Sorry, I have a keen eye for detail and a memory to boot. May I?” He asked suddenly, his hands reaching ever so slightly towards your face, eyes on the ribbons for a moment to explain what he was asking.

You stilled, your hands falling to your sides, and he took it as invitation. You breathed easily even though your heart jumped at him being so close. You did not even know this man; he was bold. Coming forward, his hands latched to the ribbons, tying it better than you could. He had a nice smelling aftershave and you locked eyes, your breath hitching. He was suspended in your gaze for a moment before clearing his throat.

He gave a brief smile as he pulled away. “That’s better.”

Something had happened there. And you pressed it.

“Are you sure you would like to tie it that tight? I may want to lose it again if it means you’ll fetch it for me?” you asked.

He actually looked amused, and you were relieved. You were constantly scolded from a young age for being so coquettish. “Bold. Aren’t you?”

“I’ve been told so.”

“Miss….?”

“Miss Y/N L/N. And you?”

“Sherlock.”

“That’s it, then?”

Now he was coy. “For now.”

“So, there’s to be a future, then? Between us?”

He caught your wit, amused even further. Thankfully he did not think you crass and he did not chastise. He was returning your flirtations. “I think so, Miss Y/N.”

“Well, I look forward to the future then. You live in London?” you questioned.

“Yes. Do you?”

“Most of the time.”

“’Most of the time?’” Sherlock repeated and you shrugged.

“Sometimes I dream of escaping. It takes up some of my time, pulling me away from here.”

He smirked at that. “I suppose I should say most of the time too. My mind pulls me to places. As well as my job.”

“Lucky you,” you said sincerely, and his expression was warm. He was interested in you. He was older, not terribly but there was distance. Reaching out, you touched his topcoat. “You are a bit of a pyromaniac it seems. Or just terrible with the cherries of your cigars. Please tell me it’s not the latter.”

“What makes you say that?”

You cocked your head and pulled down his vest and his eyebrows rose at the movement as you exposed some of his chest hair peaking out from beneath his dress shirt. You ignored his stunned look, doing your best to not linger on his exposed chest. Your finger landed on his dress shirt, pointing out the singe. “Do you think I’m blind, Mr. Sherlock?”

He let out a small laugh.. “I thought I hid it well enough beneath the vest.”

“You must not move as quickly as you have been to keep it hidden. Now, tell me. Why would you not just get a new shirt? You surely have the money. I mean, if you know the hatters on Bishop’s. And it’s not just anyone that splurges on a silk tie.”

He cocked his head, eyes running up and down you. You smiled in response, seeing you had impressed him.

“I haven’t gotten around to it,” he shrugged.

“Busy man, then.”

“Quite.”

“Too busy to escort me through the park?” you asked.

He eyed you and asked, “Would that be entirely inappropriate? We did not set this up beforehand.”

You shrugged now and said, “I could tell the gallant story of how you saved my hat from getting dirty in the mud. And I asked for you to walk me back. I did get quite a look for being on my own on the way over here.”

Sherlock’s lips pulled into a smile, and he gestured for you to walk. You were thankful he had initiated it; it was societally appropriate for him to initiate everything. How you wished you could loop arms but that itself would be societally inappropriate considering you had just met. Your mother would simply have a heart attack if she saw that, especially with so many possible suitors in the park.

He came to a stop, and you stopped as well, watching him curiously as he left the path. He reached for the rose bush, and you grimaced as he reached straight into it. He could cut his hands. But he yanked, his fingers moving ever so, pulling a single rose off the bush. His hand was unharmed.

He presented it to you, and you took it gently.

“A token of appreciation of your company, Miss L/N,” he said.

Examining it, you observed, “Pink. Are you of grace and sweetness? Or is that to refer to me?”

“I would have given red would it have been readily available,” he smiled, and you felt heat creep. “Also, pink can symbolize admiration. That is breaching on the red, is it not?”

You shrugged, keeping it close. “Yes, I suppose so. A fine point.”

The two of you walked on and Sherlock asked lightheartedly, “Where is your escort, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I am here with a ladies group. They’re probably sitting at the blankets still, tittering about the gossip,” you responded. “My mother especially. She loves being in the center of all the gossip and drama.”

“My, I must watch my back returning you. Would not want to start any rumors.”

“Would rumors about us be so bad, Mr. Sherlock?”

He was tickled. “You really have no shame, do you?”

“Only in the presence of people I think I can trust. Not all women are complete straight laces. And frankly, most are only that way in public. Have you not spent a lot of time with women in private spaces?”

Sherlock chuckled, “That is a very loaded question, my dear. Where did you ever learn to banter like this?”

“I have an older brother. And your ‘dear’?”

“Have I offended you?”

“Not in the slightest.”

His eyes were alight, sharing a look with you. It was only interrupted as you passed another couple and nodded at them, Sherlock doing the same.

“Ah, like I said,” you said coming back over the bridge. You spotted them still eating their small cakes and sipping on their tea. Sherlock followed your gaze and you leaned in, “Thank you for providing me a walk. My legs had become quite numb sitting on the ground for so long.”

“My pleasure,” Sherlock responded.

You saw that one of the women had noticed you and Sherlock approaching over the bridge and you needed to hurry up the conversation. Pressing your luck, you asked, “Do you happen to have an invite to the Mayberry Ball?”

“Unfortunately,” Sherlock sniffed.

“Would it still be unfortunate if I was there?” you inquired.

Sherlock’s eyes were locked with yours and you came to a stop in the path. You stared at him with sincerity, waiting for his answer.

He cleared his throat, looking away. “It would liven up the event, that is for sure. I am terribly bored at those events, but I am dragged along by my… partner.”

“‘Partner?’” you asked, your fiery hope getting water doused on it.

“Confidant. Flatmate,” Sherlock explained quickly sensing your discomfort, meeting your gaze once more. You visibly relaxed, and he no doubt noticed. He resumed walking with you down the path. “He encourages me to get out. It is why I am at the park today. I had only been out for about a quarter of an hour before you showed up and I had already been considering heading back inside.”

“What a shame, sir. To hide yourself away. Who knows who you’ll meet if you only ventured out?” you stated, shrugging in a lighthearted manner.

“Too true,” Sherlock returned, eyes bright. He shot a look towards where the tea was being held and then cleared his throat, straightening up. “Well, it looks like we have been found out, Miss L/N. I suppose I should let you get back to your lunch. I have taken up too much of your time.”

“The pleasure was mine, Mr. Sherlock,” you assured him as you reached the edge of the grass.

Sherlock gave you a curt bow and turned towards the ladies and gave them a smile and a bow as well in acknowledgment. The ladies bowed their head in return, and you kept yourself from smirking at the fact they all looked like chickens bobbing their heads in unison, eyes fixated on him.

“Enjoy the rest of your afternoon. Make sure to keep that hat tied tightly, Miss L/N,” he told you before turning on his heel and walking off.

You watched him walk off for a few moments before turning back to the tea.

Your mother was on you the second you sat down.

“Who was that man? And where did you get that rose?”

“My hat flew off and he fetched it for me before it went into the mud. I was foolish, I should have tied it before walking off. A gust of wind caught it,” you told her calmly, fixing your skirts around your legs as you relaxed in your sitting position. “And I made a comment about the roses, so he picked one for me. I was afraid the poor man was going to hurt his fingers, but he was careful. Very kind of him to do so, it does smell lovely.”

“And his name?”

“Mr. Sherlock.”

Your mother eyed where he had walked off and she said, “Why does that name not sound familiar?”

The other ladies looked at a loss as well and you merely shrugged in response. “Maybe he is new to the city. I am grateful he walked me back. Are there any cucumber sandwiches left? I am famished.” You acted as if you had little interest in him to get your mother off your back, but you were already thinking of what gown to wear to the Mayberry Ball.

<><><>

You looked down at your gown for the umpteenth time, making sure nothing had spilled on it. You had chosen a deep purple, silk brocade with silver detail. It was one of your finest and your mother encouraged it, considering it was the courting season and especially since it was your fourth season. Your father listened to you when you told him you were uninterested in the men who had tried to court you thus far, but you knew even his patience would wear thin with your pickiness and your hand would be forced.

Eyes wandering, you stood by where your brother was recounting a story to your father and mother. People spun to the dance, others off to the side, exchanging flirtations. You suddenly locked eyes with Sherlock across the room.

He grinned briefly before raising his eyebrows. He turned, disappearing back into the hallway behind him.

Your family was distracted with your older brother, and you easily slipped away through the crowd, following where he had gone. The hallway was empty and there were doors at the end of it. You pushed them open and were expecting him. But you were met with empty air and your brow furrowed.

“Sneaking away, Miss L/N?”

You startled hearing him from behind you. He was sitting on a bench against the wall, nestled between two tall plants.

Stomping over you glowered down at him.

“Did I offend somehow?” he asked as he stood up from the bench.

You scoffed, “You told me to sneak away! And then you startle me!”

“I did nothing of the sort! I merely made a face. And you assumed from there. I don’t argue your detection skills though.”

“Why do I feel as if you are jesting?”

“Never.”

You sighed before saying, “Well, I would accept a dance. But I am sure my mother would be on you in a second. She was already curious about the walk.”

“As you suspected. And she should be. A strange gentleman walking her daughter through the park. Especially during the season. And who said I danced?”

“Is that why you were standing on the outskirts?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You cocked an eyebrow and said, “If you haven’t noticed, I am single. I am to be escorted at these types of events. My father and brother were keeping me close until someone approached me to ask for a dance.”

“You’d already danced with three by my count.”

“You were watching me. For how long?”

“The detail on your gown is exquisite.”

“Will you always compliment my clothing? Is there nothing else about me to compliment?”

There was a pause, the two of you staring at the other. Sherlock’s lips twitched and he hid a smile. “It would be inappropriate of a me to engage in other compliments, no matter how much they are warranted.” Well, that answered your question in a sly manner, much to your pleasure. “But, being found outside with a man alone would tarnish your reputation. And yet you followed. Speaking of inappropriate.”

“And you encouraged it. Plus, it is not like I am a lady. I’m simply middle class. It would not affect me as greatly.”

“I would not say ‘simply’ in that regard. It is very respectable to be middle class. Especially since I can deduce your family is further into the elite side of it. And on the contrary, not being upper class, the situation which we are describing would certainly affect you greater considering you are closer to having less equity if a suitable match was not made within your own social class. Middle-middle class is less than lower upper class.”

He noticed your eyes were narrowed and he cleared his throat, stopping in his speech.

“Do you always speak so much?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

You spotted your brother going through the crowd inside in earnest, certainly searching for you.

“Well, do not change, Mr. Sherlock,” you told him, giving him a quick smile. His interest was piqued by the comment, and you added, “I’m quite serious. It amuses me so. You have intellect. But I must take my leave. I spot my brother who is certainly going to talk my ear off in an unpleasant way about wandering off alone. Even if I say I was using the lavatory and did not want to interrupt their conversation.”

“If you find yourself on New Bond Street…” you said in invitation. Sherlock looked taken aback and you quickly said, “I am sorry. I did not mean to be too forward.”

“No,” he recovered quickly. He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, that’s not it. You are just… very close to me. A few blocks actually… fascinating.”

You saw your brother cross again and you hurried, “Oh, well, yes, that is. What a coincidence. Well, good night. I hope to see you again.” You gave him a half curtsy before you turned.

He grabbed your hand and you stopped, facing him again. He brought your gloved hand up to his lips and gave it a kiss, keeping his eyes on you. “And I as well.”

A smile was on your lips as he let your hand go and you hurried back through the doors back to the ballroom.

<><><>

The day after your tryst with Sherlock, you were not surprised you were called on at home. Thankfully, Arthur was not home.

“A gentlemen is here to see you, ma’am. A Mr. John Watson.”

You greeted him in the parlor, the door cracked. You did not want to arouse suspicion about this gentleman visiting you while Arthur was out, no matter if he was known as an acquaintance. Although, he was far closer to you than anyone in the household would ever know. If the maids wanted to eavesdrop, they could do so gladly.

“John,” you greeted him and he took his hat off to greet you in turn.

“Y/N, you look lovely as always,” he complimented as one of your maids brought in a tray of tea.

John waited for you to seat yourself before he sat down as well. You reached forward, preparing two cups of tea for the pair of you.

“Thank you. You look well. Mrs. Hudson must be feeding the two of you well.”

“Quite,” he answered.

“Sugar?”

“Please.”

You handed him his tea and he placed it in front of him.

John asked point blank, “How was he?”

Of course John knew you had seen him. If Sherlock left 221B Baker, you were one of, if not the first, stops he would take on most of the time if John was not with him.

“He was Sherlock.”

John took a drink and you watched him closely. He met your eyes again and sighed, “He’s been manic.”

“Then it’s a good thing he’s coming back out to see us then, correct? He confirmed he would be at the masquerade.”

“It’s gotten worse since—”

“I don’t need to be reminded again,” you told John.

“I think you do. Are you happy here?”

You bristled at the comment. Why did men think they had such a liberty to comment on your choices? Maybe you should have closed the door, but you did not expect something like this from John of all people. Sherlock, certainly. But not him.

John noticed your expression and he opened his mouth, but you cut in testily in quiet tones.

“I wish you wouldn’t speak so loudly about such matters right under my husband’s roof.”

You did get up now and go to the door, closing it. This was turning into something else entirely than what you had expected. John was watching and you hoped he realized he needed to be quick about this to not give too much time for them to speculate what was happening in here. You sat back down.

He matched your quiet tones, thankfully, even with the door closed. “It’s the most sure-fire way to get your attention on the matter.”

Taking a drink of your own tea, you kept your eyes pinned on him. Swallowing, you placed your cup back down delicately. “I cannot leave my husband.”

“I wasn’t asking you to do that.”

Cocking your head, you asked, “Then what are you asking, John?” His lips were pursed and you knew you had caught him. You shrugged, “You’re asking me to leave my husband. Divorce is illegal for me to initiate if you have forgotten.”

“I know that. He’s always better after he sees you.”

“But?” you asked, knowing there was more.

“But he always reverts.”

“Because he’s not with me?”

John gave you a look now and he said, “You know it is true.”

“John, is this for you or for him?”

“Can it not be both?” he asked honestly. “I am concerned for my friend, and I can simultaneously be concerned for my own mental health and anxiety.”

You sighed heavily, looking out the window.

“I know it is near impossible for you to obtain divorce – or even a separation – but… if you simply saw him more.”

“How?”

“Bring him into your circle. Then it would not be suspicious if the two of you were speaking with each other. On the street, in a restaurant, at the park.”

“You know it not just speaking that Sherlock and I engage in,” you whispered.

John rose his brows, looking embarrassed, but said, “I know. But just seeing more often may encourage him to imbibe less and relax.”

“Do you understand how much I wish I could be with him?” you asked seriously. John was quiet and you shrugged. “There will always be a hole, John, for me.”

John leaned forward and said, “Then try what I am suggesting. Please.”

Studying his face, you exhaled, running the risk of the idea through your mind. Sherlock was unorthodox, but perhaps he could put up a front to be around the gentlemen your husband surrounded himself with. It was farfetched but… possibly.

“I’ll consider it. I am going to see him tomorrow night at the ball. I trust you are attending?”

John nodded, “Yes. I am.”

“Good,” you told him, getting up again and going back to open the door a crack. You did not see anyone in the hall but you doubted they had not been there and had only run away when they heard your footfalls coming towards the door. Facing him again, you said in your normal voice, “I am looking forward to the gooseberry pie myself.”

~~~

Fic tags: @undecidedsworld @mcnegan

#sherlock holmes x reader #rdj sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes rdj #my shit

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 2 years

Note

For the ask game, 🏅😭😜

aaa ty for the ask bestie!!

🏅: What is the fic you’re most proud of?

this is HARD sdfdjskfhgkd. tbh i am very very proud of simply logical still. i think it is some of my best work. also very proud of most of my longfics tbh. and the starlight universe. but yeah. simply logical is one i am very very proud of.

😭: Have you ever made yourself cry writing a fic?

if we define "crying" as including "tearing up," then: hahahahahahaha yes. frequently. or even just. imagining the as-yet-unwritten fic in my head. probably the most recent one was thinking about a possible minor future plotline for if you're going my way, i'll go with you. other notable instances include thinking about something i plan to do to janus eventually (😈) in one chance to change your fate; thinking about. just. logan's current mental health, as a concept, in the sky's open wide, i'm running with the wolves; thinking about the planned remus angst for the starlight universe (it's. it's gonna be bad, y'all. it's gonna hurt. it is easily the worst angst that will take place in the au); thinking about some planned analogical angst-slash-hurt/comfort for the starlight universe; and thinking about some logince angst (the stuff i told you about recently, actually, lol) for a fic that would exist in the same au as this oneshot.

😜: Describe a current WIP without using character names. (Points if your followers guess who the fic is for.)

okay okay okay. the title of this wip is from a queen song. this is a prequel to a current ongoing longfic of mine, taking place a little more than a year before the longfic. it is the story of how two characters got together. the fic opens with characters A and B meeting each other. B immediately asks if A is single and begins flirting with them. A is flustered but pleased, but also is hesitant and believes that if B were to get to know them better, certain things about them would make B lose interest. nevertheless, A is attracted to B and engages with the flirting, encouraging B to continue pursuing them.

things seem to be going well, and A is hesitantly starting to think that B's interest may be serious and ongoing, until A misinterprets an interaction, leading them to believe that they misunderstood all B's prior actions and that B is not actually serious about their interest in A. B does not know what happened or understand why A is suddenly standoffish and much less engaged in the flirting. there is some pining and angst for about a chapter, until the miscommunication is discovered and resolved; B clarifies that yes, they are very serious about their flirting with and interest in A. A shies away from letting the conversation go so far as to directly address their relationship in a "so what are we?" kind of way, but both A and B feel hopeful that maybe they will be ready to have that conversation soon. flirting and banter resumes as usual.

soon after this, B is kidnapped by... for the sake of not immediately giving away which fic this goes with, let's call them political rivals… of B's boss, character C, who A is friends with. the kidnapping is meant to challenge C's authority and engage their attention, in order to up the status of the kidnappers. C does not want to engage, fearing it could potentially put B at risk for this happening again in future (a certain trait B lacks makes them uniquely vulnerable to being kidnapped compared to most of C's employees and coworkers), so A volunteers to go in and quietly extract B instead. the rescue is successful, and features much "B making half-delirious flirty jokes while A panics over B's injuries" type stuff. A patches B up after they are safe, and responds to one of B's jokes with an amused "shut up." B, delighted by the opportunity, responds "make me" and A, to their own surprise, impulsively works up the resolve to kiss B. B responds by kissing A again and asking them on a date. B & A are official more or less from this point onwards; B consistently refers to the being-rescued-from-being-kidnapped thing as their first date, while A very adamantly insists that this is not the case, and that the date B asked them on—a movie theater date they went on three days later—was their first date.

(i am very interested if anyone can guess who the characters are/which fic this goes with 👀 i feel like i included enough information that i might have given it away altogether, but also i know my own fics really well so idk if that is true or not)

[ask me stuff about my fanfics!]

#peregrin said a thing #star tag!!!!#peregrin answers #peregrin plays a game

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league-of-thots · 4 years

Text

Quarantine Fun

Pairing: Hawks x reader

Warnings: sensory deprivation, ropes and bondage,

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: This was part of another lovely server collab that i was so fucking excited to be a part of!! I FINALLY got to yoink my favourite boy hawks and was fucking pumped to write for him so I hope you all enjoy! The masterlist with the rest of the fucking LOVELY writers is right here: COLLAB LIST

It was day three of the quarantine when you finally reached the end of your tether, and as a loud crash came from the other room in your shared apartment, you heard a small tinkling of glass shattering. You feel your pulse beating through your temples in pent up anger and frustration.

“Keigo Takami I swear to GOD! What did you do?!” You throw your phone down on the couch beside you as you angrily speed over to see what your boyfriend had done now in his boredom. You enter the other room and see him sheepishly grin up at you from the floor where he’d somehow managed to end up tied in an awkward position and had knocked into the table, sending a photograph off of it and thus the shattering you’d heard.

“What the fuck?!” you exclaim, grabbing a broom and dustpan to clean away the dangerous glass pieces. “Why are you tied up? How did you even get in that position?” You knew you boyfriend was a man of many talents, but his best talent by far was the ability to get himself into stupidly strange and unnecessary situations.

He just laughs at your questions and as you return with the broom and pan, he’s practically howling on the floor at your expressions. Well, as much as he can with his chest restricted by ropes and hands behind his back, legs at an awkward angle on the floor.

“I’m glad you’re finding this funny.” You harrumph and ignore him, starting to sweep up the glass pieces that make more delicate sounds as you work.

“Aw, babes, don’t be like that!” he gets out as his laughter starts to die down. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bother you; I’m just going stir crazy in here!”

“I can see that,” you scowl a bit, the confines of your apartment, and the stress of the whole situation starting to really make you grouchy. Luckily, it was a rather small photo, so there wasn’t too much glass for you to clean up. Your boyfriend was now sitting where he’d fallen, trying to cheer you up while you worked, managing to wheedle a couple smiles and chuckles from you, as he always does.

After you finish throwing out the shards, you go back towards him, and stand in front of him with your hands on your hips. He’s trying to get the ropes undone, but with the angle he was in, and how they’d tightened when he’d fallen in a heap, was making no progress. It was amusing to see, and he looked so cute with the pout on his face and the sharp ruffles of annoyance through his wings.

“So, are you going to tell me what you were trying to accomplish with, ah- all of this?” you gesture towards his entire body, looped with rope and patterns. You have an idea of what he was doing, but still unsure as to why. To your surprise your usually unrufflable boyfriend flushes slightly under your attention and mumbles something out. You give him a pointed look so as to say ‘Speak up’ and he clears his throat.

“Well, I was bored, and I know you’re stressed so I was thinking of fun ways that we could fix both of our issues, if you catch my drift.”

“… So you did it on yourself?”

“Just to practice! I hadn’t done sexy rope tying before, only y’know, actual hog tying of villains and stuff.”

“If you refer to this as sexy rope tying ever again, I won’t have sex with you for a month Keigo.” He lets out a protested squawk at that, saying it wasn’t that bad.

“I am stuck though, so ah- babes if you would help me out of these, I really would appreciate it.” He gave you a pleading look and you can’t help but laugh a little at him, rolling your eyes and going to untie him. He reaches up to give you a quick kiss when his hands are free, they’re quick pecks, but energetic as he starts kissing all around your face with your head in his hands. You can’t help but giggle as he distracts you from your mood and worries.

“What exactly were you planning on doing with me though, Keigo? Your whole body is somehow almost all tied up.” You couldn’t even fathom how he’d managed it, maybe with his feathers? Were they that nimble? He stands up moving behind you to massage your shoulders gently.

“Well I was reading up on things and saw something about how sensory deprivation in small doses can made people less stressed and anxious. I was thinking it might be an interesting idea to try out, especially because you’re on edge.”

“You’re just horny because you have so much extra energy with the quarantine being in effect.” You say sharply, though you’re touched by your boyfriend’s idea. He was pretty great to you.

“I’m not going to deny that either.” You can practically feel his smirk from behind you. “How can you blame me though when there’s such a hot woman in front of me 24/7 because of this quarantine?” he smacks your ass and you let out a shocked noise, not having expected it.

You lightly swat his hands away, but he slouches on top of you, clinging to you and cooing into your ear.

“The one good thing about this quarantine, is that at least we can finally spend some time together. Even if I drive you up the walls sometimes.” He hums, his fingers starting to tease the waistband of your shorts. “I wish it was less of a complete break, and more of a less busy work schedule, but beggars can’t be choosers.” His hands have gone down your sleep shorts now and started teasing your folds, never quite going where you want them too. He starts kissing your neck, nipping at it and licking it over, humming with happiness. Even though the quarantine was a lot of stress for everyone, you were happy to see Keigo finally getting the rest he needed, the bags under his eyes had started to disappear and he had more life to him.

You whine as he continues his teasing, knowing he loves making and watching you squirm. You’ll let him for now, letting him have his fun because you know by the end of your night, you’ll be screaming his name in bliss.

“So, do you trust me enough to let me try some things, Y/N? I’m really thinking it’ll be fun and let us blow off some of the stress and boredom.”

“You already bought everything for it, didn’t you?” You’re palming his slowly hardening member behind your ass.

“If you said yes, I wouldn’t have wanted to wait at all, can you blame me? I think you’re going to look so fucking hot all tied up and completely in the dark about what’s going to happen to you next.” A groan slips out of you at his words, his fingers finally giving you some relief as they finally breached your wet folds.

“God, yes, I’m so excited to see what you have ready for me Keigo. You know I trust you more than anyone else, so bring it on.”

“You remember the safe word though?”

“Of course.”

“Good, then we can get started love-dove.” You groan at the pun but you don’t really have time to say anything as he whips you up into the air, laughing, carefree for once. He catches you, kissing you as you giggle at his playful energy, it’s been so long since you’d seen it from him.

You lose track of how long the two of you stand in the hallway, you in his arms and his hands on your ass. He bites at your lips, begging to be let inside in his own way, and you respond as you always do, opening your mouth for him and nipping back, making it interesting for him.

He slowly starts walking down the hall with you in his arms, still keeping his lips connected with yours as he kicks open the bedroom door. Pulling back he smirks a little and tosses you back on the bed, his eyes glinting with glee and barely contained lust.

“Clothes off babes, I want to see those pretty tits of yours.” You follow his instructions, practically sliding out of your clothes as if you’d somehow turned into liquid. His watchful eyes never move off of you body as he stands at the foot of the bed, arms crossed. He licks his lips and catches your eyes after that with a smirk as he quickly worms out of his own clothes. You notice that he’s already half hard, but seems to be completely ignoring it as he heads over towards the closet where he must have hidden his new toys.

You feel excitement running through your veins, as you hear shuffling of fabrics and the unzipping of a bag. Keigo was right, this would be a fucking terrific way to end the boredom that the quarantine had brought. Although you’d never admit that out loud of course, he didn’t have to know the extent of how much and how easily he affected you.

He comes back with a grin as big as the sun itself which is at odds with all the things you can see him carrying, and you feel your eyes widen. That seems to amuse him as he sets the goodies at the foot of the bed and crawls up towards you. His eyes are bright and they take your breath away, you truly understand how his gaze makes people feel as if they were being hunted, the way he’s looking at you now makes you lose your breath, makes you feel as if he’s about to devour your entire being.

He cages you in with his wings, but rather than fear, all you can feel is arousal as he surrounds you, breath heavy despite the lack of action from either of you.

“You have no idea, no fucking idea, how good you look like this.” His hands move to play with your pebbled nipples as he straddles you, leaning down to capture your mouth with his. You let out a small cry that’s easily swallowed by him as he pinches your nipple. You lightly punch him in the side.

“The fuck Keigo? That hurt,” you pout up at him as he snickers.

“I’m sorry its just, god everything was getting so serious babe, this is to blow off steam you know?”

“There are better ways to do that then pinching my tit you ass.” But at this point you’re grinning too, pecking him on the lips. “Are we going to get started yet Keigo? I want you inside me.” His mouth parts, eyes wide as you say that.

“Fuck, are you trying to make me rush through all of the special things I had planned for you babes? Patience Y/N, good things come to those who wait after all.”

“Yeah, yeah birdman. I want to see what you have already.”

“Yes ma’am.” He gives a little salute before backing off, going through the togs he’d bought just for you. “I’m going to start slow, ok? It can be shocking if you’re just getting started with this type of thing.” You nod your head in acceptance and he brings out a rather thick blind fold. He trails his fingers up your body, feather light touches that have you shuddering, as he brings his hands up to your face.

The fabric is cool on your face, and slightly heavier than you expected it to be, and it obscures all of your vision, even every bit of light that had been showering the room.

“It’s ok?”

“Yes, you worry-wart. Keep going please.”

“Good. God you look so fucking beautiful right now.” You can practically hear the expression he gets on his face when he thinks you can’t see him; all his features soften and are etched with love. Part of you wishes you could see it, but part of you is eagerly waiting for what he has next.

You hear the rustling of the sheets as he moves, feel the mattress dip as his weight crosses it, and without words he starts tying you up, first your wrists enveloped by a silky-smooth cloth, then they’re brought to your ankles. As he ties them you groan as you feel the cool air hitting your damp cunt, he hasn’t even really touched you yet and still you’re so aroused and ready for him to take you. Even though you know you’re likely going to have to wait a bit as he explores the new options that he has presented to him.

His lips make his way to yours as he sweetly kisses you. “You’re muttering again dove, are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yes, I’m just so fucking horny I want you inside me already.”

“Well I think I can help you a little bit with that in one minute, just one more thing for you ok? You’re being such a good girl for me.” You whimper a bit at that, with the position you’re tied in, you can’t put any friction onto your aching cunt and it feels like torture.

You feel a heavy set of what feels like headphones, though you can’t be certain without seeing them, cover your ears, the last thing you can hear is Keigo whispering he loves you until all the outside sound is blocked from you. All you can hear now is the thundering sound of blood in your ears and you shiver in anticipation, tied up and unmoving, unable to see or hear, waiting for your lover to fucking touch you already.

Goosebumps rise on your skin as Keigo starts slowly stroking your hipbones, his touch still light but you’re so taken by it because all you can do right now is feel. You whimper as a feather comes up to play with your breasts, the touch almost ticklish but in your aroused state, it only serves to make you more sensitive as you mewl out for him to touch you more.

He listens, as his fingers come to your sensitive areas and you moan loudly in relief as two of his fingers enter your heat up to the first knuckle, his lips starting to kiss and suckle bruises into your sensitive skin. You think you’re being really loud but you can’t tell, the moans and noises you’re making seem magnified because they’re all that you can hear. You feel Keigo muttering words onto your skin but you can’t tell what he’s saying, all you know is that he’s stopped moving his fingers and it’s driving you insane to have something in your heat but not providing any form of relief from his teasing.

“Keigo, please move!” you plead with him, desperately trying to move your bound body to provide some sense of friction, some sense of deeper penetration as you wail in frustration as he keeps himself deadly still.

Your breaths are heaving as your legs begin to shake with the strain of holding them up because of the bondage. As soon as you think he’s going to leave you there waiting for a long time, he suddenly thrusts deep into your cunt and you clench around him with a surprised shout. It doesn’t take long for him to build you up to that edge, your body so needy and responsive to his touch, as you praise him, tell him how good it feels. It’s so easy to get lost in the sensation of him pounding his fingers into you as he frantically starts rubbing your clit. You feel yourself clench around him, and he shifts the angle of his fingers a little bit to hit your sweet spot.

You swear you see lightning in the darkness of your blindfold, your back arching up sharply as you come undone around his fingers with a lewd moan. He keeps pushing in, helping you ride yourself through it, but doesn’t stop. The sensations feel so much more potent than usual, and you try to squirm away from the added stimulation but you can’t. You whimper as he once again brings a feather up to play with your tits as he adds a third and then fourth finger into you.

You can practically hear his teasing, “but baby, you asked me to touch you, you said you wanted me inside you. That’s all I’m doing babes.” Even in your head he’s smug and deliciously torturous and you cry out again as you feel the tips of his fingers crashing into that spot deep within you, over and over and over again. You’re tightening up once more, hanging onto the feeling of being finger fucked when its all you can focus on, all that you can actually feel happening.

You can feel yourself about to cum when suddenly you’re empty. “NO! Keigo you fucking bastard! I was so close!” You shout out to him, even though you know you won’t hear a response. You feel tears welling up in your eyes at the desperation you feel in your groin, you were so fucking close.

Seeing this must stir something in your boyfriend though, because soon enough you feel the weeping head of his cock at your entrance. You wiggle as much as you can, your body ready and waiting for him. With no warning, he sheaths himself inside you completely, and you blissfully feel full again, the curve of his cock pressing into you just right, the vein on the right side scraping your walls amazingly.

You can feel drool dripping down the side of your face as he pounds into you relentlessly, unable to form any completed thought much less coherent words. You can hear yourself mumbling and groaning out mixtures of praises and his name repeated like a chant. You feel his body shuddering against yours, the excitement and arousal you feel mirrored by him as he leans down and bites at your collarbones, marking you again and again as his, only his.

You feel yourself clench down on his cock, your release sneaking up on you as his rhythm starts to become more irregular.

His pace gets quicker, your mouth dropped open in a silent scream as he frantically pounds into you with almost manic energy. You can feel him shuddering and you know he’s approaching his own end. You clench down on his dick, squeezing him to get him to release inside of you and he comes down with a final bite on the inside of your shoulder. You feel the warm liquid fill you inside, and it feels amazing, and good god how much of it there is. He must have been loving every second of teasing you and every second of pleasing your body.

He pulls out slowly, kissing softly at the bite that you can feel pulsing and oozing a bit of blood. It feels so much emptier than it usually does, and you can’t help but whimper, you wouldn’t mind him just staying sheathed within you. You feel him murmuring against your skin, and you can feel the love from him in the care he takes with your shaking body, slowly bringing you back from your high and bringing you back into a world where you have all your senses back.

He starts by cleaning up the mess between your thighs, the touch of the towel rough but relieving to you, the cum already cooling down and starting to stick uncomfortably on your skin. After that’s complete, he begins to untie the nots, with a gentleness so at odds from how hard he’d been pounding into you beforehand. He strokes your skin as he undoes the bondage, kissing your skin and making sure that he hadn’t cut off any blood flow, that you were perfectly safe.

God how you much you loved him.

After he was finished with that, he brings you into his arms, having you sit on his lap as he strokes your back. You squeeze his torso and stay pliant in his arms, feeling absolutely pampered and safe. There’s no better feeling than that, you think. He was right though, you do feel completely relaxed, some of the stress leaving your body.

He lifts off one side of the noise cancelling muffs, and everything sounds so much louder, despite not having your hearing taken for very long.

“You alright dove? You didn’t use the safe word, but you seemed pretty far gone for a moment.”

You hum. “It felt amazing Keigo, but good lord, you’re such a tease you know that?”

He chuckles softly at that. “I’m sorry but you look and feel so good when you’re all flustered and riled up. I love it.” All his motions are slow now, relaxed as he slowly gives you back all the senses you’d been missing; the other side of the muff coming off when he thinks you’ve had ample time to recover.

When your blindfold comes off, you see his wrecked hair and red cheeks and you’re so grateful for the time you’ve gotten to spend with him during these trying times.

You softly kiss him. “Bath time?”

“Of course, Y/N. Let’s get us both cleaned up then love.” The two of you get up, holding hands, and you don’t let go even in the large bathtub until you actually have to, to get cleaned up.

For the first time in a while, the two of you are both spent, relaxed and completely happy, and if there’s any better feeling in the world; you’d probably never find it.

#bnha x reader #hawks x reader #smut #jays writes #discord collab

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