#I no longer want to kill someone but I will be strange indefinitely | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kylowritten · 1 year

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If the Slipper Fits

Pairings: Kylo Ren x ForceSensitive!Reader

Summary: Nobody wants to be the woman whose foot fits that slipper.

Warnings: mentions of death, verbal abuse, fire/burning, hanging

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: Let me know what you think about this part in the comments!

Part Thirteen

Several things run through your mind, and not necessarily in any particular order:

Kylo had just killed someone. In front of you.

Prince Luke was here, whom no one had seen in ages.

And he chose this opportune moment to teach you how to dismantle the dark magic taking over Kylo's mind — and then you circle back to the first thought in an endless cycle.

"Okay," you stammer out, for lack of a more proper explanation of your feelings. Still crouched on the ground, you rise shakily to your feet. You're not sure in the least what to expect.

Luke regards you carefully. "Are you sure?"

"No," you admit, "but I haven't really been sure about any of this. So what's one more thing?"

"Your first lesson can wait."

You dust your hands off on your dress. "No, it really can't. Let's get on with it then."

Maybe once you completed your mission you would no longer have to suffer through the royal expectations and political drama. You weren't sure what would happen next, you for sure weren't going to live with your stepmother again, but you would be free.

Luke doesn't look convinced by your answer. Finally, after a moment of contemplation, he says, "Take my hand."

You step forward. A furrow forms in your brow.

"But how can I? You're just a —"

He punctuates his previous statement by holding out his hand with a flourish, giving you no choice but to accept. Your hand slips into his, and suddenly your yanked in a whole new direction. The garden of the Sixth District castle fades away and is replaced by a misty landscape, Luke standing only a few feet away.

"Where are we?" You ask.

Luke shrugs. "Neither here nor there." When you look at him strangely, he adds, "Our connection in the Force allows us to places that represent our subconscious. Since you haven't had a lesson yet, yours looks like this." He sweeps out an encompassing hand. "It will change."

Mist rolls past your feet.

A series of questions bombards you. You have trouble finding one to pin down, chasing one recklessly before being blindsided by another. Eventually, you land on: "What now?"

"You've seen Kylo's subconscious before," Luke tells you. "I've been there, once. I'm sure it looks a lot different now."

Vaguely, you remember what Leia told you in the caves, that Luke had been Kylo — Ben's — mentor. Just like before, you want to inquire more about what happened, but sense that you will get as much of an answer out of Luke as you did Leia.

You shake your head. "No, I haven't..." you trail off. The room Kylo was in, when he whipped himself — the one with the platform above the water. "That was his subconscious?"

A knowing smile unfurls on Luke's face. "Your connection in the Force brought you there, which is a good sign. With training, you should be able to reach his subconscious even easier."

"But he didn't see me," you protest. You scramble to find the right words. "I...I became him."

"You what?"

"It's like I was looking through his eyes. Like we became one person," you explain.

"Hm." Luke slowly begins to nod. "That could be used to your advantage too." He sweeps his arm, and the mist clears, and you're left standing in a space that looks like an indefinitely blank room. "First, we'll explore your subconscious, then I'll give you an example of what dark magic looks like, and how you can work to remove it."

"You need to think of what you need most. Your subconscious will know this," Luke says.

This gives you pause. What did you need most?

The blank room starts to take form, the grayness bleeding into a familiar room. You watch as it unravels, along with the feeling of realization in your stomach. It's the parlor of your childhood home, complete with a crackling fire and overly stuffed armchairs. Luke stands and watches as you approach one of the chairs, you fingers grazing over the top.

"My home," you breathe. Tears spring to your eyes.

Something flickers in Luke's eyes. "Often it reflects a safe place. A sanctuary."

You can't believe your eyes as you examine every detail and object, transporting you to a time where you could imagine your father's footsteps coming down the stairs and calling for you.

You turn.

He's standing there. Your father.

He breathes your name, then sweeps you into an embrace. You lean into him and the contact bursts your composure; you break into tears, guttural, awful sobs erupting from you.

"I missed you so much," you strangle out.

He draws you impossibly closer. "I'm so sorry that I wasn't there," he says.

"It's okay, daddy," you murmur, inhaling his scent. His arms wrap around you tighter., squeezing you until your ribs start to ache. "Um, you're kind of squeezing me —"

"Dark magic will ruin your subconscious, taint your memories, take away what you want," Luke tells you, suddenly by your side. "You have to defeat it. You have to win."

An explosion of disappointment and fear shoots through you. This isn't your father. Your father is dead, and now this version of him is trying to kill you. He strangles the air from you, constricting you until you're gasping for breath.

"Daddy —"

"I died because I couldn't be left with you, not without your mother," your father says, in a voice that is not entirely his. You can only focus on the meaning, and how deeply it cuts you. "You didn't mean anything to me."

Your sobs have become hoarse. "No, no, you don't mean that! You're just-you're just a figment of my imagination."

"You have to defeat the dark magic," Luke instructs. "Or else it will consume you like it's consumed Kylo."

You struggle against your father's grasp.

And he continues to mock you, whispering words of hatred and doubt. You summon your strength, doing your best to ignore him, to separate the image before you with the actual being. Finally, something snaps in you. Your magic — the Force — shatters through your body outward, piercing the image of your father, who subsequently disintegrates into dust, blowing away.

You lean your hands on your knees, catching your breath and attempting to burn away the words that he spoke.

Luke's feet enter into your vision. "You did good. Others have not been as strong."

"That was horrible," you say, trembling.

"It's just a taste of what's happened to Kylo and, unfortunately, it's become too strong for him to defeat alone." Luke touches your arm, urging you into a standing position so that he can look you in the eyes. "He needs you. You have to help him break free."

You exhale deeply. "But how?"

"Tell me what his subconscious was like."

You tell him everything you saw: the platform, the churning water, and the flog at the end of the dock. You think you see the slightest of a wince when you mention the flog, but Luke disguises his shock well.

"The platform, the water, is an old memory," Luke says. "I've seen a semblance of it. But it's been corrupted. He thinks that he deserves the punishment, that that's what he needs most. You're going to have to convince him to stop."

"I-I told him to stop but I...I don't have any way of knowing for sure," you say.

Luke frowns. "It has to be in the plane of his subconscious. You'll have to visit again. It won't be as easy with him, but you have to persist."

"How do I even get back there?" You ask.

"From what you said, it sounded like you connected with him because he was feeling an intense emotion. The best way to describe it, is that you'll have to reconnect through the same thread that brought you to it."

You shake your head. "This doesn't make sense. None of it makes sense."

Luke smiles grimly. "Tell me about it." He waves a hand again, and the parlor of your childhood home disappears. "Get there. And then you have to talk to him, help him sort out the dark magic from the memory he has."

"Okay." You don't sound convincing. "But what about Palpatine? Won't he notice?"

"He has to be relatively close to him. You have until the end of the tour, at least." Luke sighs. "I'm afraid of why Palpatine has let you both go. He must have something planned. Go forth. And good luck - may the Force be with you."

With the sensation of being dropped from the sky and slammed rather unceremoniously on the ground, Luke disappears and you're teleported back to the garden in the Sixth District. You rise into a sitting position, using one hand to massage the ache of pain in your temple.

You hear your name called again.

Kylo storms toward you, rounding one of the hedges. "What are you doing?"

"You-you killed someone," you sputtered. You wipe at your cheeks, where there are still tears. Too much has happened all at once, you're not sure how to process it all.

Kylo straightened. "I did."

"You...you can't do that!" You cry out. "It doesn't matter what happens."

"I told you what would happen."

"You said you would cut his hands off." Not that that's any better.

Kylo remarks, "I changed my mind."

You stand up, and gesture dramatically with your hands. "Do you even understand why I'm upset? It's like you don't feel bad."

"I don't."

He moves faster than you can evade. Leather gloves wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer to him despite the fact you're trying to avoid looking at him. "I would do it again."

"I know," you tell him.

Kylo's voice shakes. "No one will disrespect you like that without meeting the end of my blade. You are my wife."

"You don't care for me," you spit at him. The fire gutters inside you. "You only did it because you don't want to share."

Kylo growls, "You're wrong."

"I'm right. No one cares for me. And certainly not you."

Using his brute strength, Kylo shoves you back. You nearly stumble over your feet, but he effortlessly keeps you from falling, both harshly and carefully pressing you against the wall of a vine-covered pergola.

In a fluid motion, he tears the helmet from his head and tosses it to the side. Your breath tears from your throat. Kylo looks painfully beautiful, bathed in moonlight, anger and desperation and a hundred wild emotions dancing across his face. Your heart aches for him.

"I don't know what else I have to do to show you," Kylo says. "I married you. I spared you. I'm giving you my entire kingdom, my life." His voice hitches as his emotions heighten. "I killed for you. And I would do it again in a heartbeat." A pause, undoubtedly as he tries to collect his thoughts. His throat bobs. "Do not say that you aren't cared for."

There's no words for you to say. He's managed to steal them right from your lips. Instead, you concentrate on the bond between you. You send out a current of affection, of understanding. You do your best to compact all of your messy, twisted emotions for Kylo, and push it his way. He recoils slightly, as though you physically struck him, and his eyes search yours, as if looking for lies.

Since you're still rendered speechless (it's quite difficult to form words at all when you're with him, much less when he's looking at you like that), in response you press up on your toes and capture his mouth with yours. His kiss is hesitant, at first, as if he can now taste the lies instead of spot them, and you strive to prove that you're not out to deceive him. Your hands slide up and into his hair. He nearly melts into you, and you realize that it's what queens must feel when their knights swear fealty to them. His kiss is a promise.

Eventually, and to your disappointment, he pulls away.

His thumb traces over the curve of your cheek, your jaw. Kylo smiles.

Then he snatches his helmet from the ground and returns it to his head, before offering you his hand. "I suppose that we have some amends to make."

Turns out, Parric was rather disliked by most of the Sixth District, and his death was more of an inconvenience to the maids than anyone else. It didn't make you feel better, seeing as Kylo shouldn't have killed him in the first place, but it at least reassured you that your celebratory tour hadn't gotten off to a rotten start before it could even begin. That being said, your departure happens much quicker than you expected, and without half as much fanfare.

"You should be thanking me," Kylo says as you both climb into the Finalizer again. "We didn't have to suffer anymore incessant bragging."

"Kylo, you killed a man."

Your husband waves a gloved hand as he commands the ship back into the air. "I did everyone a favor. Everyone should be thanking me, actually."

On the heels of his rather unfavorable performance in the Sixth District, visiting the Fifth District went without a hitch. The conversation was stilted, and clearly the noblesse were eager to rid themselves of your presence. However, it amused and devastated you that mostly everyone you met gave you a wide berth; you would've thought you were diseased. To make matters worse, you could tell that Kylo was clearly pleased by this development.

The plan was to leave for the Fourth District in the morning. Kylo claimed that it would seem less aggressive to arrive early, without the mask of darkness. In all actuality, you were grateful that the Fifth District passed uneventfully, because your stomach had been in knots the entire time.

You were going home.

Home, which was apparently war-torn and mostly ablaze.

Kylo reported that the Fourth District group of rebels that invaded the castle grounds hadn't advanced any. You hoped that they would draw back after your visit, because you knew without a doubt that otherwise they would find themselves slaughtered. The importance of your mission did not escape you.

"Are you ready?"

You were standing in your room, the one given to you by the noblesse of the Fifth District. Despite its distance from the Sixth District, humidity clung to you. The window had been opened by Kylo earlier in the day, after some grumbling, and it blew a warm breeze across your face.

You sigh. Kylo stands a few feet away, regarding you.

"No," you tell him honestly.

"Nothing will happen," he says. "I'll make sure of it."

You fully turn to him. "Don't make promises that you can't keep."

"I think we both very well know that I keep all of my promises."

"Anything could happen," you say. You're not in the mood for his light-hearted attempts to distract you, although it doesn't lessen your appreciation of them. "I've spent my whole life in the Fourth District, wanting an escape, and now I'm going back. And it's somehow in a worse state than when I left it."

Kylo steps forward. His voice is deep, serious. "Let me do the worrying."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that."

"Oh?" There's no masking his surprise.

You inhale. "I want to go to my district alone."

A flash of an emotion across his face, too quick for you to identify. "No."

"No?" You flinch back. You expected him to reject, but not so blatantly. "It's my district, Kylo. I know what's best for it. When they see you, they're just going to be reminded of what you've subjected them to in the past. Let me be the hope for the future."

"No. It's too risky. I won't let you."

You lift your chin. "I wasn't asking for your permission."

"Then why bring it up?"

"Because, I wanted you to know that I've already made my mind up." You're engulfed in flames, in self-righteousness. As you breeze past Kylo, you hope that he can feel the warmth. "Anyways, I've already arranged for you to meet with the lord of the Third District a day early. He's eager to show you their culture. I'll join you at the original date after I'm done."

Kylo says your name, but you don't hear the rest of his protest as you flee from the room, shutting the door behind you.

You see the smoke first, trailing through the sky like a scarf of destruction. The fires have mostly been put out. Ashes float and stick in your hair as you depart from the ship. Seeing as you sent Kylo early to the Third District, you took a Fifth District ship, which subsequently made coming here on your own easier. A quick severing.

You're not sure what to expect. The ground is charred, burnt away, as you make your way towards the center of the district. Wrapping your thin jacket tighter around yourself, you compose a smile on your face as the first figures reveal themselves.

They say your name like a question. "Are you alone?"

"It's just me," you tell them.

A moment passes, as if they're trying to determine whether or not to trust you. You continue, "My husband brings his best wishes. But I chose to come alone."

"How do we know this isn't a trap? An ambush?" One of the figures says. As you draw closer and your vision clears, inhibited by the falling ash, you realize that it's an old classmate of yours

"It would be an ambush of one," you joke lamely. They don't laugh. "Our intention is to remedy relations in the kingdom, not destroy them."

"Then you'll let us check you."

You nod your consent. The figures — two men and one woman, one of the men being your classmate — form a triangle around you. The woman designates herself to do the search, patting her hands over your body until she's satisfied that you're clear. She steps back.

"Please," you say. "I want to go home."

The main meeting hall in your district isn't far from where you were, but the distance seems to stretch on forever. There's no going straight there, as it might've been before — now, you have to dodge fallen buildings and trees, rubble, fires still blazing. People peer at you from the shadows. By the time you finally arrive to the meeting hall, it feels as if all of the air has been stolen from your lungs.

Residents of your village are crammed into the pews, at least those still erected. They line the back walls. And for how many people there are, they still give you space as you cross the aisle to the main podium.

"Welcome," a voice says. It's not the Village Leader who greets you, but a man that you vaguely recognize as a neighbor.

Ice shoots down your spine. He watched as you were dragged from your house, and did nothing.

"This is madness," you mutter to him.

"Things have changed since you've been gone."

You grimace. "Clearly."

"These are not the same people that you left," he tells you. "But I can see it in your eyes that neither are you."

"You're right," you say. "I'm much stronger now."

Chatter fills the meeting hall. In an admittedly unfair display of power, you fling out one hand, and the doors to the building slam closed. The chatter immediately ceases, and their attention turns to you. Slowly, you lower your hand.

"I have a lot to say. And you need to listen."

The silence usually would've hindered you, frightened you. But instead it emboldens you to continue, a reminder that despite your upbringing, you are their queen, and hopefully their savior as well.

You try to garner that boldness. "You know my story. But what you don't know is, after the attack on the palace during my wedding ceremony, I was taken back to the rebel base." A few murmurs at this. "I spoke to the former queen, and discussed her plans to reclaim the throne."

Someone shouts, "The royal family needs to die!"

"Watch your mouth," you snap. "A member of the royal family stands amongst you."

You're not sure where your spirit comes from. Perhaps from a life of being ignored.

"While I do not condone all of the actions of the royal family, my family, I must say this: a terrible evil has corrupted the palace. And we will not see justice until it is taken down." You swallow. "I need your help in this endeavor."

Arguments arise, shattering the silence.

"What are you talking about?" Your neighbor — Kline, you think his name is — hisses. "You know that we wish to dismantle the royal family. Why do you speak of aiding them?"

Speaking loud enough for your voice to be heard, you say, "The alternative is an even worse darkness than we've already experienced. Or this—" you hold your arms out to encompass the meeting hall, "— chaos. While I do not wish to return to life as we knew it, I wish to return to an even better one. This lifestyle is not sustainable."

"And we're supposed to trust you?"

You turn, addressing the accuser. "Aren't I the one that you started this whole thing for? Why not join arms with the rebels, and ensure a better world for ourselves and our children? I will personally ensure that the royal family does not hold as much power as before."

"I trust her."

A voice, a familiar one. One of your stepsisters steps from the crowd, looking tired and haggard. Her eyes shine. "We treated her poorly, all of us, when we didn't help her. Especially me. And yet her only desire is to help us in return. Does that not speak to her authenticity?"

A feeling of sadness wells inside you. You blink gratefully at her as the crowd loudly debates the logic of joining you. Your other stepsister, and mother, are nowhere to be found.

"How would we do this? If we did agree," Kline asks, after ordering the villagers to quiet.

You knew this question would be asked, but you weren't entirely sure yourself. "I will have to confer with the former Queen's rebels and devise a plan. They wanted me here first to rally your support." Studying the crowd, you add, "It won't be easy. I fear that it will involve storming the castle. The royal adviser Palpatine must die."

Kline echoes, "Palpatine?"

In as simple of terms as you can manage, you explain how Palpatine has darkened Kylo's mind since his boyhood. You tell the crowd that you will work on defeating this darkness, but to truly implement their vision for a better life they must kill Palpatine and free Kylo of his grasp. "Just, please, tell me that you will agree," you plea.

"I think we should do it," your stepsister says. There's a murmur of agreements, but an equal amount of skepticism in the crowd.

"She's right," Kline says, speaking up. "We can't continue to live in a state of turmoil."

"But we already told the rebels no!"

You smile grimly. "I'm sure that they will understand if you change your mind."

Arguments break out in the meeting hall. Kline pulls you aside, behind the platform where there's a semblance of privacy. His grip on your arm is firm. "You're serious about this."

Not a question, a statement.

"I've never been more sure of something in my life."

"And you think we have a shot?"

You don't want to lie, but if you don't get their help, then there's no way. Leia said it herself that they would need everyone. "I do," you tell him. "If we're together. I can't speak to what will happen if Palpatine isn't stopped."

Kline studies you for a moment, then nods. "I'll work on convincing everyone. But it might take some time."

"The latest I can give you is by the end of the tour."

"That's only three days!"

"I believe in you." You gently free yourself from his grasp. "Do this for me. For our kingdom. For all of the girls that you didn't help before."

A low blow? Yes. Necessary? Also yes.

You duck back into the crowd. It doesn't take you long to find who you're looking for: your stepsister. She's drifted off by herself, but her eyes find yours, and she meets you halfway in the mass of swarming bodies. Your name is like a prayer on her lips, "I'm so sorry, I --"

"Let's go somewhere quieter. Is our home still standing?"

She grimaces. "Define standing."

You both stand in the street and face the rubble of your house. It's been decimated, practically, all but a few remaining stones and the doorframe to the front door. You ghost your fingers over the claw marks still visible from when you were dragged through it by the Stormtroopers. Who would've guessed what would've happened, and now here you were.

"Tell me everything," you say, voice soft.

Her face contorts slightly, as if recalling a bad memory. "Things went downhill pretty fast after you left. It..it got out that Mom had been hiding us." She interrupts herself with a near sob. "We should've done something, spoken out against her, I can't tell you how sorry I am --"

"Stop." You cut her off. You're not in the mood for forgiveness, not yet. "Keep going."

She gathers herself for a moment, then proceeds. "People came and they tried to burn down the house. They got most of it," she says, nudging some of the burnt rubble. "When we fled, they captured us, telling us that we were the culmination of the kingdom's greed and wealthy privilege, that we had the chance to avoid the suffering that others had. We were given a chance to repent but...I was the only one."

"What happened to your mother and sister?" You ask. You're afraid to hear the answer.

"Killed. Hanged." Tears swam in her eyes. "They wanted to hurt me too, but they thought that I might be able to be used as a barter or something. But then we stopped accepting food shipments and attacking kingdom officers...it's been awful. But hopefully things will change now that they've heard from you. We all thought you were going to die like the other brides."

"Not yet, anyways," you answer.

"What is the prince like? Is he as horrible as everyone says?"

"Worse," you reply. The faintest of a smile plays on your lips. "But also infinitely better."

Your stepsister wipes at her tears, and for the first time since you've known her, she looks at you with something affectionate, familiar. Like real sisters. "You love him."

"I don't love him," you protest, but you divert your gaze.

Did you love him? You felt an immense amount of things for Kylo, most of which you couldn't possibly explain to anyone else. Irritation. Anger. Sorrow. Exasperation. Respect. But love? You tested the idea, rolling it around in your mind.

"You've never been a good liar," your stepsister teases. "It's okay to love."

You tilt your head toward the sky, with its ribbons of grey smoke, and you exhale. "I love him as much as I can, but I suppose that I won't fully be able to love him until he's free. He harbors so much resentment. And pain. I know that I can love again but I need someone who can love me as I love them, and he can't. Not yet. But hopefully someday."

"He's lucky to have you," she whispers.

"I just hope that I'm doing the right thing. I don't want to end up turning him against me."

Your stepsister gently touches your wrist. "You've always done so much for others, putting yourself first. Promise me that after all of this -- when he's free of the dark magic, and he will be," she adds, "that you'll let him love you. Let someone else take care of you for once."

"I might be able to do that," you tell her. You exchange a glance.

And then, before you're even aware of what's happening, you both collapse into each other's arms and reward yourself with an embrace that speaks a million more words then you could ever hope to bring to life. You hug your sister for the first time, and for the first time truly believe that you will succeed in your endeavors.

Part Fourteen

- - -

@juniperwoodwell

@judypahtootee

@eternal-mikrokosmos

#kylo ren #star wars #cinderella #fanfic #force sensitive #forced marriage #kylo ren fanfic #kylo x reader #kylo x you #one thousand and one nights #writers on tumblr #writers #reader insert

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ichayalovesyou · 2 years

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So… About Hemmer

I’ve got very mixed feelings. I do think it was a waste but I also really don’t.

Emotionally, subjectively? We could have had so much more, relationships, Aenar lore, Andorian lore etc. He gave us so much and yet so little at the same time. I would have loved to see much more of him.

Cinematically? It’s incredibly well executed. Even if it leans heavily on a well-loved and worn trope of killing off a mentor when ‘their job is done’. (Although I do think it would’ve been even more of a gut punch had we known him longer, for say, an old school format 20+ episode season.)

I’ve said this a lot when doing meta about Strange New Worlds. The overarching theme of the story thus far overwhelmingly has been about sacrifice, loss, fate, and how to cope with it. This death was planned from the beginning, instead of just being a way for the actor to leave with relative grace. It’s baked into the story SNW has been weaving since the pilot.

It makes perfect sense that someone would die near the end of the season to nail that message home. Most of the crew has pre-written fates, the only ones who don’t have that protection are Una, Ortegas, and Hemmer. Hemmer waved his death flag high in Memento Mori.

I genuinely thought he’d die in Memento Mori as soon as he already knew what his purpose was “to fix what is broken”. When he didn’t o hoped I was wrong about him dying at all, but I wasn’t, as it turned out. As much as I would have liked to have been wrong because again, I love him, he was my favorite non-Legacy character of the bunch.

I’ve seen some people angry that Hemmer’s death only happened to serve the story and the character arcs of those who survived. I don’t really get that personally. A well-written death SHOULD serve the narrative and impact those around that character in ways that move the story forward. If they cheaply killed him off in an unceremonious way and the characters did not mourn him, THEN I would’ve been angry.

But he wasn’t, and they almost certainly are grieving and affected by his sacrifice, so I’m not angry, even though I’m upset.

Besides, we didn’t see a body, we only saw him fall, we’ve seen characters survive and/or be revived from worse.

If they wanted to they could say that something or someone caught him, that the freezing temperatures killed the hatchling Gorn inside of him, but not Hemmer himself. The planet is mentioned to be very similar to Andoria. Hemmer could survive as indefinitely on that world as a human with decent survival training could survive in an Earth environment.

He could be alive without anyone knowing. Just like how another running theme of SNW has been that things are not always as they seem. Like the Tolkien quote the title is inspired by, “not all those who wander are lost”.

My one hope is that they don’t immediately replace him with Scotty, at least not as Chief Engineer (yet!). I would really like to meet more non-Legacy characters whose fates aren’t already charted for us. Although if they wanted to introduce him as a Lieutenant under the next Chief’s tutelage, I could certainly enjoy that.

Regardless of that

Here’s to Hemmer 🥃 he will be missed.

#Star Trek #Star Trek meta #meta #Star Trek snw #Star Trek strange new worlds #strange new worlds #snw #snw spoilers #star trek strange new worlds spoilers #strange new worlds spoilers #chief Hemmer #Hemmer #cw character death #snw 1x09 #all those who wander

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rightsockjin · 3 years

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Summary: Your best friend of your near entire life has been a total asshat to you ever since you started to casually date which didn't seem super fair to you since he did the exact same thing and you were nothing but supportive! It just sucks that you two are growing apart over a coping mechanism that you adopted to distract yourself from your overwhelming crush on said idiot. If only he knew. Wait- did you say that OUT LOUD?

Rating: M (What isn't on this blog?)

Genre: Maybe a little angst? Smut for sure tho.

Word count: 8003

Warnings: Thongs, sex, lewd thoughts, erections, physical pushing, raw dogging, cream pie, mentions of giving head, a looooooottt of swearing, mentions of slut shaming. Oh right- oppa kink and little splashes of korean as well.

yeo-chin= girlfriend

nam-chin= boyfriend

halmoni= grandma

apa=to hurt

aya=expression to express pain equivalent to 'ow'

Author’s note: HI EVERYONE! We are somewhat back!! So sorry for the long wait for content. Things have been insane and we’ve been working on a much- much longer fic for this blog which will involve all of the boys! It’s a long story but this hit me like a truck yesterday and it was initially meant to be a reaction but I couldn’t stop writing… so it’s 7k and the other boys will get their own version of this prompt “best friend is jealous of the attention you give to guys” thing. Starting once again with the one and only Yoongi! Hope y’all enjoy:)

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“You know it’s funny, I don’t remember asking,” Yoongi said virulently, his attention centered solely on his phone as he scrolled through instagram... or twitter... or maybe it was tinder. Your heart sank. You had been excited that this guy- Woojin- had given you attention. He was good looking by a lot of standards and it had boosted your confidence significantly. Of course, you wanted to share that excitement with your best friend. Rejecting someone that good looking always made you feel really powerful and attractive but you had barely shown him Woojin’s picture and commented on how attractive he was before your so called best friend had brushed you off and went back to his solitude and avoidance.

You had noticed that something was off for a while now but hadn’t commented on anything to avoid any conflicts but this was ridiculous. You had constantly listened to the stories of how girls would trickle in like water for him. He seemed to be going out with someone new every two weeks.

It wasn’t fair that you had to put up with his annoying descriptions of how beautiful these girls were while you sat and gave him your undivided attention as your heart slowly chipped and broke with each new conquest of his. Especially when each girl was so different from who you were. At first, you thought that maybe you were annoyed by this simply because it was hurtful to think he didn’t at least think you were pretty. It wasn’t long after that that you realized that it hurt you when he went out with women who were your polar opposite because it meant that he would never date you.

This had been shocking in itself. You had known Yoongi for your entire life, or at least a good portion of it, and you had always seen him as a brother. Your oppa in the least sexual or boyfriend-y form possible, but when you looked at him now… he was looking a lot more like well- an oppa.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. His words stung more than you would like to admit. Whenever Yoongi got this snippy, you liked to equal him in snip and double him in sass, never showing how vulnerable his disinterest made you feel, but this time, it felt like he had punched you in the chest with all his force and told you you were ugly to boot.

You didn’t want to cry in front of him either. He’d make fun of you. Last time you had cried, he’d awkwardly pat you on the head and quickly changed the very serious topic of your parents' relationship with yours to something totally different and not even a little relevant to helping you feel better. Given, that had been years ago and he’d never been very good at comforting you nor had he so much as expressed his support of you. Not since that one time when you had broken your wrist and he’d promptly pushed the girl who had been the culprit off the swing set thus getting himself suspended for a week and a half when you were both in elementary school.

But this… this was just cruel. It was ugly. It made you look at your “best friend” in a light that was not so shiny and pristine. He’d changed so much since then. He’d pulled away from you since then and you hadn’t even noticed. Or maybe you had and had just ignored it. Maybe you’d hoped if you didn’t mention it, that it would go away and he would come back full force with one of his dumb dances and pretty smiles. Maybe you hoped he’d realize soon what you had realized in your early twenties.

You loved him. And not the brotherly love that you had always had for him, no, you, Y/N, were very much in love with your best friend. Which made this whole situation so much worse.

When you said nothing, Yoongi briefly glanced up at you from his seemingly important phone conversation with most likely another of his soon to be dates only to look back down.

“What? Cat got your tongue? No snippy rebuttal? You’re not gonna chew me out for being mean to you again?”

His face was illuminated by the blue lights of his screen; he had it at the near darkest setting and his eyes were squinted to see it better. Something that had always annoyed you because you knew it was only hurting his vision.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. When that didn’t help, you cleared it, accidentally catching his attention. He clicked his phone off and looked over at you as if ready to argue but something in your face must have given away your inner turmoil because his hard features softened and his lips fell slightly open.

“Are you crying?”

No. Of course you weren’t crying. You never cried. Not ever. But then your cheeks were wet and the onslaught of emotion seemed to burst. How far had you fallen for this indefinitely cold man that his sarcasm made you fall in hysterics? Far it seemed. Too far.

You angrily wiped the tears away from your burning skin and crossed your arms over your chest. The hoodie you had stolen from him earlier that day felt like sandpaper against your skin as opposed to the comfort you’d initially felt when slipping over your head and smelling the fresh scent of his cologne clinging to it.

You felt him shift on the couch to face you fully, out of the corner of your eye, you could see his features had turned worried, alarmed even but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him nor care. Too little too late.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

The words hung in the still air like a wrong note played in a symphony. It made your head spin and ache.

You didn’t dare speak. It would only give away how truly hurt you were by his words and actions. You didn’t want to be around him anymore.

Abruptly, you stood up and yanked the hoodie from your body. The tank you had on pulled up slightly showing the skin of your belly. It was lopsided, you noted when you looked down and saw that one side was pulled over and under your bra and the other was too high on your chest but you didn’t really care.

Yoongi watched you with conflict evident in his eyes, if only you would turn to see. He hadn’t meant to offend you. He’d only been trying to keep you at arms length. You had also been going out with multiple guys, telling him how good looking and tall they all were. Most of these men were also built like rocks and he himself was toned at best. Contrary to what you thought, Yoongi had come to the realization that he’d been in love with you since you were kids. He did not tolerate when anyone made you feel like shit, and, being a very mature kid, he’d told his mother quite early on that he would marry you someday. Of course, she’d only chastised him and told him that he couldn’t possibly know what love was nor could he force you to marry him, but he was adamant.

He’d stopped telling her about it after that though, and instead of telling you how he felt, he’d opted instead to watch over you and make sure nothing happened. So when in high school, you had started to date and it had not been him whom you had chosen, he’d made sure to keep the sorry excuse of a man you had chosen in line. That was… until the incident.

Yoongi would never forgive himself for not being there. For not stopping the bastard who thought he owned you. He’d never forgive the idiot either and if you hadn’t stopped him, he would have killed him with his bare fists then stuffed his own socks in his mouth.

It was then that Yoongi realized that you deserved better than him, and at the same time, no one was worthy of you. It was a strange dynamic. He’d never once approved of your dates, but had decided to start dating other women because, let's face it, he was a guy and he’d like to have children someday but not even in his wildest dreams could he think that you would ever settle for him. Someone who’d failed you as your self imposed protector.

Not that you knew any of that. You didn’t know that Yoongi often teamed up with your other best friend, your girl best friend to scope out your dates once you’d left. You’d almost caught them once as well and it had been by pure luck and the hair of a very out of place clown that both of them had escaped your wrath that night. You also didn’t notice that after you had fully broken up with that first asshole, he’d threatened to beat him to a pulp if he so much as breathed in your direction once more and later, he’d threatened ‘asshole’ two and three with the same things.

But then your dates had gotten taller and stronger and much harder to intimidate. He’d once made the mistake of threatening a casual date that you’d set up who was at least a solid half foot taller than him and he’d been laughed out of the restaurant only to find out later that the jerk had forced a kiss on you.

No, Yoongi’s days as your protector had dwindled and left him feeling half of the man he’d already thought he was and so his only defense, his only way to keep you safe- though now that he was watching tears well in your eyes he wondered what logic he’d used to justify this behavior- was to be the asshole himself and teach you how to deal with them on a first hand basis.

He hated himself for making you cry. He hated that you looked so dejected and hurt and like you never wanted to speak another word to him again. He hated that your shoulders slumped and that your pretty eyelashes were coated in wet tears and it was all on him.

“You know what,” you finally managed to say with some semblance of calm under the storm that was brewing in the irises he’d so loved, “I think we’ve grown apart a little too much. Maybe we should just- cut our losses and,” you heaved a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm, “stop seeing each other.”

Were you breaking up with him? How were you even going to break up with him if you weren’t even dating? Yoongi’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He had tunnel vision. All he could see was you and the way that you seemed to pull yourself up from the ground, rebuilding before his eyes.

“Stop see-what? Are you demented?”

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Was that all he was capable of being? Wrong. Incorrect. Inexact. Erroneous. Mistaken. He was plain stupid for the words he’d let slip but there was no taking them back now.

You let your eyes widen as you wiped more of your furiously falling tears from your skin. You turned to face him, your shirt fixed and covering you exactly how it should and your features set and intentional.

“What’s the point? You clearly don’t want to be around me anymore and I’m tired of being berated every time I mention a guy. You’re the most unsupportive friend I have and that’s because I’ve known you the longest. If you don’t want to be my friend just say so instead of slut shaming me and bullying me every chance you get you asshat.”

“Asshat,” he chuckled, crossing his sleeve-covered arms over his toned chest, “real clever, Y/N. Is that all you got, kid? You never were one for words were you? Why don’t you just sock me instead?”

Oh you were considering it. He seemed so unbothered by the prospect of losing you that you realized maybe you had already lost him and hadn’t realized. You had dealt with your fair share of jerks in your life, but you had always counted on Yoongi to be your hope. He’d shown you that there were men in the world that seemed to care about women. Men who could love you even when you felt unlovable, unworthy, but here he was, proving to you once again that all men were the same evil and vile creatures, incapable of love or kindness if they weren’t getting their dicks wet.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? Then you could go around saying that I’m a crazy bitch. You know what? Fuck you Min Yoongi. I hope you get well and royally fucked.” You yelled, grabbing the tote bag you’d brought over from your apartment and stomping to the door.

“Fuck you too,” he yelled, following you to the door. He caught you at the landing strip, prying on your chunky sneakers with a bit of difficulty, your house slippers, the ones he’d bought you, lay haphazardly nearby.

“And fuck all of those asshole guys you keep bringing home. Better yet, I hope you don’t fuck them.”

You turned your head up to look at him, confusion and disgust written all over your face.

“What the fuck do my dates had to do with what a fucking jerk you are?”

Choosing to ignore your question, he focused instead on your insult, “A jerk, am I? Well you’re a bitch. How do you like that?”

He didn’t know why he was insulting you. He didn’t think you were actually a bitch, but the anger on your face made him feel better.

It was followed by near instant regret as you drew yourself up to your full height and looked at him with pure venom in your gaze.

“I’m a bitch?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, trying to keep his shoulders square, but you were scary when angry and he’d never fared well in fights with you.

“I’m the bitch?”

“You heard me!”

You balled your fists at your sides, your eyebrows connected in the center and your breathing was heavy. He knew better than to use the B-word.

“You’re a piece of shit.” It was low but your voice carried and hit all of the bones in his body before it hit his heart and burrowed deep in the wounds he’d stitched up but pulled open multiple times over the years that pertain only to you.

“You are a sorry excuse of a man,” you growled, pushing him by the chest. Somewhere in the back of your mind you noted that it felt really firm and stronger than before.

“You’re an ass, Min Yoongi,” you continued, giving him another push so that he stumbled slightly back into the living room of his apartment once again.

“You low life,” another push, closer to the couch, “weak minded,” you shoved him, he sidestepped the glass coffee table where your untouched coffee mugs still rested, probably cold by now, “son of a bitch, fucking baby, involved sorry excuse of a man-” He fell onto the cough. Your vision was red.

“You already used that insult.” Was all he said as you stood over him, your chest heaved with the exertion of trying to keep yourself from slapping the now blank expression from his face.

A slew of incomprehensible noises escaped from your lips as words completely left your brain. Damn him. Damn this idiot of a man that you were in love with. He could go to hell for all you cared and you hoped that the devil himself ripped his testicles off and served them on a platter with some kimchi and fried rice.

“Okay first of all- ow,” The asshole said, pulling you back to reality and not your fictitious rework where Yoongi was now sitting at the end of a long table being force fed his own balls, “And second…”

You held your breath. Fear ran down your spine. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud-

“You-you’re in love with me?”

Well… he got his wish, you were royally fucked. Instantly, you tried to back track. Your mind kept replaying in your head what you had said and tried to correct itself but you couldn’t think of anything that could possibly absolve you.

“Like a brother,” you said finally, your voice shaky and thin.

Yoongi only blinked up at you. What you said was bullshit and he knew it. You knew it too.

“You’re in love with me… like a brother?”

“Oppa,” you clarified as if that would somehow make more sense, and it did kind of, but it didn’t absolve you at all. In fact, this only made a smile tug at his lips, his pearly teeth suddenly on display, blinding. You fought the smile that threatened to pull at yours too. It was always hard because his smile was so contagious.

Yoongi stood. He was less than an inch away from your own body. You felt small, meek. You’d misstepped this big game of chess you seemed to be playing. He was going to make fun of you. He’d never let you live it down. You liked him.

“You like me,” as if he had read your mind, he echoed your thoughts, or maybe you had spoken that out loud as well.

“No I don’t,” you argued, taking a step back just so you could have some space to breathe.

“Oh yeah you do,” Yoongi argued, his smile so wide you were sure it would hurt the muscles in his cheeks

“No,” you said again, not really thinking anything you said at this point would convince him otherwise. The son of a bitch was stubborn.

“Admit it,” he said, closing the distance between you again, his neck craned down to look directly at your face.

“I don’t like you!” You tried to take another step back but the coffee table knocked your feet out from under you. You fell onto it knocking Yoongi’s mug of coffee over. The black decaf liquid seeped into your shorts.

Yoongi’s rusty laugh was pried from his throat as he watched your face contort. He was having the time of his life, it seemed. Good for him.

“Stop laughing at me,” you groaned, your cheeks red. You were practically sweating from how feverish you felt.

It was like you hadn’t spoken. Your shorts were wet and made you feel sticky. In a fit of anger, like a child throwing a tantrum, you unbuttoned the denim and ripped them from your legs. This shut Yoongi up instantly. With the soiled fabric, you cleaned up the liquid before it fell onto the light grey carpet.

Yoongi stilled as his eyes traveled up and down your long legs.The way you were twisting, he could see the back of your left thigh up to where it met your ass- your bare ass. You were wearing a thong.

God help him, he was rapidly getting hard. He forced his eyes away from you, his walls being pulled back up at seeing you naked. Well partially so. He pushed his hands into his oversized hoodie and made sure that it covered his front. The last thing he needed was for you to see.

But then you turned and pulled your legs together, your thighs squishing attractively. What he wouldn’t give to be choked by those thighs.

“Let me wash those for you,” he said tightly, pulling a hand from his hoodie to take the soiled shorts, the hem of the fabric pulled up enough for you to see exactly what he’d been trying to hide.

Yoongi had a hard on. You weren’t sure why exactly you were surprised. You were attractive, that much you knew, but you never really expected for your best friend to see you in that way. In fact, you were pretty sure that you’d been in your underwear in front of him before and he hadn’t even given you a second glance, but there was the evidence. And God was there a lot of evidence.

Slowly, you handed him the shorts. His hand grabbed them tightly, avoiding touching any part of your hand with his. Then, after a slight pause, he turned on his heels and walked towards the kitchen to put the shorts into the washer.

You’d called him oppa. You rarely called him oppa and it had hypersensitized him to the word coming from your lips. Other girls called him oppa sometimes and it had no effect on him but there he was, stiff as a board and it had something to do with you calling him oppa and your state of undress. Fuck. He was fucked. So fucked.

At least he wished he could be… But no. He pushed those thoughts from his head as he threw in some nice scented soaps into the wash and clicked it to life. He shut his eyes, trying to think of anything that would drain the blood from his member- halmeoni maybe?- but your voluptuous ass kept intruding, giving his halmeoni some nice curves that messed with her wrinkled face. He shook his head once more and decided he’d just have to hide his boner until it went away, or go beat one out in the restroom really quick.

He grabbed a pair of his clean sweat pants from the drying rack to give to you, just so you would be comfortable, he told himself, not because the thought of your naked butt in them made him unspeakably horny.

But when he got back to the living room, what he found was not you, covering yourself with a pillow like he’d expected, but you, only in your thong- fuck did it have to be a thong?- and your bra. Your shirt was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck me,” he groaned, burring his head in his hands and turning away from you.

“I mean, if you ask nicely enough that can be arranged,” you answered rather boldly. There was no way for him to know that you were quaking in fear for his rejection.

Yoongi’s dick twitched in his sweats.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said under his breath as his heart beat faster. He felt like he was having a whole heart attack. He patted his chest, hoping to calm it down knowing it was useless.

Should he go for it? You had just admitted accidentally that you did have feelings for him and you were clearly propositioning him. Should he just-

He turned around, back to face you, determination paining his expression. Still on the coffee table, your legs were spread open, only covered by the thin sliver of fabric that your thong allotted. You were a little cold, but all of that melted away when you saw the way that Yoongi’s eyes roamed your exposed body, then stopped abruptly to meet your own.

He was in front of you in seconds, his longer legs carried him farther and faster than you had anticipated. Then he was pulling you to stand. You wobbled on your legs but one of his arms found its way around your waist. His free hand came up and held your jaw with two fingers on either side of your face, squishing your lips together slightly. His hot, heavy member pressed against your stomach through his sweats. He was so close that you could smell the coffee on his breath and the fading smell of his cologne you loved so much. All you wanted was to grind against him but you were held too tightly.

“You never know when to shut up do you?” But he didn’t let you answer. He crashed his soft lips onto yours, his hold on your jaw ached but you didn’t care. There was a passion in his kiss that you hadn’t expected, subtly dwindling to something more like tenderness, and the kiss continued. His lips dragged against yours delicately, pinching your top one with both of his. Small breaths came out of his nose, whistling softly against your cheek. You timed your breaths with his, high on the feeling of finally being kissed, coveted by him. Was it real? Was this actually happening?

Your brain suddenly caught up with your body. The rightness that came with the way he was kissing you, like he couldn’t get enough of you, like he needed you to properly breathe, was like nothing you could have imagined.

The hand on your waist was drawing small circles where the elastic of your thong rested, his index finger casually hooked onto and under pulling lightly. You pressed yourself tighter than he had you against his erection. He groaned, his mouth opening and his tongue suddenly darting out to taste. He pulled your jaw open, granting himself entrance and exploring your mouth.

You moaned, a sound so sensuous and wanton that Yoongi felt that he could cum just from those sounds alone. He wanted more. He wanted you to sing his praises as he fucked into you and caressed your chest. He wanted you to drool around his cock and to have your sweet mouth wrapped tight around it. He wanted to feel you gag at his girth and he wanted to pull at your hair. But most of all, he wanted to kiss you, just like how he was at that moment. He wanted to kiss you until he’d taken your soul from your body and replaced it with his own. He wanted to kiss you until he could erase every trace of all of the men who’d hurt you and made you doubt that you were worthy and wanted. Yoongi wanted to kiss his love into you no matter how long he had to do it. If he was locked in a room with you for months, so be it.

But your hand had found its way between your bodies and was slowly coming down to his hips. Suddenly, he realized what he was doing and panicked. He hadn’t gotten your consent. He hadn’t asked you if it was okay for him to kiss you or to hook his fingers on your thong. As stupid as it sounded, even to Yoongi himself, he needed to make sure that you wanted this to happen, even as your hand had found the outline of his cock and you had started to trace the outline of it over the fabric-

“Tell me to stop,” he gasped, ripping himself away from you. The hand around your waist was now on your shoulder to keep you at enough distance so that his brain could function and wasn’t clouded by the horniness he was feeling.

“Wha…?” You slurred, your eyes were glazed over and your body was completely relaxed.

“Tell me to stop,” he repeated, fighting his every instinct to push your mouth open and have you suck on his thumb before he pushed you onto your knees to suck him off, “and I will.”

His eyelids were heavy and he was sweating slightly. He was so hard that it hurt and the circles you were drawing on his penis were not helping at keeping him at bay. He knew if he looked down, there would be a stain of precum on his sweats.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, leaning in and kissing his jaw before you nibbled and kissed down his taught neck.

“Fuck.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You licked a thick swipe up his jugular, “I want you.”

“Then admit it,” Yoongi heard himself say. He was just as surprised as you were to hear those words from his lips, “admit that you like me.”

You pulled away then, dropping both your arms in exasperation, “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m in my underwear, stroking your cock and you want me to stroke your ego too? Un-fucking-believeable. You’re a dumb ass.”

You rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead.

“Aya, apa~” he groaned, rubbing his head, the dynamic that you were used to suddenly restored.

“Yeah? Great! I’m glad that it hurt! I hope it hurts really bad you jerk. Then maybe you’ll understand what it was like for me to listen to you go on and on about all the girls you went out with every fucking week. In fact-”

“Aya! What the fuck? Stop flicking me,” he nearly screamed, clutching the tip of his nose.

“Make me.”

Big mistake. Yoongi didn’t take your dare lightly. His eyes darkened then he leaned down and picked you up. You squeaked, wrapping your legs around his waist as he walked you to his room. His hands cupped your butt fairly comfortably, like this was something you did often. He kicked the door open and threw you on the bed.

“You think I wasn’t hurt as well?” He asked, clasping a hand around your neck and lightly pressing his fingers against your skin.

“You think I like knowing that everywhere we go, men are watching you, coveting you the way I do? You think it isn’t torture when you go out and I don’t hear from you until the next day?”

He pushed you up against his pillow. The duvet was already all messed up under your body. He was between your legs, pressing himself into your core. Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted him all the way inside you. He wanted nothing more than to do the same but he had to make sure you knew first.

“You think it was easy being in love with you when you wanted nothing from me but friendship?”

Your eyes softened. Yoongi was in love with you too? When?

“Since we were kids,” he answered. Again you had spoken without meaning to. “I always knew it was you, Y/N. It was only ever you.”

But something wasn’t adding up. You fought your rising feelings of elation. You wanted to understand what he was saying. If he had liked you since you were kids then why had he never asked you out? Why become the serial dater he’d become? But he’d never had a girlfriend, you reminded yourself. He’d only ever “dated” and then dropped these women. You always assumed he was screwing them all.

Yoongi became sheepish then. “I uh… I did have sex with some of them but-” and the hurt in your eyes would be enough to kill him,” it was only at the start. I thought that if i had sex with other people I’d stop chasing after you. But it didn’t work… I haven’t slept with anyone since junior year of college.”

Your eyes widened. “College?”

He nodded, his pale cheeks blushing prettily.

“They just...were never you… and then I thought if I pushed you away that would help but that only made us estranged and-”

You pushed yourself up and shut him up with a kiss. He was over thinking and you could talk about all that later.

“You’re an idiot,” you started and he rolled his eyes, “but if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to do it myself.”

Yoongi’s eyes rolled into his head and he thrust lightly into your wet center.

“Talk after?”

“As long as you want,” you agreed, already pushing at his sweats. Yoongi sat up and pulled his hoodie and shirt off in one fell swoop, then, at the speed of lightning, pulled off his sweats, leaving him in his boxers.

After a moment of hesitation, he pulled his boxers off as well and then he was naked before you. Your mouth went dry. He was big. You could tell just by looking at him that he would stretch you good and you wanted so badly for him to pin you down and have his way with you.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Really? Cause that would be really helpful on days when I’m home alone-”

“Wha-no!”

You chuckled and lay down on your back, making sure that your legs were spread wide for him to have his fill. Like a moth to a flame, he was between your thighs, his tongue licking at the wet fabric.

He moaned against your covered lips, sucking up the arousal that clung to your underwear.

“Fuck, Yoongi yes,” you said without meaning to say much at all. You unclasped your bra and threw it somewhere in the room. You could look for it later. This caught his attention. He thrust his naked dick into the mattress, needing some sort of stimulation.

“Damn it… fuck, if I wasn’t so desperate to be inside you, I swear I could get you off with just my mouth all day, Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved off, gesturing for him to come up to your face, he did so without question, “Hurry up, I’m dying. Please.”

“Are you begging?” Yoongi’s lips curled lightly, teasingly,

“Do you want to get your dick wet or not?” He kissed the wrinkle between your eyebrows lightly.

“Yeah, can I take these off?” he hooked a finger on the elastic of your thong, pulling it a little higher than he probably should have. It was an old pair. You heard rather than saw the stitching on it pull apart and then the thing was hanging limply from Yoongi’s fingers, his expression shocked.

“Yoongi!”

“What? I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“For fuck’s sake! That was my favorite thong!”

“Well, clearly it was cheap,” he countered, throwing it across the room somewhere too.

You groaned, shifting slightly under him. His dick nuzzled between your wet lips. His mouth dropped open and a pleasured grunt escaped his lips.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rut against your wetness, hitting your clit lightly, far too lightly, “you are so wet. God, this should be illegal.”

“Y-Yoongi… more,” he reached down between you two and found your sensitive nub without much hassle. It was like he knew your body already. Your body twitched under him and he circled the bundle of nerves for a couple of seconds. The noises falling from your lips were heaven on earth and Yoongi realized you were his new favorite song.

He gave your clit one rough stroke, ripping a small gasp from your throat. He gathered some of your slick with two practiced fingers and brought it up to eye level. It caught the low light of his room from the window, the smell enough to threaten to send him over the edge.

“Jesus Christ that’s hot.” Then he smeared it all over his penis and gave himself two rough pumps.

“Can I-”

“Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I’m asking-”

“Don’t care. Just do it. Yes.” You said angrily, pulling him closer and closer, his toned chest flush against yours.

“Have you been working out?” You asked, breaking the intense way he was staring into your eyes, his smile pulled wide over his gums.

He shrugged but clearly was glad that you’d noticed, “Namjoon and Jungkook convinced me to join them in the gym. It’s no big deal.”

“But your arms,” you complimented, squeezing his bicep. He flexed it lightly for you. You blushed when you realized exactly what you were doing.

“It’s just a little muscle,” he commented offhandedly.

The conversation lulled, he smiled down at you, and you up at him. He kissed the tip of your nose.

“So can I put it i-”

“I already said yes.”

“In your ass?”

“Ew no!”

Yoongi laughed loudly, “see this is why you can’t say yes to something without knowing what you’re agreeing to.”

“Shut up and put it in the right hole,” you groaned, then for good measure, “oppa.” It was a joke. You thought it was a joke, but something lit up in his pupils as two measly syllables rolled off your tongue and hit his eardrums. You felt his skin prickle under your touch and his member twitched against your folds.

Like a deer caught in headlights, you looked up at the handsome man. His eyes had narrowed as well as darkened. He looked absolutely ravenous and you wanted him to eat you up.

“Say that again.” He commanded as he pushed the head of his massive, and now that you could properly feel it, you knew that you had been right, cock at the entrance of your lower lips.

“O-oppa?” you questioned, astounded that the simple word that he’d no doubt heard his whole life had this effect on him.

“That’s right yeo-chin,” he growled, his voice gruff and harsh as he pushed lightly into you. His dick opened you painfully, perfectly.

“Yeo-chin?” You ask through the explosion of pleasure between your thighs.

“Is that okay?” He asked, suddenly looking really vulnerable and scared. You reached up, stroking his cheek lightly with your knuckles.

“Oh honey,” you trailed off, bumping his nose against yours before you pulled back abruptly, “If you want me to be your girlfriend, you have to ask me properly.”

Yoongi sighed, his smile telling you he expected as much and wasn’t hurt, “Talk after?” He asked again.

“As much as you want,” you reiterated.

And then he was pushing into you once again, surprising you because you could have sworn you had been full before but inch after inch, he pushed into your awaiting hole, filling all the emptiness you’d felt your whole life until his balls tapped your ass softly.

His face was contorted in pure ecstasy. At least from your perspective. Yoongi, in all truth, was trying his hardest not to blow his load into you already. He couldn’t believe his luck. He was inside you. He’d waited his whole life for this and he was finally inside you.

You wiped a bead of sweat from his temple and playfully licked his lips. He grunted against you, holding himself up by the forearms. Suddenly, he was really grateful that he had started to work out and that Jungkook had him doing three minute planks for fun. He’d have to thank him later, even if he did complain a whole lot.

“Can-can I move?” Yoongi gasped. Your walls fluttered around his member as if welcoming it home with soft caresses. You were so warm, maybe hot, he wasn’t sure, but you were tight and wet and all the good things in the world.

You only breathed, feeling so unbelievably full. It felt like he had pushed in all the way to your throat. You were no size queen, really, you weren’t, but if this is what they were going on about, you understood.

“Y/N,” he panted, his body begging him to move, “please.”

“Are-are you begging?” You giggled mirroring what he’d asked you before.

“Yes.” Without hesitation, he admitted, “Please… please…”

Well fuck. How could you say no? You nodded fervently, all mirth erased from your expression as he pulled out slowly, your juices squelched as your lower muscles tried to keep him in.

“Gah- ash-Y/N… you’re so tight.”

You only moaned in response, the head of his cock was still in you, stretching you to the point you didn’t think anyone could fully make you feel this way again.

“You’re so big,” you complimented scratching at his back. His muscles rippled under your touch.

He pushed back in, still torturously slow. It felt like you were being split in half. You felt like Olaf in the first frozen movie after he got stabbed by an icicle.

“Yoongi,” you gasped as he pulled out again at the same speed, his face screwed up in concentration.

“Oppa,” he growled into your ear, kissing roughly at your skin.

“Oppa,” you agreed, though it wasn’t your favorite word, he seemed to be getting of fairly

well so you let it slide, “move faster.”

“You sure?” He asked.

You nodded, knowing it was probably going to hurt but you wanted to feel him and you wanted him to cum.

“Yes.”

He didn’t need to be told again; he drew back, once again leaving only the mushroom tip inside you once again, and then he thrust. Hard. You nearly choked as he pumped himself over and over again hitting the nerves in your vagina. The slap of skin against yours was loud in the empty room, only accompanied by your moans and his pants and grunts. Your names mixed in every once in a while, your lips kissing any and all the skin that you could possibly reach. He licked at your lips and sucked bruises onto your neck, your chest. He wanted to mark all of you. He wanted to make sure you knew who you belonged to… as soon as he asked you right after he finished up.

This idea itself spurred him on, to thrust faster, deeper. He wanted to finish and make sure that you finished too, not quickly but soon. He wanted to talk. He wanted to make sure that you were in the same place.

So he reached between you both again, his fingers blindly found your clitoris and began to rub abstract shapes into it. Your back arched off the bed, your hair and boobs bounced with each thrust, his balls slapping against your ass. You were seeing white, your mouth wide open in a silent ‘o’. You were so close. So so close.

“Come, Yeo-chin,” he whispered against your temple, and though you weren’t technically his, the title sent you over the edge along with his fingers and the deep thrusts that hit your cervix.

“Oppa,” you groaned, your face screwed up.

That did it for Yoongi. His fingers on your clit stuttered along with his hips. His thrusts became erratic and he hit the sides of your walls. You squeezed around him as he over stimulated you through your orgasm.

“One more time… say it one more time,” he begged.

You complied, whispering it into his ear, it was cut slightly by a particularly pleasurable thrust. Yoongi felt pure euphoria fill his blood as his hips paused, then buried deep into your hole. Ropes of hot cum shot into you, filling you.

Yoongi panted heavily over you, his head resting on your shoulder as he struggled to keep himself up. You were breathing heavily as well, your nipples brushed against his chest. You were sensitive. You hissed.

“You can lay down,” the words had barely left your lips before he had let his weight settle on top of you. A smile crossed your face as his hands tangled in your hair and stroked it lightly. You wrapped him up in a hug, wanting him to stay like this for a while. It was nice to feel him so close.

After a couple of minutes of both of you just recovering and your breathing getting much harder, like a wrestler, you tapped Yoongi twice.

“I’m out,” you joked, “can’t breathe.”

With what looked like a lot of effort, he pushed himself up and off you, pulling out of your suddenly. The cum inside of your vagina gushed out.

You made a face as you felt it drip onto his sheets. Yoongi watched it ooze out of you, not really caring where it was going. He looked mesmerized. He reached out as if to swipe at the cum on your lower lips but you grabbed his wrist before he could.

“We talk now,” you sighed, a bit calmer than before but still a bit worried.

“Now?” He looked so vulnerable again, like he was a scared child. He lay on his side, resting his head on his elbow. He looked down at you, waiting for you to take the reins, the way you always did but this time, you didn’t know where to begin.

Yoongi cleared his throat looking around uncomfortably. When you said nothing, his mind had started to race.

“So… do you… want to be my girlfriend, or are we friends with benefits level right now? Ow!”

You’d smacked his shoulder, not hard at all but he was dramatic and you knew that. He frowned at you, his lips tempting you into another kiss that could lead to something more once again. You were already feeling a little turned on again just looking at the results of his recent gym trips.

“So no to yeo-chin then?”

“Yoongi!”

“Don’t you mean Oppa?”

You smiled up at him, a teasing glint in your gaze, “I didn’t know you had an oppa kink. This whole time, I was right to refuse to call you oppa. I knew you looked way too happy whenever I called you that!”

Yoongi scrunched his nose and looked away, “I don’t! It’s just… when you say it.” He admitted waving a hand as if to bat away your inquisitive and teasing stare.

Not really knowing how to answer that, you chose instead to answer his previous question.

“Nam-chin,” you ran a finger down the center of his pecks, tracing all the light visible muscles that made you want to get off on just riding his chest. Yoongi tensed under your touch. He seemed frozen.

“Did you just call me nam-chin?” You, for once, were not embarrassed. You smiled brightly, happy that the title finally had a head to sit on.

“Is that okay?”

Yoongi pulled you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his heart beat erratically in his chest, singing to yours. To its credit, your heart synced and harmonized almost instantly. He smelled like pure sex and fresh water. He buried your face into his bare skin, listening to his song. After all these years, after all the tiptoeing and fear, you were finally where you belonged.

“Of course it is,” he paused, kissing the top of your head a couple of times, “yeo-chin.” This time, the word made a shiver roll down your spine. Arousal began to pool between your sticky thighs once more and if the third leg on your stomach was anything to go by, he was as well.

“Can- can we take a shower?” you asked him, biting your lips and pushing your chest against his suggestively.

He smirked, his mouth watered at the thought of taking you in the shower. He could almost hear your moans echoing in his wet room as he sat you down and ate you out until the water ran cold. Easy clean up even.

“Yes.” he breathed, connecting his lips to yours. You kissed for a while, your lips meshing together lovingly. Yoongi was a good kisser, you realized. He was a good lay as well. And he was cute to boot. Suddenly, he pulled away and picked you up bridal style and walked you to his restroom. He once again kicked the door open to avoid using his hands and walked you through, but this time instead of throwing you down, he set you on the toilet, him on his knees between your pushed open legs.

“I hope you don’t have any plans,” he said, kissing up your thighs and pulling you close to the edge, “because I have all the time in the world and I’m really, really thirsty.”

He ran two fingers over your abused center, collecting his cum and your new arousal. Sure, there were still a lot of things to talk about between you two. Yoongi still wasn’t sure if you fully understood the depth of his feelings nor was he sure if you simply liked him and the slip of the L-word was nothing more than that. A slip. But like he’d said, he had all the time in the world to ask and all the time to make sure he earned you and your trust. He would do anything he could to prove it and some day he would be.

But for now, he was royally fucked by the sinful sounds that escaped your pretty lips and he wanted nothing more than to just enjoy.

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

Masterlist -in case you want to read more....

I hope yall enjoyed it and that this is a good come back after our roast session from permission to dance:)

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oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years

Text

Just My Type: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 2 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Darkside

Main Masterlist

A/N: This chapter is 2K words more than the last chapter and I’ve second guessed every single line in this one. This story is getting a lot of traction guys and I’m equal parts happy and scared. Thank you for the nice comments, they do encourage me. Also I’m just ranting feel free to skip this note haha. Your support in any form: like, comment or reblog is appreciated greatly. Also you can dm if you want to be friends, God knows I need those. Hopefully, this chap was worth the wait. Also, I made a poster for this on the main masterlist so check that out, it might be foreshadowing dome plot.

Warning: Eventual Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks later.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can't ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can't get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Chapter 2: Just My Type

It had almost been a week since the incident and you had barely gotten a wink of sleep. When you drove back to your house that night, Steve surprisingly didn’t argue as you had expected. After that friend of his whispered something in his ears, you only assumed he was needed elsewhere and you couldn’t be more thankful for that. They escorted you to your car and Steve thanked you with a strained smile, words genuine but eyes calculating. You didn’t even wonder what went inside his head. You were thankful for the peace and quiet of your own car, content to just get out of the area and into your humble abode.

After you put the already asleep Grace to bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of her room. You just sat on the floor beside the bed, hand intertwined with hers as you rested your head beside her tummy on the mattress.

Your adrenaline wore off and your limbs ached as your thoughts finally settled into place, the gravity of the catastrophe a few hours prior hitting you. Tears made their way down your cheeks as you realized that you both could have very well died tonight.

One bullet could have sealed each of your lives and you were basically defenseless had Steve not saved you against the creeping assaulter. You couldn’t commend yourself for even defending yourself against one attacker, the guilt of killing someone harboring in your tired head. Your quiet whimpers eventually wore you out, while Grace’s shallow breaths lulled you to sleep.

You didn’t manage to sleep for long though, every time your eyes closed, horrific images flashed in your mind. A blood curdling scream here, heaps of dead bodies there, with distant exploding sounds all around. You could see men clad in black holding guns to Grace’s head and whensoever you woke up, you just wondered how much more creative your mind could get, making these visuals so realistic.

When 8 AM rolled in, you didn’t wake Grace up even though it was Monday and you had work. You got up, changed into a long tee after a shower and called your office and then her daycare. You knew you would have a hard time going back to your normal life, to become trusting enough to leave her alone.

Your assumption about yourself was right. You took almost the entire week off, which your boss generously allowed you to after hearing your traumatic experience, which soon made the city news headlines. All your colleagues checked on you, almost once in the five day break you took, and sweetly enough offered to bring you anything you needed.

It was kind of them, but none of them could bring you what your heart genuinely craved: peace and assurance that you and Grace would be safe.

Even though Saturdays were off, you did go to work to see what you missed and where to start on again. You went in because you knew that the random spurt of resolution you got in the bathroom to collect your life, wouldn’t last.

To ease back into your normal life, you gathered your guts, called a babysitter and left home. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave Grace at the daycare just yet. One of your good friends offered to come in to the office and help you, even on the weekend and you were quite grateful to him.

When you both decided to take lunch in the nearby dining place, you both got to talking, the conversation obviously originating from ‘How have you been?’ and ‘Is Grace okay?’. You reminisced about how you used a photobooth to hide, grotesquely and uncomfortably chuckling when you remembered Sarah calling you her mom and how her dad saved you all.

You deliberately left the part where you killed someone and Steve shot someone too. You hadn’t come to terms with it yet and you stiffly restricted your mind whenever it tried to go down that lane.

He sensed how the conversation was becoming tense and distressing for you and briskly redirected the topic.

“I hope the dad was hot though?” He wiggled his eyes creepily and you snorted at his vulgarity, light for the first time in days.

“He was easy on the eyes; I will admit that.” You played along, recalling your girlfriends and how you used to ogle people.

“Don’t be a homewrecker though, I don’t support cheating.” He said nonchalantly, checking his phone as a notification bell rang off.

“He’s a widower.”

His eyes snapped up and met yours as his head tilted in confusion. “That’s a strange fact to know about someone you met for a few minutes.”

Steve’s even stranger comment about his dead wife popped in your mind and before you could stop yourself, you blurted that out as well.

“He even said and I quote, ‘She deserved what she got.’” He put his phone down, weirdly amused.

“Ooh Creepy! Do you think he is one of those husbands who kill their wives and bury them in the backyard? The podcasts always say that the psychopaths are visually handsome and charming. And his statement was quite vague and spooky.” He continued munching, and you felt that now Aiden was really paying attention unlike before.

“Steve did have a gun while searching for Sarah, come to think of it.” You drank your tea and awaited his response. What you did not expect was his eyes to widen and worry to cloud his features.

“Um Widower Steve with a toddler Sarah? At the place where The Vices attacked?” He mumbled, grabbing his phone and doing God knows what on it. Your eyebrows furrowed and before you could ask him what was up with his antics, he resumed.

“This is a long shot but I really hope your Steve didn’t look like this.” He positioned the phone in your vision, and you could already tell it was Steve by the sapphire blue of his eyes piercing through the screen into your soul. The picture was a month or two old, his hair was much longer when you met him than in the photo.

“This is him.” Your eyes met Aiden’s and worry visibly took over his features as his forehead creased and jaw tense.

He looked around the restaurant, finding it empty in the afternoon. He leaned and whispered, “This Steve of yours is dangerous.”

You interrupted Aiden, even though you already knew Steve was, the sight of his armed men still fresh in your head, and inquired, “Why do you say so?”

“It’s just like the fictional stories we hear from our parents, except here, in this city of ours, every myth holds true. There are really powerful men, untouchable by law, who reign the city silently and live luxuriously. Every shady, under the table deal you’ve heard of, transpires. Illegal trades, fraud schemes and bounty hunters are not fictional, they exist here. These men kill whatever hinders them and trust me, you don’t want to be the deer caught in their Jaguar’s headlights.”

Ice froze in your veins again, resembling the fear you felt that night but now because of your deemed ‘savior’. You convinced yourself that you had not wronged him in any way, instead had saved his daughter’s life.

“Are you in contact with him? If you are, distance yourself cleverly, don't block him immediately.”

“No, we just parted ways near my car, he thanked me for Sarah and was called away. It’s almost been a week and he hasn’t reached out if that’s what you mean. We didn’t exchange contacts and I don’t think I even told him my full name.” You explained yourself as if you were on the witness stand in court, trying to convince yourself more than Aiden.

“Pray that he doesn’t remember you more than that, if at all. I’m being totally honest here in telling you this, I’m genuinely worried for you and Grace. You are smart but he is powerful. He has unimaginable resources and if you become more than a speck of dust on his windshield, you are screwed. There is no exaggeration here.” You took his words to your heart and swore to be careful, if not for yourself then for Grace.

The rest of the day went by and you found yourself dwelling on and worrying about Aiden’s words. At least he put it out there as it was. Heeding his advice, you did google Steve on your phone, finally finding him in the topmost news headline when you added ‘Buck’ in the search bar as well.

‘With 38 lawsuits pending against businessman Steve Rogers, the filers have lost all hope in prosecuting him. All cases are being drawn out for indefinite periods of time by the Chief Justice Bruce……’

Aiden was right.

Businessmen was code for illegal mob heads. Cases being stretched on meant he was, in fact, invincible, at least to the common man’s fists.

You flickered through several titles, each one more surprising than the last. He was believed to be involved in the carnival attack, alleged for three hit and run cases that he didn’t lose but the witnesses swore they saw him driving and was also rumored to have brought in quintals of drugs just last week, but the packets just evaporated into thin air and there was no proof of their existence in the first place even on incessant searching.

Every crime of his made you shudder and you mentally thanked Aiden for pulling you out of your oblivion. Your mind raced and heart palpated and you cursed yourself for being so drastically unaware even after living here for almost four years. Technically speaking, Steve and you were even, him saving your life and you saving his daughter’s. No logical reason came to your mind for him contacting you ever.

You wished as Aiden said and assured yourself that your paths would never cross again, Steve not having reached out in a week, so hopefully never again.

That thought went out the window when you reached home to find a box awaiting you. Hannah, the babysitter you had called, informed you it came around 5 in the evening and was exclusively to be opened by you today.

Your mind raced as you paid the babysitter, your hands sweaty as you tried not to think about the gift and its sender. There was an apparently clear answer to who mailed it but you refused to accept that, courtesy of Aiden.

The box was of the height of Grace, it was black with red hearts painted across it; some red roses also sparingly adorned it. You opened the lid and found tons of red tissues and a multi-flower bouquet adorned with mostly red roses and a few purple and pink flowers.

Because of your frequent gardening in your backyard, you knew all the flowers’ meanings. To sum it all up, red flowers, especially roses were used for courting someone. Pink meant admiration, purple for beauty and you knew the ‘violet’ flowers were for loyalty.

As your nerves increased tenfold, you willed yourself to get it over with and empty out the box first, ignoring the little card in your bouquet, saving the ‘best’ for last. You find a mini bouquet inside but unlike yours, it had chocolates of every kind. You did read its card and cringed when it was for Grace, bothered not by the deed but by the doer.

Further inside were some animal plushies, face masks, perfumes, scented body lotions and shampoos. Your head hurt thinking about the ‘single mother care package’ delivered to you by someone you refused to acknowledge.

As Grace sat in her playpen occupied, you dared to pick your card and read its message, your heart beating unrealistically fast for someone who refused to accept the cruciality of her situation.

I can’t thank you enough in this lifetime for saving my little princess. The gift of your help is more than anything money could ever buy for me. Please accept this invitation of mine for dinner tomorrow night, 7PM at La Bonne Nuit, as a symbol of my sincere gratitude for everything you’ve done. I’ll gets the kids covered and pick you up, you just be ready and look as amazing you always do. Sincerely, Steve Rogers

You stilled as you read it over and over again.

An invitation, your ass. Even in writing his authority portrayed, there was no question and hope for you coming, he just stated that you’d come. Looking pretty as always? You just met him once, in the middle of a calamity, covered in dirt and blood.

All the red roses and gifts screamed his romantic interest but you illusioned yourself into thinking they meant gratitude. You wouldn’t be able to digest it all otherwise.

Knowing what you knew now about Steve, you understood there was no denying the dinner tomorrow. You had to get out of his clutches and distance yourself, but as Aiden had so rightfully said, cleverly.

That night you laid in bed mulling over your next course of actions. You had called the gift shop to return the unwarranted presents you received but they said it was non refundable and anonymous to trace. You bitterly snorted in their face, they put a card with Steve’s name on it for heaven’s sake!

You didn’t flinch even when you realized you never gave Steve your address, neither for mailing stuff nor for picking you up. There was no number given to call him and thank or to call him and deny. The bastard had planned it all out, and you felt like you were driving in a one way lane, going deeper into the tunnel. Somewhere among your all-relentless fretting, you managed to finally sleep.

When the doorbell rang, your eyebrows furrowed. It was just 6 PM and you weren’t expecting anybody else except for Steve. You had already begun getting ready, having developed a habit of keeping an extra margin of time now having a toddler. You still had to assemble Grace’s essential backpack, fill it with her meds and bottles.

While still putting on your diamond earring, you made your way to the door, unlocking it to find a redhead grinning at you. Before you could interact with her, a small body clung to your legs and you looked down to find the azure eyed kid that put you in this mess, Sarah, smiling up at you.

“Mama! You look pwetty!” She looked up in awe and now aware that she didn’t have a mother, you were even more so coerced into accepting this title rather than telling the kid that 'you are semi orphaned'.

“I’m Wanda, Sarah’s nanny. Mr. Rogers told me to pick her friend, Grace, up for the night?” So, this was what Steve meant. Bringing Sarah was proof enough of her legitimacy, but behind her you saw ‘Buck’ salute you from the driver’s seat of the black car. One of these days, you needed to learn his real name.

You invited Wanda inside and Sarah ran to Grace immediately, grabbing and whining while asking Grace to give her some popcorn she was munching on, her fist generously full.

In your open plan kitchen, you grabbed two plastic bowls, filled them with each with the tub of popcorn that sat in the microwave and handed each toddler one, fortunately quietening Sarah. Sarah obeyed Grace, in first thanking you, their ‘mama’ and then following her to her open playpen.

You faced Wanda again who sat on a barstool and kept on beaming. If your annoyance at her amusement showed, she sure didn’t let it falter the smile.

“Mr. Rogers told me you’d worry about your daughter, but I assure you she’d be in more than capable hands.” All you could focus on was how self-reassured she was. “I’ve served him for almost two years, the last family I served, I was there for 8 years and before them, I was employed for 3. I know the general bedtime and snacks, all I need from you is information about her allergies.”

You nodded and told her about Grace, her meds and what all you packed. When you got to know that her family owned the daycare Grace went to, you were finally somewhat convinced. After seeing them off, it was about fifteen minutes later, that the devil disguised in Prada showed up at your door.

You grabbed your purse and your keys. Wiping your sweaty palms on your dress, you opened the door. Steve stood there, a smirk lodging on his handsome face. His blue, three-piece suit perfectly paired with his cerulean eyes was impressive to say the least.

He was dressed to kill, and it appeared as if you were his first victim.

As your eyes took him in from top to bottom, his did the same lazily, taking their time, resting at certain places for longer period than others.

“You look stunning.”

You knew you did. You wore one of your more expensive dresses when you found out La Bonne Nuit to be one of the few seven-star hotels in the country. In hindsight, if you’d have dressed worse, maybe he’d have left you alone.

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?” He offered you his hand and you obliged with your palm in his. Your other hand pulled the doorknob while you stepped out, all alarms already set-in place. He waited while you locked and put the keys in and when you were done, with a soft kiss along your knuckles, he pulled you along.

The act surprised you, your stomach turning and your gut wrenching and you wondered if you’d be able to process the food after all, with your upset digestive system.

Like a proper gentleman, he opened the door for you and when you settled, he took his position at the driver’s seat. The silence was painful for you, your overthinking finally filling ideas in your head that you avoided contemplating about all day, focusing on Grace.

He was relaxed though; his humming was proof enough.

Mid way through, your thoughts were rudely interrupted when a hand housed itself on your knee. You glanced to find Steve’s palm slightly rubbing your knee. If it was meant to be assuring, you certainly didn’t feel like it.

You frowned and looked up to Steve who still had the arrogant smirk on his face, eyes straight ahead on the road, giving no indication of his inappropriate touching.

You wanted to swat his hand away but a brainwave dashed through your head and a disturbing thought made you halt, that whether he carried guns to restaurants as well, since carnivals were no big deal.

You ignored his hand and continued looking outside, pretending to ignore it as well as he did. Your scowl was a huge giveaway though.

You didn’t know that, but when your eyes found their way out, his finally rested on your face, the smirk growing even more.

Thankfully, apart from the incongruous touching, the dinner went okay-ish. The food and wine were impeccable, perfect even, the restaurant on the hotel’s top floors was so picturesque. You tried to savor your one-time experience there, knowing you’d no way be able to come back there.

Well, you tried to relish as much as you could while your mind still sat there, wary of the human in front of you. If you’d ignore your journey here, Steve was nothing short of a true gentleman, often making you wonder if you had imagined his hand on you.

This ‘friendly’ date you were having was probably one of the best you have had, he had left no expenses. He appeared to be interested in your work, about your childhood and about Grace’s but you swiftly avoided his questions about her father. He was growing a tad bit too comfortable for your liking and you still refused to entertain the idea that this was a ‘date’ date.

When you were finally onto dessert, the last course of your meal, your table was shadowed by the broad frame of a brunette and his date. He clapped Steve’s shoulder and Steve rose to hug him, you awkwardly smiled.

“It’s been far too long since you’ve been here, Cap. Why don’t you and your gorgeous date stop by my penthouse for a bit? We could finally go over the papers you sent me, in person?” He winked, they discussed something more and then went away, his date bowing and trailing after him as well.

Steve claimed his seat again, and finally told you about the interrupter. “That was my good friend, Tony Stark, always in a hurry. I’ll introduce you to him when we meet him later.”

“I think I’ll be heading home; you need not worry about my introduction, I hardly think we’ll ever run into each other again.” His eyes narrowed and you clarified, “Me and Mr. Stark, I meant.”

That’s good, don’t associate yourself with more of his kind.

“He was so kind in inviting you though, it would be rude to refuse.”

“It’s already late, Steve. And I’ve never left Grace alone for a night yet. What if she’s antsy? What if she is bothered? What if she feels unsafe? She's only used to very few people, and after last week, I-” You had started the sentence hoping to use Grace as an excuse but every word of yours succeeded in making you more apprehensive.

The carnival night flashed in your mind, along with the nightmares and you started panicking even more. Your hands clammy, your dessert spoon fell in your lap as sought your phone in your purse, hoping to call Wanda for an update. You felt like a terrible mother, who left her child with a stranger, only a week after she suffered trauma, just to go on a date with a mobster.

Steve reached across the table and grabbed your fidgety hands and as you wriggled to get your hands free, he softly called your name. Voice stern but vocals gentle. Your blurry eyes snapped to meet his while he guided you to breathe deeply, in and out.

His firm hold convinced you to listen to him, you’d never free yourself of them otherwise.

When you had calmed a bit, he withdrew his hands and fetched his phone. Your thoughts slowed down, and you wondered if anyone here was judging you. Your little scene, mercifully, went unnoticed by the other affluent people dining here.

Steve handed you his phone where four colored frames rested, the screen showing you Grace and Sarah cuddled in a frilly, pink four poster where Wanda sat too, her lips moving.

The feed was live and the screen muted, both the toddlers’ eyes fluttering close slowly, on the bridge of sleep.

You handed the phone back to Steve and drank your water while he rubbed circles on the back of one of your hands. You never freaked out like you did right now, always collected and never giving into anxiety. What had happened to you?

Well, In your defense, you had never experienced a disaster either.

“The kids are safe; I’m never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

Your mind did catch the plural in his statement but you promised yourself you would not let it get that far and continued drinking your water, emptying the entire glass.

“The HD image you just saw was by cameras Tony recently developed. His technology is amazing, I’ll take you to his lab sometime.” You appreciated his attempt to redirect the topic but you also focused on how tech-savvy his friends were as well.

You hummed and agreed, trying to be ambiguous with your answer.

When you finished your dessert, you hoped he’d forget about his ‘friend’ Tony but to no avail.

“His penthouse is two floors above. He owns this hotel as well in case you didn’t notice.” He led you to the elevator as you recalled the Starks Group logo you saw earlier sometime.

Some AI named Jarvis opened the elevator doors for you in the living room of Tony’s penthouse. It was even more magnificent than the restaurant earlier, the place illuminated by several hues of different colours. Steve chuckled and strung you along, introducing you to a ginger-head named Pepper, who was Tony’s date earlier and went to search for his acquaintance.

She offered you wine but you politely declined, opting for water instead. She brought your glass to you from the extravagant kitchen and you both sat on the barstool there instead of the living room. Too anxious to say the wrong thing, you stayed quiet until her voice filled the deafening silence.

“So, Steve almost never brings dates around. You two serious?” She questioned, leaning towards you, waiting for some gossip, no doubt.

“Oh no! We aren’t dating. He just invited me for a friendly dinner. We merely met the other week.” You deliberately left out the part where there was bombing by crime families and attack on the common man.

“Honey, in the mob life, you don’t just introduce random people to the fam.”

Oh, she wasn’t being shy about the whole mob ordeal. It seemed weird to hear it from her, since you and Steve hadn’t used the word yet. Maybe he figured you already knew considering the circumstances you met in or how famous he was.

“We really aren’t romantically involved. This dinner was just a gesture of gratitude if I’m being truthful.”

She chuckled, as if you were a kid making stories and quizzed, “Gratitude for what?”

You trapped yourself into that one. You didn’t know how to answer her and your brain downright blanked. Surprisingly,, Steve came to your rescue and two voices interposed your conversation.

Steve called your name and as you turned to the men, he continued, “She’s the one who saved Sarah the other night. You know the story, Wilson probably got it printed.”

“Impressive, really. Hey, I’m Tony and I see you’ve already met Pepper, my fiancée.” He shook your hand and kissed your knuckles, much like Steve did earlier in the day. You bowed, smiled and mumbled a ‘nice to meet you as well’. They escorted you to the elevator and Tony continued.

“Well, it’s not everyday Steve brings brave and extraordinarily attractive women around. Welcome to the family, sweetie. She’s a keeper, Cap.” He winked while saying the last sentence and before you could correct him, Steve ushered you inside the elevator, bro-hugging him. As the doors closed, Pepper winked at you from behind Tony and a shudder ran through you.

Okay you had to make it clear, get on the same page.

As the elevator music filled the silence, you started, “Steve, look we aren’t-”, “I served in the army, that’s why Tony calls me Cap, short for captain.” And crudely got interrupted.

“I never wanted to get into the army, I thought people were fools to sacrifice the one life they got. But I went to make my mother’s dream a reality, I really loved her, you know? Sarah is named after her, my mother.”

His voice broke at the end and as much as you wanted to redirect onto your former topic, you couldn’t. This amiability of yours would be the death of you.

“She died alone in her bed; I was dispatched too far away to even make it back for her funeral.” He mumbled but you heard him clear as a sunny day, and he leaned back onto the wall for support while you awkwardly rubbed his shoulder to return the support he provided earlier during your mental breakdown.

He closed his eyes and gathered himself, taking deep breaths. As the elevator dinged, his eyes opened and he gave you a strained smile.

The car ride to his mansion was painfully silent, his mind too sidetracked to focus on harassing you again. With all that you went through today, you almost forgot about that.

His mansion was enormous, twenty guards stood outside and even more patrolled the lawn. He took you inside his house, the interior even more detailed and scenic than Tony’s temporary residence.

You just concentrated on swiftly getting Grace and Uber-ing back. As Steve showed you earlier, Grace and Sarah hugged and slept and it was a meticulous task to untangle their limbs without waking either of them up andnd get Grace with her back-pack. You thanked Wanda on the way out, hoping to avoid Steve but somehow he stood outside before you, leaning on his sleek black car. He opened the door for you before you could refuse the ride. You settled with Grace in the backseat itself, trying to be smart.

He just summoned one of his guards to drive and sat alongside you in the back. You didn’t let the annoyance at his clinginess show though. You just focused on Grace who drooled over your shoulder.

Hopefully, there won’t be any point of exposure to him ever again, your circles didn’t match, both social and professional. Your Venn diagrams didn’t overlap anywhere. This should be reason enough to avoid meeting ever again.

He didn’t try anything even this ride around. You doubted it was hardly because of the toddler or because of the driver. He did as he pleased, if he wanted to he could very well grope you. Luckily, he wasn't in the mood.

When you reached your dwelling, you stepped out hastily, thanking him in a whisper. You fumbled to get your keys out, but since everything you held slowed you down, he caught up with you without even trying.

He took and held Grace’s bag while you drew the keys out, Grace still on your hip. He handed you the bag back, “So this is it, I guess?”

“Yeah, tonight was a total delight. Thanks for the dinner and everything, really.” You put up your best façade, hoping to convince him.

“It was, thanks to you. The company matters the most.”

You awkwardly chuckled and you sensed him leaning in, his eyes flickering shut. Your eyes closed as you turned your head to avoid him, so that his lips would peck your cheek.

They never came.

Your eyes opened to find his and he chuckled, leaning in once again swiftly, catching you off guard this time. He didn’t meet your lips though, he kissed the corner of your mouth, lips overlapping for a fraction of skin.

“In due time, baby.” He stepped back and strolled to his car leisurely, content in his own world.

You opened your door and slammed it shut, the peck feeling wrong on so many levels. It felt more sensual than a lover’s kiss, leaving room for intimacy and longing.

Your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers an hour, the most absurd but nauseatingly true being, this was a date and it was not your last encounter.

Steve smirked outside in his car, the dinner an absolute success in his opinion. Tonight just made him feel that you both were more than compatible for each other. You needing him during your mental breakdown, him relaxing under your shy touch, Tony’s approval, not that important though, and your anxiety for Grace was the best part, because he, more often than he’d like to admit, fussed about Sarah the same way, agonizing and fretting her well being.

A text lit up his black screen and his grin widened even more if possible.

‘The Stark cameras are up and working, Sir.’

819 notes · View notes

bored-storyteller · 3 years

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Dear Anon, sorry if I can't do the screen of your request :3 anyway I hope you like it

Warning: mention of violence and blood (nothing too bloody I think)

45- Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x human!Reader

“Natural”

That's your favorite time of the day. When you sit at the table in the hot cafeteria, with the steam of the sweet boiling drink in your nostrils, the warmth of the discreetly attended but not too noisy environment and your faithful sketchbook open on the polished wooden shelf. The first blank page available looks at you, waiting to become your world, your dreams.

You are particularly lucky today; he is there.

When you entered he was already sitting at the bar, sipping a black coffee. He doesn't come every day, nor does he always arrive at the same time, but when you find him you know he will stay a long time.

You don't know his name - or at least you shouldn't know, it's not nice to overhear conversations - you don't know who he is, you just know that the first time something entered him it made you hold your breath. You don't even know what has caused you so much upset at a simple glance; it's not his extravagant style, it's not his piercings or his intricate tattoos. They are not even his strange and sometimes scary eyes. They are not those caressing, sweet and persuasive ways with which he seems to behave as usual, and not even the calm ironic words he occasionally addresses to the one who serves behind the counter. No, it's none of this, or maybe it's all this, but you don't know it, you can't understand it.

Today he smiled at you. The place wasn't too crowded, and his look had turned to you at the chirping of the bell. How bizarre as a face that threatens so much aggression it is capable of such delicacy.

You wonder if he knows how much your eyes touch him every time you meet him. Maybe yes, but he doesn't really care.

His decorated fingers are absent-mindedly tucked into the handle of the cup, his hair today is gathered in a rather messy half-ponytail. You don't know if he did it on purpose or if he just didn't pay much attention to it.

For a second you get lost following his profile line. His lips are slightly parted, he is listening.

You choose to seize the moment, and your freshly sharpened pencil glides over the slightly textured paper, sketching indefinite sketches. You have plenty of time to improve them.

You don't really remember since you started drawing Uta - as the man in the coffee shop calls him, and for you he is the only reference you can rely on - only, suddenly the block that had taken possession of your artistic skills was suddenly loose. Whoever that man was, you wanted to draw him.

From there, his face started to appear more and more often in your drawings, and from there he started to inspire you, he started to make you imagine.

"Beautiful, he is really beautiful." You thought immediately, and at the beginning it was nothing more. Then, slowly, over time that "beautiful" had extended beyond his physical boundary, also touching his attitude, his voice, his expressions.

You never really talked to him - out of shyness, or maybe not to break that magic - but it's not important. That's okay, you've started to get attached to him, you've begun to hope that he can be okay, that he can be happy, and it doesn't matter who he is or who he isn't. His mere presence has given you so much.

Today it is a coincidence that you and he get up at the same time from your respective seats. He surely didn't notice, and neither did you, as you put your sketchbook back in your bag.

It is not rush hour, and even if you are far away you can see him well. He is so calm, while he keeps his balance clinging effortlessly to the steel tube. His eyes look beyond the glass, although there is little to see. But maybe they see much more? You wonder what he is thinking, what can a person like him think? Who knows how he lives, you wouldn't even know how to attribute a precise age to him.

He is quicker than you to get out, and you are still settling your bill. It's not like you want to chase him, you're not a stalker or a maniac, but he's right in front of you. It is a coincidence. It is also a coincidence when he takes the subway with you.

Your stop passes by, and this time it is no coincidence.

Shinjuku is his station, apparently. Yes, it suits him, it's a suitable environment for him, at least you think. The frenetic lights and noises make the neighborhood alive even in the evening dusk. It is not a bad place to pass the time, it is full of attractions, activities and culture.

You feel a bit dirty following him like this, but it's not something you can really command. You just want to know who he is, your muse. You would like to be close to him, you would like to ask him questions, but at the same time you are afraid. You are afraid of seeing him disappear, scared of you. Who will fill your blank pages if he leaves? But how come you could justify your behavior towards him? Would he ever understand the beauty he represents for your artist eyes?

When he disappears among the people it's not that big of a problem. You don't want to interfere in his business, after all you just wanted to have him close a little longer, at least close to your eyes.

But even if you didn't see him anymore, you didn't regret having extended your trip a little. Tokyo could inspire an artist more than people thought, and your sketchbook is back in your hands, to sketch what came to you - and from time to time to look back at that face that is taking shape more and more. below the details you have come to know by now.

There, in that district of the capital, if you take enough alleys and go down enough steps, you can reach hidden areas away from the eyes of tourists. Sure, they might seem insignificant and at times creepy, but for someone like you the small traditional shop on the corner, or the writing on the wall that would be poorly tolerated in the city center, has such a particular charm, so intense that it makes you imagine stories, and eyes that never existed.

And it is while the graphite of your pencil draws more or less regular shadows on a creature that looks so much like that tabby cat looking for food in the alley, that something makes your blood run cold.

A cry, a cry of terror. It was sharp, scratchy, but immediately suffocated, or rather, broken.

And it is then that looking up to the sky you see the night. It is not the case for someone like you to be in those areas with darkness that has fallen.

And that's why you don't bother thinking about that scream, you just think about going back through those alleys, and as quickly as possible.

But for you the world is bigger than for any human being, and your feet stop, your breath freezes in your chest.

There is no light, you are alone, but taking refuge behind the wall like a mouse, your eyes too used to observing see it immediately.

Him. It's him. Him, and his eyes light up hot. In the light glow of the moon and the flickering artificial lights you can see blood-colored veins that like roots mark his nocturnal sclera up to affect the pale skin.

His arms always dyed with black weaves are now covered in red, as are his hungry lips, his face up to his nose.

You know perfectly well what is happening, you know that that mass of flesh at his feet is a man he has just killed, to devour him.

You know what he is, and it scares you. How could it not? Yet it is precisely that fear that inspires you, that makes you take the figure of him in the dim light. As many details as possible are frantically marked on the paper, everything you need to remember.

"Beautiful" is everything your confused and terrified mind can think as you start running unaware of the fact that he saw you - or rather, he smelled you -, but luckily for you too late. . . .

"I don't know anything about it."

You don't know if actually the case those investigators are investigating is actually the killing - or the post-killing - you witnessed, but it doesn't really matter. Your words come out with such an ease that you are amazed too.

You wonder which god is angry with you for letting you cross their path and their eyes, is it your punishment for asking for help?

Maybe wandering around the back streets of Shinjuku makes you suspicious? Probably. But it doesn't matter, you really don't know anything. You are ready to forget everything in order to protect him. You can not miss it. He is your subject, your art.

You hold your sketchbook to your chest, protective.

"I didn't know there were ghouls in the area… is it really that dangerous?" It's not that you like to lie, but the more you can mislead those people, the more you can avoid danger to him, so don't blame yourself. It's the right thing, it's right that he has the chance to live.

"We don't have precise information, but it would be better not to wander alone in such isolated places, especially if the day is ending."

Looking up at the sky you realize that the sky is slowly turning on the evening colors. Who knows what you really expected. Were you seriously hoping to find him? Maybe Shinjuku was just a stop for him that day. Or maybe you are the cause why you don't come across him anymore, not even at the cafeteria.

“Now that I know, I'll try to be careful. I'll finish quickly and go home right away. "

The man in front of you smiles, his eyes scan the surroundings come to make sure you are safe: "Well, if you see something strange, even a suspicious trace, please contact us."

You agree. He gives you the impression of a good-hearted man, that agent, and you silently thank him as he and his companions walk away from you.

The world is cruel. It is cruel, but you don't even know in what respect, because it can be so cruel and so generous at the same time. So kind and so unfair.

And while in solitude your free mind wanders among those thoughts, something makes you quickly return to the ground, rushes you, crushes you.

A stabbing pain takes you to the right side of your body, like a burning fire throbs and quivers in your torn muscles, starting from the hollow between the neck and shoulder.

You would scream, but you are prevented, because a cold hand presses on your lips forcefully.

You don't really think about what's happening, you don't have time to think. All you can do is wriggle desperately, even though the strength holding you back is far superior to yours.

That pain repeats itself, more overwhelming on the open wound, and this time you can at least turn around in the arms of torture. And everything stops.

His beautiful face, the face you searched for so intensely is there, a few inches from yours. His eyes look at you, they scan you. His tongue licks your blood and his arms tighten you against him to keep you from running away.

Have you ever had him so close? Do not you think. You don't think he has ever looked at you as directly as he is doing right now.

But you don't have time, you have no way of thinking. The blood slips away, your eyesight darkens and your body loses sensitivity with every passing second.

The world is so kind to grant you that closeness, and so cruel to give you so little time to enjoy what you have so desired.

"Beautiful ..." You manage to murmur, and maybe that's really all you want to tell him. Your hand rests cold and delicate on his face, touching his pale cheek. His night-colored tuft lightly tickles your numb knuckles, and his confused gaze is the last thing you see. . . .

How long hadn't anyone caressed him like that? Had anyone ever caressed him like that?

Uta hadn't really looked for you, even though he recognized you, for some reason he just avoided meeting you again. It was the riskiest choice for him, yet he had subconsciously decided to give you that chance, to the little artist in the coffee shop.

But you were there, so close to him, in his domain. He had smelled you, so what could he do?

Yet you weren't behaving like everyone else. He didn't believe he could see such warmth in human eyes, ready to give in to forced sleep, and the bite had been held back. He still feels the sweetness and tenderness of your flesh running down his throat, but he has held back from giving you the coup de grace. A sign of respect for an artist like him? Or just too risky curiosity?

And your hand moved away from him too soon, slumping along his arm with a dead weight.

From your chest your black-covered notebook slips to the ground, you had held it tight all the time despite your injured shoulder.

His pupils scrutinize the object with distrust and curiosity. Probably he should kill you before he feels free to browse, yet now he is there, bent over. His long moon fingers and night-colored interlacing turn the pages with a light and quick gesture.

There are drawings of animals, people, objects. You're good, really good, he likes your style.

But that is not all. He could have foreseen it, he could have suspected since your eyes touched him so much, yet it was as if in his vision this was impossible. Despite this impossibility, one's face looks at him, and turning the page it is still there, only from another point of view. There are drawings of him in every perspective, with expressions that not even he realizes he has - probably no one has ever noticed -; some portraits are detailed, some are colored, some are just sketches that, despite everything, reflect him, while still others are started and never finished, deleted and thrown away as errors.

He is really beautiful.

You even wrote it down. You have written a lot, you have taken note of the details of him.

Uta doesn't know how he actually feels. How is he feeling? He feels a shyness on him that is not his own. Is it embarrassment? Maybe, in part. In part it's confusion, and in part ... how long hasn't someone considered him with the tenderness with which you did? You had watched him from afar for so long, and so intensely.

He obviously understood your interest, every time he greeted you cordially it was a confirmation, but he didn't think there was such a stupid sincerity in your feelings.

As he continues to turn the cream-colored pages, he notices that some pages are torn. He doesn't really give weight to them, he also does it when a work of his does not satisfy him, despite your mistakes being present several times in the notebook.

The last page is still him, he is smiling. He wonders if he really smiles like that. He looks really handsome, and he doesn't know if he's real or your eyes have affected that image to make his face so kind and serene.

A soft sigh blows between his lips as he closes your treasure. Yet, before he can complete the action, something blocks him.

On the bottom, on the hard cover, the internal part reproduces the black of the external facade. He probably wouldn't have noticed anything strange if his eye wasn't used to being attentive.

Sticking his fingers into the crack under that black, he manages to retrieve a slightly protruding sheet, one of the sheets you tore.

On paper, the dark traces form his figure again, but this time something is different. He is different.

He is a ghoul in that drawing. He is bent over his victim, his placid face stained with blood, like his arms. He is imposing above the figure you have represented in the shadow.

Yet despite this, he is not ugly or cruel. You made it beautiful anyway, natural. Yes, you simply grasped his nature, you grasped the beauty in his nature and brought it back to paper, as a work of art.

It's not finished yet, his critical eye saw it well. Maybe that's why you hid it? Why were you dying to complete it during your days, to always have it with you, but were you afraid it would be discovered? Did you tear up so many pages for this? To deprive prying eyes of discovering his nature through your drawings?

Honestly, were you really protecting him, in your own way?

He had distractedly heard you talking to the Doves, and hadn't given it any weight - always because it was impossible, in his eyes - but now, in front of himself so sweetly admired by your shy eyes, he can't help admitting that something it moves in his stomach, like agitated butterflies.

Perhaps it is the interest in having been made a work of art by such skilled hands, or a sense of esteem that overwhelms him when he realizes that he is in front of a skilled artist, or perhaps, deep down, it is a simple motion of affection he can't help but feel for amazing human beings like you. Even while he was killing you, you didn't speak out against him. You are stranger than Tsugumi.

Uta may be crazy, but he is not insensitive, on the contrary, it is his sensitivity that makes him so uncomfortable in the world.

He feels you tremble and suddenly remembers he has you in his arms. He hadn't noticed that he had kept you with such care; your lifeless head, resting on his chest, rises and falls to the rhythm of his breaths.

Look at your suffering face, in his lap you are getting colder and colder and the nectarine blood continues to dirty both your clothes and his.

You can die, but the wounds he inflicted on you are not fatal in themselves - luckily -.

Will you forgive him for tasting your body? Probably yes. He doesn't know you, but he has already understood you, and now he wants to understand more. . . .

The warmth envelops you, all you perceive is a warm and placid relief.

Your clouded mind only asks you one question: "Are you dead?"

You don't really know why you should be, you just know that there is that possibility. Yet, slowly, a physicality settles on you, making you return to earth, away from the world of ideas.

Your fingers barely move and your sensitivity feels warmth and softness. The shoulder burns.

Your eyelids vibrate before venturing to lift again wondering if you really are living.

The light is dim, the environment is unfamiliar to you and yet you perceive something you know, even if you don't really know what it is. A sensation? A smell?

"Hey…"

A gentle, light, friendly voice. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical of him, but what does it matter to you? You're probably dreaming, he really killed you and that's your hell. It's not that bad if you can spend your pains admiring him.

His blood-colored and strawberry-colored eyes scan you attentively, there is no threat in his features, only a barely hinted smile, a smile that you adore, and a greeting from him that for some reason makes your rhythm pick up again your heart: "Good morning."

#uta tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul #uta x human reader #uta x reader #tokyo ghoul x reader #uta tg #tokyo ghoul oneshot #tokyo ghoul re #tokyo ghoul anime #anime #one shot #request

189 notes · View notes

aleator · 4 years

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day 18 - bodyguard au (thor/tony)

Tony’s not used to people trying to kill him. Yeah, he’s a celebrity, but he’s a movie star. He doesn’t do the kinds of things that normally get people killed, even when he ends up starring in a fantastically bad film. But this is different. He’s due to testify in court for a trial that could put several important, big-name industry folks behind bars, and apparently that’s enough to get people trying to kill him.

He’d always thought having a bodyguard in his line of work was kind of cheesy, but there’s a first time for everything, apparently.

The guy he hires looks a little like a hippie but he comes with great recommendations, so Tony hopes those reviews are legit. It’s his life in this guy’s hands, after all. This guy’s very lovely, probably lethal hands. Tony shouldn’t be thinking about those hands as anything other than killing machines. But it’s hard. They’re nice hands.

At first it feels like he’s being followed around everywhere, which he is, so that makes sense. But it’s also really annoying. It’s like he’s hired someone to be his friend but neither of them actually want to be friends. His bodyguard, Thor, is a nice enough guy, but he’s painfully professional. He doesn’t even laugh at Tony’s hilarious jokes.

“Maybe your jokes just aren’t funny,” his agent, Pepper, says after he’s complained to her over the phone for fifteen minutes.

“Not true. They’re hilarious,” Tony reminds her. Even Pepper laughs at some of his jokes sometimes.

“If you hate having a bodyguard so much, why don’t you just go into witness protection or something?” Pepper suggests.

“I can’t do that, I’m in the middle of shooting a movie!” Tony protests. “You’re my agent, you know that.”

“I do know that,” she replies patiently. “But I’d rather you stop shooting a movie than someone shoot you. It’ll be hard to be your agent if you’re dead.”

“Probably wouldn’t stop you.”

“Nobody would blame you if you didn’t turn up to the charity dinner,” she says, which is probably the first time she’s ever told him not to go to an event. “You already donated the money, so we can still publicize that.”

“I’m not going to skip the charity dinner. That’s my first public appearance in weeks.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to have fun bringing your new bodyguard as your plus one.”

Tony sighs and realizes that yes, he’ll probably be stuck with just Thor as his dinner date. But at least he’ll get to be out and about having fun instead of hiding in his home.

At the dinner, people only want to ask him about the attempt on his life. Which sounds exciting, but most of what Tony remembers is the soft sound of a bullet whizzing by and then someone throwing him down onto the ground. It’s not very interesting to talk about. But society types can gossip about anything indefinitely, so he mostly just sits there and lets them prattle on while he nods occasionally.

Eventually he manages to escape and sneaks over to the bar to get himself something stronger than the champagne that came with dinner. As he’s nursing a whiskey a voice behind him says,

“If you want to leave, you can pretend I made you go.”

He startles, embarrassingly so, nearly spilling his drink. “Jeez, you can’t scare a guy who’s got professional killers after him like that!”

Thor steps out from behind him so Tony can see him, looking faintly amused. “My apologies. I thought you knew I was there.”

“Well I did not. Because you are strangely light on your feet for someone so…”

Thor smiles politely at him while he tries to think of a way to finish that sentence, and when he doesn’t come up with anything Thor just carries on with the conversation.

“I mean it, if you’d like to go. I can declare something a security risk,” Thor offers. “So you can save face or whatever you’re worried about.”

It’s a strangely observant and sweet offer, and Tony stares at him. Long enough that Thor shrugs and adds,

“Or not.”

“No! No, actually, that’d be great,” Tony finally says, knocking back the rest of his whiskey in one go and setting aside the glass on the bar so he can stand up. “Uh, oh no, I feel unsafe here in this public location. Bodyguard, help.”

And finally, for the first time, Thor laughs. Actually laughs at some dumb joke that Tony made. Thor’s smile widens as he laughs and Tony just about melts at the sight of it.

After that, Thor starts to soften. He smiles more, laughs at a few more of Tony’s jokes, and Tony feels less weird about having him around. He takes Thor with him whenever he goes out, but nothing perilous ever happens, so he starts to wonder if hiring a bodyguard was just going overboard. Maybe everything will be totally fine…

...were always famous last words.

The bastards try to get him one night as he’s coming out of a crowded nightclub. Nothing looks out of the ordinary to him, but as he’s waiting for someone to pull his car around he’s suddenly being pushed down to the ground. He yelps in alarm until he realizes it’s just Thor, then he shouts again more urgently as he sees blood on him.

The crowd is running and yelling, panicked, and people are trying to dive for cover or call emergency services. Thor is still draped over him, shielding him with his body, but Tony thinks that might be because he’s incapable of moving.

“Thor? Holy shit, Thor,” Tony says with increasing intensity as he shakes Thor’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy! Don’t do this to me.”

At some point in all the commotion the EMTs and cops appear on the scene, sirens blaring, and Tony and Thor are carted away in an ambulance. Tony keeps insisting that he’s fine, they need to worry about Thor, forget about him. Nobody listened, of course, and they ended up taking him to his own hospital room no matter how many times he insisted the blood on his suit wasn’t from him.

They check him over thoroughly, even though Tony’s antsy and restless. He keeps asking about Thor, but they only give him vague answers no matter how many demands he makes. What’s the point of being a famous movie star if nobody’s so awestruck at your presence they listen to everything you say?

Eventually they declare him fit to be released, which he could have told them from the start, and he immediately demands to see Thor. He apparently can’t even do that so he’s stuck waiting even more, feeling sick to his stomach.

He falls asleep in one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs at some point. Pepper had arrived at the hospital sometime earlier, panicking even more than Tony had, insisting he should have gone into witness protection for real and that she’s canceling every plan of his until this trial is over, but she must have taken a Valium or something because she dozes off in the chair next to him eventually too.

Finally a doctor approaches them to let Tony know that Thor is stable and has requested to see him, which they’ll allow as long as he doesn’t excite Thor too much. Tony is up on his feet in a flash, following the doctor to Thor’s hospital room.

Thor is awake and sitting up in bed, which is a good sign. Tony awkwardly enters the room, hands clasped behind his back.

“The bullet didn’t hit any major organs,” Thor offers when Tony doesn’t say anything right away.

“What about minor organs?” Tony asks.

Thor laughs, but he immediately winces and clutches at his side as the action pulls on his stitches. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry,” Tony says, finally taking a seat in the chair beside Thor’s bed. He debates what to say for a few moments longer, then blurts out,

“I never would’ve hired a bodyguard if I’d thought they would actually die.”

Thor gives him an amused look. “Unfortunately for you, it turns out I happen to like you.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony points out, “You had to do that, I’m paying you.”

“To take a bullet for you? You’re not paying me that much.”

“Oh. Should I be?”

Thor laughs weakly again, settling back against his pillows with a weary sigh. “I did not take the bullet for the money, Stark.”

Finally it starts to click in Tony’s head, and he scoots his chair a little closer, cautiously reaching for Thor’s hand. Thor lets him take it, and they hold hands on the hospital bed.

“You’re okay?” Thor asks, trying to look Tony over without either of them moving.

“Yeah,” Tony says with a warm smile. “Thanks to you.”

#thunderiron #tony stark #thor odinson #thortony #tonythor #thor x tony #my fic #alternate universe #mcu #2020 nano challenge #sorry for the delay!! hopefully i won't be held up so much again

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plus-size-reader · 4 years

Text

Abomination

‘

Castiel x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2490 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Having a child with Cas and he leaves because an angel cannot be with a human, he comes back years later knowing he was wrong

——————————————————————————————————

The love that you and Castiel shared was fleeting, like a match that was extinguished by the wind.

However, just like a match, your love burned bright and strong and you never thought that it was ever going to end

Every moment was better than the last from the second you met him and for the first time in your life, you found that you were completely and totally happy.

You’d made peace with the fact that Castiel was an angel of the Lord long ago, and it made sense that there were certain things he had to attend to sometimes.

That being said though, there had always been some things about Cas that you had trouble getting passed.

When you found out that you were pregnant for example, Castiel was constantly talking about having to keep it a secret. Through no fault of your own, no one could know.

However, when you asked why that was, Castiel explained that the baby growing within you was an abomination. Angels should not procreate with any entity in creation, humans least of all.

The resulting spawn would be cast out of heaven indefinitely, and he didn’t want to doom a child with that kind of fate. What sort of man would make that choice? It wasn’t his place.

...And that only left him with one choice.

Castiel knew that if your baby was ever going to have a normal life, he would have to leave. It was an unpleasant thought, and he didn’t want to have to do it but he wasn’t going to put your child in danger.

He wasn’t going to put you in danger, for that matter.

Having Castiel’s baby would put a huge target on your back, with angels and demons alike. He knew that there was just no way that he would be able to live with himself if something happened to you.

If for nothing else, they would kill you just for tampering with his holiness.

It was just a simple fact that you had no way of keeping yourself safe from an all out angel attack, so he made it easy on everyone involved.

Without saying a word to you, he packed all his things and hit the road.

It would be painless that way, or so he thought.

In his mind, if he wasn’t there to witness it, perhaps it would be easier for you to process.

Emotions were still rather hard for him to deal with, in that way. Your time together had taught him alot about feeling, and caring for his father’s creations. However, he had never gathered any experience in this area.

More than anything, he just wanted to make sure that you would be safe. He didn’t want you to be in any danger because of him. It just wasn’t something he was willing to do.

Not that his leaving actually made anything easier on you.

All it did was guarantee that you had to raise your baby girl all by yourself, while also missing the love of your life.

It was harder on you than anything ever had been before and had Castiel been around, it would have broken his heart. Luckily for him though, Cas was preoccupied with the Winchesters, keeping him from constantly thinking about you both.

Instead, he could focus on keeping Sam and Dean out of trouble.

For the first couple of years, it was fine. Grace wasn’t showing any signs of her power but that all seemed to change over night.

Without so much as a warning, you entered your daughters bedroom, expecting the six year old you’d tucked into bed the night before. However, in her child-sized bed, was a full sized girl.

She looked to be at least seventeen years old and you could hardly believe it. In fact, if you weren’t seeing it with your own two eyes, you likely would have refused it as the truth.

You’d never seen this person in your life and your first thought was that something awful had happened to Grace.

Perhaps someone had broken in in the middle of the night and hurt her, but you chose to forget about that as a possibility. There was no way that anyone would dare.

“Who are you? Where’s Grace?” you yelled, holding a doll baby in front of you like a weapon. You had no idea where she went but you were determined to find her.

If Grace was in danger, there was nothing you wouldn’t do to bring her back home. However, you had to figure out how this stranger got into your house first.

The girl shot out of bed, looking beyond confused as she looked at you, her bright eyes wide.

...Those eyes.

As soon as you saw those eyes, you found yourself taking a deep breath even if you didn’t want to. You couldn’t mistake those eyes, and as shocked as you were, you knew that this was Grace.

What you didn’t know was how this had happened. It had to have something to do with Castiel, you knew that much. You just weren’t sure if reaching out to him was worth it.

After the way everything went down between the two of you, you had no idea if he would even answer you or care.

There was only one thing that you knew for sure, and it was that if you wanted to know what had happened, you had to reach out to him.

This had to be something angel related, and that wasn’t your area of expertise.

The biggest problem though, aside from everything else, was that you weren’t really sure how to get a hold of Castiel. He did exactly have a telephone, but eventually you came up with something.

You weren’t sure if it would work but you gave it a try.

With a sigh, you knelt down on the side of your bed and bowed your head down, like you thought you ought to. You hadn’t made a habit of praying to angels but it wasn’t rocket science.

You hoped that your intentions would do enough.

“Hey Castiel, I’m not sure if you can hear me but if you can, I need your help” you started, shocked at the sound of your voice, clearly much more desperate than you’d been planning.

When it came to your baby girl, you couldn’t keep from being a bit protective. The idea of anything happening to her killed you, and if you had to put your past with Cas behind you to ensure her safety, you would.

Anything would be worth it.

Now, Castiel heard your prayer of course. There was no way that he couldn’t have, especially because the bond that you two shared connected you two even if he usually ignored it.

It was dangerous for you to even mutter his name out loud, but rather than focus on that, he chose to take note of the desperation in your voice.

You clearly had no one else to turn to, and you mustn't have if you were really willing to contact him.

After all, you had never tried before and it had been a number of years by this point. You didn’t know where he was or if he was even out there, and yet, you were putting yourself in danger on the off chance he was.

Which meant that something was very wrong.

Wrong to the point where he knew that he had to find out what it was, or else your life would be in danger for nothing at all, and he would never know why.

It just wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

He had to be where you were involved.

“It’s okay honey, we’re going to figure this out” you hummed, doing your best to comfort her as you sat on her bed, comforting the girl as best you could.

You couldn’t really say anything to make her feel better about what she was experiencing but you knew that you had to try. Assuming that Castiel didn’t show up, you would have to just figure it out yourself.

You didn’t have any other choice.

Now, at this point, Cas was on his way to your house, the same place you had once shared with him before Grace was born.

He had done a fine enough job at warding it from harm that you didn’t have to leave, but even if something did happen, he would have found out. Leaving didn’t mean he didn’t have tabs on you always.

It would kill him to lose you.

Having to not be in your life anymore was bad enough but at least this way, he knew that the two of you were still breathing. However, due to the urgent tone in your prayer, he didn’t know how much longer you would be.

Perhaps the angels had finally put the pieces together, though he hoped to his father that wasn’t the case.

You were about to ask Grace if she wanted to help make lemonade with you, in a pitiful effort to distract her, when the doorbell rang.

That was strange.

No one knew where you lived, seeing as your living family no longer spoke to you and you had practically cut yourself off from society to protect Grace. Though, it did cross your mind that maybe a solicitor had just wandered into the neighborhood.

...If only.

That would have been much easier to explain to your already distraught daughter but when you opened the door, you found Castiel standing there.

It was his vessel at least, but you knew well enough to know that if another angel had picked up his meatsuit, they wouldn’t have just come here. This had to be him, which meant that he got your prayer.

He had actually come.

It hurt to admit but you actually didn’t expect him to show up.

“What did you do to her?” you started, not even bothering with petty small talk or casual conversation. It didn’t matter what he was doing here or why he had left in the first place.

All you cared about right now was making sure that your little girl was okay, and to figure out why she was no longer a little girl at all.

Even still, Castiel only stared at you, honesty stunned at the way you looked. You were stunning, though you had gained a little bit of weight since he’d last seen you.

It wasn’t a bad thing, of course, just an observation.

In fact, he caught himself gawking at you without even meaning too, shocked at how quickly the feelings crashed into him as he looked in your eyes.

For so long he pushed memories of you to the side, almost as if mourning a death, but you weren’t gone. Clearly, you were very much alive and he was here to make sure that didn’t change.

“I didn’t do anything. I came as soon as I heard your prayer” he tried, the last thing he wanted was for you to think he would ever lay a hand on your daughter.

He had left, sure, but it was ultimately to protect the two of you. He never would have done it if he had any other choice. Though, he could understand if you didn’t want to hear that.

After all, he had never told you that.

“Well, I guess I have someone to introduce you too then” you suggested, opening the door a bit wider to let him pass. It was a casual motion but Castiel didn’t move.

He couldn’t, but it took you a second to realize that.

“Right, sorry” you huffed, reaching behind the door to scrap a small divot into the warding symbol painted on it. As soon as you did so, Castiel was at your side, not daring to get ahead of you.

Your daughter would likely not recognize him after all this time. You both knew it but neither of you wanted to speak that sad reality into existence. It was much easier to ignore it like a bad dream.

It was much less painful to pretend that Castiel didn’t just abandon you both.

You didn’t have anything to say at first as you stood outside Grace’s bedroom, the angel at your side, but luckily, Cas knew where to go from there.

One of you had to break the ice with her.

“Mom, what’s going on?” she spoke first, only really caring once the two of you were standing in front of her together. It was odd to see someone else, especially because she was very well hidden.

You didn’t have many visitors.

“Grace, my name is Castiel...I’m here to help” he tried, his voice just as slight and one tone as you would have expected. He really had no idea how to speak to his own daughter and it broke your heart.

However, it wasn’t until you took a turn at it that she spoke. “Honey, Castiel is-”

“I know who he is”

It shocked you, but not for the reason that you would have thought. The last time Grace saw Castiel, she was only a year or so old. There should have been no reason that she would remember that.

Though, as you were pondering that, Castiel was surveying the young girl, trying to figure out what had happened to her. He thought he knew before, but this had only confirmed his suspicions.

…

“Grace is a nephilim” Castiel explained, pulling you away from the earshot of your daughter. You had no idea what that was, not really, but it didn’t matter.

For a moment you were just relieved, glad that he had some clue what was going on with her. It was much better than the two of you being lost when it came to her.

Someone had to make sure that she was alright, and you should have known that if anyone had the answers it was Cas. It was always Cas and it frustrated you.

Maybe if he had been here, this wouldn’t have happened.

...But you swallowed that before you could upset yourself. “Okay, what does that mean?” you hummed, trying to keep your head on straight. You had to remember what this was about.

This was all for Grace.

“I assumed that she was conceived of your biology and my vessels when she was an infant, but that doesn’t seem to be the case” he tried, speaking as clearly as he could.

If Grace was actually of angel descent, that meant he had done well in keeping you both hidden all this time ago. It was much more dangerous for her to actually have angel anatomy.

It complicated things but it was the only explanation for what had happened to her.

Now, the two of you just had to figure out what to do about it...which may have actually been the hard part.

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hirokiro · 3 years

Text

Roleplay Snippet: Trippy Tea Party

(Raff the Vampire is myself, Yumi the demoness is my friend’s) "Would the blood have to be given indefinitely over and over, or is there a point he'll be satisfied?"

He knew the answer was no, but he took the tea, and waited for an answer. Like hell he was going to drink.~

-"To be honest with you, I am not sure. I despise him greatly and well.. demons are rather greedy creatures more often than not and he is no different."

The tea was very warm and smelled of ginger and lemon. "So with that in mind I think it would have to be indefinite until I figure out how to truly kill him. But unfortunately I cannot just go to a priest or priestess whenever he wakes and have them get rid of him for me. For obvious reasons." The girl frowned. "Sometimes it makes me want to not be a demon."~

-"I could walk up to one. Inadvertently through a guy I know with the town guard, who's probably on slightly better terms with them since he's a law abiding citizen. Or probably knows a guy. If not I can bribe someone to-- oh my god I'm actually considering this."

He looked at an unspecified location with a perturbed expression on his face. The habit of coming to the rescue had kicked in again.

If you offer to bleed for her, mate. Check into an insane asylum. Never again after those sending stones.

He needed a stiff drink, but there was just tea so he drank without remembering to be cautious.~

-The demon just chuckled, sipping her tea happily. "Well. I guess I'm happy you're taking it into consideration. But don't get too worried about it right now. He won't be back for at least three months with how beat up he got."

The tea scolded his mouth as it had the witch. Hot drinks don't discriminate. Everyone gets a mouth full of ouch. *"Do you have any means of communication? I could probably send you a message when I need the assistance.

-Ouch Tea... why'd you drink it man? If she drugged it...

It was as if she had read his thoughts. Or knew, asking about communications. Had she possibly been investigating him? Searching out the perfect patsy to rope into all this? Following the patterns of his life, she could figure out he was always ready to aid a woman in need, save a damsel in distress, a bit stupid sometimes. He didn't imagine her a damsel in distress for a second. She was dangerous. Some demons like Willow were good people. Most, not so much. Like Vampires.

"I do not." he said with false wistfulness, "Three months gives time though. I am in the middle of... helping someone else with a problem. I imagine it'll wrap up within that time, but, hard to say. And I do in fact have to get back to it." he stood.

"So perhaps you can toss a rock at my window some night. I stay at the Westside bounty-bar most of the time. Until that time, so long and stay out of trouble, eh?"~

-The tea was sweet and powerful, but... well... He did start to feel a little off after drinking it. Her eyes now made sense. Her brew was drugged, but it was simply how her tea was made. She enjoyed the colorful effects it had.

"That's quite alright.. It's nice to hear there is still good out there in this city. As for time constraints, I wouldn't worry much about finishing quickly. Even if time draws near I will try my best to delay his arrival."

The demoness grinned, and her green marks glowed like beacons. "Oh... But trouble likes to find me. It's much more fun than simply sitting around."

His body suddenly felt weak and heavy as the twisty colors began to pass through his eyes and change the way they looked. "Did you like the tea by the way? It's been known to have some rather... interesting effects on people." Yumi giggled, seeing his eyes change. He'd find it very difficult to stand at this point.~

-He had done it, he was right about the tea but in a moment of stupidity he slipped up. Do not eat the food of fey, do not drink with demons... Just walk as far away from her as...

But he couldn't quite make anything cooperate. Took a wobble step, stumble, brace against the near wall, sliding down, trying to reach for his gun, shoot the bitch.

"Wh... what did you... do to me!?" he asked tightly. Things reeled, he couldn't tell if he hit the ground or was still struggling to stand. It was all twisting and spinning and kaleidoscoping like haywire. Nerves were on the fritz. Felt hallucinogenic and if he was not extremely afraid of where this was going, if for some strange reason he was in a controlled environment and took it willingly, he might have sat back and enjoyed it.

-She couldn't help but giggle, seeing his sway and panic. Once a demon, always a demon. She enjoyed seeing reactions as most of her species did.

"I simply let you drink some of my tea, my sweet." The tall lady stood to her feet and simply took his firearm and cleaver off him, setting them to the side so he wouldn't start slashing about wildly or firing shots into the open air.

"I made your eyes rather beautiful, if I do say so myself." As he was braced against the wall it made it easy for her to close the gap of space and take his shoulders softly. She wanted a close look at his eyes, finding them so very wonderful.

"I believe I forgot to mention. It's been a rather long time since I've had any blood in my system and... well... Considering that is probably the way I'm going to keep that damned demon away from me and your city, I might as well get used to it again." She flashed her sharp teeth for a moment. It was normal for their teeth to be stabby and she made use of them. She leaned in and took a light bite of his neck, most definitely breaking his bubble. Surprisingly, Yumi wasn't violent and did the bare minimum to break his skin open and get at his blood.~

-He could vaguely see her beyond it all, but looking into her eyes made it worse. So much worse. He tried weakly to shove her off but got one hand on her arm for a moment before that flopped right back down.

Eyes widened as she spoke of blood. He tried again to fight but his muscles and nerves were in fact having fun without him.

"Don't don't do-hhha!" and she bit him. He was expecting a lot of pain. But this wasn't so bad. Still she was on him and he couldn't fight her off. How much was she going to take, would she kill him? Would she leave him or drag him off somewhere, a prisoner for her own uses?

He tried to focus on Willow, Namu, and Lily. He had to get back to them... they... they needed...

But the focus faded and the colors took over, only a vague sense of pain, of blood leaving his body and strange sensations all over and in his head.~

-What he saw was at least beautiful for those who loved colors moving in strange and mind bending patterns.

Her arms stayed on his shoulders, keeping him still. She slightly feared if he wasn't held onto, his body would slump and he'd smack his head.

"Relax.. I'm not trying to hurt you. If I wanted to, I would have already. Maybe I'll even let you have some? If you want." She would drink for a little, often taking breaks to make sure he wasn't losing too much and so she didn't become sick from the rich stuff.

Yumi finished taking from him and sealed his wound with a spell. But she did leave a little mark on his neck, showing someone had been taking from him. "Still awake?" The demoness backed from his neck to see if he was asleep or not.~

-Rafferty was lost in it all. At some point the biting became sweet pain, the dizzy light headedness from losing blood was incredible, paired with the hallucinations. He wanted to bite back, have blood, a mutual exchange. Maybe even make out. He didn't know.

He was panting and gasping for blood near the end, fangs elongating, trying to find a warm neck but he couldn't see, couldn't lift his hands and grasp for her. Yumi was pretty much the only thing holding him up anymore.~

-The girl kept his steady and held up, knowing he was probably a bit dazed. The drink would be at its strongest now. Yumi's body had become used to its effects but still got a high and lightshow from it.

"Heh.. You know, you look kinda cute all looped up." She gave him a look before taking his hand in return. Guessing he was in fact hungry, she led him to her neck. For safety reasons, she took a seat and brought him down. She probably wouldn't be able to stand soon especially since Rafferty would probably take more blood than her.

Willow and Namu were getting slightly worried about Rafferty, but just guessed he was taking longer to find the demoness. He would have called if she was captured…~ -Sinking, warmth, the touch of skin and that beating of blood. For a moment he tried to drag himself back, feeling the wrongness for a moment, but then he bit gently despite himself, felt that warm liquid pouring into his mouth, and all was wonderful again.

It felt right to go slow, along with the strange rhythm of the lights, mellowing out. He did not have much before he could no longer function. He let go and felt a faint cry for help, a sort of strange noise of bliss squeezing out instead, and then his head lolled to the side and he passed out.

#vampire demon demoness trippyteaparty teaparty roleplaysnippet

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the--highlanders · 3 years

Text

5. “I’m not saying I told you so...”

on ao3.

She really was getting unfit, after so long away from the Wheel. One would think she would be as fit as ever, what with all the running they did – running to things, running away from things, running just for the sake of it. But, she supposed, running everywhere was hardly the sort of comprehensive exercise program the Wheel’s inhabitants had been required to undertake. For mental and physical fitness, the program’s overly-enthusiastic hologram instructor had declared every day. She couldn’t exactly say she missed it, most of the time. Her slip into laziness had not taken so long as she had expected. Goodness, this morning she had slept in by five minutes. But at times like this, she wished she had been disciplined enough to keep it up.

“You know,” she huffed out, “I never like saying I told you so.”

“Well, then, don’t,” the Doctor snapped back. If she was feeling a little breathless, then he was flagging almost entirely, arms windmilling in an effort to keep up with her brisk jog. The air might have been made of molasses, from how laboured and exaggerated his movements were becoming. “There’s no need, believe me.”

“And I’m not saying I told you so,” Zoe carried on. “But I did point out to you which switch activated the system’s antibodies.”

“Yes, yes, I remember.”

“And I did show you the wires leading into it.”

“I believe you did.”

“And I did try to express my doubts about what exactly you were rewiring. Particularly given that you were trying to take down the shield generator, which in systems like these naturally activates the internal defence mechanisms -”

“How you have the energy to run and lecture me at the same time,” the Doctor interrupted, “I have no idea.”

Zoe shrugged, regretting it a moment later when she felt the pain of the lactic acid surging through her muscles. Keep an even rhythm, she reminded herself. She could almost hear it in that stupid instructor’s voice, crackly over the broadcast from Earth. Let momentum take over. “Lecturing takes my mind off running,” she said.

The Doctor had clearly never been taught the lesson about momentum, because he gave in to something that was almost a full-body shudder. Still, she supposed, it wasn’t as if he had been maintaining anything even remotely like an even rhythm to begin with. “You know,” he said, “I always thought -” Gulping down a deep breath, he pushed himself on in silence for a few strides. “The best thing about my old teacher Borusa -” Another breathless pause. “Was that he didn’t run. I stood a chance of getting away from him.”

“I wouldn’t be worrying about me,” Zoe pointed out mildly. “Worry about the things behind us.”

She got little more than a whimper out of him at that.

In any other situation, Zoe would have been utterly absorbed in the fascination of a colony ship whose life support system had its own antibodies. People had suggested, in her time, the idea of a ship which was just as alive as its precious cargo – but interstellar travel on such a grand scale had been a far-off dream, then. And given how loud certain voices had been, voices that wanted humanity to remain on Earth indefinitely… Well, she had resigned herself to the fact that she would never see anything like it in her lifetime. She had counted herself lucky to be of a generation where such things were being thought of at all, if only in an academic context. But being inside one, seeing it face to face, was breathtaking. And not just because of the running.

So it was a shame, really, that the ship had decided that they were foreign particles to be cleansed.

“How do we know,” she said, “that the antibodies won’t follow us out of the ship’s internal systems?”

“Because -” The Doctor hung his head, his chest heaving. “They’re programmed not to interfere with the ship’s biosphere.

She raised her eyebrows. That, at least, she could do without breaking her momentum. “Even after all your rewiring?”

“We do have to have a little hope, you know, Zoe.”

The Doctor really should know better, she thought, than to tempt fate like that. It was almost too perfect, an antibody drifting into view a little way down the corridor before he had even closed his mouth. “Doctor,” she said, her voice low like she could stop the thing from hearing her. Silly, really. They didn’t even have ears. “Doctor, wait.”

He kept jogging on, and she had to grab at his sleeve to slow him to a halt. When at last he flailed into stillness, looking up, his eyes widened. “Oh, my word,” he said softly. “That makes things rather more difficult, doesn’t it?”

The thing hung there, suspended impossibly in the middle of the corridor like some strange jellyfish. It wasn’t really air that filled the ship’s internal systems, the Doctor had said, but a sort of gaseous slurry, thick and conductive enough for the antibodies to keep themselves suspended through electric force. Which also happened to be the thing that made them deadly, the fact that they electrified the air around them. Like a kind of sanitiser. The bulbous top on this one glowed a pale, sickly green, and Zoe could feel the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck start to stand on end as it drifted almost casually closer. She doubted it would even be kind enough to kill them instantly. The internal defence system was designed for microorganisms and non-living foreign particles. Risks to the insides of the ship and contaminants in the air supply, not a pair of humans – well, a human and whatever the Doctor was. They might be left lying there to be shocked repeatedly, over and over until their bodies were too damaged to go on any longer.

“What are we going to do?” she hissed. “That’s our way out.”

“That’s our shortest way out,” the Doctor corrected her. “Not our only way out.” She pulled a face at him, one eye still on the antibody. “Ah – I don’t suppose we can go back the way we came.”

They wheeled around in unison, standing down the length of corridor they had left behind. It was dark for most of its length, lit only by thin, glowing strips of blue that ran through the walls, marking out where the cables ran behind their casing. Their dim light caught on dust clouds that had been kicked up into the air by their footfall, shaping them into an almost opaque wall. The antibodies had no need of floors – less need for maintenance that way. They must have been the first people to disturb all those dust particles in a hundred or so years. And now they might be turned into that dust themselves, she thought with a shudder.

But she could still see the pale light of another antibody, moving slowly but surely towards them.

“That’s no good,” she exclaimed, forgetting all thoughts of not letting the antibodies hear her. “Where are we meant to go now?” Wheeling back around, she found the Doctor already chest-deep in the walls, tossing out cables as he burrowed further inside. He mumbled something inaudible, his words lost amongst the humming bundles of wires, and she leant in closer. “What?”

“I said -” Squirming backwards, he contorted himself around to pop his head out of the cavity. “There should be some way through here, if we’re lucky. But I’ll have to get the other casing board off, which could take – oh, well, longer than I’d like to admit.”

If it was anything like his attempts to get the casing off the wires he had been fiddling around with earlier, Zoe thought, then she was not particularly keen on knowing how long it would take, either. “There must be another way through,” she said, more to herself than to the Doctor’s wildly waving feet. “It wouldn’t make sense to have a string of tunnels that never connected with each other.” Screwing her eyes closed, she tried to think back to the plans she had seen, all those years ago. Even for someone with her memory, it was difficult to remember back so far, with antibodies still bearing down on them from both directions. “The technicians would have needed some way of easily laying these wires.”

Glancing behind them, she scanned the walls for any sign of a door, but to no avail. It would probably look nothing like a door, she thought bitterly. And the longer they waited, the less corridor they had left to search. The antibody behind them was moving surprisingly quickly for something that could only wiggle its spindly tentacles, and the one in front of them – she whisked around again, squinting through the orange fog.

Orange.

Not exactly the usual colour of the wires. Perhaps one of the panels had failed. But it didn’t look like a panel, the component right next to them. It looked rather more like -

Squeezing around the Doctor, she lunged towards the orange panel, seizing upon a handle half-buried in the surface. Sure enough, the door swung open to reveal a deserted corridor beyond.

Hopefully deserted, anyway.

She tapped the Doctor on the thigh, and he squirmed his way out again, emerging somehow more disgruntled and dishevelled than he had been before. “Over here,” she said, jerking her head towards the door. “This way might be easier.”

#second doctor #fanfic archive #my writing #fictober 2021

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write-like-you-mean-it · 4 years

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A Hunter’s Prey: Expectations and Reality

Adding a second person to watch over was finally taking its toll on Ilumi. It was a constant need to watch over the two people in his care. As long as one was at home, he could find the other. The last known place was near the NGL in Dolio City. It was a long flight out of the way so that he kept his promise to his Father.

Too bad it was a bust lead. Illumi had lost track of Killua after they’d disappeared into Greed Island many, many months ago. He did keep a record of the fact Killua re-took the hunter exam at the beginning of the year. All of this was becoming tiresome and aggravating.

Illumi had to abandon the lead on Killua due to the job that needed to be done in York New. It was a simple execution of a small boss leader who had become too narcissistic for the mob to handle. It was a quick job. The Hunters hired by the boss were easily dispelled.

It was very rare that the jobs took so little time. The main goal was to check on Killua, but the simplicity of the job was a nice plus. Maybe he’d be back sooner to see Y/N. Ilumi decided to stop by the apartment to pick up a few nice things for her. Maybe she’d at least stop yelling at him.

--------------------------------------------------

“I see the bank transfer was done,” said Silva as Illumi went into his work area. “Easy job.”

“I don’t know why you sent me on such an easy task that could’ve been done by Milluki,” Illumi said while watching one of the big screens.

“You know the reason,” said Silva while he continued to type a message to a future buyer. “It’s your job to watch our heir. You’ve lost sight of him and that’s your fault.”

“The needle is still in his head. He won’t try to attack anyone he could not win.” Illumi decided to take a seat. He knew this talk would be a long one given what happened at dinner the many, many nights before.

“That doesn’t mean you should lose track of him. If he were to die, then our lineage would end.” Silva refused to look at his son. He was too proud to look at someone who would neglect not one but two of his appointed jobs.

“I understand Father.”

There was a tension-filled pause before Silva said “you shouldn’t have taken that girl. She wasn’t even remotely ready to join the family.”

“You gave me a list of people you recommended while you were in York New last September. I chose from that list.”

“I gave you that list in accordance that you’d wait until they could handle being a Zoldyck. It was not a list of pretty girls to manipulate until you got your way.”

“Y/N was not an assassin. There would have been no other way for her to actually learn anything. Would you rather I waited indefinitely?”

Anger spiked in the room. Aura was pounding out of Silva. “There were many other options that already knew Nen and some properties of our training. You picked one of the weaker ones. Now you have to live with your consequences.”

“I see,” said Illumi. It was an unfair trade. He knew that he wouldn’t inherit any of the estate without some sort of understanding with Killua. It is a sick bargain for living at home. He had no say in his life as long as his father was in charge. “Why did you put her on the list if you didn’t think she would be a good addition to the family?”

Silva finally sat back in his chair. He still did not look at his eldest son. “It was a job before the Phantom Troupe. You became distracted from the target. You were watching her, yet you didn’t even know her name. We almost missed the deal.”

Illumi remembered this trip vividly. Killua was still home at the time, and this was before he became a Hunter. It was a job that paid for two Zoldycks. Kill refused to go even though Dad asked him many times to come, Grandpa was busy with business, Kalluto was still in his training, and Milluki refused to come out of his room. He, out of desperation, took Ilumi as backup.

He couldn’t remember what distracted him. It was only for a moment. It was very rare that he ever was distracted by anything or anyone. Since he messed up the mission, he had to face consequences. Months in the chamber while Father disciplined for my negligence was enough of a punishment for it to never happen again.

“I was distracted by her?” Illumi said while tilting his head as if to question the statement.

“Y/N was walking down the street. It only took a second yet you never looked at a girl before or after that time,” Silva said with confidence. “At least enough that it almost cost us millions.”

Illumi nodded. His memory still failed him about the timeline. It was a very strange coincidence that he would pick her so many years later. He was only a teenager back when that mission happened.

“I had the same reaction with your Mother. She was another assassin from another family. I was the first in the line to choose who I would marry. I didn’t realize I chose her until we were on a mission many many years ago.” Silva had many happy memories of life before his children and before the obligation fell truly onto him. “Unlike Killua, you have the option of choosing from a wide list or no list at all. Yet you chose her. It will be a challenge, but if it becomes too much, you must let her go.”

Illumi nodded his head. There were very few lessons his father taught him. Most of them he had to learn on his own due to being the eldest. He knew what was being said. He was taking on a liability that would be easily dropped if needed; however, it should not be needed. That was all the advice his father would give him.

----------------------------------------------

“You’re back so soon,” I said as Illumi walked through the door. Canary had said it would be a lot longer before he would arrive. It was to be a long mission. I had decided to start reading the books to finally understand some of the history beyond what Illumi would tell me.

Illumi didn’t say much as he threw a backpack next to me. He seemed a lot more tired than when he left. Strange. “You have an issue that needs to be dealt with,” he said while taking a seat on the bed.

“I have an issue?” I said while looking through the backpack. Inside were a bunch of my belongings. Shirts, pants, and some other miscellaneous items. One item caught my attention. Illumi was allowing me to use my phone.

“Why are you giving me my phone back?” I ask while picking it up. It was charged to full battery power. He must’ve had it since I got here. On the phone, there were over 50 messages left by my friends and family about my departure. At this point, I’d been gone for 3 weeks. It wouldn’t have surprised me if there was police looking for me.

“Machi has called you many times,” he said. I didn’t understand why that was such a problem as she was one of my best friends. In fact, she was one of the people I went out with the night I disappeared.

“Why is that a problem?”

Illumi took a deep sigh. “You really are naive.” I looked back at my phone. Most of the messages were from Machi. I looked at a few of them. None of them were any different than our normal texts except they started to get more and more confusing as they went along.

I decided to send her a quick message to make say that I was fine. The response was instant. It was a time to meet and discuss where I’d been for the entire time. The phone started ringing as she was calling me.

“Don’t pick up.”

“Why?” I ask while hovering over the talk button. It's been so long since I heard her voice that it made me a little homesick.

Illumi sighed again while finally lying back onto the bed. It was a weird sight as I’d not seen him sleep throughout the time that I’d been here. I’d just assumed that he didn’t sleep. He was silent all over again. It was like he was toying with whether or not to tell me why this was so important. “Answer it. Tell her that you’ll meet up for a chat within the week. Say nothing more. We’ve got a lot of work to do. Plus I need to make sure that no one shows up here unannounced.”

The phone buzzed in my hand over and over again. “So you’re saying I’ll get to see her again?”

“Yes,” he said. “Say you’re on a business trip that came up suddenly and you can’t talk long.”

My confusion must’ve been palpable. Why would Illumi suddenly want to let me see my friends? Why would he be okay with all of this? Doesn’t he think I’d run?

I’m guessing he’s not too worried about my friends. What would Machi do anyways? She couldn’t out match any of the Zoldycks. It must be some other reasoning. I looked up to see that Illumi was waiting for me to take the call.

I answered. There was yelling on the other end. Accusations of me being dead or worse. Little did she know. I was able to meet up for a time within the next week. It was nice to hear her once again. I promised we’d catch up as soon as I landed in York New.

The phone call ended with a “you better” and I hung up. Once the call was done, I put it to the side. I had more pressing matters than to inform anyone else of my location. I decided to go back to my studying. A few pages in and I noticed that Illumi was fast asleep. He looked much calmer while sleeping. It was like a whole other side to him. ‘Must’ve been a long mission,’ I thought while going back to my book.

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#illumi x reader #illumi zoldyck #hxh #hunterxhunter #A Hunter's Prey #chapter 9

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smirkingsolo · 4 years

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And I Will Follow: A Reylo Fic

Fresh off the major decision to abandon the dark side, Ben Solo follows an overwhelmed and wildly conflicted Rey to Ahch-To after their battle on the wreckage of the Death Star. Thankfully, Ben Solo knows a thing or two about internal conflict.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22040071/chapters/52601182

Part 1 of 3: Boil in my Veins

She’s screaming. A visceral, yet empty sound, a punch at the air with no strength behind it.

Kylo Ren’s TIE fighter Whisper smolders before her in a twisted heap of melted metal and steaming rain-licked flames.

She has already flung every small rock or pebble within her reach, her hands now resorting to ripping great fistfuls of wet grass and dirt from the ground around her and flinging them at the smoking TIE, each clump punctuating another frustrated yell.

She is soaked through, and would be freezing if she could feel anything but the consuming tearing inside her, the feeling of her own soul being tugged and shredded by great fingers---old, shriveled, claw-like---scraping in time with the pounding of her heart against her ribcage trying to break her very bones. Her blood is boiling and raging, fire in her veins burning her from the inside out. Her throat is worn raw from screaming, trying to force the fire out through her mouth, her breathing now coming in ragged gasps and sobs. Her muddy fingers jerk to her hip, grasping the cold metal of the lightsaber’s hilt. She glares at it. I’m not your hero.

Her dirty fingernails scrape along the casing. No one wants her, no one cares about Rey from Nowhere. The Jedi, the Resistance, all of them. They just wanted a hero, a vessel for their hope. But that isn’t me. They all must have thought it all so prodigious, finding a desert scavenger, a no one so empty and ready for them to fill with all of their problems, their expectations, their hope. But they didn’t realize that she had her own soul, one that was now forced to the furthest corner of her being, trapped and ignored. Alone.

The loneliness of the desert was nothing to this feeling. She knew why Kylo Ren’s saber raged and flickered so wildly. He felt like this all the time, conflicted, abandoned, lost. It was a desperate feeling, an isolating force. She understood his explosive anger. How could anyone keep such pain inside indefinitely. They couldn’t. She couldn’t.

She winds her arm back ready to fling the saber into the heart of the fire, but a tug in her gut, a steadying hand reaching through the Force, freezes her on the edge of motion. His voice brushes through her mind before the sound of it reaches her ears.

“Wait.”

She wants to be angry, even angrier than she is now, something that feels quite impossible. She wants to turn all her anger back against him and lash him with it, striking over and over until he leaves her alone. Because everything is too much. She wants to scream at him to go away, to kill her, to...to...do something. Something to make it all just stop.

But she doesn’t speak. Doesn’t strike. Doesn’t run. Doesn’t move.

Rey can feel him approaching, his heavy boots sinking into the muddy Ahch-To soil. She doesn’t bother asking how he found her. She had stolen his TIE to get here so she wouldn’t be surprised if it had a tracker of some sort. But beyond that, he always seemed to find her, despite his claim that she was hard to track down. It was irritating and inconvenient and right now, strangely comforting.

He stops a few feet behind her. She wants to hide her red eyes and tear stains. She wonders if he heard her screaming. She knows he must have. She wants to be embarrassed, humiliated even. But there is nothing. His presence has burned out the fire of her conflict for the moment. She feels empty, drained. Nothing, you’re nothing. And she thinks for a moment that maybe it is better to be nothing.

But not to me.

Rey doesn’t turn to face him, she doesn’t appear to have heard his whisper through the bond. She is too lost in her own conflict. The gravity of her pain tugs downward and she sinks to her knees. Mud stains her leggings, seeping through to join the chilly rain percolating against her skin. Her hands, still clutching Anakin’s saber, fall to her lap.

******

He can feel every emotion in her, each one a shard of glass, shrapnel embedded in her bones, her mind, her spirit. The sorrow and confusion, the frustration, the anger--- all of it radiates off of her in waves, an overwhelming tide pressing against Ben’s mind through their bond.

He is glad she has not tried to attack him yet. With his saber now at the bottom of the sea he doesn’t foresee a duel with an emotionally compromised, lightsaber wielding Jedi playing out in his favor. Yet it is disconcerting, seeing her like this. He knows Rey does not belong on her knees before anyone, him least of all .

He can see her shoulders shaking, from cold or tears he does not know, but neither are promising options. Ben’s fists open and close at his sides, fingers rubbing together as he wrestles with the strange, not entirely unwelcome, desire to reach out to her.

******

She feels him move away from her, walking off towards the TIE he’d used to follow her. Her limbs are too heavy, and the pain pulses again, still hot in her veins, chaining her to the ground. She doesn’t even flinch when he approaches again. He stands barely two strides behind, looming over her. A mountain over a tree. She wonders if he might kill her. Her mind lingers on the question of whether or not she would stop him if he tried. She feels him tense, both physically and internally, as this thought flows across the bond to him.

He had not attacked her on the wreckage of the Death Star; not one of his moves during their duel was an offensive strike. He’d executed only the necessary blocks and parries to keep her raging strikes from slicing him through. He hadn’t wanted to fight her. Something she can feel him emphasize with a light brush against her memory now. It is an odd thought, but then perhaps not. He had asked her to join him. To be his ally. To be his...something.

She knows they both felt the loss of Leia through the Force in that moment on the wreckage. Their grief mingles together in the bond now, as it had in the moments after the initial shock. Rey had regretted striking him; she had run him through with his own saber while he was distracted. It was wrong. It wasn’t her way. She had felt wrong for the entirety of the fight, like someone was inside her body twisting her limbs on marionette strings. She had been striking blind, unconcerned with who or what was on the receiving end, like a wild animal lashing out in pain. But the clear voice of Leia whispering her son’s name had cut away the haze of rage, severing the puppet strings inside her, freeing her of the dark influence. But in the aftermath Rey was left soaked and drained, empty and ashamed, her hand on the hilt of the saber that had burned a hole through Leia’s son’s chest and a matching one through her soul.

Anyone else would have died instantly from such a wound. But a fragile thread of life had held him there and Rey had known it must be Leia. And she had never been more grateful. She recalls, again, his face in that moment. He’d looked so lost, so innocent. Just a child who had lost his mother, the same face she had worn watching her parents fly away all those years ago. She could see the ghost of another emotion in his eyes in that moment, even when he wasn’t looking at her. Betrayal, hurt. The same look from the throne room when she had reached for the lightsaber instead of his hand.

The moment she saw his wound, her remaining defenses had crumbled. If she was cracking before, she shattered then. There was no strength left in her to put up walls, to keep him from reading her every thought, her every feeling. Even now she knew he could feel her exhaustion, her conflict, her rage, her grief, her fear, all of it as he could then. Healing him drained her further than she thought possible; she was still unsure how she had managed to stay conscious long enough to reach Ahch-To at all.

The next memory has its own gravity, pressing her so hard into the ground that she has to brace her hands in the mud to keep from falling forward; the lightsaber slips into the grass and rolls away as she recalls how her traitorous mouth had given him the last thing that was hers and hers alone. The last secret she had kept behind her thickest walls.

“I did want to take your hand...Ben’s hand.”

And there it was. The truth.

It was right, noble even, to want to save him, to want to retrieve him from the grasp of the dark side and return him triumphantly to the light. But it was also a lie.

Somewhere along the way, her motivations had changed. She no longer cared what side he was on. She no longer cared what side she was on. She knew only that she wanted them to be on the same one. And if that meant going to his side instead of bringing him to hers, there was a part of her that felt that would be just as good. But she had known it was wrong. Wrong to want that. Wrong to be content with such a choice. Yet, even the final straw that kept her from taking his hand was a selfish one. She’d sensed his instability, known that the life he was offering would be the death of them both. Known she would lose the flash of Ben Solo she had finally found to Kylo Ren and then she would be lost along with him. No. That was Kylo Ren’s offer behind Ben’s hand. She would not go along and watch anyone, including Kylo Ren, take Ben from her.

She had been startled, afraid of the sudden possessiveness with which she had regarded Ben Solo in that moment. She didn’t want him to belong to the dark side, not because it was evil or wrong, but because she wanted him to belong to her. With her.

Unable to stay and face his reaction to the truth her selfishness alongside everything else warring inside her, she’d fled. Both in the throne room and on the Death Star she had run away.

And he had followed.

******

Now Ben stands no more than two feet behind her. His presence cast over her, a shadow not reliant on sunlight. Her thoughts and emotions beat away at him, tidal waves against sea cliffs.

The grief of his mother’s loss still hangs around him, clinging to him like his soaked clothes. Her grief mingling with it. He pushes it away, allowing it to stand beside him, separate but not far off. He knows he can’t do anything to help either of them if he lets it hold him too tight.

He watches her thoughts play freely across her mind, the bond open, her will too weak to put up walls against him, just like on the wreckage. He senses the memory of her desire to go with him. He allows it to wash over him, a quiet warmth taking root in his bones.

She had wanted to take his hand. Wanted to join him.

Power was the wrong thing to offer her; he knows it now. Rey didn’t want a galaxy. Rey wanted a home. Rey wanted someone to hold on to her and never let go. She wanted someone to come into her life and take root, grow strong, and stubbornly refuse to be dug up. He’d chosen the wrong angle. Chosen to appeal to her as a hero rather than a human. Yes, Rey was a hero, maybe even his hero. But being a hero couldn’t fix loneliness. Real, marrow-deep, loneliness, the kind etched in muscle and bone, the kind that needed a lifetime of companionship and love to heal.

The gathered from her memories that the temptation of his offer had not been the power to be heroic, to influence, but rather to be by someone’s side. To have someone be by her side. To take a hand, not as a contract of power, but as a gesture of connectedness, of comfort.

He could see now that Rey had, even for the briefest moment, desired to put aside the right thing, the good thing, the heroic thing in favor of the one thing she wanted most. The one thing Ben Solo, not Kylo Ren, had to give. And the guilt was eating her alive.

The guilt of a hero who stopped caring about being one when offered her greatest wish. She had wanted to go with him, light or dark it had not mattered---a thought that caught his breath up a tied almost giddy knots in his stomach. He had once told her she was not alone, and she had believed him. Trusted him, even, to be someone who would not allow her to feel alone. And the temptation of never feeling alone again was almost enough to make her abandon the fight to bring him to the light.

He could tell that her admission of these things to him on the wreckage of the Death Star was no small thing. The shame attached to the memory, even now, was unmistakable. He found, strangely, that this sparked the greatest hatred for the Resistance he had ever felt. They had placed her on a pedestal, hailed her as their hero, and added far more than the recommended dose of responsibility. They had put this pressure on her to always choose good over herself. It made him think of Snoke, Palpatine, even Hux. With them there was always some greater cause, something more important than what he felt or wanted. He knew how she felt, probably more than anyone else.

A dyad indeed.

She shivers again.

He steps closer, crouching behind her. He unfurls his cloak, retrieved from the TIE, at least a little drier than the both of them, and drapes it over her shoulders.

He feels her force signature flicker as he waves his hand, tipping her mind gently into unconsciousness. It doesn’t take much. He catches her by the shoulders as she tips forward, and draws her into his arms as he had in the woods after their first meeting. He extends his hand again, summoning his grandfather’s lightsaber and tucking it into his belt before rising from the mud with Rey in his arms.

With a gentle probing, he extracts the location of the huts Luke and the caretakers once inhabited and sets off towards them. Smoke from the burning heap that was once his faithful TIE Whisper curls behind him, a faint echo of some dark voice floats with it. The Wayfinder. He will return for it once Rey is settled and warm.

He marches along, long strides carrying him across the muddy hills; he feels Rey’s stir. He pauses, adjusting her in his arms and tucking his cape around her more snugly.

Her hand comes to rest against his chest, just over his heart as it pounds behind his ribs, leaping towards her fingers. He forgets to breathe. But then the fitful expression twisting her features fades slightly, creases of worry smoothing away with each beat of his heart against her fingertips.

No one but the sea catches his tiny smile.

Next Part

#reylo #reylo fic #ben solo #ben x rey #reyben #rey #star wars tros #tros spoilers #tros fix it #reylo fanfic #reylo fanfiction #reylo fic rec #my writing #reylo fix it

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osakaso5 · 4 years

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Spirit Kaleidoscope: Empty Absolution

Chapter 20 - The Truth About Ungaikyo

Chapter Index

Outside Hikagemachi

Sana: We've done it... We've done it! The kaleidoscope... We've finally gotten our hands on it!

Azuma: We can really do it when we try. Katanashu are just humans. There was no point in fearing them.

Hokuto: ...What're you boasting for? We had to sneak into their camp under the guise of bringing gifts.

Sana: It's a good thing the kaleidoscope was in there! It was a bit difficult to snatch, since the shikigami wouldn't let it go...

Azuma: They were so violent that I had to tie them up on the pillars.

Sana: You're so good with your hands, Azuma-san! They were such pretty butterfly knots, perfectly even...

Azuma: Hehe.

Hokuto: ...I just hope the katanashu won't find out...

Sana: In any case, we've finally done it! We have the kaleidoscope..!

Sana: Now, we'll finally be able to see Shisei-san's sins.

Shisei: ........

Hokuto: We really kept you waiting, Shisei. Luckily this was just a small detour. ...Are you ready?

Shisei: ........ Are you really going to look into that kaleidoscope..?

Hokuto: What's wrong? Are you getting cold feet now, after we finally got you the kaleidoscope?

Shisei: I know you did, but...

Sana: ...Shisei-san...

Azuma: Shisei. I understand that you're frightened. I'm sure no one wants to see their own sins. It's like a self-inflicted punishment.

Azuma: And you've been holed up in that grotto until you lost all memory. ...You could still continue avoiding your troubles.

Sana: Azuma-san...

Azuma: But if you keep doing that, you'll stay the same. Didn't you leave the grotto in order to change something?

Shisei: ........

Sana: Exactly, Shisei-san! We don't want to watch you suffer alone for even a moment longer.

Sana: It may be scary, even painful... But knowing your sins might change something..!

Shisei: Sana...

Hokuto: It'll be fine, Shisei. No matter how scary your sins are, we'll bear them with you.

Hokuto: If my tiger's claws tear them into four pieces, they'll be a little lighter.

Azuma: Right. We've got my dog's fangs, too.

Sana: And my boar's tusks..!

Shisei: ...You three... ........

Shisei: Very well... I was the one who didn't stop you from hunting down the kaleidoscope in the first place...

Shisei: ...Look at me. Look at me through the kaleidoscope...

Sana: Shisei-san! ...Yes..!

Azuma: ...Hokuto, go on. Get the kaleidoscope.

Hokuto: ...I'm going to look into it..?

Azuma: Who else? You bothered Shisei about leaving the grotto more than any of us.

Azuma: ...We're counting on you.

Sana: Please..!

Hokuto: ........ Yeah, okay.

Hokuto: Here I go...

Shisei: ...Yes.

- - - -

Hokuto: ......... ...This is...

Sana: ...Hokuto-san, what's the matter? Do you see something?

Hokuto: ........

Azuma: ...Hokuto! Why have you gone so quiet!? Say something..!

Hokuto: ...I can't see a thing...

Azuma & Sana: Huh!?

Azuma: Nothing... That can't be. That kaleidoscope is supposed to show the sins of whoever you see through it, right?

Sana: ...Ah, I know! If you can't see anything... Then it must mean that Shisei-san really is innocent!

Hokuto: ...No, that's not it... How should I put this...

Hokuto: It's not that I saw nothing. When you look into this kaleidoscope, you see your surroundings reflected and glittering inside.

Hokuto: I did see Shisei. ...But that's it. I didn't see sins or anything like that.

Hokuto: ........ It's like this kaleidoscope is...

Shisei: I knew it...

Hokuto: ...You knew..?

Shisei: ...That kaleidoscope doesn't have any kind of power... It can't show sins...

Shisei: Because it's just a toy...

Azuma: .....! What?

Sana: W-what do you mean..? Just a toy...

Shisei: I mean exactly what I said. It's nothing more than a plaything. I had a hunch that this might've been the case...

Shisei: Because Ungaikyo... The owner of this kaleidoscope, is just an ordinary human.

Forest Plaza - Stage

Momiji & Ungaikyo: ........

Yokai: Ungaikyo took out a sword!

Yokai: Can he use a blade..? He's such a strange yokai.

Yokai: ...Hey, hold on. If Ungaikyo has a sword, does that mean that he went around attacking all those people..?

Yokai: ...Attacking?

Yokai: What're you talking about?

Yokai: Come to think of it, something like that did happen...

Yokai: ...Oh well, boring stuff like that doesn't matter! We're right in the middle of a festival right now!

Yokai: Hahaha! That's right! This final battle's gonna be a real sight to see!

The Yokai: Aaaaagh...!

Uta: ...Huh!? They don't even care about the attacks... What are those yokai talking about!?

Uta: Wasn't this tournament set up to prove that we weren't responsible for those attacks, anyway!?

Uta: So, why...

Aoi: ...I told you, didn't I? The yokai just want to cause chaos.

Uta: But...

Aoi: Yokai are ephemeral beings. All they care about is momentary enjoyment. They're completely different from us humans.

Aoi: Sadness, happiness, anger, and crime... The longer you live, the less any of those things affect you. You're detached from everything in perpetuity.

Uta: ...In other words, they're just killing time, and we got dragged into it?

Aoi: Yes. That's what I've been saying this whole time.

Uta: Unbelievable... ........

Uta: I became a katanashu and got sent here... And I thought I knew what yokai are like pretty well...

Uta: ...But they really are scary.

Aoi: ...Yeah.

- - - -

Momiji: .........

Momiji: ...From the moment Ungaikyo pointed his blade at me, my hands have been shaking nonstop... What is this..?

Momiji: Is it because I'm nervous about the match? ...But this isn't my first time crossing swords with someone.

Momiji: ...It's because my opponent is Ungaikyo... Why am I so fascinated by this one yokai..?

- - - -

Fuuka: Pretty...

- - - -

Momiji: ........ That kaleidoscope again...

Ungaikyo: ...Kaleidoscope?

Momiji: ...I can't get it out of my head. Your reflection in the kaleidoscope... And dazzlingly bright, red autumn leaves...

Momiji: When I remember that sight, I...

Momiji: ...I'm filled with an unbearable urge to cut you down..!

Ungaikyo: ...Haha. You really are scary... Fuu... no wait, you go by Momiji now.

Ungaikyo: Why did it have to be "Momiji"... You should've picked a different name.

Momiji: .........

Ungaikyo: You're just as scary as you were back then... But I kinda envy you.

Momiji: ...Envy me?

Ungaikyo: I wish I could've felt the way you do. Wanted to fight someone, cut them down.

Ungaikyo: If I had... I could've stayed in the castle and fought instead of running from my enemies.

Momiji: Castle..? What are you talking about..?

Ungaikyo: I wouldn't have gotten scared... Even though the castle was on fire, everyone else was dead, and I was all alone.

Ungaikyo: ...I could've fought your family and fallen like the others..!

Momiji: ........

Ungaikyo: Momiji. You're my enemy.

Momiji: ...Enemy..?

Ungaikyo: ...My family was destroyed by yours.

Momiji: ....... But you're a yokai... Why...

Karasutengu: He's not completely a yokai. He used to be a human just like you, Momiji. I suppose you could call him a half yokai?

Momiji: ........!

Ungaikyo: ...Karasutengu. Don't say anything you don't need to.

Karasutengu: What's the point in hiding it now?

Karasutengu: Let me tell you, Momiji. This guy's actually a samurai. Apparently he even used to be the successor to your entire country.

Karasutengu: I believe you humans now call it the Sengoku period? It was a glorious era. That was when he was born.

Karasutengu: Though it seems his lands were destroyed by war.

Momiji: War...

Ungaikyo: ........

Karasutengu: He managed to scuttle out of his burning castle when he lost the war, but he no longer had a place to go.

Karasutengu: He wandered in the woods without food or water, until he ended up in our world.

Ungaikyo: ...Don't talk like you know.

Karasutengu: I do know. I saw it with my abilities. War is great. Even it is a grand festival!

Ungaikyo: ...Tsk.

Karasutengu: But I wasn't the only one who had my eye on him. ...Ungaikyo was watching him, too.

Momiji: ...Ungaikyo..? What do you mean? Is this man not Ungaikyo..?

Karasutengu: No, he's not. Like I told you, he's originally just a human. Not a yokai.

Karasutengu: The real Ungaikyo is that round mirror our samurai is cradling as we speak.

Momiji: ...Huh..?

Karasutengu: Ungaikyo was the one who pulled this human into our world in the first place!

Karasutengu: Ungaikyo drew him here with phantoms of his comrades. Ever since then, this human's lifespan has been extended indefinitely.

Momiji: ...Why..?

Karasutengu: This guy is here for Ungaikyo's amusement. The old man's got a habit for peeping, you see.

Karasutengu: He amuses himself by watching the suffering of humans. That includes this man and his sin of not being able to fulfill his duty.

Karasutengu: An awful geezer, isn't he? I don't know why the samurai keeps humoring him...

Ungaikyo: That's enough..! ...As long as I cut this guy down and eliminate our enemy...

Ungaikyo: ...Everyone... Will finally forgive me..!

Momiji: ...Ungaikyo...

Ungaikyo: ...Momiji. I'll use this blade, which has been passed down in our family for years... To cut you down.

Momiji: ...He and I... Are enemies...

- - - -

Ungaikyo: ...Your hands are tiny. Like maple leaves.

- - - -

Momiji: ...Ugh..!

- - - -

Ungaikyo: If I look pretty to you, then that's my sin.

Ungaikyo: If you stay with me, we'll end up having to fight.

Ungaikyo: Your hands are tiny. Like maple leaves.

Ungaikyo: We're enemies, so---

- - - -

Momiji: ........ I see... I see now... ...I'm your enemy...

Momiji: ...Pfft. Fufu... Haha...

Ungaikyo: ...W-what are you laughing about..?

Momiji: I can't believe I forgot something so obvious... But now I remember everything.

Momiji: Everything about the day we met under that big maple tree...

To be continued...

#idolish7 #spirit kaleidoscope #translation #event story #other translations

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deejadabbles · 4 years

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Spells of Defiance (Atem x Reader x Yugi) Chapter 3

Three: Home

One //// Two //// Three //// Four //// Five //// Six //// Seven //// [ Eight coming soon]

Summary: The Circle of Magicians protects the world from rogue, murderous fey. The police who keep bloodsuckers and flesh-eaters in check. You’ve hunted vampires for years, earning a reputation as one of the best magicians in that field; but what happens when an encounter with a particular vampire makes your already fragile loyalties split?

Supernatural/Demon Hunter AU. Vampire!Atem x Reader x Incubus!Yugi (yes, a polyamorous relationship). Warnings for cursing, vulgar language, violence, and some sexual themes.

This is a fic I’ve already posted this on my AO3 but I wanted to spread the Yu-gi-oh x Reader love here on tumblr.

It was a hunt like any other. You had been on the Marik case for a while and had tracked down a few of his follower's hideouts. There wasn't any reason for you to assume this night would be any different.

It was, and you knew that the moment you approached the abandoned house and heard the unmistakable sounds of a fight. The scene was already bloody when you busted the door open, two vampires were down, and the man who must have done it had a third by the throat. Absurdly, the wild hair caught your attention before his blood-soaked form. Red coated his right arm and the hole in the chest of one vampire left little mystery as to why.

He must have not considered the one he had by the throat a threat at all, because he glanced over his shoulder at you with an almost lazy look. The eyes. Even if you weren't an expert in recognizing his kind, you would have known he was a vampire as well.

"This does not concern you, magician. Leave this trash to me."

His voice was almost innately husky, but that was an observation you had made later because, in that moment, his words sent a shot of annoyance through you.

"Back off, I'm here on official Circle business and you're killing all my witnesses. Stand down," you snapped your fingers and a flame came alive in your hand, "or I'll take you out too."

Something you couldn't define flashed in his eyes, but only for a moment, before his gaze and whole demeanor sharpened in an instant. You had sensed it a second later. More vampires. Closing in fast.

The one crazy-hair had by the throat laughed. "Oh, you bitches are gonna get it now!"

And just like that, you and the vampire you later would know as Atem were a united force. An unspoken truce sparked and when the cultist reinforcements came crashing in, the pair of you were ready for them.

Who knew that crossroad would lead to here?

Out of everything you'd done in the last day or two, clutching to Yugi like a cat to a tree as he soared through the air had to be one of, if not the most terrifying. You wanted to trust that Yugi would not drop you, just as Atem had tried to assure, but you just couldn't help but scream internally the whole time.

So, when he finally touched down on sweet, solid, motionless ground, you wanted to cry out in relief.

Pride wouldn't allow that, of course, so you simply staggered away from your two new companions and silently got your bearings back; saying your prayers of thanks inwardly.

"A-are you okay?" came Yugi's unsure voice, "I'm sorry if I gave you motion sickness, I was trying to keep the jostling down to a minimum!"

"It's fine," you answered, wanting to give him a smile, but opted not to in case it looked forced or pained. Instead, you took another deep breath, then finally straightened up and took in your new surroundings.

You had landed in a backyard by the looks of it. A tall privacy fence walled it and the building before you in. The building was tall, three stories, but narrower than most homes. A small porch with a wooden swing seat led to sliding double doors. The green roofs and awnings, yellow brick, and star-patterned curtains hung in the windows gave it an overall 'cute' look.

"It's nice," you all but blurted. "Your home, I mean. It's nice."

You heard Atem step up beside you and when you looked out of the corner of your eye, you saw him giving you that gentle smile that eased the sharpness of his features. "You should consider it your home as well now."

"Want the grand tour?" Yugi asked as he joined your other side. "Most of the first floor is actually our shop, so I can show you around both if you want."

While you were trying to think of an answer, you noticed that Atem looked down at the ring you had enchanted to protect him from the sun. He then looked up at the sky with an expression that you could only describe as longing crossing his face. Yugi's face fell slightly as he noticed as well and both of you were left staring at the vampire.

"How long with your enchantment work?" Atem asked after a moment.

"Should be good for another hour or so. I tried to make sure it could last you until sunset if needed."

Another stretch of silence, then, "Could we stay out here for a while longer? I... I haven't watched the sunset in so long, I'd like to watch it with both of you, if that's alright."

Yugi smiled at him so sweetly that you could actually feel the deep affection pass between the two. Then, when he turned that look on you, something strange surged in your chest. It felt so odd, almost wrong to be included in such sweet affection, but that wasn't all of what you felt.

"Alright," the answer came easily, almost too easily. "I haven't watched the sunset in a long time either, and the ring should last you until then."

"We should be able to see if from the porch swing," Yugi suggested, still smiling as he ushered both of you onto said porch.

The swing looked like it could only fit three if you were closely squished together, so you automatically opted to stand against the porch railing instead. You crossed your arms, leaned your head against the support beam, and kept your gaze fixed on the horizon as the two men settled down behind you. You only glance behind for a moment to make sure you weren't obscuring their view, before turning back and letting your mind wander as the vampire had his moment in the sun.

Both of them seemed very keen on you staying with them indefinitely, but you just weren't sure if you could do that. Then again, did you really have any other option? There were many reasons why magicians rarely left the circle, and part of that was because they would have no support or means of living if they did. You had no job or experience in anything other than hunting and investigating rogue fey, not to mention as far as the human world was concerned, you didn't exist. Magicians didn't exactly carry ID cards or social security numbers with them.

You looked down at your right palm, the pink scar where the Circle's Seal had been staring back at you. It still throbbed a little but the pain was minor and it reminded you that your chain to the Circle was severed now. You were free to do whatever you wanted.

So why was your mind already falling back to your investigation into Marik? Heh, you supposed a magic seal was easier break from than the only lifestyle you had known.

A gentle call of your name made you turn your head and you saw Yugi looking at you with a question in his eyes. Atem, who was resting his head on Yugi's shoulder, looked at you with a similar expression. It was such an innocent scene, you found yourself thinking, one of Yugi's wings slightly cupping Atem, their hands intertwined.

"Are you okay?" Yugi asked after a moment.

You managed to give him a smile, "I'm just thinking. Don't worry about me, you two need to enjoy the sunset while you can." Before either could waste more of this special moment worrying about you, you turned forward again and kept your eyes on the skyline, blocking any more conversation.

It really was a beautiful sunset.

Yugi did end up giving you a tour of their home. The back door led into an entry hall of sorts, with shoe and coat racks, another door that went into the shop Yugi ran, and a staircase leading up to the residential area above. Those stairs immediately opened up into a living room with a kitchenette off of it. There was a hallway off of the kitchen with a door on either side and another steep, narrow set of stairs to the third floor at the end. Apparently there were two bedrooms on the third floor, but they hadn't been used for more than storage since Yugi's grandfather, the original owner, passed.

"We can set up one of the rooms upstairs for you," Yugi offered, "We just have to move some stuff around and make sure that old mattress is still okay to sleep on."

You shuffled your feet, avoiding his earnest gaze, "You don't have to go to any trouble, the couch is fine." The words were barely out when you felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned to see Atem looking at you with reassurance.

"It's no trouble. I'll work on arranging everything for you while Yugi makes dinner."

"At least let me help you," you insisted as he headed for the third-floor staircase.

As Yugi went to the kitchen to start on the promised meal, you set your backpack down by the couch for safekeeping and started to go after Atem.

"I hope you like burgers," Yugi called out as he pulled down a skillet from a shelf, "it'll be nice to have someone else who actually eats with me. I can never get used to how Atem doesn't need regular food." He chuckled and the tone of his last sentence said he had said it to himself more than anything.

When he turned to get something else for dinner, he was surprised to see you stating there. Wait, when had you stopped by the kitchen? Weren't you heading down the hall just a second ago?

Yugi looked just as confused as you felt. "Weren't you going to go help Atem? I'm fine cooking by myself," he smiled to assure you he didn't need any help, but it faltered when he saw your lost expression.

"I... I was going to help him. I thought I was walking towards the stairs then..."

Yugi's face went a bit pale, "Oh no."

"What?"

He swallowed a lump in his throat, then started scratching the back of his head as he avoided your gaze. "Umm, you know how I used my seduction magic on you to help with your pain earlier? Well, I think you're experiencing some...uh...side effects."

With a groan, you smacked your palm to your head. "Of course. I'm acting on a subconscious need to be close to you. Hell, I'm surprised I didn't try to hold your hand or something."

"I think it's only a minor need," Yugi insisted looking very abashed as his eyes darted up to you with the look of a sad puppy. "I'm sorry. I swear I wasn't trying to actually seduce you or anything. I didn't think you'd have any side effects..."

Your heart clenched at the sight of his upset sate and you weren't sure if it was the seduction magic or something else that made you want to put your arms around him. You waved your hand in an effort to deny the want as well as alleviate Yugi's guilt. "It's fine, Yugi, I know you didn't do it on purpose, you were just trying to help me. It should wear off soon, right? Until then, just don't blame me if I end up standing too close or hugging you or something."

He gave a soft smiled at the words, big violet eyes saying a silent 'thank you'. You had to get out of there -like now- before you did something stupid.

You turned on your heel, "I'm going to help Atem now. Thank you for making dinner, Yugi."

After having spent all of his recent days with you in mortal peril, Atem found this hour with you to be rather...special. It didn't take long to set up the room for your indefinite stay but he enjoyed the simple work and casual talk you two shared. Atem insisted on leaving the doors and windows open to air out the dust and got you clean pillows and linens to sleep with. The storage boxes had been piled into the closet and third bedroom, so as to not make you feel cluttered. You two had just gotten your bed made when Yugi called up saying dinner was done.

Atem also had to admit that it felt nice having someone else there for mealtimes. Not that he didn't enjoy the simple domestic alone time with Yugi before, but it simply felt...right to have you there, conversing with them and getting to know each other. Though he already knew he liked you immensely, it was still quite a welcomed change to talk about one another without the fear of execution hanging over his head.

After food (and you insisting on washing the dishes for them) Atem could tell that Yugi was on the verge of falling asleep right there and wondered if he should insist on everyone going to bed given the trials of the day.

"Neither of us got much sleep last night and my endurance potions can only go so far," you told him in a low tone, peeking over the kitchen island to look at Yugi as his lids drifted open and closed at a tired pace.

When you let out a long yawn Atem put his hand on your shoulder, "You need some rest as well. Teleporting us all that way, not to mention the physical exertion of having your seal removed can't have been easy on you."

"I'm fi-fine-" another yawn that Atem couldn't help but chuckle at. He might have compared you to a tired kitten if he didn't think the words would earn him a death glare. Or worse.

"Go on to bed, my friend. I'll finish cleaning up and take care of Yugi."

"I'm not a kid, you know," Yugi called from the dining table, but even the scolding sounded half-hearted.

Atem did not miss the way you smiled at the incubus' tired claim, the gesture softening your features for a precious moment.

"Alright, you win," you conceded as you handed him the dishtowel, even giving him a pat on the shoulder as you passed. "Goodnight you two."

"Goodnight! If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask, okay?" Yugi called after you, trying to hold in a yawn of his own.

After finishing the cleanup, Atem took Yugi's hands in his own and gently pulled him to their bedroom. The vampire thought they would have a nice, peaceful remainder to their night, but, as he took off his jewelry at the vanity, a low toned claim from Yugi made his whole body tense.

"You're not going to stop hunting Marik, are you?"

Atem looked at the incubus sitting on the bed, his tail and wings drooping, eyes fixed on the ground and body held so tightly he looked as if he was trying to shield himself from hurt. In all the time he had known Yugi, Atem was sure this moment was the most he had ever looked fragile.

"Yugi..."

"She told me. The message you asked her to give me when you thought you were going to die? She gave it to me. You said you were sorry for letting your need for revenge put you in that much danger. But you aren't going to stop, even now, are you?"

Atem let out a resigned sigh as he sat down on the bed beside Yugi. He took the younger man's hand in his own, giving a gentle squeeze. "I can't, Yugi. He's here in Domino and I can't let him escape, not this time."

"But why?!" Yugi turned his hurt-filled, tired eyes on him, "you don't have to go after him, the magicians are hunting him too, let them handle it. Atem-" Yugi's voice cracked and Atem felt a swell of self-loathing in his chest for bringing his love to tears. "What if next time it isn't the Circle who try to kill you?" he whispered, "I c-can't lose you, Atem."

He pulled Yugi into a tight embrace, wishing he could chase the tears away with sheer will power. He ran his fingers through Yugi's hair as he said, "You won't lose me. You especially won't now that we aren't alone." When Yugi pulled back and gave him a questioning look, Atem elaborated, "I know she's free to do whatever she wants now that she's free of the circle, but something tells me that she will continue her hunt for Marik as well. If she is, we can do it together. We can stop his killing and tormenting together."

After staring back at him for a moment, Yugi let out a defeated sigh and leaned against his chest. "I know I can't stop you. Just promise me you'll be careful and you'll let me help too."

"I promise, Aibou," to lighten the mood he kissed Yugi's temple and said, "I dare say I can't do anything without your help anymore."

"Got that right," Yugi replied but Atem heard the smile in his tone.

They stayed like that for a few long, much needed minutes, simply holding each other. Atem thought Yugi might have fallen asleep, until he shifted and looked towards the door with a questioning gaze. A second later Atem noticed it too, just as Yugi got up and walked to the door. He opened it, revealing you, curled up and still fast asleep at the threshold to their bedroom.

"Oh no," Yugi sighed, kneeling down by you as he whispered, "I was worried about this. She's still experiencing the side effects of my magic and must have slept walked here to get close to me."

Atem joined your side as Yugi brushed the back of his hand along your cheek. Your breaths were coming slow and even, looking perfectly content despite the hard floor beneath you. The sight was actually quite cute.

"Should I carry her back to her room?" Atem whispered as well, not wanting to disturb you.

Yugi shrugged, "She'll probably just sleepwalk to our door again."

"Well, we can't just leave her here on the ground."

The incubus looked to the vampire with an almost timid suggestion in his eyes, "There's always a third option..."

You weren't sure if an entire floor and a bedroom door were enough to block out Atem and Yugi's demonic auras, but you weren't taking the chance. You trusted both of them, but your sleeping mind might still call out danger when sensing them so close by and you couldn't take another restless night of sleep. You only had one sleeping draft left in your stock but it was well worth it to knock yourself out for the night.

Your dreams were pleasant that night. Soft hands holding yours, warmth wrapping around your body like a cozy blanket; the comfort of companionship. Comfort you didn't know how to handle in the real world, but here in dreams, you let it wash over you like a cleansing tide. Was this what home felt like?

The world came creeping back in at a snail's pace and this time you didn't quite dread the mornings like you usually did. You don't think you had ever remembered having such a good night's sleep.

Of course, your blissful moment started to fade when you became more and more aware of the fact that someone was sleeping beside you.

Your eyes snapped open and you sucked in a shocked breath when you saw Yugi's peaceful sleeping face next to yours. He was a respectful distance from you, at least considering what little room there was for distance on the bed. Still, your face felt like it was on fire when you realized you had one hand placed on his chest and the other set firmly on his hip. Not just that. Atem was asleep in the bed too, laying with his chest to Yugi's back, tucked between the incubus' wings and his hand gently resting over yours on Yugi's hip.

Apparently, the sleeping draft had not knocked out your subconscious need to be tucked in Yugi's arms. After a string of mental curses and colorful exclamations, you decided it was best to try slipping out before either of them woke.

At a painfully slow pace, you started moving your hand out from under Atem's, freezing when he or Yugi seemed on the verge of stirring and waiting a bit before moving again. Finally, your hand was free and you started shimming backward to slide out from under the warm, inviting blankets and off of the soft bed.

When you were completely 'free' and started tiptoeing towards the door you heard Yugi make a pouty grumbling noise. You peeked behind you to see him still asleep as he threw his arm over the spot you had been and bury his face into the sheets with another grumble; Atem silently scooting closer to him a second later.

Once you had closed their door behind you and you were safe in the hallway, you let out a sigh. You didn't know if they were awake when you came to them or not, but you were determined not to have that particular awkward conversation. You weren't even sure what time it was because of the thick curtains over every window, but you did see some sunlight around the edges.

With another sigh, you decided that a shower was in order and made your way to the bathroom across the hall. Yugi had hung a spare towel out for you the night before, he and Atem sure were thoughtful hosts. The hot water felt refreshing and you relaxed under the feel of it. You hadn't had your own body wash or shampoo to bring so you had to hope the boys wouldn't mind you using some of theirs. The body wash had a pleasant, light scent to it that reminded you of herbs or woods, while the shampoo had a fresh clean smell.

The scent made you remember what it had felt like to have both of them hold you in their arms as you tried to keep from fainting the day before. You hadn't noticed the scent at the time, focusing more on the pulsating pain from your hand, but it must have stuck into the back of your mind. You lifted your hand, once again examining the scar of your seal. In some ways, you still couldn't believe that the connection had been severed. For years it bound you to the Circle, claimed you as one of their own, and ensured your place in the world. The mere sight of it could strike fear and panic into the hearts of most fey. So much of your life revolves around the symbol, why then, did it feel so natural and easy to be rid of it?

You were jolted out of your thoughts when a knock and a gentle call of your name came from the door. "Please take as much time as you'd like, I simply wanted to ask if you were alright with having pancakes for breakfast?" Atem asked, sounding a bit sheepish for some reason. "Yugi would also like to know if you're alright with chocolate chips in them."

"Y-yes, that fine, I'll be out in a bit," you called back.

When you were sure he wasn't going to say anything else, you let out a small sigh. You didn't want to dwell on the past too much, but, at the same time, you were worried that adjusting to this new life would be difficult, no matter how natural it seemed right now.

After drying off and putting on fresh clothes for the day, you stepped into the kitchen to see if Yugi needed any help with breakfast. Atem was sitting at the kitchen island, reading a newspaper while drinking something from a coffee cup. A quick glance at the red liquid confirmed that it was blood, likely from a pig or cow courtesy of a butcher.

Yugi, who was standing at the stove humming to himself, greeted you with a smile and cheerful, "Good morning! We weren't sure what you wanted to drink, but there's juice and milk in the fridge, and I think there's some coffee up in the cabinet somewhere if you'd rather have that."

"Juice is fine," you assured, not wanting him to go to any trouble. "Do you need any help with food?"

"Nope, I got it! You can sit down and relax." He gave you a closed-eyed smile before going to the fridge for something, his tail swishing happily behind him.

When you took the stool beside Atem he tossed his newspaper away and shifted in his seat, turning to face you more. He seemed to want to talk about something, but scratched the back of his neck and didn't quite meet your eyes as he said, "Um, about this morning-"

"I'm sorry, I didn't even realize I came into your room in my sleep until I woke up this morning," you blurted out, not wanting either of them to get the wrong idea.

"No, no, it's alright. We know you weren't in control, we just..." he cleared his throat and Yugi jumped in to save his red-faced vampire, though he seemed only a notch-less bashful.

"We didn't want to leave you on the floor all night, that's why he put you in the bed. I hope you...uh...didn't think we had any bad intentions or...uh...anything."

"Of course not," you assured, desperately wishing this conversation was over. "It was all just a big, weird, situation, it's fine." You took a drink of the juice Yugi had given you, hoping that was the end of that. Just in case, when you swallowed the drink- and the lump in your throat, you moved the conversation along to another topic entirely. "There's something else I wanted to tell you two. I want you to know that I'm still going to investigate the Marik case."

You saw the boys exchange a look. You couldn't quite discern it, but you knew it was quite meaningful, especially with how tense Yugi seemed to be all of the sudden.

"I am as well," Atem said as he broke eye contact with Yugi and looked back at you. "In fact, I was hoping you would be willing to find him together."

That really shouldn't have come as a shock, but it still took you a moment to reply. "Alright, if that's what you want." For about the dozenth time since you'd met Atem, you found yourself wondering why he was so hell-bent on finding Marik. But, like all the other dozen times, you figured it was too prying to ask.

"Won't investigating the case draw the attention of the Circle?" Yugi asked with caution, "You said they shouldn't be able to find you now, but you might run into them if both you and them are tracking Marik down."

"Not necessarily." You allowed yourself a bit of a smug smile as you said, "Part of the reason I'm usually put on the most wanted vampire cases is because I've built connections and channels other magicians haven't."

Atem met your smile with his own, thought a question again playing in his eyes as he said, "It's obvious that you're remarkably experienced in hunting vampires, but you're so young..."

You shrugged, the smugness fading a bit, "I've been doing this for a long time. The Circle starts their training young. Really young."

"Don't tell me they go around recruiting children," Yugi said, and you didn't miss the undertones of disgust in his words.

"Recruiting isn't really the right word," you sighed. "I, like most of the magicians, was born into service under the circle. My mother was a magician and any maician working for the Circle pretty much hands their child over to the council the moment they're born. We grow up in the Sanctuary with other kids our age and aren't taught anything about the outside world that doesn't involve hunting fey. Combat training and teachings of the fey world starts as soon as possible and eventually, we're given a choice." You looked down at your palm, remembering the pain of the brand that sealed your life to the Circle. "Part of the reason magician almost always stay with the Circle is because they make us choose. We can pledge our loyalty to the Circle and they give us the magician's seal, or, we refuse and they throw us out into a world we know nothing about with no money or family to support us."

Silence followed your words. At the time, when the 'choice' had been given to you, you thought it normal. There was no other frame of reality that you knew to tell you how manipulative and abusive such a life was. In fact, you had only come to that conclusion barely more than a year ago, and here you were in your twenties.

"How old are you when they give you this so-called 'choice'?" Atem asked, sounding like he was barely keeping anger under the surface. You knew it wasn't directed at you, but you still felt a wash of shame on behalf of your old masters.

"Fourteen."

Another thing that had seemed normal to you for years. Fourteen was a fine age to be forced into servitude and trained to kill, wasn't it? You had thought that, until years of seeing the real world and how it worked made you realize that such a way of thinking belonged in the dark ages. Ages where fourteen was considered an adult because the average person didn't live much past forty if that. This time last year you might have said 'that's normal, isn't it?' or tried to rationalize it away, but not now.

"That's just sick," Yugi muttered under his breath and you knew he was remembering how much you said the brand had hurt when they gave it to you. "Fourteen, and do they even wait long before they put up against an actual, dangerous fey?"

"No. Your first field mission is usually a month after pledging your loyalty." You regretted the words almost as soon as you said them, given the horrified look in Yugi's eyes, and Atem's deliberately stony expression. Maybe you should have added that they at least give you a mentor on those mission for a while, but you didn't figure it would help much. You didn't want them to pity you, so, trying for a bit of black humor that might move the conversation along you shrugged and said, "But at least being pitted against bloodthirsty fey at a young age was good for one thing. Like I said I have a few connections that might help us find Marik. I actually have one in mind."

Thankfully, Atem must have sensed that you didn't want to talk about that line of conversation anymore, because, after a moment where Atem closed his eyes and took in a deep breath (and Yugi forced himself to go back to cooking), he asked, "Who?"

"He's a ghoul that lives in the slums on the other side of the city. He tends to keep his ears low and picks up on other fey doing shading things. A cowardly little creep, but I've kept the Council off his back a few times, so he's willing to help me when I need it. Especially after a bit of...persuasion."

As Yugi set a stack of pancakes in front of you and took a seat on your other side, Atem asked, "Are you willing to wait until nightfall to visit him? That way I might come as well?"

"I prefer it, actually. He usually has his guard lowered at night since he's more vulnerable during the day. We can go together tonight."

"Great!" Yugi chimed in after swallowing a bite of fluffy pancakes, "That means I'll have the shop closed by then and I can come too." When you and Atem looked round at him, he gave a very sassy looking raise of his eyebrow. "What, you honestly think I'm going to let you two go after this psycho by yourselves again after what happened last time? No way!"

He took another bite of his food and with a chuckle you finally let yourself dig into the breakfast as well. Atem only smiled at Yugi's words. A while of comfortable silenced passed and you were just about done eating before Yugi brought up his own question.

"Since we aren't going until night, do you think you could help me in the shop today?"

"Of course," you answered finishing off the last of your food, "I'm staying here after all, I don't mind helping out."

"Awesome!" His bright smile was back in place again, "It will give us a chance to get to know each other, besides, I've got a few magical objects that you might be able to help me identify."

"You two better get to it then, I'll clean up here," Atem said as he took your plates.

As he did, something on his finger caught your attention. You hadn't noticed until now but...Atem was still wearing the enchanted ring you gave him. Even though its magic had run out long ago it was still there among his other adornment. You didn't have much time to dwell on the discovery though, because you were soon heading downstairs with Yugi to start your day.

You had not seen the actual shop last night, nor the front of the building, so you were quite intrigued when Yugi led you into the magical store. It was...cute. Cozy in a somehow adorable way. Shelves full of books on tarot reading, herbalism, Wicca, and numerous other things covered the entirety of the right wall. Display cases sporting handmade wands, athames, pagan statues, crystals, and stones sat on the opposing side. A counter with an old register, as well as small tables holding candles, incense, and other nick-nacks filled the center of the room.

Yugi told you that he mostly catered to white witches; humans who dabbled in fortune-telling, herbalism, and all manner of occult matters, but he had a few regulars who were actual creatures of the night. "Those are the customers that I let into the back room," he had said with a wink as he snapped his fingers and his incubus features disappeared from view, leaving him looking just as human as you.

The first thing you helped him with was the store's opening procedure. He led you outside carrying a wooden sandwich sign that looked rather old. It had a carving of three boxes with question marks on them and knives protruding from the sides of said boxes. The shop's name was scrawled above it in raised red letters: 'The Mystic Box'. Eager to help, you grabbed the display table of discounted items that Yugi said he always sat outside to draw attention and carried it out as he set up the sign.

Once out there, you instantly took notice to the neighboring shop- or rather, the people working there. I was a salon, and three women, two of them smoking, stood outside and seemed to be paying quite a bit of attention to Yugi.

"Morning, Yugi!" called the short blonde one, "You look as good as ever!"

"Go-good morning," he replied, barely giving the now giggling women a wave.

"Who's your friend?" another asked, eyeing you with genuine curiosity.

"An old friend. She's going to be living with us and helping out around the shop for a while," Yugi answered in a flash.

After setting up the table, you turned to see Yugi was still fiddling with the old hinges of the sign. He sighed and kneeled down to see what was snagged and you were about to help him out, but hesitated when you took notice of the slight change in the women's demeanors. They were biting their lips and giggling at each other, making odd hand gestures as they looked down at- Oh for god sake, they were drooling over Yugi's butt! By the furrow of his brow and the tenseness of his shoulders, Yugi knew it and wasn't at all comfortable with the lewd staring.

You let out an annoyed huffed and stepped between Yugi's turned back and the women, crossing your arms and giving them a very cold look. Admiring another's body was one thing, but these girls were no better than catcalling construction workers. Each of them gave you some version of a disappointed glare or impatient muttering, not appreciating you ruining their fun.

Yugi quickly fixed the sign and stood, saying a dismissive "See you later, ladies," as you two walked back inside the shop.

"Bye Yugi!" they called in unison, still acting like schoolgirls with their giggling.

Your arms were still crossed as Yugi shut the door behind him, flipped the sign in the window to 'open', and walked over to the cash register. "You didn't have to do that," he said, sounding half appreciative, half embarrassed. "They do that almost every morning, I'm used to it."

You shrugged, "Doesn't mean you should be used to it. Just because you're handsome doesn't give them the right to make you uncomfortable."

To your surprise, Yugi's eyes widened slightly, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. Realizing what you had just called him, you felt your heart sink and you turned away before he could say anything about the compliment.

"S-so where are these magical items you wanted to show me?"

Time passed with relative ease. Yugi spent over an hour with you in the storage room, pulling out this antique or that to ask your advice on. Apparently his grandfather had done quite a bit of traveling in his youth and collected so many things for his shop, that Yugi had no hope of hearing the story behind each of them before his grandpa passed away, even given the long lifespan incubi had. In the end you were able to tell him that he had a Buddhist statue that was made to seal away an evil spirit and had yet to be filled (quite a valuable find for the right shaman), a set a robes imbued with the remnants of an old protection enchantment, a dagger that had some sort of bloodletting curse attached to it (you assured a very nervous looking Yugi you could break the curse with ease), and a pile of pretty, but none-magical items.

Customers came and went. You found most of them quite nice and almost all of them called Yugi by name, chatting as they browsed or mentioned some past conversation as they paid. Just about everyone asked who you were and you two gave the same explanation Yugi had to the salon women, though you actually ended up speaking to a few of the customers. It was a nice, quiet day. You can't remember ever having one like it, which made you happy and anxious at the same time somehow.

It was a little past six now and business was slow, a customer not having come in for almost an hour. Since you had already helped restock some candles and incense, there wasn't much else to do. So, standing at the counter with Yugi chatting, you found yourself asking the question that had been burning in your mind since you met him.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did you and Atem meet anyways?"

Yugi gave a small hum, seeming to recall the memory. "It was quite a few years ago, he actually saved my life." When you gave him an interested look he continued. "See, a troll had...uh...taken a liking to me. He planned to use some kind of dark magic to make me loyal to him, but Atem came just in time. There had been rumors circulating Domino for a while that there was some mysterious guy who prowled the streets at night and saved people from getting mugged or attacked, but I didn't believe it until then. After he saved me I just kind of..I don't know, he seemed so lonely, I went out of my way to get to know him and eventually, he let me in."

There had been a number of mixed emotions in Yugi's eyes as he told the story, some of which you couldn't really identify, but you knew it had been a special time in Yugi's life. Suddenly, the eyes that had been staring off as he recalled the memory darted to yours.

"I could show you, if you want," he suggested, sounding almost unsure. When your attentive look turned questioning he simply shrugged. "When I was- you know, going through your memories, I saw how you and Atem met, I guess I thought that it was only fair that I show you how we met."

You considered it for a moment. You had never had one of his kind project thoughts or images into your head, but, if Yugi's little stunt with Keith yesterday proved anything, it was that Yugi knew that aspect of his powers well. You actually smiled a bit, not just at the memory of what he had done to Keith, but at something else. Yugi so readily suggesting to share something that intimate with you. It felt nice.

"Alright, if you don't mind sharing."

Yugi nodded his head with a small smile of his own, before taking the only step of space between you and placing his fingers on your temples. He closed his eyes and whispered for you to do the same. It was only a moment after you did, that you felt his magic take hold. Your mind's eye filled with images, but not just that, they surrounded you, engulfed you like they were your own memories playing back in real-time.

The scene of a dark room, a large shed or garage possibly, came into view, and you heard heavy, pained panting along with someone rummaging through the contents of a box or crate. The one responsible for the breathing was Yugi and seeing as how these were his memories, the panting almost felt like your own. He was struggling against something and you realized that he had binding chains around his wrists. His eyes scanned the room and landed on the creature making the impatient noises.

It was a troll alright, his size, along with the rank smell revealed that instantly. He was digging through a chest and after a moment seemed to find what he was looking for. He pulled out a glass bottle with blue, glowing contents and the troll smiled a crooked, sickening smile.

"Here we are. One drink 'a this and you'll be my toy forever."

"Let me go!" Yugi shouted back, trying to sound confident, "No matter what you force me to drink it'll wear off and when it does-"

"You'll what, tiny?" the troll taunted as he came more fully into view. Damn he was ugly, and you wanted to punch that sick smirk off his face and keep punching at the way he leered down at Yugi. "I've met sex demons that can use their magic to do some harm, but what're you gonna do? You're nothing but a scrawny, weak, little-"

He didn't finish the string of insults, because his head jerked to the right as a very, very faint sound could be heard, like the breaking of glass. The troll cursed under his breath and went to investigate the noise. Only a second later did he come back- as he was tossed to the other side of the room like a ragdoll! Yugi flinched as the troll crashed into a wooden table and the bottle of potion went flying somewhere.

The next moment a third party came into view: Atem, sparing nothing more than a glance at the troll before he walked over to Yugi. The incubus flinched at his approach and Atem's posture changed from a taut kind of concentration, to something more calming as he held up his hands.

"It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you," the vampire said in a soothing tone.

Before he could try approaching Yugi again, the troll was on his feet and closing in fast. Atem was ready. He turned on his heel, ducked, and drove his fist into the attacker's belly; landing his own blow while avoiding the right hook of the troll. He was lucky that he had vampire strength, any lesser creature would have broken their hands against the hard muscles. Again the troll was sent flying back, but he kept upright and recovered from the blow quickly, letting out a growl at the vampire.

"Back off, he's mine!"

"He isn't property," Atem yelled back and charged at the beast.

The troll tried for another punch but the vampire dodged, grabbing the arm that swung at him and bringing it down on his knee with a sick crack. The kidnapper roared in pain but Atem did not waste any time in landing a sharp blow at his throat. Yugi closed his eyes in that moment, so you couldn't see what happened next, but there was a momentary choking sound, followed by another crack, then silence.

A moment later footsteps were heard, Yugi reopened his eyes and looked up at Atem who was standing over him.

"Are you alright, little one?" he asked in a kind voice.

Even though he, like all vampires, did not age, you couldn't help but this that this was a different version of Atem in someway. He wore all leather, including some buckled boots and a collar around his neck. The only thing that seemed similar to the style of the Atem you knew, was the makeup around his eyes.

"Y-yes I'm okay," Yugi replied, still shaken, "he didn't hurt me too bad." His eyes flickered to the motionless body, "Is he...?"

"Not dead, but don't worry, even a troll can't recover from that very easily. I don't think he'll be able to bother you or anyone again. Come, let's get those chains off of you."

Atem kneeled, keeping his eyes on Yugi's face, as if searching for any sign of discomfort as he reached out and broke the chains clean off with his bare hands. You felt the odd tingle in Yugi's chest at the display of power, and the gentle way Atem took Yugi's hands and pulled him to his feet.

It was only when Atem seemed to notice, that you yourself realized that Yugi was shirtless. Atem looked away and immediately took off his leather jacket, only to put it around Yugi's shoulders.

"Let me walk you home," the vampire suggested.

The scene faded for a moment, turning to haze before coming back into focus and revealing a scene of the two men walking down a dark street. Yugi kept stealing glances at the vampire beside him and cleared his throat before introducing himself.

"I'm Yugi, by the way. Can I have the name of the man who saved me?"

"Atem," he replied, softly, though he still kept his gaze on the sidewalk ahead of them.

Again Yugi cleared his throat, "You're the vigilante everyone's been talking about, aren't you?"

"People talk about me?" Atem asked, finally looking over at the incubus.

"Yup, you've been making an impression on everyone around here, especially in the fey community. My grandpa kept thinking you were a fey, but who knew you'd be a vampire."

"Did you assume one of my kind would never go out of their way to help someone?"

Yugi's face went hot and he stopped in his tracks as he stammered a reply, "N-no! I didn't assume that! It's just that I- I've never met a vampire before so-"

A chuckle cut Yugi off and when he looked up at Atem, he was smirking at him. "It's alright, little one, I was only joking."

After a moment where Yugi breathed a sigh of relief, the two started walking again.

"So how long have you been doing this whole vigilante thing?"

"Since I arrived in Domino last winter. There's no need to call me a vigilante, however. I am merely doing what I think is right."

Yugi seemed like he wanted to say that that was almost the definition of the word, but eventually let it slide. "Well still, it's nice to know someone's out there looking out for people. Just don't be surprised if everyone starts calling you Batman," he giggled at his own comment.

Atem actually scoffed at the words, "'Batman'? Honestly, I have no idea where the rumor that vampires turn into bats came from, but I assure you it isn't true."

"Huh? No, Batman as in the character from..." When Atem only turned a questioning look on Yugi the young man just shook his head, amused and said, "Never mind." This vampire apparently wasn't a comic book fan.

The two finally came to a stop in front of the shop and home, causing them to face each other in goodbye. Yugi started to take the jacket off and hand it back to Atem, but the vampire simply raised his hand.

"Keep it. It suits you."

Again, warmth crept onto Yugi's face, "Thank you again for saving me. I'm not sure what I would have done if you hadn't..."

Atem closed his eyes and gave a slight bow of his head to show he accepted the thanks. "Goodnight, Yugi."

The moment he turned to leave Yugi called out to him and the vampire looked over his shoulder with a raised brow. "C-Could I see you again? It's just that...you seem kind of...I don't know, lonely? If-if you want a friend..."

A smile that seemed soft despite himself crossed Atem's lips, but Yugi and yourself only got to see it for a moment before he turned away and started walking. "I'm a dangerous creature, Yugi. Best keep your distance for your own safety."

You and Yugi watched the man disappear into the darkness and Yugi still remained standing there for a few minutes, his heart pounding and cheeks red. The only thing that brought the incubus out of his stupor was a frantic call of his name. Yugi looked up and you saw an older incubus soaring through the sky. The old man landed just a foot from Yugi and immediately pulled him into a hug.

"I've been looking all over for you!" the old incubus cried, "Where were you- what happened?"

"I'm okay, grandpa," Yugi assured, returning the hug, "it got bad there for a minute, but someone came to my rescue..."

The scene faded again, as if being taken over by smoke and slowly the real world came back into focus.

You opened your eyes and a moment later Yugi opened his own. He was still very close to you and continued to hold his fingers to your temples as he said, "I forgot how much leather he wore back then," and chuckled at the thought.

You found your own laugh breaking through, as well as a smile. "So, you didn't heed 'Batman's' warning and went looking for him anyway?"

Yugi finally let his hands fall to his side, but he stayed close and leaned against the counter with a sheepish expression. "Well, sort of. A couple weeks later a friend of mine came to me and said someone from her coven had gone missing and wanted my help with a tracking spell. When we tracked her we went looking for her on our own, thankfully when we got there, someone was already there to help her." He gave you a pointed look that said 'guess who'. "He was pretty surprised to see me again, and was still pretty insistent that I stay away but..." he shrugged, "things just kinda developed from there, I guess."

You could see it now, the gothic vigilante vampire telling his sweet gentle love interest to stay away from a monster like him, only to be swept up in the passion that ensued. It was all quite romantic, really.

"Glad to see you melted his heart, Yugi," you said still with a smile. "He's obviously a lot happier with you instead of being a stereotypical creature of the night."

Yugi chuckled along with you at the comment, "Oh what you saw was just half of it, did I mention that he was living in an actual crypt when we first met? As in, 1800s, gothic style crypt."

He started describing said sleeping arrangements as he walked to the front of the store to start closing up for the night, but when there was even a slight pause in his description of headstones and iron gates, a deep voice interrupted.

"I hope he isn't telling you all my secrets."

When you two turned you saw Atem leaning against the back doorway with a smirk.

"No, just the slightly embarrassing ones," you admitted.

He closed his eyes and you couldn't tell if actually felt embarrassed or not. "I see, well, once you two are done, I have food waiting for you upstairs."

"And after that, we track down her informant," Yugi half asked, half stated as he looked between the two of you.

You replied with a mischievous smile, "Yup, and don't worry, I have a plan in mind to make sure he talks."

#atem x reader #yugi x reader #yami x reader #atem x reader x yugi #yugi x reader x yami #poly relationship #poly reader insert #series: spells of defiance

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