#anyways. that time draws nearer every day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slytherinslut0 · 6 months

Text

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Twenty Eight--Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Rough Sex, Slapping (for sexual titillation), Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasm, Overstimulation, GUNPLAY, Outdoor Sex, Gagging, Choking, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, ANGST ANGST ANGSTTTTTTT!!!!! GET THE TISSUES OUT!

FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

In the aftermath of your heartfelt confession, the ambiance shifted beneath the curtain of rain. Mattheo's initial warmth, which had enveloped the moment, began to withdraw, slowly being replaced by his usual guarded demeanor.

Tension, thick and tangible, emanated from him, as if he yearned to retract, to voice a refusal. The gaze that had once been soft, akin to melted chocolate, now bore a stark reluctance. It was as though the vulnerability you had glimpsed moments earlier had transformed into a protective shield, guarding him against the intensity of the unexpected revelation.

Undeterred, you pressed forward, defying the cooling atmosphere with a resolute step. Your hands, a gentle insistence against the encroaching frost, found their place on his face. Amidst the rhythmic percussion of springtime raindrops, your eyes held an unbroken contact, mirroring the pounding cadence of your heart. A silent gaze held him in place, allowing the weight of your words to permeate the space before you spoke again.

"Don't say anything," you whispered, the words borne on the breath of the rain-soaked air, a plea to let the unspoken emotions settle in the delicate stillness between you two. "You've said so much, Mattheo...you've shared so much with me...I don't need you to say another word...just...just listen,"

Mattheo blinked, the subtle motion accompanied by the quiet working of his throat as he swallowed. His hands, hanging at his sides, remained still as yours maintained their firm grasp on his face. An almost imperceptible nod from him prompted you to inhale sharply, capturing the breath in your lungs.

"Perhaps I lied to you..." you began, your voice soft, tender. "Perhaps I wasn't being truthful when I said I never believed in destiny...because in a way, I do...but I also believe that we are only destined to do the things we'd choose to do anyway..."

A pause ensued as you studied his countenance, your gaze tracing the scars on his skin and taking note of his perfect imperfections that shaped the essence of who he is.

"And I'd choose you, Mattheo...in a hundred fucking lifetimes, in a hundred different realities, I would choose you...every fucking time..." you declared, your grip on him intensifying. Your hands trembled, mirroring the tremor in your voice. "I don't care about your history, I don't care about any of the bad things you've done...everything you've been through has made you who you are...and I am fucking in love with who you are...every single part of you...your smart mouth, your cheeky smirk, every line and every scar..."

Drawing him nearer, you gently guided him until his forehead found solace against yours. His hands discovered the curve of your waist, pulling you into an embrace that emanated urgency, a profound need to absorb every syllable you uttered, each word a testament to the depth of emotions shared between you.

"Your skin, absent of its scars, would be like a sky without stars," you murmured, your shared breaths blending in the intimate proximity. "I didn't fall in love with you; I fucking walked into love with you--with my eyes wide open, deliberately choosing every step along the way. Everything you've revealed changes nothing, Matty...I love you, utterly and unequivocally."

A profound silence enveloped the space, and time seemed to elongate into a suspended realm, each passing moment an eternity. His eyes, a tumultuous storm of unexpressed feelings, gently fluttered closed, his lips parting as his breaths, once steady, now took on a rhythm almost akin to panting--a visceral manifestation of the emotions swirling within.

His hands, deliberate in their motion, traversed the landscape of your back, ascending with a sense of purpose. As they reached your head, his fingers, fueled by a desperate urgency, found purchase, gripping your face with a fervor that spoke volumes. In this charged atmosphere, his eyes, concealed behind closed lids, hinted at the vulnerability beneath the stoic exterior. The suspended moment begged for release, aching for the words that lingered on the precipice.

"Say it again..." his murmured request, laden with longing, reverberated through the charged air. "I just-"

"I love you," you said, the words firmer this time, your hands threading behind his head, fingers entwining in his soaked hair. "I love you..."

His jaw tensed, and he released a shaky breath--his eyelids fluttering, the grip on your skull tightening. "Again."

"I love you," you repeated, your voice gaining strength, fingers digging into his scalp as though you could force the words through. "I fucking love you, Mattheo Riddle."

Breaths intermingled, and your grips on each other surpassed the hold of any chains or restraints. In the pulsating intensity, your minds spun with a whirlwind of thoughts. Was there a sweeter arrangement than this? He gets to ask you, over and over to repeat it--while you get to tell him, over and over, that you mean it.

Your nails dug into his scalp, foreheads pressing together with an almost painful force. "I thought it would be impossible to ever find someone...to ever be with someone, when beneath my surface of composure, I'm scattered in a million different pieces--like a puzzle with missing parts..." you paused, lips softly grazing his. "But then you showed me that every piece doesn't have to be in place to create something beautiful...something real...that love can exist in the most imperfect, lost, broken people."

A guttural noise escaped him, resonating low in his throat as his fingers dug into your skin, cradling your head.

You inhaled a shallow breath before you continued, "and I promise you, my love will be just as strong, just as beautiful, whether you, too, are in a thousand pieces, or just one.”

Mattheo, completely struck silent, locked eyes with your parted lips. In perfect synchrony, your gaze met his, and in that silent exchange, there was a mere gasp of air before his mouth was on yours. The passion between your bodies ignited into an unbridled inferno, refusing any attempt at restraint. His kiss was a slippery bruise, melding madness at your skin, tongue driving into you while he inhaled through his nose. You met him, movement for movement, groaning against him, fingers folding further into his hair, thumbs tracing the tops of his ears, and he groaned against your lips before capturing them again,

The kiss was unlike any before--a fervent blaze spiraling out of control, unwilling to be subdued for even a moment longer. His lips met yours with an intensity that felt almost primal; a hungry, desperate fusion of raw emotion and longing. His hands cradled your head with a force that hinted at an uncontainable desire, making you wonder if he sought to meld your very essence. The cool droplets of rain cascaded around you, soaking your skin to the bone, but you couldn't find it in you to care.

"I need you, princess..." he whispered, parting from the kiss, his hands gliding down your back as his lips found the curve of your neck. "But you already knew that, didn't you? Pretty girl..."

Your eyelids fluttered in response, fingers tightly grasping his hair, a desperate grip that mirrored the intensity of his kisses trailing down your neck. Your lip found refuge between your teeth as his mouth explored the path of rain cascading along your skin.

"My tainted little angel," he murmured, his words a provocative caress against your ear. "Crushingly beautiful...tender like a bruise..."

His hands, firm and insistent, sought the curves of your hips, fingers grasping at the wet fabric of your dress, tugging it upwards along your thighs. "You were the first sin actually worth hurting for...had me wrapped around your little finger before you even fucking touched me..."

You throbbed, a full-body pulse, humming into him with a shudder, Mattheo's lips moved back to yours, nipping at your lower lip before sliding to your chin, following the streams on your skin as he pressed clumsy, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, falling to suck and nibble at your heartbeat. Whimpering, you nuzzled your head into his, and he responded with a sharp bite to your neck, barely-restrained, earning a squeal from your throat.

"I told myself I was fine...that I was better off alone...never needed anyone, never wanted anyone...but then you came around, and after all this fucking time, after everything I put you through...it's still you, it's you who fucking believes in me..." he murmured against your skin. “You mean so fucking much to me…and when I finally admitted to that myself, when I finally let myself feel…you made me better, and I don't mean from being my tutor...you just made me want to be better...fuck, Raven...I wanted you to look at me the way you looked at the stars...I wanted to get better grades for you…I quit drinking and drugs because I wanted to be a better man for you..."

As he lifted your dress beyond your hips, your hands eagerly joined the movement, gathering the fabric's hem and peeling it over your head. His eyes traversed over every inch of newly exposed flesh, absorbing the sight with an intensity that spoke volumes. You observed as he swiftly shed his suit jacket, stripping the soaked fabric from his frame and laying it on the ground. His hands deftly moved to undo his belt, discarding his gun in the process. Returning a firm grip on your hips, he crashed his mouth back to yours, a relentless hunger igniting the kiss.

Moaning, you writhed into his chest, and he gripped your face, nails scraping your scalp while he pulled you closer, groaning into you, leaning--you followed him, chasing his kiss until you were both on the ground; him on his back, your legs straddling him, palms planted on his chest.

"I’ve had some, then most of you...all, and then none of you..." a soft, anxious breath escaped his throat, and he swirled his tongue over yours before biting your lip and pushing you up, hands settling on your thighs, rocking you back and forth over his thick erection, covered only by the thin fabric of his boxers. "I-I can't lose you again...it's you...it's fucking always been you..."

"Oh, Gods..." your voice cracked, emotion bubbling in your chest, threatening to spill out as you rolled your hips against him. He watched you, panting in rhythm with you, and you admired him--how fucking beautiful he was--his eyes stark with need, his mouth parted in open anticipation, his muscles tensing as he gripped and squeezed you, jerking his hips into your heat. "You won't...you fucking can't..."

Rain bathed you both, rivers roaming over your curves, white cloth of your bra a dewy illusion over your breasts. His thumbs skimmed your nipples with prickles of pleasure, and you moaned, head falling back on your shoulders. As if the sound awakened something inside him, he gripped your hips, flipping the two of you around until you were on your back beneath him, lips instantly moving to your neck, sucking at your throat.

You slid your hands under his shirt, savoring the firm contours of his body. He tensed, a low groan escaping into the intimate space between you, while his hips pressed against you with a force that seemed intent on melding you with the forest floor. Your fingertips traced the hard muscles, memorizing the damp, heated feel of his skin. In his voracious pursuit, he exhibited no restraint, extracting painful hickeys from the pulse at your neck.

The heat of desire surged between your thighs, and he moved lower, marking you with unrestrained passion. Tissue yielded to the pressure of his teeth, welts blooming under the fervent touch of his lips. Anxiety flickered through your mind as visible evidence of his ardor emerged, but the soft groan escaping his chest erased any concerns. Your back arched, willingly offering more of your untamed flesh to his insistent exploration. Grateful, he bit at the swell of your tits, crimson crescents blooming, and his hands moved to your underwear as he laved at your nipple through your bra, scraping it with his teeth through the fabric.

Mattheo fumbled at your folds, two thick fingers peeling you open, assessing your slickness, teasing your entrance. "Still so fucking wet for me..." he murmured, clucking his tongue. "And in the middle of the fucking forest...you'd take my cock anywhere I wanted, hm?"

You bit your lip, trying to grind against his hand. "What can I say...watching you use that gun did something to me..."

"Naughty, naughty girl..." he leaned to your ear, thumb skating your clit--you gasped. "Weren't you ever told to stay away from the asshole, weapon wielding bad boys?"

"Perhaps," you hissed through a moan as Mattheo pushed two fingers inside you--your walls tightening around him, hips twitching, head lolling against his soaked jacket. "Though I've never been good at following orders."

Mattheo huffed. "I'd say."

His mouth consumed you with a fervor, tracing a path of rich violet marks from your chin down to your clavicle, his spit mingling with the rain. Scissoring you open, he rolled your stiff clit, rocking his wrist, curling and working your walls, his other hand palming at his erection in an attempt to pacify himself. You bucked your hips, a shivering moan escaping, and he cursed, slamming in to the knuckle.

"If I fuck you now," he muttered at your jawline, "you'll have to take all of me. Everything I give you." He bit your neck, hard, forcing a cry from your lips. "I won't be able to control myself."

Heat scorched you, and you pulsed around him in anticipation, his fingers crooking in your wet core. Thunder grumbled in the distance. "Thought I'd long proved my capability."

Mattheo purred, and bit you again, pain shooting through you. "Earlier doesn't count, we were rushing...I need to wreck this tight little cunt...I'll fuck you harder and deeper than any of those assholes could ever fucking dream of..."

You shuddered, meeting his eyes. "Do your worst."

Snarling, he leaned back onto his knees, tore his fingers from your core and stuffed them in your mouth; you whinged in surprise, working to suckle them clean. Mattheo's free hand unleashed his dick, twitching eagerly despite its thick, heavy length. He jammed his hand to the back of your throat, and you gagged before he depressed your tongue, prying open your jaw.

"You know how this works." His gaze locked onto you, and the sky seemed to ignite with lightning around him. "Beg for it."

When he released you, you gasped into the rain. "Please, fuck me."

In the blink of an eye, his hand struck you, unleashing a spray of saliva from your parted lips. "That was pathetic," he snickered. "I fucking said beg."

Your face burned--humiliation, shock, and most importantly: desire. If this is what he meant, you wanted more. "Why don't you fucking make me?"

"There's that dirty mouth..." Mattheo smirked, shifting as he reached for his gun, gripping it with his free hand while the other stroked his cock. Before you could process it, he brought the barrel toward your temple, pressing the cold, wet metal against your skull. "Last fucking chance, princess...if you don't beg for my cock I'll fuck you so hard you'll be begging for mercy instead."

A whirlwind of shame and yearning left your head spinning, the likely instigators of your brief lapse into temporary insanity. "I'm not scared of you, Riddle..."

“Oh, princess.” His smirk grew. "You should be."

Adjusting the gun, he compelled the barrel past your lips, the icy metal coating your tongue. His other hand delved into your hair, gripping your soaked strands tightly as he forcefully drove the gun deeper into your throat. Then, without warning, he broke you open, splitting your core with a deep, harsh thrust, head slamming your cervix. You cried out against the weapon, body recoiling in pain, hands moving to his hips, and he shook you in reprimand.

"Oh, no--don't fucking bother." He drove his palm into your head, his nails scratching your scalp. "No running. Take it."

Mattheo pulled out fully before ramming back into you, spearing you with his cock, your body quaking with the force of each of his violent thrusts. His breath was already ragged, furious groans pushed from his chest as he fucked deep into you. Your lungs were empty, failing to find oxygen in his onslaught, your walls squeezing his length in delight, drool spilling down your chin and mingling with the flow of rain.

"Fuck--such an insatiable little cunt..." he growled, his eyes drilling into yours, taunting you through his gaze. "It missed this cock already, didn't it?"

Another deep thrust, meeting your cervix, and you winced, groaning against the gun as you tried to nod.

"That's right...shit..." he pulled the gun from your mouth, strings of drool hanging like garland from the barrel, quickly being washed away with the rain. "My girl...my fucking beautiful, filthy girl..."

He tossed it onto the ground next to your head, drawing his hand down toward your belly, slick fingers rubbing merciless circles on the bundle of nerves in rhythm with his pistoning hips--you wailed, drooling with pleasure, assaulted with a sudden, immediate need to orgasm.

"Fucking hell, you're so tight when you're about to cum..." he groaned, punishing your pussy with hard, rapid thrusts. "Prove you can take it. Cum on this cock."

Between the attention on your clit and the size of his dick, you snapped, convulsing and trembling while your blood flooded with flames, blazing heat through your thighs and to your toes. Above you, Mattheo hissed, fucking you through it, valiantly holding off his own orgasm as yours fizzed at your flesh. When your core's pulsing slowed, he shifted, propping your calves up his shoulders before he leaned forward and clamped his palm down on your neck.

"Don't squirm, baby..." his low voice commanded, and as you whimpered, squirming beneath him, his grin deepened. His eyes, now wild and intoxicated with desire, held a promise. "I gave you fair warning."

His free hand pinched your cheeks, slowly sliding out before slamming back in and pounding your cunt, growling breath leaking from his lungs, his hold on your throat tightening. The pressure in your head only doubled the frenzy of being fucked--you wheezed, your pulse thumping in your temples, and this spurred him on, drilling you with a depraved stare as he plowed into your tight pussy again and again and again.

The rain was steam on your skin, thunder a distant noise behind the sound of slapping skin and your strangled, whimpering moans. Your walls clenched and fluttered around his throbbing dick, sore clit twitching once more with a growing demand to be sated--Mattheo grunted, tugging you closer, eyes drilling into yours.

"Open that filthy mouth."

Wincing, you complied, parting your lips as he commanded. Without hesitation, he leaned down and spat into it.

"Now swallow it. Show me."

With determination etched on your face, you managed to comply against the pressure of his massive hand. Popping your jaw apart with a grimace, you showcased your resilience, earning a smirk from him. In response, he rewarded you with a series of both painful and blissful strokes of his hips, pushing your body to its absolute limit. Your breath had vanished ages ago, your heart now a wild entity, coursing through your veins.

"Poor baby," he sneered, feign sincerity in his tone. "I think you need to cum again."

He snaked his free hand between your legs, rolling your aching clit, and you groaned--or tried to, anyway--the speed of your pulse resonating through the grip on your neck. He felt it, too, head bowing in pleasured shock as you thrummed around him, your oncoming climax massaging his thick cock with every new thrust.

"Fuck." Resolute, he rubbed you faster, watching you--in his gaze, you saw nothing but an endless, dark void of lust. "Who do you fucking belong to?"

The words barely made it out. "Y-you, Mattheo..."

His choke tightened, and your vision blurred. "Who owns this tight little pussy?"

"You--you do, Mattheo..." you gasped.

"That's right," he sneered, and swirled your nub so quickly you squealed. "Cum for me, princess..."

The force of your orgasm surged through you, blurring your vision, and you screamed, choked by his hand as every muscle below your waist convulsed in a rapturous ecstasy. Your pussy milked and squeezed his cock, but he resisted his own climax once more, sinking into you until you descended. He drank in the sight of you--eyes rolled, raindrops scattered like diamonds on your skin, your throat and chest smothered with the evidence of his possession.

"Good fucking girl...take me...take all of me," he muttered, voice low and deep in the night air. "Every single fucking inch."

Mattheo shifted again, one arm coiling under you to fist your hair, the other cranking your leg back until your knee hit your chest. Groaning with pleasure, he hammered into you, stretching you wide, filling you to the base. Soaked strands of his hair slid into his eyes, and he tossed them back, wetting his lips and fucking you deep, trapping you in his feral gaze.

"You love me." He tilted your head back with a deliberate motion. "You fucking love me."

You nodded, not a shred of hesitation. "Yes-fuck! I do!"

He swallowed, inching closer, his forehead tenderly meeting yours. "After all of it," he whispered, the words almost lost in the shared breath, "after everything..."

Your chin quivered, and the revelation about his parents cut into your heart, a painful echo of his turbulent past. It hurt, yes, but it also felt like the a groundbreaking revelation, the ending to the story which finally explained why he was the way he was. There was an undeniable understanding that surged between your hearts, a silent recognition that both of you needed love in ways only the other could provide.

Despite the turmoil, you couldn't blame him for something so deeply rooted. The man craved love as desperately as you did, neither of you ever willing to admit it. In the synergy of your souls, there existed an undeniable connection, a perfect harmony that transcended spoken words. Even in the hushed language of silence, your hearts resonated, acknowledging that there would never be two souls more perfectly suited for each other than yours.

"After everything." You wrapped your arms around him, safe when lightning crashed, rocking your hips in his pace. "No matter what."

"Fuck." He wound your hair in his fist, and wrenched your head back, tearing at your throat with his teeth, harsh thrusts pulverizing your cunt. "...I'm--fuck--I'm going to make you break again." His hand left your leg, long fingers back to stroking your tender clit. "And then I'm going to fill you up with my cum."

Senses barraged, you shrieked, overwhelmed and oversensitive. He wasn't fucking joking. You wanted mercy. "Fuck! Mattheo! Please-please-"

"No. Take it," he snarled into your ear. "Take it."

He assailed your nub, and you quailed, curling around him like a snake, shaking from the overwhelming intensity of his power, lids shut while he nipped your neck, demolished your pussy, panted hard into your ear.

"You're mine." He growled, his voice shredded raw with lust. "Mine."

"I'm yours!" You shrieked, nails digging crescents into his back. "Yours."

"Fuck-" he hissed, slamming harder, deeper. "Mine! All fucking mine..."

"Yours! Fuck!" It was all too much, too great, brain crashing into a wanton mess. "All fucking yours!"

Your body convulsed, teeth sinking into your lip, propelled through a realm of heightened sensitivity into an ecstasy that seared your skin. Gasps and incoherent pleas spilled from your lips, a desperate supplication for release, for him to unleash the crescendo that would send you soaring and screaming and cumming.

"That's it," Mattheo growled, pumping into you, folding you into his frame. "You're taking me so fucking well baby, just one more...cum for me, angel."

Your senses fractured, caught between euphoria and disbelief, and your body spasmed, climax radiating through your every fiber, a luminous burst that shattered any remnants of sanity, setting Mattheo ablaze in its wake. He groaned, grunted, burying himself to the hilt, warm cock pulsing as he poured hot cum deep into your cunt. For a moment, he didn't move, silently working to catch his breath before he pulled back, shifting onto his knees.

You fixated on him, your head weighed down, struggling to fathom the endearment he had bestowed upon you--silently endeavouring to etch every detail of this encounter into the recesses of your memory. A contented sigh escaped you, accompanied by a smile that radiated the joy swelling within your chest.

However, as you gazed at him, basking in the warmth of affection twinkling in his eyes, you noticed a flicker of something else--an abrupt shift. His thumb grazed your chin absentmindedly before he moved, working to tuck himself away. You mirrored his actions, attempting to salvage what was left of your clothing, now thoroughly drenched by the relentless rain.

Walking through the forest on your way back to the castle, the shadows of the trees played in the puddle-soaked ground, creating a surreal dance around you. Mattheo extended his hand, a silent invitation you willingly accepted. The brief connection sent a comforting warmth through you, grounding you amidst the uncertainty.

As you navigated the path, thoughts swirled like the mist around you. The night's events echoed in your mind, and a cloud of questions veiled the clarity you sought. Contemplating a potential job at the castle, you wondered about its impact on your newfound bond with Mattheo. Did you still harbour the same enthusiasm for the job amid these compelling complexities? The walk became a journey through both the tangible forest and the intricate maze of your thoughts, navigating the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

Approaching the castle, the distant melody of music embraced the night air, whispering promises of celebration within. Capturing the tune, Mattheo halted abruptly, pivoting to face you as the two of you lingered just outside the castle walls, hidden by the shadows of the night.

Your brows furrowed inquisitively as you locked eyes with him, seeking to understand the meaning behind this sudden pause. "What are you-"

"Shh." He cooed, eyes darting around.

After a brief survey of the surroundings, he fixed his eyes back on you with a newfound emotion swirling within them. Without another word, Mattheo enveloped you in a tender embrace, guiding your arms to rest on his neck as his firm hands settled on your hips. Bathed in the gentle glow of castle lights, he initiated a graceful sway to the rhythm of a slow, melodic tune that harmonized seamlessly with the rain-soaked ambiance.

In the suspended moment, your gaze locked with his, the world around you blurred as the rain continued its gentle descent, creating an intimate cocoon amidst the springtime storm. It felt perfect, a clandestine world of your own, away from the prying eyes of others.

"All those people think love's for show..." Mattheo blinked, drawing his face closer. "But I'd fucking die for you in secret."

Your breath hitched, water welling in your eyes. You quickly blinked it away, searching his face, mapping it, along with everything else from this night into memory.

"How'd I get so lucky..." you tightened your hold on him, the raindrops adding a gentle percussion to the soundtrack of the moment. "A sky full of stars, and yet you're staring at me..."

"There's no need," he murmured, directing your head to lay against his chest. "Avere lei è come avere le stelle."

Your heart leapt. "How did you-"

"Notts been teaching me," he said, and you could practically hear the smirk on his lips, the pride in his tone. "You know what I said, don't you?"

You blushed, unable to stifle your grin. "I do."

He hummed. "Tell me."

"No," you whispered, fingers digging into his neck as you shifted your head to look up at him. "I'd like to hear you say it."

His smirk grew, and he peered down at you. "To have her, is to have the stars."

“Mm,” you glimpsed his mouth, brushing your lips against his as you murmured, "E averlo, è come avere la luna." (And to have him, is to have the moon.)

His smirk blossomed into a radiant smile as he gripped your face, drawing you into a profound, messy, deep kiss. Every fiber of your being quivered under the intense surge of emotions you felt for this man--love enveloping you entirely, and whether or not he uttered the words, you could sense it--right now, ten minutes ago, and every moment in between.

All you wanted, more than anything, was that he’d hold you tight, and whisper that you’d find a way to be together. But then, his hands fell from your face, wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you back into him. With his lips pressed to your forehead, he whispered,

“I’ve never loved anything, Raven…anyone…I didn’t even know I had a heart until you made it beat.” He murmured, tightening his grip. “Now this heart belongs to you. And I’ll fucking kill every last person that tries to keep you from me…”

You shuddered, breathing him in. “We’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out.”

He hummed, nodding softly, the two of you swaying to the gentle melody, ignoring the cold rain pouring down against your bodies. You weren’t sure how long you’d stood there, minutes, maybe even hours--but as the song came to an end, switching to another, more upbeat one, you smiled, meeting his dark, gleaming eyes.

“I love you, Mattheo.”

He pressed his lips to yours. “I love you, Raven.”

1K notes · View notes

macfrog · 9 months

Text

ride it, cowgirl cowboy like me chapter ten

hey dudes. anyone up for some dbf? i seriously can't thank you guys enough for all the love y'all show this series. blows my mind every time. i have been super excited for this chapter for a WHILE. might be my fave so far. who knows. you can grab chapters 1-9 on my masterlist and also my ao3 if ur feeling fancy. love u all sm!!!!!! ✨💘💫

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel picks you up from a girls’ night. you’ve plans for when you get home

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader isn't an astrology girlie (sorry), more pining beCAUSE, alcohol consumption + a mention of the devil’s lettuce, very quick bit of unwanted touching, even quicker bit of protective joel, soft!joel, softdom!joel, one tiny mention of daddy, protected piv sex this time (feeling conservative slutty max will return), reader rides him into the sunset, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 6.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You lazily drag yourself over and over Joel’s dick, each stroke drawing you nearer and nearer to your high. When your body starts to falter, you feel him shift, and open your eyes to see him leaning over to the nightstand. His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper. “There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

You never believed much in the power of the universe. Astrology, moons, manifestation. Whatever. None of it ever really meant much to you. You knew your star sign, knew which cool little symbol resembled you, and that was about it. Everything past that was…confusing and, frankly, a little overwhelming.

However.

If the universe were to send you a sign, one huge, fluorescent, multi-colored, in-your-face sign, that it was on your side…this weekend might just be it.

Your dad’s downstairs, finishing up packing for his work trip. His departure is imminent. Sarah’s been in Nashville since last night. A series of texts she sent you at 3AM riddled with spelling errors and heart emojis tell you she’s been having a pretty good time so far.

You are Joel are…alone. All by yourselves. For a whole…twenty hours.

Can’t have it all, I guess.

Your eyes skim down the texts you sent him this morning, texts he is yet to reply to.

You: Merry Christmas!!!

You took his non-reply for confusion – he is almost fifty, maybe he doesn’t get the joke? It’s a pretty lame joke, anyways. Very lame. If your thumb hovers over the send button before you press it, it’s probably not that great a joke. And your thumb had most definitely hovered. So, you’d followed it up.

You: As in, today’s the day

You: I don’t mean it’s actually Christmas

You: I mean like, happy ‘we’re finally gonna be alone again’ day

You: Never mind

“Hello?” Anna’s voice cuts through your train of thought. “Are you even listening to me?”

You drop your phone, shaking your head clear of Joel. “Yep. Sorry. Just didn’t catch that last part. You froze.”

The image of her on your – pretty fucking dusty – laptop screen rolls its eyes, knowing you’re lying. “I don’t know whether to go with the pink or the black boots,” she says.

“Ain’t your dress yellow?”

Her head falls into her hands. She throws herself down onto her bed and slides her laptop closer. “That was, like, ten minutes ago. I’m goin’ with the pink strappy one now.”

“Pink does say rodeo.”

“Fuck you,” she snaps through a giggle. “Remind me what you’re wearin’, again.”

“Black hat, black boots, black dress.”

“You’re so boring.”

“Thanks. Really looking forward to our night out.”

Anna snorts and then stands back up, strides over to her closet and resumes rummaging. “Black jacket, too?” she calls over her shoulder.

“Uhuh,” you reply, glancing back down to your phone. “Although – it has rhinestones. And tassels. Not so boring after all, huh?”

Anna’s silence drags your eyes from the text thread back to your laptop screen. She’s frozen in place, twisted around with a dress in her hands, jaw on the floor. “Show it to me. Now.”

“Hold on,” you roll over and off your bed, your shoulder stiff from the position you’d been lying in, “I think I left it downstairs.”

“Tell your dad I say hey!”

You pad down the carpeted stairs in your socks, toward the sunlit hallway.

“Dad, have you seen my– Oh, fuck.”

As you round the corner at the bottom of the stairs, glancing over your left shoulder to the front door, your chest knocks into something hard. Steady. Strong.

Something you recognize the feel of before you’ve given him a proper look.

“Mind your step, baby,” Joel says, and your heart leaps.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” you whisper, peering around his body to look for your dad.

“He’s out front,” Joel tells you, then takes your shoulder and reels you in against his chest. “’m just here to help ‘im with his GPS.”

He plants a kiss on the top of your head and gives you a squeeze. Your head rests safely on his chest, arms link at his back. If you didn’t have plans tonight, and if your dad wasn’t, like, ten feet from you guys right now, you’d never let him go. Just follow him around, vice grip around his waist, surrounded by the smell and feel of him.

Not that that means anything. You’d do other stuff, too. You’re not…you know.

Your dad’s voice streams in through the open door and Joel releases you.

“It ain’t for workin’, Joel, I’m about to throw it at the f– Hey, kiddo.”

“Hey. What’s the matter with your GPS?”

You lean in to the tiny device in his hands. Joel’s elbow comes up to rest on your shoulder.

“Just won’t connect to the car. Every time I plug it in, it just…” He lifts his hands, screen loose in his fingers, and hands you a bewildered look.

You look at him, expressionless. “Why don’t you just use your phone?”

“Because I paid almost a hundred bucks for this thing, and I’ll be damned if I’m– Alright,” he stops himself, eyes shutting in exasperation, “I already explained this to him. I ain’t justifyin’ myself to the two of you.”

Joel’s laughing behind his hand, pretending to scratch his nose when your dad stalks off to the kitchen and throws the device down, snatching the instructions off the table.

The pair of you follow, both still trying to swallow your laughter. Joel wanders around the table and sits down beside your dad, fumbling with the screen. You dive into the coat closet at the bottom of the stairs and fish out your bejeweled, tasseled jacket.

“You lookin’ forward to your girls’ night?” Joel asks, eyes flitting up and down the leather jacket in your hands.

“Mhm,” you reply, opening your mouth to continue when your dad butts in.

“S’posed to be a girls’ night, but that boy Sam’s crashin’ it, ain’t he?”

“Well, we asked him.” You shrug. “It’s his night off.”

Your dad scoffs, shaking his head to Joel, who looks up to you with a confused expression. “’s the big deal with that?”

“Oh, wise up, Miller. He’s only goin’ ‘cause of…” He wags a finger in your direction, and a smirk peels across Joel’s lips.

“Is he, now?”

“Uhuh,” your dad replies, intense stare still on the instructions in front of him. “Makes no damn sense. I plugged it in using the cable they gave me in the box. Stupid thing…”

You shake your head to Joel, who’s still looking at you, bemused. He knows you and Sam are just friends. Also knows your dad is the most oblivious theorist to walk the planet. Just aiming his gun at the wrong target, is all.

“I’m gonna let you two get back to…that,” you say, turning to head back upstairs. “Anna says hi, by the way.”

Your dad’s eyebrows rise once, his eyes never lifting from his GPS. “Hi, Anna.”

“Hey, Anna,” Joel echoes, smirk on his lips.

“Not to you,” you throw back, hopping up the first step. You hear his chuckle as you disappear.

----------

Anna’s reaction to your jacket in person matches that over Facetime: a deafening squeal. A squeal which she repeats almost every damn time she sees you throughout the night.

“So – fucking – cute!” she exclaims for the fifth time, fingers dancing through the tassels. “And it goes so well with your hat.”

You sip on your cocktail, nodding enthusiastically, pushing your eyebrows up underneath the brim of the black cowgirl hat on your head. Trying to match her energy. Your mind’s elsewhere.

Joel texted you a few hours ago. Told you to have a good night, said something about Sam, but you were stood right next to the dude, so you quickly locked your phone and slipped it back into your clutch.

Now, standing with your back against the wall of Franks, watching Sam play pool with Eve, you feel safe enough to read over the message.

Joel: Have fun baby. Be safe. Tell Sam good luck from me.

You squint at the screen, pulling it away from your face and leaning back in to read it over. Good luck? The fuck does he mean –

You: Good luck??

He replies almost instantly.

Joel: Yeah. Good luck winning you over. Took me, what, a week?

Oh, fuck off. You roll your eyes and throw your phone facedown onto the table where Anna and Kara sit, about twenty minutes deep into a conversation you missed the beginning of.

Your attention turns to the room before you – brick-walled, metal dome lightshades hanging over each pool table. Glass-paneled door to your left leading back through to the main bar. For being a tiny bar on a backstreet, Frank’s is pretty lively. There are bodies everywhere, bumping by each other, drunken arms slung over shoulders, hips swaying with the soft rock song blasting from out front.

You imagine your dad here with Joel, maybe Hank and Bill, too. Playing pool, beer bottles resting on the felt while they take their shot. Or sat on the rooftop, sipping on a whiskey. Talking about you and Sarah. What does Joel say about you when you’re not around?

And what does he want to say, but can’t, ‘cause it’s your dad? What does he think, and bite back when it bubbles to the surface?

Your straw gargles, slurping up the last few sips of your drink. You lean over to Anna and Kara, holding your empty glass up.

“Another?”

They both shake their heads, and you nod, turning on your own back to the bar.

You squeeze between two older women, both dressed smart and sharp. One of them – clutching a Manhattan – shifts out of the way as you pass.

“…one more conversation with him about squash,” she tells her companion, “and I am gonna blow my brains out…”

You edge over to the bar and slot into a free space, propping your elbows up on the wood. One of Sam’s coworkers – her name escapes you – notices you and shuffles over, smiling sweetly.

“How you doin’?” she asks, running a damp cloth inside a tumbler.

“Good,” you reply. “Could I just get a Bud, please?”

“Sure thing,” she says, and reaches behind to grab one. You slide her a note and she hands you change, and then you’re on your way back to the pool room.

As you slink by the two women, a weight knocks into your shoulder, almost sending your beer flying out of your hand.

“Sorry,” a rough voice sputters on your left, and you glance in its direction. Some broad dude in a tight t-shirt.

“’s fine,” you mumble, clutching your hat; a smell of weed choking your throat.

He passes by behind you, one hand lingering a little too long on your waist, and you saunter back over to Anna and Kara.

“That dude stinks, right?” Anna whispers behind a cupped hand, and you snort.

“He smells like he’s having a good night.”

“We’re talking about Romeo and Juliet over there. We’re basically third, fourth, and fifth wheeling,” Kara says, nodding over to Sam and Eve, who’re finished their game of pool and have now graduated to darts.

“I don’t…think that’s a thing.”

“Eve asked me if Sam was single earlier,” Anna says, lifting her straw to her red lips.

“What?” Kara spits out, choking on her drink. “Eve has a boyfriend!”

Anna giggles. “He’s kinda an ass, anyway. Look at them, they’re so sweet.”

“You say sweet, I hear morally wrong.”

“Who says it’s morally wrong?” you chirp, alcohol pushing the words over your lips before your brain’s had time to stop them. Your fingers clutch your phone, still laying on the table where you left it. “You?”

“Uh, it’s cheating, dude. What if Nick found out?”

“’s not that big a deal,” you reply, phone screen lighting your face in a blue hue, “they’re just having fun.”

Anna points to you, lifting her glass. “Here’s to havin’ fun, I guess.”

Kara lifts her own reluctantly and they clink, but you’re distracted. Already typing a message to Joel. Bored. Drunk. Morally wrong.

You: What you doing?

Joel: Watching TV. What you doing?

You: What ya watvhin ?

Joel: None of your business. Go get another drink. Looks like you’re not drunk enough.

You lift your head with a giggle, almost ready to turn your phone around to Anna and Kara and say, look what the dude I’m sleeping with just text me. And then, thankfully, your good sense kicks in and you bring the screen closer to your chest.

You: Kinda bored. Wanna come home now please

Bored, horny. It all means the same.

Joel says he’ll be at Frank’s in twenty minutes. You rest your chin on your palm and watch as Sam cheers Eve for hitting bullseye.

“I think they’re cute,” you whisper.

Anna and Kara are already preoccupied, taking photos of one another across the table. Kara leans into you and you smile, flash blinding your hazy eyes for a few minutes afterward. A few more pictures, couple boomerangs of your glasses cheersing, and then your phone’s vibrating.

Joel: Outside. No rush.

That last part is where he’s wrong. There most definitely is a rush, and it’s in the form of the heat that starts to pool between your legs.

“Alright,” you shimmy off your barstool and stretch your back. “My ride’s here.”

“What?” Anna almost screams, her hand slapping down on the table. “You’re leavin’?”

You nod. “Sorry, babe.”

“Don’t babe me, traitor. It’s, like, midnight.”

“Uh, it’s, like, almost 2AM. I’m tired. I don’t know how y’all do it.”

She sighs, conceding, and agrees to walk with you to the front door. Kara and Eve stop off by the bar to grab another drink. Sam holds the door open for you and Anna and you’re hit by a wave of cold night air, instantly cooling your hot, sweaty skin.

“Is that…Mr. Miller?” Anna asks, mouth falling wide open.

You glance down the street and notice his black truck, parked up by the curb. “Mhm,” you reply, “my dad’s out of town, so he’s picking me up.”

“Can he take me home, too?”

Sam snickers. “Wow, Anna. That’s just…Wow.”

She shrugs, lips closing around her straw as she stares at Joel’s truck. Something inside you lurches at the idea of Joel sitting there, his eyes glued on you, watching everything you do, everyone around you. And then again at the thought of Anna and her doting gaze on him.

“Alright, I guess that’s my cue to skip.”

Anna pouts. “One more drink?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you scoff, patting her head affectionately. I got business to attend to.

You give her a quick kiss on the cheek and Sam wraps an arm around your shoulder, giving it a squeeze before you’re wandering off toward Joel’s truck.

“Hey.” Something – someone – hooks around your elbow, and you turn back. It’s that same guy who stank of weed.

“Hi,” you reply, as sweet as you can, but trying to loosen his grip.

“Saw you inside, you out with friends?”

“Mhm. I’m just leavin’, my–”

“Few of us are headed upstairs. You wanna come?”

You glare at him a few seconds, before yanking your arm from his grasp. “Nah, no thanks. I’m leaving. Have a good night.”

You stagger off, feeling his eyes on you as you go. Joel’s truck headlights switch on, dazzling your eyes, and you quickly click around to the passenger side, throwing yourself in beside him.

Joel doesn’t say hey, doesn’t squeeze your thigh, doesn’t even look at you when you settle into the seat. Just asks –

“Who’s that kid?”

“Uh…not sure. Bumped into ‘im in the bar.”

“He give you trouble?”

“No,” you lean over the console, pulling your seatbelt over your body, and flash him a tipsy grin, “thought that was my job. Givin’ trouble.”

Joel doesn’t reply. Doesn’t take his scowl off the dude outside Frank’s, either. Your eyes meander across to his hand, locked in a tight fist around the wheel. Your smile drops.

“Joel. It’s fine. Can we go?”

When you lift a hand to the crook of his elbow and he feels your warmth on his skin, he tears his gaze away and it lands on you. Soft, gentle. His lip isn’t curled anymore. His brows lift.

His eyes watch your lips as you whisper the words to him.

“Want you to take me home.”

“’s go, pretty girl.”

----------

Joel refuses, no matter how many times you ask, how hard you bat your eyelashes, how many promises you make, to stop by a drive thru.

“Please?” you ask one last time before he’s pulling in to his neighborhood.

He shakes his head. “Look at that, we’re already home.”

“I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, Miller, not until the engine’s off. We’re still driving.”

He doesn’t reply. Just pulls up in his drive, cuts the engine, and looks at you. Shrugs. “Oops.”

“Fuck you,” you groan, sliding down in your seat. “I’m starvin’.”

“Make you a big breakfast in the mornin’, how’s that sound?”

“Wanted a Big Mac, but whatever.”

Your fingers fumble for the door handle, clicking it open. You roll out of the truck and stroll around to meet Joel at the driver’s side. He snakes an arm around your shoulders, steadying you as you walk up his porch steps and into the house.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, glancing around his living room.

“Alright,” he says, tossing his keys and kicking his boots off.

Your eyes settle on the TV screen, paused. Probably around the time you text him. There’s a crowded hospital room onscreen, doctors in dark blue scrubs, all surrounding someone lying on a bed, someone who looks pretty familiar…

“Is that…fuckin’…Grey’s Anatomy…?”

Joel chuckles, peeling your jacket from your shoulders.

“That’s Meredith! When she–”

“She fell in the damn river,” Joel mutters, placing the tasseled leather over the back of his couch. “Derek had to go in after her. Intense stuff.”

“Right? I told you it was good!” You smack his arm. “I can’t believe you’re watchin’ it without me.”

“I ain’t watchin’ it,” he protests, “it was just on, ‘n I needed something to keep me awake. I’m still rooting for Meredith ‘n George.”

“We can watch it from the beginning.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, moving over to him. “And then I can be over here all the time, and you can make me all the grilled cheese I want, and we can lie in bed and…do stuff.” Your chin rests on his chest, flashing him a toothy grin. Hands swinging in his at your side.

Joel’s eyes narrow, but there’s a smirk on his lips. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk. I had a couple drinks. I’m not drunk.”

“H’many fingers am I holdin’ up?” Joel asks, raising his fist. You punch it away.

“Ha-ha,” you say tonelessly, and wander away from him.

“Baby,” he calls you from behind. Sure, you’re tipsy, and he can be a cocky asshole – especially when he has to take care of you, but that’s a sound you’ll never get tired of hearing. Baby. You’re his darlin’, his sweet girl.

You spin around, very nearly losing your footing, and he’s standing with an arm out, ready for you to take.

You smile dumbly. Meander over, and take his strong hand in both of yours, wrapping your fingers around two of his to let him reel you in against his body.

“C’mon,” he whispers, as you lean against his frame. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

You follow him up, knowing where he’s leading you. You’ve spent more time in there the last few weeks than you have your entire life.

His room is cool, not cold, but comfortable. It’s Joel all over; the muted colors, the décor, the smell that calms you as soon as you stumble over the threshold.

He sits you down on the edge of his bed and kneels, pulling your boots off one by one.

You giggle.

“You laughin’ at me?”

“You’re like my own personal tr…No, not trainer. Wait. Personal ch–”

“Chef?” he says, snorting. “Not chef. Try again, soberhead.”

“Oh, I dunno.” You throw your arms up as he sits your boots against the wall, then stands and takes your hat off.

“This,” he says, placing it on the nightstand at your side of the bed, “is very cute. I like it.”

“I’m cute, too, y’know,” you whisper, pouting.

He smiles, and leans down to give you a quick kiss on the lips, pointer finger under your chin.

“The cutest.”

“Ha!” you roar. Joel twists around you to undo the zipper at the back of your dress. “Joel Miller thinks I’m the cutest. Take that, Anna…”

He laughs. When he unzips you, he pulls the dress off your bare chest and down your legs. You don’t shy away, used to the idea now of him seeing you naked. Used to the idea of him seeing you in any vulnerable state; drunk, or naked, or in a sobbing mess on day two of your period.

You notice, even though you’re a tad dizzy with what alcohol is left in your system, that his eyes linger on your panties a moment before he turns and grabs a tee from a chair.

And something inside you ticks.

“Joel?”

He’s pulling the shirt over your head. It smells like him. Intoxicates you much more and much quicker than any drink you could order from Frank’s.

“Mhm?”

You feed both arms through the sleeves, swallowing the question you were about to ask. He’s standing up now, telling you to get into bed.

He walks over to his dresser and begins removing his own clothing. He only sleeps in boxershorts. Your eyes track him as he yanks his t-shirt up over his toned shoulders; fingers undo his belt, unzip his jeans. Everything is discarded to the side for now; he has something more pressing to attend to.

His best friend’s daughter, laying in his bed, a pool of wet forming in her panties.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

As he slips under the covers beside you, you pull off your underwear in one quick movement. Joel doesn’t seem to notice, or so you think; his arms immediately take hold of your waist and pull you against his body. You’ve gotten into the habit of sleeping pressed against his torso, his thigh between your legs. Joel settles comfortably with you draped over him, and lets out a deep sigh.

“Joel?” you whisper again into the darkness, growing braver.

“Hm?” he replies, starting to fall asleep.

You toss ideas over in your head. None of them good, you’re sure, but you’re getting desperate. How he can’t feel your damp core on his thigh, you’ve no idea.

But then, maybe he can? Joel doesn’t miss anything, especially not where you and your…arrangement are concerned. Can he feel you? Is he deliberately ignoring it?

Maybe he has something up his own sleeve?

“I…was just wondering…”

“Wondering what, darlin’?” His voice is muffled, spoken through unmoving lips. You glance up at his face. His eyes are closed.

You grow more desperate.

“…wondering what your body count is?”

You ask it as innocently as you can, your voice wavering on the words body count. It gets him, though, as his eyes blink open a few seconds after you say it.

“I ain’t tellin’ you that. Go to sleep.” He closes them again.

“I wanna know.”

He ignores you.

“Joel,” you moan.

He calls you by name now, and you’re not sure if you’re pissing him off or turning him on – or both.

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“I’m not tired, though. Not yet.”

In response, Joel lets go of his hold on you and rolls over without another word. It’d sting if you weren’t soaking wet right now, and didn’t have a strong hunch he was hardening under the sheets.

“Joooel…” you whine, sitting up on your elbow. No use.

You take hold of his shoulder and tug him back toward you, rolling him onto his back. Like a deadweight, he remains frozen.

“Ugh,” you groan, and drag yourself on top of him, knees either side of his waist, ass hovering. When you sit back onto him, your core lining up with his crotch, your suspicions are proven right.

He’s hard.

Not as hard as he can get, as you’d like him to be, as you’ve felt him before…but he’s hard.

“Joel…” you mewl into the darkness, starting to grind your bare center over his boxers. The friction feels good, so you apply more pressure.

“If you don’t stop that,” Joel’s voice finally grumbles, “I’ll be sleepin’ downstairs.”

“Sex in the living room sounds good to me.”

His eyes open. “We,” one hand comes up to point between the both of you, as if he doesn’t expect your sobering self to understand which pairing he means, “are not having sex. No sex tonight.”

You sigh, shoulders dropping dramatically.

“Huff all you want, baby, it is not happening.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because you’re a few drinks too deep and it’s three in the morning. I’m tired, it’s been a long night waitin’ for you, I–”

“So let me make it up to you. I ain’t even drunk anymore.”

“No?”

“Nuh-uh. Could count any number a’ fingers you put in front of me.”

“Funny.” He closes his eyes.

“Joel.” You drag your hips again. If anything, he’s harder than he was when you first sat down on him. “I had a few drinks, I’ve sobered up. C’mon…”

You bend your waist and lower yourself to align your lips with the side of his head, peppering the skin under his ear with soft kisses.

“I wanna ride you, daddy.”

This gets him. His eyes open again, staring up at the ceiling. His hands slowly come up to rest on your hips.

“Don’t– That’s low, even for you, kid.”

You giggle and straighten up. When your hands lightly trace down his chest, onto his midriff and follow the trail of hair to his boxers, he doesn’t stop you. Just watches from beneath hooded lids, tensing at each point your fingers touch.

You raise your eyebrows, watching his expression for any sign to stop, and it never comes. He remains in place when your fingertips hook around the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling down.

Joel breathes in deep when you reveal the tip of his cock, springing up to rest on his lower stomach. You feel your core clench. If he’s not inside you in the next five minutes, you might scream.

Well, you’ll be screaming either way.

You look back into his eyes and tilt your jaw, asking for permission.

“Go on,” he whispers.

Your hands take him eagerly, pumping up and down his shaft, and his head falls back onto the pillow with pleasure.

“Uhuh,” you mumble, focusing on his solid dick, but desperate for more. You give him a gentle squeeze and a groan passes his lips, his grip tightening on your body.

You let go of him and grind your hips along his length, folds coating his shaft in your wetness. Joel’s humming, watching as you pull yourself up and down him.

Then, you lean forward, and your hands take hold of him again. You give him a couple more strokes, eliciting a deep groan, and then line his bare cock up at your entrance, practically foaming at the mouth to sink down on him already.

“Woah, woah,” Joel takes hold of your wrist, “slow down, cowgirl. I gotta get a condom.”

You huff as he leans over to his nightstand and opens the drawer. “Don’t want one, Joel, I’m on the pill.”

“No way, baby,” he says through a chuckle, silver wrapper in his fingers. “We already did that, one too many times.”

“So just pull out?”

“Nope.”

You sigh, frustrated.

Joel holds the packet out to you, smirk on his face like he doesn’t expect you to take it.

So, you do.

You steal it from him and tear the wrapper, fishing the rubber out between your two fingers. Pinching the top, you roll it down his shaft and pump up and down for good measure.

“Ready?” you ask, head tilted, cocky smile on your lips.

“Wait, wait,” he whispers, shoulders lifting off the mattress. He lifts the hem of your shirt, telling you, “Off,” before pulling it over your head, exposing your bare breasts.

He stares you down; legs wide open, straddling him, completely naked, nipples hardened, figure silhouetted against the slivers of light peeking through the shades from the streetlights outside. You’ve never felt so confident, mounted on top of Joel fucking Miller.

His eyes roll back and his head falls against the pillow. “Fuckin’ – knock yourself out, baby.”

You steady yourself with one hand on his chest, the other taking hold of his cock and guiding it to your entrance. You push his head through your folds a couple times, and Joel hisses at the feeling, before you sink down.

You stop after the tip the first time, but it draws the same reaction from you both. Joel groans even louder than before, and you moan as you push yourself back up.

Then, without warning, you sink the whole way down.

He’s so deep it brings tears to your eyes, so big that he’s stretching you out more than you thought possible, hitting all the right spots already before you’ve even begun.

Joel’s eyes are screwed shut, his grip on your hips digging into your skin so tight it almost hurts. His jaw is tight, holding back what you can only imagine are the neediest moans he could sound.

So, you decide to draw them from him.

You lean forward and begin bouncing, feeling his thickness pull out and push back into you, both hands on Joel’s chest now for balance. You’re whimpering, the burn of his cock stretching your tight cunt so good and borderline painful at the same time, but you don’t stop.

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl,” Joel moans, opening his eyes to watch you ride his dick. “’attagirl, just like that.”

“Joel…” you cry, letting him bottom out each time, feeling his balls slam into your ass with each bounce.

“Yeah? You like that? Tell me, baby, use your words.”

“So – good – Joel – oh!” you shout.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl for me, huh?”

You fight against the urge to close your eyes; the pleasure between your legs and the knot beginning to tighten in your stomach are all you can see, hear, feel, but you want to watch him some more. You want to see what you do to him.

You lean forward even further, moving your hands to the pillow either side of his head, so you’re directly above him now. One of Joel’s hands comes to the back of your head, pulling you down until your foreheads are together, moans escaping your mouths only to be inhaled by the other.

Joel speaks to you quieter, through gritted teeth.

“Like ridin’ me, do ya? Like the way it feels?”

“Mhm,” you moan back, and he brings a hand down to slap your ass. You yelp. “Fuck…”

“You look so good, baby, so good. Such a fuckin’ whore for me, hm?”

Another stinging spank pulls a whine from you so filthy, so loud that you’re sure the neighbors will hear, even at this hour. Joel smirks back, resting his hand back on your hip, where he has a grip of you.

Then, he bucks his own hips, pushing into you deeper than before, so deep you see stars. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, panting through the searing pain so good that you never want it to end.

“Joel – I’m gonna – fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“That’s it, sweet girl, cum all over me. Let go, baby, I’m here.”

That does it. The coil snaps, your walls clench. Joel lets out a guttural moan as you throw your head back and ride him through your orgasm. He coos you through it, squeezing your hips, whispering, That’s my girl, doin’ so good, baby as your body rocks back and forth on his cock.

When you come back down to earth, your lids heavy and breathing staggered, you swear your body can’t take anymore. You feel so fucked out that you’re not sure you can sit up straight on top of Joel.

But he’s always been able to read your mind, and this is no different. He pulls himself up and into you, propped up with one strong hand on the mattress behind his back, the other wrapping around your waist. His cock is still buried deep inside you.

“Joel…” you whimper pathetically. “Can’t do it anymore…”

“That’s okay, baby, we’re gonna do this one together, alright? I got you. Can you do that for me? Just one more?”

You link your arms around his neck and lean into him; his strong form doesn’t shift, just takes on your weight and keeps the both of you upright as he starts to bounce you on his length again.

You’re overstimulated; your cunt swollen, fucked-out, drenched in cum, but Joel makes you feel so good that it’s impossible to let him stop. Your arms pull him in closer to your chest to steady yourself, and his groans echo in your ear.

“Good girl, that’s– that’s it, so fuckin’ tight for me, pretty girl.”

When it all becomes too much to take – Joel’s hand squeezing your waist, your clit rutting against the bottom of his stomach, his fucking cock buried so deep inside you that you swear you can feel him splitting you open – you push him back down onto the bed.

Once when you still lived in New York you read something in a Cosmo about spelling the word ‘coconut’ with your hips when riding a guy. You’d tried it a couple times with hookups, and it’d never done anything for you. They’d never done anything for you.

But here you are, nearing your second orgasm, on top of someone making such a mess of you that you brain can hardly compute to spell coconut, never mind your hips being able to round the shape of the word.

His fingers grip the rim of the black cowgirl hat you’d worn that night. He lies back, flat against the mattress, and reaches up, placing the hat on top of your head. You smile. Joel speaks in a low, gentle, but commanding whisper.

“There you go, cowgirl. Show me how it’s done.”

It’s all you need. It’s all it takes, by this point.

You brace yourself against his chest again, positioning yourself just right, and bounce on him until your vision starts to blur.

The noises slipping out of Joel’s mouth each time your bodies connect at the base of his cock push you closer and closer; every groan and whimper which passes his lips makes you sink your hips down even harder, pushing him deeper and deeper with every bounce.

“So – fuckin’ – big – inside me,” you slur, and Joel moans in response.

When he takes your hips in his hands again, you know he’s there. He’s just waiting for you to fall first.

You give in to him, feeling yourself close around his length, throwing your head back in pleasure as your second orgasm washes over you, igniting every inch of your body.

Joel’s groans meet yours as you lean forward again, slowly rolling your hips to coax him through his own orgasm. Watching him release, buried deep inside, he looks so good that you feel like you could cum again just at the sight.

You feel his cock start to go limp inside you and when he opens his eyes, panting, you smile sweetly at him.

“Fuck, darlin’.”

You giggle, hips still driving gently against his. “Good?”

“So good, baby, did so well. You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers with a trembling breath, taking your waist in both hands and giving it a tight squeeze. You roll to the side, letting his cock slip out of you, condom full of his seed.

You tumble onto the mattress beside him, both heaving, moaning messes. Your chests rise and fall in sync, fingers tangling and untangling by your sides.

Then Joel gets up, and wanders over to the bathroom, where you watch him through the open door as he pulls the filled rubber from his soft dick. He bins it, then runs a facecloth under the faucet, dabbing it across his own forehead as he makes his way back over to you.

You can’t hide your grin as you watch his naked form approach; tan lines where his t-shirt must end, dark hair decorating his arms, legs, chest, the base of his cock. He sits at the edge of the bed, arm outstretched with the flannel in hand.

You go to take it from him, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. Just pats it over your face gently, soft gaze on yours, your fingers intertwined around his wrist. Your eyes fall closed, the cold cloth a relief against your warm, sweaty skin.

“Feel nice?” he whispers.

You nod in response. Your chest swells at how soft he’s being, how tender. When he stands to throw the flannel back into the sink, you almost find yourself reaching out to hold him down.

He climbs over you, springing back down onto the mattress with a heaving sigh.

You prop yourself up and shimmy over, positioning yourself on top of Joel, chest-to-chest. He looks down and smirks, running a lazy hand across your cheek.

“You’re so good to me,” he mumbles.

You tilt your head with a smile and lay down on his chest. You can hear his heartrate slowly calming down. His fingers twist through your messy hair.

“I have no idea what you’re laced with,” he says, “but you got me.”

You smile. “Yeah?”

Joel nods. You shift positions, adjusting your aching hips safely between his thighs. “You hurtin’?” he asks.

You nod. “Mhm. But I like it. It’s you.”

Joel’s hands run through your hair and his fingertips trace your shoulders. His touch is so light it almost tickles. You turn your jaw and kiss the back of his hand.

“My dad gone, Sarah out, free house…” you mutter.

“Hm.”

“So, you invite your mistress over.” You lift your head, smirking at him.

Joel’s chest vibrates with laughter. “You ain’t my mistress.”

“Oh really? What am I, then?”

“I am not having this conversation at 4AM, kid. Ask me again tomorrow.”

You’d think of something to throw back at him, messing with him, but your entire body aches, and your heavy eyes are starting to fold closed with how sleepy you suddenly feel.

You pull Joel’s sheets over yourself, turning your back to him. Joel instantly follows suit, pulling up right behind you, your back tight to his chest, his thighs cupping the back of yours, then slipping one between your legs.

His arms lock around your torso under the sheets. Safe. Secure. Nothing can happen to you as long as he’s got you.

“Ten,” his voice mumbles against the back of your head.

You turn so your ear is pressed against his lips. “Huh?”

“Ten. That’s my number. Includin’ you.”

Oh.

He doesn’t ask to hear yours. You wouldn’t mind if he did, but he doesn’t. You don’t think he’s telling you to hear yours in exchange. He’s telling you because you asked. He’s telling you because, whether in attempt to turn him on or simply to know something about him that you didn’t before – something nobody else knows – it mattered to you.

He’s telling you because you matter to him.

You nuzzle back into him a little, a form of reply, and, as you start to fall asleep, you feel him place a gentle kiss to your ear.

----------

taglist: @yvonneeeee @subconsciouscollapse @leahlovestwd @peqchsoup @whorror-s @k1ttybean @whichwitchwanda @abuttoncalledsmalls @anner--nanner @jpbplvr @laysmt @ankhmutes @bookishhella @cannolighost @luvrking @mellymbee @yourwinchesterbros @nostalxgic @scottstotts @daiseygriffithx @letsgroovetonighttt @huffle-punk @unbotheredbeeeee @iluvurfather @wildcat116 @godisawomansblog @55vvaa55 @koshkaj-blog @initforthebooks @theywhowriteandknowthings @thatgirljayy@sasakipsposts @casa-boiardi @milla-frenchy @aim-formyheart @taeslarityy @lxstbxyscave23 @joelmillerxapologist @capt-rex @giixo @capricorngf @feministfanboi @fifia-writes @darleneslane @theplumsoldier @sharp-cheekbones-locked @suzmagine @endlessthxxghts @ivebeenflagged @blognametakenn @jessahmewren @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @ranahx @pedropascalsbbg @cartoon-garbage04 @caatheeriinee07 @kngslayr @hopplessilse @vickywallace @gracieispunk @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @serenaxpedro @brittmb115 @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #dad's best friend #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #joel miller pedro pascal #joel tlou #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us hbo #cowboy like me

1K notes · View notes

obsessedasusual · 5 months

Text

History Repeats - Happy Lowman

Summary: xReader - The club going into lockdown shouldn't be of concern to you anymore, you got out. Happy thinks otherwise.

Warnings: Swearing, guns, mentions of anxiety

Note: 2k - return of the Happy!!! The way I've had this half written in my docs for over a year...... I'm beyond excited to finally get it out!

You had locked the door last night.

You had.

Surely you had locked it. You always locked it.

So the only reasonable explanation to the creaking floorboards down your hallway at 6am was… a cat? Yeah, a cat.

A very heavy cat that took large footsteps towards your room.

You gripped the bedsheets tighter as you pulled them further over your face, hoping they would act as some sort of a shield when the large cat, presumably walking on two legs, inevitably barged into your room.

Another shaky breath escaped your body as you listened to the footsteps draw nearer.

Calling the cops was a bit difficult when your phone was charging over the room on your dresser. And it’s not like you had a weapon handy. God you could hear his voice clear as day in your head, knowing exactly what he’d say if he were here. Harping on about how you should at least have a knife stashed somewhere in your bedroom and a gun in every other room of the house.

You stayed frozen in place, eyes squeezing shut as the door handle turned, and the door was thrown open without an ounce of care.

“Get the fuck up.” a gruff voice spoke from the doorway.

What the?

You tugged the covers down to your chin and peered across the room in disbelief, “What the fuck, Happy?!”

He gave a single nod before speaking again, “Up. Now.”

Mouth hung open, you could do nothing but stare up at your ex.

“No? No- what the hell are you doing here, Happy? In my house at six in the fucking morning!” Pushing yourself to sit up in bed you continued to stare at the man you hadn’t spoken to in months, “Seriously, Happy. Start speaking. How the hell did you get in here anyway? If you broke a fucking window I swear to-”

“You need to hide your spare key better. Now get up.”

A silence fell between you for a second.

“My spare ke- hey!” your train of thought was interrupted by the tall biker walking forward and ripping the duvet away from your body. In your surprise you didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly flew down your pyjama-clad body before looking toward the still-closed curtains.

“Get your ass out of bed.”

This time you listened and climbed out of bed, stomping toward your dresser to find a change of clothes, “Seriously, Happy,” you huffed as you changed shirts, “You can’t- you can’t barge into my house like this. I thought you were a burglar or something. Do you realise how unsettling that is for a single woman?”

“Good thing I’m not a fucking burglar then.”

You tugged on a pair of jeans and rolled your eyes before turning to face him, “Why are you here, Happy? Seriously?”

He met your gaze only briefly before turning back to the windows and peeping out the curtain, “I need you to pack a bag. Change of clothes. Book probably too.”

Eyebrows pulling together in confusion you stared at the back of his head, “A book? Happy. What’s going on?”

“Club’s on lockdown.”

Your confusion only grew, “A lockdown? Jesus, Happy,” you dragged your hands over your face. “What does that have to do with me? Why do I have to get dragged away too.”

He turned and met your eyes properly then, “You know why.”

Breaking his stare you faced the carpet, “Happy… this is… fucking dumb. What the fuck happened? We have been done since months ago. I’m in no danger. In fact - I’m probably in more danger with you here.”

“I’m not arguing with you. Pack a bag. We’re going.”

This wasn’t supposed to be how your Saturday went. You had left these sorts of Saturdays in the past. The uncertainty, the danger, all of it had been left the day you left the man currently standing in your bedroom seven months ago.

With only a defeated sigh in response you shrugged, counting your losses and turned back to your drawers, pulling out a couple of changes of clothes and stuffing them into a nearby backpack.

When you turned back toward Happy you found him already staring your way. Quickly breaking eye contact you dramatically gestured out the bedroom door, “After you.”

He stared for a moment longer before moving out the door, you following diligently.

“Okay,” you started as you reached the front door, “I’ll meet you there.”

The speed at which Happy spun around to face you would almost be comical if it wasn’t for the death glare that graced his face, “Like hell. You’re coming with me.”

You threw your hands up in frustration, “Happy, c’mon! You’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re coming with me.”

Taking a deep breath to stop whatever snarky remark that was about to escape your lips you nodded, “Fine. Whatever. Can I at least have breakfast before we go?”

“There’s food at the club. Let’s go.” WIthout another word he was out the door and striding toward his bike, leaving you to lock the door and tuck your key - both keys - away in the backpack. Following after the biker you grabbed the helmet from his outstretched hand and tugged it on.

You jumped in fright when the Harley roared to life, catching the way Happy’s shoulders jostled as he chuckled.

Sighing heavily at the situation you were faced with you begrudgingly climbed on behind your ex and secured your hands on his waist.

“You good?” he grunted over his shoulder.

“Just go.”

The wind rushing at you as Happy took off down the street felt like a thousand memories you had fought to forget just slapping you in the face all at once.

The smell of being on the Harley was something you hadn’t realised you’d come to miss. Was it the smell of the rubber? The fumes from the exhaust? The scent of the man in front of you?

No, it was definitely the fumes from the exhaust.

Pulling into the Teller Morrow lot was when the weight of what was happening really set in.

More bikes than usual were lined up at the ready, people with children were piling out of cars, sleeping bags in hand, and food was being unloaded left and right, with guns being handled ‘discreetly’ by the Sons.

It had been many months since you had stepped foot near the club. And just as many since you’d spoken to any of the Sons. Well, bar Juice who you’d seen at the store a few weeks back. To say you were nervous would be an understatement.

As Happy slowed to a stop, signalling for you to jump off before he backed his bike in line with the others, you swore you could feel a million eyes on you. It was as if everyone on the property was staring at you.

This wasn’t the case of course. With the feeling of danger and caution in the air everyone was worried about their own loved ones and whatever job they’d been given. Truth be told, you didn’t recognise a lot of the faces around you. So they sure as hell wouldn’t know you from a bar of soap.

Still, no matter the case, the anxiety pooled in your stomach.

Anxiety had always been present in your life. Making itself known first in high school and popping up every now and then when it felt like messing with you.

Happy seemed to pick up on your switch in mood, from angry to anxious and lightly spoke from behind, “Everybody’s busy doing their own thing. You don’t need to stop and talk, just head to the back rooms.”

You nodded at his words, eyes still locked on the scenes unfolding in front of you. You didn’t move until you felt the tattooed man nudge you slightly.

Sticking close to Happy, as much as you’d love to run in the opposite direction, you slowly made your way into the hectic clubhouse.

It was like stepping back in time, you’d done this exact thing multiple times with Happy, the lockdown. The children running wild inside, a group of hangarounds in the kitchen, families huddling nervously at the walls.

There had been a time when you’d have gone up to those families with a fresh pot of coffee and some baking, helping to reassure them that it would all be okay. How the tables turn.

As you peererd around you noticed the doors to chapel were open, Sons inside counting guns. Your eyes moved over the men, noting who you recognised, Tig, Bobby and Jax, and who must’ve been from other charters.

Seemingly feeling your gaze on him, Jax turned his head and caught your eyes. With not an ounce of shock or surprise in his stare, he nodded at you with a knowing tight-lipped smile, welcoming you back into this world of chaos.

It wasn’t until you finally reached Happy’s dorm that you let out a deep breath. It was quieter back here, mostly out of bounds unless you had the okay from the members, which you apparently did.

You pushed the door open and were once again hit with an alarming wave of nostalgia. Happy’s dorm looked exactly the same. It was relatively bare, but tidy.

It was too familiar. It felt too normal being back here. Like the last seven months hadn’t happened, like they didn’t matter.

You could feel yourself getting worked up and turned to face the man you had spent years loving.

He remained standing in the doorway, arms crossed, studying you from his spot.

“Why am I here, Happy? It’s been months. You just turn up at sunrise after months of no contact to play a knight in shining armour? I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t mean enough to you to warrant being here.”

He just stared at you in silence, like he knew you’d get pissed whether he answered or not.

“I’ve been trying to move on with my life!” You continued, now sitting on the edge of his bed, “I’ve been working so hard to forget everything between us. To forget the fucking club. I just - I just want a normal life. I want to be able to come home after work and relax with my partner. I want to complain about my boss. I want to get annoyed about the ads on TV. I want my biggest problem to be figuring out what’s for dinner each night.”

You took a deep breath and stared down at your lap before admitting, “I just want boring.”

Still frozen in his spot, Happy finally spoke up, “You’d hate boring.”

You gave a dry laugh at his response and looked up at him with defeated eyes, “So what then? I just have to stay stuck in this weird in between?”

A silence fell between you as your words hung in the air.

Relieved you’d been able to get those thoughts out of your system, you fell back onto Happy’s bed.

The silence lasted so long you wondered if you’d dozed off and he’d snuck out of the room when he spoke up, “Stay in here. I’ll send someone in with food later.”

You closed your eyes and listened as he turned and opened the door, ready to leave and do whatever the Sergeant at Arms does during a lockdown, noting the way his movement paused before he spoke again,

“I’m sorry I had to bring you back here.”

As he left and softly shut the door behind him, the first of your tears finally fell.

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #happy lowman x reader #happy lowman #happy lowman imagines

256 notes · View notes

cho-aaacho · 4 months

Text

When the Sun is Shining Again

Masterlist

Tags : Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Waltzing, Dancing Together, Living Together, Multiple Kisses, Rainy Day, Soft Gojo, Sweet Talker reader.

Summary: An old melody, a blurred silhouette. A weak way of life really isn't cool, you know?

"Darling, do you have any memories attached to you? Some feelings in your heart leave a sensation. I want to go back to that time."

"Memories?" He turns around, his azure eyes gracing you. His memory was floating somewhere, like a white feather in the clear morning sky.

You smiled at him, caressing his jawline while sealing a tender kiss on his nose. Then you wrapped your arm around his neck and savored the last drop of his sweet perfume. You playfully ran your fingers through his hair. Feeling his beautiful silver on your fingers.

"I have one," you started, caressing the contour of his nose and whispering. "I was the only child. Every time I finished reading a book, my mom would give me a Pokemon card. It's an ultra-rare card, and I'm so happy about it! And you? What about you, Satoru-kun?"

You lifted your head from his shoulder and settled yourself on his lap, trying to find his best answer. When you lifted your head, you could sense a glimpse of disappointment, sadness, sorrow, and longing on his face.

"Oh, my dear, you don't have to tell me if you're uncomfortable, Satoru-kun. I'm sorry,"

You mused and touched his nose tip. "You deserve to be happy, even when the world around you treats you badly; remember that there's someone who truly cares about you."

"Thank you," he nodded. He noticed that you almost cried after seeing his expression.

He wasn't sure why he was reacting that way. It's extremely rare for him to express his sadness to his partner. He is so warm and always surrounded by vibrant yellow.

After all, no one can change fate, and shedding tears over the past is completely unnecessary.

You get up from his lap and leave a kiss on his cheek, gliding gently to the kitchen to bring two cups of hot chocolate.

Satoru gazes at you for a while as he is distracted by the backdrop of rain-smeared windows. Your radiant smile enveloped him as you drew closer and handed him the hot chocolate with marshmallows on top.

"I sense a wave of nostalgia," he began, gently patting your head.

Then he continued, "The weather, hot chocolate, and your earlier questions—it's not that I didn't want to discuss them. I've come to accept that I can't erase my past or bring back someone from death. But as long as you're here with me, that's all I need."

"Ah, Satoru-kun, don't mention that. You make me cry, you know that?"

You respond with a gentle smile, and following his gaze to the window, the rain persists heavily. It's so cold; to be honest, you always hate rain in the evening. Even the delicious warmth of hot chocolate doesn't seem to help enough.

He draws nearer, his shoulder brushing against yours, touching each other like a magnet. The melody of raindrops is followed by his soft humming, creating a romantic attraction between you and him.

"Anyway," he added with a giggle, "do you still remember the first waltz we did in high school?"

"Eh? Why bring that up? Of course, I do. You're a good dancer," you tease, pinching his cheek. Because you know very well that Satoru is so bad at dancing.

"Your moves are a bit weird. I still remember that Kusakabe-kun is laughing at you."

He yelling. "Hey, don't mention Kusakabe! I'm a good dancer, you know. I've mastered a simple waltz from Ijichi."

"Ijichi-kun good at waltz? Wow, I didn't know that. So, as proof of Ijichi-kun's talent, maybe you can show me your skills? I know you'd love that, handsome."

He smiled gently. "Alright, I'll show you."

He glided with a cute gesture. You still sense awkwardness in his movement, but you are trying to hold your laughter because he appears so enthusiastic.

He gently extends his hand, reaching yours, and guides you to follow his steps. Satoru squeezes your waist gently, feeling his warmth against your skin.

His azure eyes pierced toward yours as you swayed from side to side, following his gaze. You nestled your head on his neck, longing to be closer to him, to sniff his aroma, and to feel his breath against yours.

"See, I'm an expert," he whispered, placing a delicate kiss on your cheek and brushing his nose on your skin.

He is sealing a brief kiss. Repeating the gesture, he pulled your body close. Fold his arm around your waist. A soft moan escaped from his lips, adding a touch of passion to the moment.

The kiss was a blend of sweetness, passion, desire, longing, and intimacy.

"Uh—sorry if I got carried away."

"Satoru-kun, darling, is a fast learner, heh? I should have baked a cake for Ijichi-kun as a thank you."

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo

90 notes · View notes

travellingarmy · 1 year

Note

Hiii I was wondering if you have any time could you write a brother’s friend trope where reader is the little sibling of Kalim and while she’s visiting during the VDC she meets Vil and falls in love with him all while being really shy. Of course if it’s to much trouble you don’t have to

Have a wonderful day <3

║Vil Schoenhit║ Brother, I’m in Love!

Reader: She/her pronouns + titles.

Warning(s): Slight changes to canon.

—

“Jaaaamil!”

The sun is just barely peeking out when Scarabia’s dorm is making a huge ruckus. If the seven dorms were any closer, it’s a sure that Crowley will be receiving noise complaints day in and day out. They were rowdy, sure, but that is just the energy that the dorm always has.

The same, slightly high-pitched voice screams for Jamil further down Scarabia’s dorm hall and by the sounds of it, it was drawing ever the nearer with every second. “Jaaamil!”

The voice stops short right at the entrance of the kitchen. “Oh, Jamil! I knew I’d find you here, hehe.” White hair as bright as the moon and red eyes brighter than the gems who share the same colour skips inside the kitchen with glee, snickering excitedly. “Anyway, Jamil, Jamil—“

“Just spit it out, Kalim! Stop screaming my name for Seven’s sake!” Jamil rubs the bridge of his nose, showing how annoyed he was. His head had been ringing all day long but it’s only still early in the morning; just a quarter to seven. This is what was meant when the other dormitories would be annoyed to be hearing ruckus from Scarabia, especially Savanaclaw and their lazy, always-seem-to-be-sleeping dorm leader. Ah, but there’s also Pomfiore. Can’t forget Pomfiore students who prioritize their “beauty” sleep. Maybe Diasomnia will forgive them.. Their dorm leader and vice dorm leader are nocturnal creatures anyway.

“Have you prepared it? Have you? Have you?” Kalim’s eyes turned into stars as he waited for the answer, his words were vague but nothing that Jamil couldn’t understand. Jamil could only sigh at his master’s silliness, “It’ll come later today, but still today just as requested. The item is particularly rare so delivery is taking a longer route to avoid the item being stolen.” He crossed his arms.

“Haha, I knew I could count on you, Jamil!” The white-haired male grins and pats Jamil’s back proudly. As annoying he is being right now, Jamil felt that he was slightly restless before. He understands where this is coming from. After all, the one he cherishes the most is coming tomorrow and Jamil knew that Kalim wants nothing but the best of gifts.

“Hehe, I can’t wait for the VDC tomorrow!”

—

Both the old and new alike, all sorts of transportation vehicles from modern cars to carriages were entering through the school’s gate one at a time. Of course, there’s those who walked and others who flew (or just straight up teleported there).

VDC is usually packed with all sorts of people and this year was no different. Giants, faes, humans.. All walks of life were gathered in one place to see what this year has in store for their hunger for some entertainment.. Aaand there were also those agents scouting for talents.

“Do you see her? Do you? Do you?” Kalim scans over the ocean of heads excitedly, looking for a particular head that he knew O’ so well from one of the school’s balconies. “Calm down. She’ll come so stop yapping, will you?” Jamil crosses his arms and leans back on the wall adjacent to the railings. Kalim looks behind him at his companion and slightly pout. “But what if she doesn’t come?”

“She will. She said in her letter and you know she doesn’t lie,” he says confidently, but secretly still praying anyway that she really does show up and nothing bad has happened along the way.

…

“AH!” Kalim slams his hands on the concrete rails which alerted Jamil. “What? Hey, don’t just suddenly scream like that, you idiot!” He uncrosses his arms and lectures him. “Wait, hey— What are you doing!? Hey—!!” Before he knew it, Kalim threw himself over the rails over a height that could kill a person on impact. Jamil runs towards the rails and looks down, stomach churning at the possible thought of seeing his body around a pool of blood and on VDC of all days too! And before anyone knew it, the event would have shut down before it even started all because of this fool—

“Hehe!” Just below, Kalim sits atop a magic carpet and heads in a particular direction. “You idiot!” Jamil’s teeth grinding on each other. He nearly had a heart attack because of him for Seven’s sake! “My life has been shortened..” He says as he feels a part of his soul leaving him.

“[Naaame]!” Kalim shouts from over the heads of many, causing onlookers to look up in curiosity.

You were standing at one of the stalls, looking on with sparkly eyes just before someone had yelled out your name. You blink, registering that it wasn’t just your head messing with you and wiped away the drool pooling at the corner of your mouth. The aroma of the corndogs is making it too hard to resist for your never satisfied stomach.

Nevertheless, your head looks around for the source of the voice.

“[Naaame]!” This time, your heads were drawn to the sky at a speedily approaching figure. “Is that.. EH!? Kalim, wait! You’re going to— BONK!” He collided with you head first and sent both of you toppling down on the ground.

“Urgh.. Kalim..” You push yourself up with your arms and rub a growing pain on your forehead. “What was—“

“Hehe! [Name], [Name]! You really came!” Kalim pushes himself up (though still on top of you) and grins an all too familiar grin. Seeing him again and that familiar of a smile, whatever lecture you were about to spew died on your tongue.

Even though he was older out of the two of you, he was much like the younger sibling than you did. He acted more excitable like that of a young child rather than a young adult that he is. Nevertheless, you loved him as his sibling. “Of course I’d come,” you say softly, so soft that it could be considered a whisper. “Why, did you think I wouldn’t show up?”

He got up and extended a hand out for you, that signature grin still smeared on his face. “Hehe, I knew you’d come!” He says cheerfully. You returned a smile of your own. You looked around and over his shoulder, noticing that something was amiss. “Oh, Kalim, where is–” “Kalim!” Before you could proceed with your sentence, a shrieking voice drew ever the near quickly.

Pushing people aside, Jamil parts a wall of bodies until he got to where you both were. “Do you have any idea how reckless of a stunt that was!? Have you gone mad!!?” There was Jamil with a scolding on his lips. “Hehe, sorry! I saw [Name] so I went up to her!” He laughs.

“Went up to her, how!? You threw yourself off the balcony and nearly gave me a heart attack!” He had so many things to say which you found it to be something to laugh at; how Jamil acts is like a mother hen to her chicks and you found it endearing.

“Ah, [Name], it’s good to see you here,” Jamil finally says, now acknowledging your presence. “Sorry about that outburst.” You giggled with a smile, “It’s fine. I’m sure Kalim has given you a handful of problems leading up to today.”

He rests his hands on his hips and sighs deeply, shaking his head with a defeated look. “You wouldn’t believe..”

Kalim butts in with an elated look and pumping both of his fists up and down in front of his chest. “Ah! [Name], [Name]! I got you something!” he said and looked toward Jamil with a look of expectancy. “Oh right..” You just now noticed that Jamil had been holding a small, rectangular box when he extended his hand out to you.

You look at both men– Kalim was bouncing excitedly on the spot and Jamil nodded– before taking the gift. Inside was a necklace with a huge orb and two slightly smaller ones on each side. It had the colour of the desert– a raging, orange fire. There was some gold too that held the entire piece beautifully and would rattle like coins in a pouch.

“These are the eyes of a queen scorpion that have been torched into glass,” Jamil said. “It was difficult to find but Kalim wouldn’t stop nudging me.” Kalim gives a toothy laugh and you couldn’t help but smile even more. “Thank you both.”

“Aww, [Name]!!” Kalim sees the adorable smile on your face and couldn’t help but pull you into a bone crushing hug. “See, Jamil! I knew it would be worth it! Did you see how cute she was?” He rubs his cheeks against yours as if he can’t get enough of your physical touch.

It was like that for a while until an announcement came on that the main event would start soon. “Ah! Kalim, hurry up! We have to go or else Vil will have our heads.”

“Hm? Where are you guys going?” You asked. “Ah, [Name], it was going to be a surprise but you see, Kalim and I are one of the performers,” he quickly explains, already grabbing onto Kalim’s arm to pry him off of you. “Oh, I see! Good luck to you two!” Were the only things you said so that you wouldn’t keep them too long.

“You’ll come watch us, right, [Name]?” Kalim asks, although probably already knowing the answer. You nod and smile. “Of course, I will!”

–

Now by yourself in a massive crowd, it was pretty easy to push you around without Jamil or Kalim. “Excuse me.. Excuse– oh!” Amidst the pushing and shoving, you were pushed all the way to an archway that led inside the school building. One more forceful shove and you lost your balance.

Your eyes closed shut and were expecting pain in your butt that would send straight up your head but however, you didn’t. Your eyes opened and blinked a few times. You were halfway your fall when firm arms hooked underneath your armpits so now you were in that awkward position.

“Are you alright?” A voice drew your attention over your shoulders and thereupon you felt you’ve been deprived of oxygen as you held your breath at the sigh of a man. The word ‘beautiful’ couldn’t even hold a candle to him. And it seems like he was awe-struck too with how his eyes widened slightly and eyebrows raised a bit, but you didn’t need to know that.

He asks again if you were okay and this time, you push yourself on your feet, a growing blush dusting your cheeks. “A-ah yes.. I, I’m okay!” You smile awkwardly and hope you didn’t stare too long and eye him like a candy.

He nods and was about to say something until a voice the became louder as it came closer drew his attention away. “Roi du poison! Oh how I had searched for you, roi du poison!” Now, a blonde man wearing a hat entered the conversation- if it could have been called that. “Roi du poison, i had worried you had been taken or worse, suddenly getting the blue and thus cannot perform anymore!”

“As if I’d lose the opportunity to outshine Neige,” the beautiful man was now having a full conversion with his friend and you just stood there awkwardly. Just as they began to turn to leave, he stopped and looked back at you, now just remembering he had helped somebody. You straighten your back which he found silly. “Pfft.” He contains a laugh, disguising it as a cough behind a hand. “I hope to see you around.” He smiles one last time before joining his friend that awaited him just a little bit away from you two.

You were left there in a confused state all the while your face being flushed pink. You were repeating the last thing he said to you and deep down, you were silently praying that you’d get to meet him. Was it a spell that he casted, to make anyone be enthralled by him?

The speakers came again, snapping you out of a daze. You once again joined the crowd– that was fortunately and unfortunately less crowded– and sat at the furthest row from the seat since the front rows were very much full.

Like the rest, you were excited but more so to see Kalim perform. But what you weren’t expecting to see when he did come on was that the man from earlier was also on stage alongside him. “Ah.” Suddenly remembering the moment that just passed, you did recall him wearing the school’s uniform. Well, what were you expecting? It’s not like someone like him who possibly could be a supermodel to not go to such a prestigious school.

Safe to say that your attention had been diverted away from Kalim.

–

“[Name], [Name]! Did you like my dance?” Kalim now joins you by the hip after the performances have been finished. Jamil was there too, standing close by. “Hm? Oh, yes, I did!” You smiled and chuckled a bit. You sweatdrop at the thought that he knew that you hadn’t been paying attention to him at all and thus would make him pout.

“Ah, that performance is making me hungry.. Let’s go eat, [Name]!” Kalim drags you by the wrist and Jamil follows. He sure is energetic despite him being hungry and probably tired from the performance. “Ooh! Look, look! Shawarmas!” Kalim halted in his steps when he was parallel to a food stall selling shawarmas. There were stars in his eyes as he eyes them.

“Let’s get some, [Name]!” He says and turns his head towards Jamil since he forgot to bring money. Jamil sighs, fishing out a pouch of coins. “Just 2, and some packet of hot sauce,” Jamil says to the vendor. “Hm? You’re not getting any, Jamil?” You ask. He shook his head, saying that he’s not hungry and he doesn’t have a big appetite unlike Kalim.

“Hehe, these are so good!” After getting your food, Kalim was the first to take a big bite out of his. You look on fondly at his childlike manner before taking a bite out of yours.

“Hm? Kalim, do you know her?” Just then, a voice steps in to join the small group and you turn your head to see the same person that had saved you from a fall and you began to choke on the food. “[Name]!” Jamil was quick to aid you and grab a bottle of water to down the food.

“Hm, of course!” Kalim grins and rests an arm around your shoulder. “She’s my little sister, [Name]!”

“Little sister?” His eyebrows raised but quickly returned to its natural, resting position. “Roi du poison, isn’t this the little maiden from earlier?” his companion was there too. “I must apologize for not having the chance to introduce myself and swiftly taking him away from you earlier.” He takes off his hat and places it on top of his heart and dips down slightly. So elegant, you thought.

“Hmm? You know them, [Name]? Your brother looked at you and you nodded. “Well, not really.. He was there when I was about to fall and helped me..” You corrected.

“In that case, why don’t I introduce you to my friends!” Kalim beams with excitement, so happy that you’d be getting to know more students from NRC. “This is Rook,” he points to the one with the hat first, “And this is Vil!” He points to the one whom you have been enchanted to meet. So his name is Vil, you thought, your face slightly feeling warm.

“Hehe, and this is [Name]!” Kalim hugs you tightly, making you embarrassed how he babies you so much. You were telling Kalim to stop but you overheard the soft mention of your name, drawing your attention to Vil. “[Name].. It’s a beautiful name,” he says and looks at you with soft eyes. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you and I’m sorry to cut this short but I have to go now.”

“O-oh.. Okay..” You were disappointed at just how brief the moment was, but at least you got to know his name.

Later that evening, when you returned home, what you didn’t expect to see on your phone the moment you got to relax was a notification– a notification that Vil had followed your Magicam account. Suddenly remembering him, your cheeks became the colour of a rose.

You opened the app in order to follow him back but was surprised at the huge number of followers he had. “Oh wow..!” You followed him back and began to stalk his page. The pictures were all well polished as if he was someone super popular. “He might be..” You mumbled. Just then, a notification popped up that someone had messaged you– it was Vil.

You panicked, not sure what to do but before you could do any of that, you first checked what he even sent.

I hope to know more about you. Let’s talk some time. It reads. You became giddy that you had possibly gain the attention of someone so beautiful. With a smile that no one could ever see, you began to type away.

~♡~

If you noticed I got lazy at the end, no you didn’t.

#twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst vil x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #twst x yuu #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit fluff #vil schoenheit imagines #twisted wonderland

257 notes · View notes

violetsareblue-selfships · 3 months

Text

Happy Lantern Rite

Ship: Xiao x April | Word Count: 1571 | Warnings/Tags: food mention, sappy proposal time :3

A/N: happy valentine's day everyone~ here's the proposal fic i promised :D (and yes, that means it's official - though i could have posted the fic around Saturday or so - wanted to keep it for today :3) anyways! i hope you enjoy it!!

Liyue Harbor always feels so cozy this time of year, the warm glow of the lanterns creating an atmosphere she's never found anywhere else. Out of all the festivals and celebrations she's been apart of, April has to say that the Lantern Rite is one of her favorites if not her number one.

This Lantern Rite finds her walking through the streets as usual, admiring all the different stalls set up for the occasion, but there's a key difference. This year she has her partner by her side. Usually, Xiao prefers to keep a distance during the festivities or he'll continue his usual duties to Liyue, keeping its people safe from monsters.

She doesn't know what convinced him to say yes when she asked him to accompany her this year, but she's certainly not complaining. It's likely a testament to how long they've been together. After all, he's started going on walks through the city with her on occasion.

As cheesy as it sounds, she's enjoying the atmosphere even more with him by her side. Occasionally, she'll catch him looking at her with the softest look in his eyes - the same one that always appears when she's particularly happy or excited. At this point, he doesn't even try to hide it or shy away like he would have before. Both of them know how much he admires her, and it makes her heart flutter every time she catches it.

The time passes slowly as they visit the various food and activity stalls, every moment counting down to the usual firework display and the releasing of the lanterns. Xiao starts getting a little antsy as the time draws nearer, wanting to have plenty of time to carry out what he has planned.

He gently pulls April closer and leans in to whisper in her ear, "It's almost time to find somewhere to watch the fireworks. So, if you want any snacks or anything, get that now."

April tilts her head a little, but she doesn't question it based on the serious look in his eyes. It's a little early yet, but she also understands that the crowds might be getting to be too much for him. "Okay!" She pecks his cheek softly before going to a nearby stand to order something they can both snack on.

His eyes stay on her through the whole process, tense and ready to step in should he need to. His tension eases once she heads back over to him, and he wraps an arm around her once she's close.

Usually, he wouldn't be quite so affectionate in public, but it's a little easier to teleport both of them if he has a good hold on her. "You ready?" He asks, and he teleports away once she nods.

They appear on one of the lower areas on Mount Tianheng, one of the flatter areas with a good view of the city below them. As impressive as the view already is, April gets a little rush of excitement about how it's going to look when the fireworks go off.

Xiao clears his throat lightly, bringing her attention back to him. That serious look is still in his eyes, tinged with a little nervousness that wouldn't be obvious to anyone else. He doesn't speak yet, he doesn't have to, as April easily understands to sit down when he nods toward the ground.

Once both of them are seated, Xiao huffs softly, trying to dispel some of his nerves. He thought some about how he'd do this before, but he's never been one for a big speech, which makes this a little difficult.

"April, I have something important to ask you," He says, taking one of her hands in his and staring down at their intertwined fingers. It's not that he doesn't want to look at her, but it's a little easier to say this when he doesn't see every minute change of her expression. "Of course, you're allowed to say no, but I couldn't let another Lantern Rite go by without asking you."

April sits there quietly, a soft expression on her face that exudes fondness. Her heartrate picks up with anticipation, having the slightest idea of what he's about to ask, given that this feels exactly like how he would ask that question. No other eyes around, but still surrounded by Liyue's beauty…

"I love you more than I ever expected to love anyone. Just knowing you has made my days brighter, and I don't want to lose that - I want to have that forever if you'll let me…" As he speaks, Xiao reaches down into a pouch at his hip, one that he'd been using to store the little souvenirs April's collected due to the festival games and merchant stalls. He pulls out a small bag and deftly opens it while his eyes return to hers, his eyes once again holding that incredibly soft look.

"April… will you marry me?" He asks, pulling a ring out of the bag. April's eyes widen at the pretty silver and blue ring, made out of an exquisite piece of noctilucous jade cut into a shape resembling a glaze lily.

"Yes," She says simply, her eyes sparkling at him sweetly. It's enough to make him smile, especially as he sees her eyes watering, the prettiest grin spreading across her face.

Xiao chuckles softly and takes her hand, gently sliding the ring into place where it's meant to belong. "It's so pretty…" April murmurs, holding her hand close to her face to look at the way the gems sparkle in the faint lights given by the city below.

"Keep it on whenever you go out," Xiao murmurs, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her nearly into his lap. When she looks at him with a cute curious expression, he flusters and looks away. "It's been blessed by the adepti, so it'll keep you safe," He explains, a little shyly.

April wonders silently if he was the one to bless the amulet or if it was one of the other adepti, but she giggles regardless. "Thank you, Xiao. Actually, I have something for you too," She says, her grin widening as she digs around in one of her pouches.

"You-- what? You didn't have to…" Xiao mutters, blinking a little as she pulls out something on a necklace chain. He holds his hand out and watches as she sets it in his palm, the metal feeling slightly warm from being in her bag all this time.

A soft gasp leaves his throat as he realizes that it's a ring strung on the necklace, and her eyes sparkle with mischief this time when his hurriedly meet hers. "Seems you're not the only one who had plans of proposing," She says playfully, before letting out a faux sigh. "Though… I wrote you a song and everything… but you beat me to it."

She giggles at the almost-pout that settles on his face. "Oh, don't worry, I'll play it for you when we return to the inn tonight. But what do you think? This way you can wear it around your neck and not have to worry about fitting your gloves over it. Also, the chain's fairly strong so it won't just break even if you wear it during combat."

Xiao peers at the ring, also made of silver but cor lapis instead for the jewel - a shade that perfectly matches his eye color. The gem is styled to resemble the sun, and it's enough to bring tears to his eyes despite him not usually being one to cry.

"It's perfect…" He mutters softly, huffing when she throws her arms around him. "Sunlight, when will you get that you don't have to get me things to remind me of you? You're always on my mind…" His words are muffled against her shoulder, but they make her giggle nonetheless.

"I know! But it seemed perfect! Especially when I found that gem on one of my adventures! I knew exactly what it should be used for."

"Put it on me?" He asks quietly, letting the necklace drop back into her hand. April opens the clasp and Xiao leans forward to let her put it around his neck, staying still until it's been clasped into place.

The ring falls perfectly over his heart, a fact that makes both of them smile. One of her hands find his and she squeezes softly, the faint sounds of the city growing louder as the fireworks show draws nearer.

"Oh! I love you too," April says after a moment of silence. Xiao makes an inquisitive 'hm' sound and she giggles softly. "You know, you said it in your proposal and I never said it back."

Xiao chuckles and draws her nearer. "Silly girl, focus on the city. The fireworks are about to start soon." He can hear the clamor of voices even more clearly than she can down to the way the people's excitement is growing.

"Happy Lantern Rite, Xiao," She says and he hums, setting his chin on her shoulder, his eyes on her instead of on the lanterns which are beginning to float up into the sky.

"Happy Lantern Rite, qingxin…" He murmurs.

The two of them stay curled up together, watching the lanterns float higher into the sky, and when the fireworks start, they enjoy that show too, happy to be with the one they love.

#self ship #self shipping #self insert fic #self insert fanfiction #self ship fic #self insert #si x canon #canon x si #canon x self insert #self insert x canon #our love transcends 💖🌥️#my writing

13 notes · View notes

xelasrecords · 1 year

Text

Lovely Walk

Harry Choi x Reader

Harry has rejected you for the most ludicrous reasons with the most ludicrous attitude. So what's there to do except to pester him by asking him out again and again?

Words: 1.5k

Masterlist Read on AO3

What do you do when you confess to a man who manages to turn his insufferable demeanour into his allure, who then hurts you with that same quality? Harry's rejection of your earnest confession was harsh. It was cutting words reinforced by his belief that love doesn't exist, as if what you feel is anything less than that. He does not want to date you, yet he expects you to remain with him as it is.

It doesn't mean Harry doesn't like you. You have concrete reasons to believe that he does. It's in the subtext of him texting you every day without fail, how he remembers details about you that you didn't think would be significant, and how he treats you better than everyone else. But it's unfair that he doesn't want to end this ambiguous relationship, especially when he has callously conveyed that he has no desire to be with you. Therefore, there is no reason you should be civil either.

The only sensible thing to do is to push back.

Amidst the faint floral scent permeating the air, you catch Harry on the pavement watching the cars passing by, his back turned from the cherry blossom trees lining the path. You increase your pace, ready to strike him with your new plan. You have not been well-rested and standing tall and attractive in an ivory sweatshirt in front of you is the thief of your sleep.

Harry turns to you before you can make any noise. "I thought you'd be too offended to talk to me so soon. How did you find me?"

You ignore his first remark. On this bright afternoon, the sun is deceptive with its glare. The breeze is cool on your cheeks and weaves through your hair. Not a bad day to ambush him. "Our beloved Piu-Piu told me. An emergency meeting as compensation for your rejection."

Harry cocks his head to the side. "How come it conspires with you more than me? It never grants me that privilege."

"You didn't even want to meet me," you point out. "You said that it's a waste of time."

Harry seems to be distracted by your billowing hair, his fingers twitching slightly before he buries them in his pockets. "I'm bothered by it favouring you over me."

"And that surprises you?" You arch your brows. "Anyway, I'm here because I want to ask you something. You said you don't like me, correct?"

Harry shifts on his feet. "I don't get why you're bringing this up again. As I've said, you intrigue me, but I don't want to date you. Let's leave it at that."

You shrug. "Okay, but do you want to go out with me?"

Harry stares at you, assessing if it's another joke you tend to make around him. "What's wrong with you?"

Being rejected never gets easier, but you won't let it deter you. Eventually, his defensive exterior will crack. You just have to keep marching on.

You take a step nearer, inclining your body towards him. Up close, you hear his breath hitched and see a guarded mask shuttered over his face, but he doesn't draw back from you. "If you're worried about me, then have dinner with me later."

"I have food at home and you're not invited."

You nod grimly. "I understand. A horseman should eat his carrots alone. It's a wonder you haven't turned orange, you carrot hogger."

To your surprise, Harry chuckles at your acknowledgement. It's a low, rich sound which sends a delicious tingle down your spine. "You told me to savour my food. That's what I'm planning to do." He starts walking down the pavement. "Alone," he adds.

Alarmed, you rush to his side, sticking close and ready to sling your arm around him if he decides to bolt. It wouldn't be out of character for Harry to pull an outrageous stunt. But instead, you notice him slowing down his strides, arm briefly tensing whenever it brushes against yours. It may be a small reaction, but a small win is still a win.

Harry is not totally indifferent towards you.

"So I've rubbed off on you. Does that mean you hate yourself?" you ask.

Harry frowns. "What?"

"You don't like me, but I've become a part of you. I've influenced your decision and now you live according to my suggestion. That must mean you hate yourself."

"I didn't know a human could spew out as much nonsense as that bird," Harry grumbles. "Are you doing this because I rejected you?"

Harry may be handsome, but every time he opens his mouth, it has the unfortunate effect of making you want to deck him and then kiss him with spite. It's probably too early for the latter. If a mere confession has driven up his walls, you don't want to think how far he would run from you if you voice out your thoughts.

You swivel around to face him and resume your walk backwards. "I'm doing this because you were rude when you rejected me. Don't get me wrong, I can take rejections, but you didn't even consider my feelings when you said those things. Do you know how much sleep I've lost over you? You're always on my mind."

Harry glances at your shoes dragging on the gravel and gives a cursory check at the space behind you. "Stop confessing and go find something better to do."

"The best thing I can do is to stay beside you." It's a century-old pick-up line, but you could repeat it all day if it means rattling this insensitive hunk of a man beyond belief.

Harry lets out a long, tortured sigh. "What do I have to do to make you stop?"

"Go out with me."

"Aren't we already out right now?" Harry looks around. "And stop walking in reverse. You'll fall," he chides, pulling you back by his side. You had assumed he would be rough in exerting force, but the smooth fingers rounding your wrist are surprisingly gentle.

"Wow, you're dense," you comment, too aware that he hasn't let go of his grasp on you. Not that you mind.

Harry snorts. "Have you looked into the mirror when you called me rude?"

"I have, and guess what I saw?"

"A weirdo."

You shoot him a glare before flicking your hair at him. "A magnificent person that everyone can't help but fall for."

"Not me."

"Not yet." You hold up your wrist that Harry is still holding. "I wouldn't be so sure if I were you. Look at you, not wanting to let me go."

He drops it immediately and clears his throat. It's a shame that you lost his touch, but knocking the realisation into him is worth it. "Hah." Harry shakes his head. "You're more persistent than Big Guy."

"Thank you. I like that quality in me too."

"I never said it was a good thing," says Harry.

"Part of my charm is that I don't care about what you think," you quip.

"And yet you want me to like you back?"

"Haven't you already?" you tease. When Harry scowls at you, you dissolve into laughter. "All right, I'll stop. I'm meeting Tain there later." You nod at the cafe opposite the street. "Thank you for walking me. I'll head over there now, goodbye."

Not a second later, Harry halts in his tracks. "Wait, what?"

You get the reaction you were looking for.

You look at him through your lashes, completely innocent. "I thought you wanted to get rid of me fast?"

It must have been too innocent that Harry doesn't take the bait. "Why are you meeting my friend without me?" he presses.

Harry having a jealous side is something that he would never admit. He thinks he hides it well, but it's as blatant as day. It tends to sneak out when he notices you paying more attention to the people around him or when you insist that Big Guy is cute, a fact that he rapidly refutes.

You pretend to mull over his question, taking your sweet time to stretch the silence out. Let the tension build; Harry can afford to be on his toes for a while. "He's also my friend," you finally answer in a sing-song tone.

Harry crosses his arms and eyes you with suspicion. "Since when do you two hang out?"

"I like him a lot," you simply say. Teasing him turns out to be more entertaining than you had thought.

"More than you like me?"

Well, that was an unexpected response.

"I guess that's something you'll have to lose your sleep over." You flash him a dazzling smile. "No need to wait up for me later. So long, my friend." You accentuate your last word, reminding Harry of the line that he drew last night.

This is exactly how you want to end the meeting. An abrupt start, a long-suffering middle, then comes the abrupt end. It's sure to leave an impression on Harry. You pat his firm shoulder and leave him frozen on the spot, his mouth agape.

See if he could get a wink of sleep tonight.

Buy me a glass of something that's definitely not coffee because I can't stand it but it is the website's name if my story touches you in some way? No worries if you don't. I'm still grateful you've read all the way through here.

#my first fic of jumin is me praising him for how good he is while harry's is this LOL he deserves it #see i can write breezy stuff without overthinking it #harry choi x reader #harry choi x you #harry choi #the ssum harry #the ssum #xela writes #harry choi fluff #the ssum fanfic #the ssum imagines

79 notes · View notes

honeyhobi · 5 months

Note

Hello! Don't feel pressured to make something with this but I figured I would send one in ❤️🐈 Spider and/or any other characters you're feeling inclined to write, and a combination or just pick which ones work of; 2 (time loop), 39 (avoiding a conversation), 49 (self-sacrificial)

Put That Guy In A Situation™️ Ask Game!

Crossposted on AO3

2. Time Loop and 49. Self-sacrificial + Spider Socorro

Content Warnings: Brief Father/Son Incest, Non-con, and Major Character Death

It happens the same way every time.

The Sea Dragon crashes. A battle breaks out. The surface of the sea alights with fire. Neteyam’s eyes go lifeless. His blood stains Spider’s hands.

Then he wakes up in the morning in that tiny bunk on the ship, with his murderer’s monster’s rapist’s kidnapper’s father’s head between his legs. This many repetitions into the loop, things that were once funny to relive have become constants that Spider uses to stay sane. Wainfleet burns his tongue on too-hot coffee during breakfast in the commons. The days (weeks, months, eternities) old bruises on his hips start to turn from purple to green. One of the crewmembers in the control room during the debriefing on the tulkun hunt from yesterday (yesterday for everyone else, fifty-eight days ago for Spider) slips a hand under his tewng, only to get his nose promptly broken by Zdinarsk.

And just when the start of midday comes around, Quaritch spots the Sullys and some Metkayina kids trying to free a tulkun from one of the Sea Dragon’s trackers. It all goes downhill from there.

He’s tried to change it over a dozen different ways. He’s used his mouth to distract his father from going out on deck, but someone else always spots the kids anyway. He’s tried slowing the crew down by throwing a fit in the control room, in the dining commons, out on the deck when Prager pins Lo’ak face down on the ground. Every single time they just lock him up below deck and forget about him while he drowns with the sinking ship. And when he doesn’t change anything, just goes through the motions of the loop in hopes that something will miraculously be different this time, he ends up back here.

Here, on an outcropping of rock, with the waves lapping at his feet and Neteyam’s blood spilling everywhere.

“I want to go home,” Neteyam says through ragged breaths. His voice is small, scared, a reminder like a poison arrow right to the heart of how young he is. Younger than Spider, even though he always acted otherwise.

Jake cradles his son’s face, and almost subconsciously Spider mouths along to his next words. ‘I know, I know. We’re goin’ home. It’s okay.”

But it’s not. Because Neteyam still goes wide eyed as he looks at his dad, not quite seeing him but instead seeing right through him. He gasps, “Dad, I—”

And that’s it. In every version that Spider has ended up here, Neteyam never gets to finish his sentence.

“No,” Spider whispers, but his voice is lost beneath Neytiri’s same awful, wailing scream.

“No. No, no, no. Neteyam!”

Lo’ak sits back in shock as reality sets in. The Metkayina girl that Spider learned is named Tsireya somewhere around loop thirty cries quietly to herself. Jake pulls Neytiri into a hug, but it doesn’t make a single thing better.

“Dammit!” Spider shouts, slamming his fists against the rock. His knuckles split and ocean water intermingles with his blood, and the sharp sting of it only fuels the fire in his chest. He looks up to the sky, at the disappearing sun as eclipse draws nearer.

He screams, “What do you want from me? What could I possibly do that’ll be enough to end this?”

Eywa does not respond. He screams again, wordless and agonizing, beats his hands against the rock again and again even as Jake and Tsireya reach for him. They call his name, restrain his arms so he can’t hurt himself anymore. He fights, hissing and spitting and yelling nonsense.

“Get off me! Don’t, don’t touch me! Daddy, don’t! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s my fault, get off!” He’s probably crying. He always cries.

This is supposed to be Neteyam’s moment. Spider is being selfish for taking the attention away from a grieving family, but it doesn’t really matter. They’ll have a million more chances to grieve if things keep going the way they are. Spider will have a million more chances to watch as the breath leaves Neteyam’s lungs, and Spider wants nothing more than to be the one bleeding out on these rocks instead—

He abruptly stops struggling against Jake, who at some point has pulled Spider into a restraining bear hug. The sky goes dark as eclipse cuts through the day, but Spider has never before seen a light as bright as this one. Jake loosens his grip minutely.

“Spider?” He asks. His voice is rough with tears. “Are you back with me?”

Spider nods his head wordlessly, and Jake lets go. He moves around to be in Spider's line of sight, his hands up placatingly like he expects Spider to lash out at any moment. But Spider has never felt calmer than he has at this moment.

“I figured it out.”

“Figured what out, kiddo?” Jake's tone is patronizing in its gentleness.

“What I have to do to stop this.” Spider doesn’t explain further, because any moment now Jake will stop listening as Quaritch starts speaking into the comms.

“Stop wha–” Right on time, Jake's focus turns inwards as his earpiece comes to life.

And Spider moves into action. Before anyone can shout in alarm, before they can think to stop him, he rips off his mask and chucks it as hard and as far as he can into the ocean.

“No!” Lo'ak yells and reaches for Spider's hand, but he’s too slow.

Even Neytiri sits up from hunching over Neteyam's body to cry out in denial. Tsireya probably doesn't quite understand the importance of the mask, but she immediately dives into the water after it anyway. She won't find it in time. Spider takes a giant gulp of toxic air, relishes in how his lungs reject it even as they try to pull more in. His fingers go numb, his vision blurry, and then his head is on somebody's lap.

“What did you do? Spider, what the fuck did you just do!” Someone shouts above him. It doesn't matter who.

“It's okay,” he tries to tell them, but he isn’t sure it comes out that way.

“No, you stay with me, boy! I can't lose another son!” That’s Jake, he realizes, screaming his name and shaking him relentlessly as if that'll stop the inevitable.

Spider would feel more guilty about putting them through this if he didn't already know they won't remember it in the next loop.

“It's okay,” he says again. “You're gonna get him back.”

He knows what to do now. Eywa has given him this chance to perfect every detail down to the second just so he can save Neteyam. Maybe it's just the lack of oxygen talking, but Spider can't find it in himself to be afraid. He was never supposed to make it out of this loop.

His vision tunnels into darkness and the last thing he hears before he goes under is:

“Spider! Spider! Spi—”

And he begins again.

#my writing #answered asks #avatar the way of water #miles spider socorro #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #jake sully #neytiri te tskaha mo'at'ite #lo'ak te suli tsyeyk'itan #tsireya avatar #dead dove do not eat

14 notes · View notes

catchyhuh · 5 months

Note

How do they celebrate each other's birthday?

you know lupin’s birthday is right around the corner from valentine’s day? of course he’s an aquarius. wait (this is where i googled aquarius stereotypes) of course he’s an aquarius. you know fujiko is a gemini. i don’t think i even need to make a joke there

also heads up this one kinda spun off the rails a bit so it's LONG, be aware

lupin’s birthday:

you know mr attention whore LOVES a good spotlight, and as such, he’s the one most hyped as his birthday draws nearer. a holiday just for HIM?! a medically provided reason to be the center of attention yet again? the exact minute it’s just the month of he’ll be like What did you get me. What are we Doing. Hey what did y

he’ll take almost anything activity-wise as long as it’s, you know, about him, and the others have learned how to meet his expectations while also not sacrificing their enjoyment lmao. sometimes they’ll do something like nice lil night in and just chill, other times he might just steal a whole cruise ship and celebrate that way. either way, it’s going to be an EVENT, just maybe not a huge huge one EVERY year. after all, he really only needs the company of three other people, maybe four, depending on how agreeable someone is to the “c’mooon it’s my BIRTHDAY” excuse

for somebody who can just steal whatever he wants, the presentation of a gift matters more than the gift itself. jigen just got him a box of cigarettes one year and lupin’s face lit up like he’s just uncovered a bar of solid gold. but, of course, the fact that it came from his best friend ever probably sweetened the ordeal up a bit. if you’re a slightly more distant 3rd party that’s still somehow aware that it’s his birthday, he WILL be expecting something from you, and he WILL be ‘hmm’ing and ‘huh’ing as he appraises that thing

the worst thing you could give him is money, and again, the others know this. to the point that one year, he opened a box and found it full of cash. and he was like ??? because again, this is stuff he could just. get for himself. what’s special about this? but then fujiko was like “get to the bottom” and under like, all the bills, there was a sticky note that said “we took the fiat to the shop and they fixed that whole exploding engine damage it had” and he was like OHH YOU GUUYYYS!!

jigen’s birthday:

jigen isn’t huge on his birthday. he’s not huge on ANYONE’S, really, but he’ll get them some junk, y’know, show him he’s at least somewhat glad they’re in his life. but for his OWN birthday, eeeehhh. in fact, he’s SO lowkey about it lupin didn’t even realize he’d never celebrated with him until he’d known him for like three years. it’s not even that he has some sort of bad association with his birthday, he’s just very much comfortable on the sidelines, and having that much positive attention on him doesn’t feel… right. even if it’s just a surface level thing, he does not like it. his idea of hell is someone telling the waiter at olive garden that it’s his birthday.

as such, his birthday is 9 times out of 10 treated like any other day. they usually don’t do heists, but honestly they take more off days than most people would expect anyway, so it’s not strange or anything. it doesn’t FEEL like they’re making a big deal, purposefully avoiding scheduling heists and shit just cuz it’s his birthday. (in fact, don’t tell him, but the other three have figured out a pattern of alternating when they do and don’t set up heists on his birthday, just so he doesn’t get suspicious about their treatment of him. these are all very strange people) mostly, the gang does small things he pretends not to notice, like making his breakfast for him because “goemon’s cooks in bulk anyway, you know this” and letting him sleep in because “we just aren’t in a rush today!”

doesn’t even get his gifts in person. they usually just leave the box/bag somewhere they know he’ll run into it, and he opens it on his own time, smiles to himself, and sets the gift down somewhere he won’t forget it. except in fujiko’s case, of course, because she’s made a point to get him the ugliest ties every year just to annoy him. he does keep them though. the material is pretty good at wiping up messes in the kitchen

the only way you’re getting some actual “let’s celebrate” action out of him is if it’s a milestone. y’know, birthday’s ending in 5’s and 0’s. the more time he spends with these motherfuckers though, the more he’s incessant that they ONLY “do” shit on the 0’s but let’s be honest. nobody’s going to stop them from taking him all the way to new york city for just 3 hours just so he can get that one drink he really really likes from that one little hole in the wall bar.

fujiko’s birthday:

bizarrely the most normal about birthdays, her own and others. fujiko is incredibly good at reading people, just in general, so she has a knack for finding the gifts people actually want (above example naturally excluded) and really, she knows with the way she is, even a card is pretty damn sweet. of course, BEING fujiko, there’s no way she’s passing up the free attention and presents and everything else that comes with wearing the birthday crown for a day

fujiko doesn’t have birthday parties. again, none of them really do; they’d only invite like 8 people, max, anyway, and even then who’s to say those people standing on opposite sides of the globe could make it? no, fujiko does birthday trips. fujiko is going to greece for her birthday. fujiko is spending a whole week on some beach somewhere in the mediterranean, and she doesn’t care if you’re coming or not, because she’s doing it for HER!!

but don’t you think you can skirt by without getting her a present. the same logic of “can’t a thief just steal what they want?” is kind of at play here, but it’s not about if SHE can get it. it’s about if someone got it FOR her. lupin pulls out all the stops for her on a random tuesday, so you can’t IMAGINE the level of luxury her BIRTHDAY treats come with. jigen, of course, deliberately gets her purses just as ugly as the ties she sends him, and goemon’s gifts (as they are with everyone) tend to be small, practical things, usually things he’s just outright heard her talk about. the gift he was most proud of was definitely the pocket knife shaped like a lipstick tube, oh he was SO proud of that. and zenigata…

fujiko usually plans a little theft on her birthday. something she wanted but nobody got her, like a necklace or something. she purposefully does a sloppy job, takes twice as long to evade the scene, and damn, somehow always gets captured! and the SECOND she’s in cuffs, she turns to zenigata and goes “what did you get me :) something great i bet. something super nice. you wouldn’t have forgotten, right?” and. he forgets. every year. every single year. and for some strange reason he feels so guilty that he just. slowly hands her back what she stole. tells her not to tell anyone about this. and lets her go. the look on his face is almost a better present than the little trinket she nabbed anyway

goemon’s birthday:

birthdays are kind of just a fact to goemon. you were born. what do you want, a medal? but uh, he does like this person, and it’s an excuse to show them his appreciation for the fact they’re alive and all that, so he does have a bit of fun with others birthdays, if he’s close enough to them. but with his own, whereas jigen just doesn’t like celebrating his birthday, goemon just doesn’t think to do it. he doesn’t MIND it, exactly. of course, he doesn’t want strangers crowding around him and singing for some god forsaken reason either, but dare i say he would be a tiny bit secretly delighted by a tiny little surprise party. not a huge ordeal by any means, but pleasant. just like he likes it

the REAL way to do the goemon birthday circuit is to start the day normal, if a little spaced away from him. he says he’s going outside, and the others nod and keep their asses planted on the couch. he enjoys a little me time, but in the back of his mind, he’s a bit happier than usual, because he KNOWS there’s more coming, and yet he still gets time to relax and chill and do his usual shit. it’s thoughtful!! it’s nice! and most importantly it gives him a fucking break

goemon doesn’t usually get like, GIFT gifts from everyone each year. they usually just like, ask him if there’s anything he wants to do, or if he wants something special for lunch, stuff like that. he always gets at least ONE thing, because being as materialistic as these bitches are it feels… weird, to have him go to bed on his birthday emptyhanded, but its usually nothing largely extravagant. sometimes its just stuff he needed anyway, like a new comforter, more alcohol to clean his sword, things like that. it’s probably a subconscious thing, since he usually gets each of them practical stuff. they just turn it back around on him. also you gotta remember, uh, also a thief, also hard to shop for,

the main thing is that he just feels loved. not to be sappy and lame but that’s what he REALLY gets out of his birthday. it feels like every piece is deliberately chosen to make him comfy, to celebrate the exact way HE wants to. if he felt like just walking around by himself all day, they’d let him do it! of course, they’d feel… very strange going to bed without even saying happy birthday to him BUT HEY THEY CAN ALWAYS DO THAT TOMORROW. FIRST AND FOREMOST ITS ABOUT THE BIRTHDAY BOY

zenigata’s birthday:

no he doesn’t celebrate his birthday. he’s a very busy grown ass man with SO many things on his plate you wouldn’t believe-- omg is that one of those little cat statues that holds your ramen lid closed for you so none of the steam gets out and it cooks faster!! omg!! you shouldn’t have! that’s so thoughtful! y’know that’s a gift he’d actually get some use out of, most of the guys at interpol just give him like a scarf that doesn’t even fit him or some crap like-- I MEAN, NO, HE DOESN’T EVEN LIKE BIRTHDAYS!

it’s… messy. with the Situation. but both parties (haha get it) find a way to celebrate on the appropriate days, somehow. the gang almost ALWAYS pulls up with some shit around his birthday, but never the day of-- and not because of the whole “huh dec 25th is a busy day for some reason” thing but just because they like fucking with him. even when they’re being nice they have to toy with his emotions. if it’s before, they just sneak up on him like HAHA SURPRISE ATTACK!! and if it’s after they’ll wait EXACTLY until the point where he’s like “oh i guess they. forgot. not that that would bother me. why would it bother me?” yeah it bothers him immensely and THEN they SURPRISE ATTACK!! LET’S GET YOU SOME RED ROBIN ASSHOLE

does not get them something every year. only if he happens to find something. but then he has this awkward but hilarious confrontation with them on the years where he finds something he thinks they’ll like. like he’ll do the arresty spiel, have them locked up for maybe 20 minutes before going “oh btw there was this, uh, package. for you. probably from one of your rotten criminal friends. and if it’s a bomb i’m kicking your ass. here.” and then he leaves the room all stiff with his hat hiding half his face and it’s like well. if the fact that he’s leaving them ALONE for a period of time while allegedly keeping them under custody wasn’t enough of a dead giveaway, the fact that he’s so embarrassed that he’s giving a birthday present to one of the people ACTIVELY RUINING HIS LIFE to the point that he’s tensing up and stepping away… yeah that kinda gives it away. a bit.

strangely only started looking forward to his birthday MORE as time passed because he knew there’d be something coming, but the point where it REALLY became a thing was the year 1 A.Y. (After Yata) because you KNOW that guy’s not missing his birthday!! zenigata doesn’t really want like, big stuff (it’s another reason the gang torments him with a big You Have No Say In The Matter deal each year) but yata always manages to get him something nice and thoughtful, and insists on doing more to help out. which… they’re. not making you work anyway yata it’s christmas. and you do a thousand things more than you have to every day anyway. but it’s appreciated

and since i mentioned him let’s do a bit for yata:

admittedly the gang did not anticipate this motherfucker sticking around as long as he has, and none of them… actually know his birthday. nobody could put aside their pride to ask zenigata outright until jigen just got tired of hearing the others gossip and aimlessly speculate on whether they should do anything even IF they knew this guy’s birthday, and he just asked him point blank, in the back of the cop car, “when’s the weird little bastard’s birthday again?” and zenigata just went “oh its-- wait. why are you asking?” and the other’s just kind of. sit awkwardly. because now that they’ve asked, they HAVE to get something. but worst of all: zenigata won’t tell them.

he takes the opportunity to be a real ass about it too. “you know yata knows YOUR birthday, lupin” “WELL YEAH, IT’S PROBABLY IN THE SYSTEM” so lupin, goemon, and jigen (fujiko doesn’t care too much lol can’t manipulate the master manipulator) all just. find random birthday junk they think yata might like and hand it over to zeni. they don’t even know if yata’s getting the stuff. especially because zenigata brings this up year round. when even is the little fucker’s birthday?? how old even is he?

and the answer is, jokes aside, yes, zenigata saves all the cards and trinkets and everything else, stuffs it all into a basket or something, and leaves it on yata’s desk for him to find the morning of. and yata is so surprised! wow! they did all this for him? he didn’t even know they knew his birthday. uh, he hasn’t gotten anything for any of them. was he supposed to? and zenigata’s like oh well you know those fuckers. probably some sort of manipulation tactic to make you think you owe them. just don’t overthink it and enjoy your cupcake. and yata goes . “ok can’t argue with that, word up sir o7” and enjoys his cupcake as instructed

all that aside, yata is a pleasant birthday celebrator, as you’d expect from him. usually gives out birthday cards with gift cards and stuff, because he doesn’t want to get the wrong thing, but if he DOES find an item he’s fairly sure the recipient will like, he still tucks a gift receipt in the box, just in case. very thoughtful like that. very thoughtful, our yata. it’s the anxiety

#i don't know how this got so long so fast. i think i just had too much fun getting silly with it. my b #lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin #jigen #fujiko #goemon #zenigata #yata #asks

18 notes · View notes

jaijaitbinks · 1 year

Note

Saigenos + Mafia AU + angst = 💯

What if Genos was kidnapped by some rival gang? They send a ransom letter and everyone debates what to do. Until Saitama crumps the paper and says he will go alone, voice dripping with venom, anger barely restrained in the way he clenches his fist so hard that the knuckles turn white and you can count the veins of his arm.

Those guys don't know what they've done by taking away Genos.

I'm so sorry this took so long to answer, I had a whole ass scene thought up for this a while ago and got distracted so I left it in my drafts thinking "I'll continue it later" and never did.

But, I still have the idea in mind, so I'll do a quicker, not-as-detail version:

Saitama shows up, and takes out every mf in the building Genos is being held in horror movie style. Like, he's going down the halls, oneshotting everyone. Blood's getting everywhere. The rival gang's leader, who's currently in the room with Genos, is just seeing and hearing yelling and bodies hitting the ground, slowly drawing nearer as they can hear the threat ascending the stairs.

A body hits the ground in front of the door, blood pooling and slipping through the gap under the door steadily as the threat take slow, deliberate steps. In front of the door, the person stops, kneels and rummages through (what the mob boss assumes) the body before getting up and walking down the hall. The boss is thoroughly freaked out. Their men are currently a mix of attempting to flee and running around upstairs in preparation for the guy shooting everyone. Minutes go buy, and there's no more gunshots.

Or, at least they thought right before a bullet is in their head and their corpse falls forward.

Genos looks up from where he was tied, seeing Saitama in the window (did that man seriously scale the building so he could climb through a window?) with his gun up. Saitama's face looks downright murderous, but was shocks Genos the most is the wound on his face—a cut just below the cheek bone, short and shallow like a knife just barely managed to pierce his skin enough to bleed. And it shocked him because Saitama never get wounded.

When Saitama locks eyes with Genos, he pockets his gun quickly, fast enough that it was almost inhuman, and climbs through, beelining it to Genos' side. He calmly asks if he's okay, Genos says he's fine. And then Genos asks where the rest of the gang are, because everything is now quiet.

Once again, calmly he says: "They're not here."

"You... came here alone?"

"Yeah. Wouldn't have had time to gather everyone and I didn't want to pay that damn ransome."

The prospect is so baffling and makes Genos feels so many emotions. Love, because Saitama came this far ALONE just to save him. Fear, because what dumbass idea even is that; showing up to a building full of gang members without backup? And anger, because this man would rather put himself (and Genos, but mainly Saitama) in danger than pay ransome???? Was he being serious?

"You didn't want to pay the ransome?" His voice comes off accusatory as he rubs his wrists and sits face to face with Saitama, free of his confines. "You'd rather get yourself killed saving me than giving [the boss' name] money?"

Saitama fixes him with a look, and Genos almost regrets being so aggressive before Saitama takes his face in his hands, looks him dead in the eyes with a seriousness that almost made the blond tremble.

"Genos, I would give the entire world to protect you." His voice is firm—serious and blunt in a way that said: 'don't doubt my words'. "If I gave them that money, they would've killed you anyway, because you wouldn't have been of use to them anymore. They would've shot you the second they got that money. You would've died. And the day you die is the day that I do."

#opm #one punch man #saitama #genos #saigenos #genosai #opm au #one punch man au #au #mafia au #opm mafia au

42 notes · View notes

generalfoolish · 2 years

Text

Blood Loss

Summary: You've moved back to Evergreen, and you're not exactly thrilled about it.

Pairing: Vigilante (Adrian Chase) x GN!Reader

Warnings: *All of my works are M for mature so 18+ please; language, language, language, canon typical violence, sexual themes, canon-typical violence, gore descriptions, blood mentions, TW some PTSD related stuff (trauma is glossed over, not depicted), parent death, attackers late at night

Word Count: 2.9k

Request: 25 + 26 enemies to lovers with adrian chase? please & thank you 😭❤️

25. “I can’t lie, I know we’ve being hating each other all these years, but I don’t think I hate you anymore, cause every single good memory I have, you’re there”

26. “We should talk about what just happened” “I refuse to talk about how I just lost control and kissed you”

reminder of what those are since this is from forever ago, I'm so sorry

Master List | Tag List Form | Adrian Chase Master List

The worst part of returning to your hometown of Evergreen was finally having to acknowledge the reality of your defeat. Logically, you knew that it wasn’t really a defeat to have to return, wings clipped, back to the town you swore you’d never even visit; but as you watched the signs count down the miles, Evergreen always drawing nearer, you had to swallow what was left of your pride. You left it somewhere outside of Gotham city anyway, as you drove tightlipped back to Washington, your car crammed with the last vestiges of your freedom.

Your dad was sick. He needed the extra income to help with bills, and he couldn’t manage everything himself anymore. The cancer had spread so quickly. You hated to be back, but you couldn’t tell him no, it was basically a deathbed request. You told yourself this, again and again, selling the story despite knowing you were two months behind in rent–that your workplace had been broken into by criminals and your manager killed in front of you, that you were too traumatized to even go back to the store, that you had night terrors each night.

Broken and beaten, you came crawling back. Your dad was worse than he claimed, his health declining more rapidly than you could have imagined, and soon he was on a steady dose of morphine to ease the pain. Then, you lost him, too. You move through the motions for the service, choosing to cremate him, and when you came home following the memorial you had collapsed. Exhausted, you had attempted to sleep, only to be awakened by the relentless nightmares.

You applied to a diner the next day. It was the only joint in the town that was open overnight. You were hired on the spot. That became your routine, working third shift at the diner, then attempting to be a real person the rest of the day. Sleep continued to escape you, but for three months that was enough.

The first time that you had seen Adrian Chase since your return, you hadn’t recognized him. You were at Fennel Fields, the only half decent restaurant in town, absolutely housing their shitty white wine, waiting for the pasta dish you had inexplicably felt nostalgic for. You were eating the complimentary bread, some bang average sourdough, with butter packets from the table, when you had noticed him. A busboy, clinking glasses into a tray, glasses slipping down his nose, not paying attention to the rest of the customers. You admired his profile, a fit man in his thirties, definitely attractive.

When your waitress, a woman you’d gone to school with but couldn’t remember ever having spoken to, dropped your meal off, you asked about the busboy.

“Oh, that’s right, you missed his glow-up. That’s Adrian Chase, remember that dork? Anyway, still a fucking idiot.” She explained, before leaving again. The information stunned you so completely that the next time she’d come by, you hadn’t even touched your food.

Did you remember “that dork?” Of course, you did. You had grown up next to Adrian. Everytime you parked your car in the driveway after another brutal night, you thought about Adrian. All you had to do was glance outside and think of him. He no longer lived next door, and from what you could tell, neither did his mom or brother. It didn’t stop your thoughts from racing to him every time you caught a glimpse of the small brick house next door. You thought about how he had been so sensitive and sweet, fiercely protective and loyal. He was your best friend, right up until he wasn’t.

You squeezed your eyes tight, appetite mostly gone, and downed the rest of your wine. You picked at the pasta in front of you, and tried to put the Chase’s out of mind. You quickly realized it was impossible with the youngest one less than thirty feet away.

Gut was the problem, you mused. That guy had always sucked. As he got older, he hung out with other assholes and got exponentially worse. Then there was Adrian, following Gut around, clinging to any sort of attention his older brother would give him, despite the fact that it was always negative. Always. You’d listen to him complain about the situation, but never his brother. Adrian was sure that he was the issue. There was something he wasn’t doing right. It took a few years, but eventually he realized it wasn’t something he was or wasn’t doing, it was someone. His brother hated you, and when the news dropped, Adrian dropped you. Like you were nothing to him, and it took a long time for you to realize that you probably were.

The reality still stings, you realize, as you chew thoughtfully. Time should have dulled the edge of that blade, but seeing Adrian only cut you deeper. The next time you saw your waitress, you gave her your card without waiting for the check.

“Finished with that?” A smooth baritone asked, pulling you from the staring contest you were having with the glass of wine. You look up, and then startle. Of course, Adrian’s come to take your stupid plates. Even though you were trying hard to make a quick exit. But, when he keeps looking at you blankly, waiting for an answer, you realize that he doesn’t recognize you either.

That hurts worse than anything else.

“Yeah, I’m finished here.” You mutter, sitting back in your chair with a slump of your shoulders.

“Wait! I know you! We lived next door when we were kids.” He exclaims, a bright smile splitting his face. You smile, despite yourself, and nod. “I thought it was you, but like wasn’t a hundred percent sure. It’s fine if you didn’t recognize me, I hit puberty in my twenties, so I’m much taller now.” You nod, partially in agreement and partially because you can’t believe what you’re hearing. The words are fine, but it’s how he’s speaking, that same rapid fire, stream of consciousness that had enraptured you when you were younger.

Then you remember how he had broken your heart, and threw you aside when you didn’t fit his aesthetic anymore.

“Yeah, you changed a lot.” You tell him, a bitter edge to your tone. If he notices, he doesn’t mention it.

“Why are you in town?” He asked, sliding into the booth across from you, resting his chin in his hands. “I thought you hated it here.” He added, almost as an afterthought.

“I do hate it here.” You tell him, nearly leaving it there. “My dad died.”

“Fuck, I didn’t know.”

“Why would you?” You bite back, leaving the words to hang between you. You’re sure he flinched away.

“I should probably get back to it then.” He tells you, rapping his knuckles against the table, seemingly deflated. He stands and grabs your dishes for his bucket, and turns to leave. You drop your eyes again, not sure if you hate him or yourself more. “We should catch up sometime.” He adds, turning back to you, and when you raise your eyes, you see that he looks more nervous than he sounds. Despite yourself, and any good sense you might have, you hold out your hand.

Adrian steps back toward you and sets his bucket down on the table, before wiping his hands off. Then he takes your hand in his. You look at it, unimpressed, then remember who you’re talking to.

“Your phone, I’m going to put my number in it.” You instruct, pulling your hand away. He laughs, too hard, before handing you the phone. It was still locked.

“What’s your password, dude?”

“Oh, Peacemaker’s birthday.” You look at him blankly. “Chris Smith’s birthday?” You hand his phone back to him.

“Nevermind.” You tell him, looking for your waitress.

“Nevermind, what?” He asks, clutching his phone, confusion pulling his eyebrows together.

“This. Us. Whatever, catching up? I don’t need to. You actually haven't changed a bit.” You snap, scooting out of your booth, finally spying your waitress.

“I have!” Adrian protests, blocking your swift exit.

“You’re still hanging out with Chris?” You ask, turning to face him, and he nods quickly.

“Of course, he’s my best friend.” His words snap the last vestige of hope you’d been harboring, and it stung you to your core.

“Then we have nothing left to talk about.” You seethe, pointing a finger at him, before turning on your heel and meeting your waitress halfway. You leave the restaurant in a blind fury, eyes stinging with tears that you only manage to hold back with pure spite.

That night your nightmares include Adrian.

You avoid Fennel Fields, and you don’t see him again. You think of him more often, unfortunately. You wished you could scrub your memory of him away. You hated your house more now, felt the walls closing in more often. A tomb, encased with ghosts you’d rather not see.

You spend more time away from home after that. You start taking walks, whenever the walls get close, or you have a nightmare, you leave. You’re sure that it isn’t smart to be out walking around in the middle of the night, but sleep is even harder to come by on your days off. You stay close to your house, and you don’t go looking for trouble.

Of course, trouble finds you.

You’d gotten complacent, and you weren’t paying attention. Your head was down, earbuds playing a podcast, when a hand grabbed your shoulder too roughly for it to mean anything good. You’re quick though, from having lived in Gotham, and you get your mace uncapped and aim before he realizes what you’re doing. You nail him in the eyes, which won’t put him down, but will maybe give you enough time to get away.

Except there’s another man, one you hadn’t noticed in your first scuffle, and he grabbed your wrist so tightly you dropped your only weapon. He threw you to the ground, and you feel the concrete grate across your leg, the flesh stinging immediately. You scoot backwards quickly, managing only with adrenaline, and when his hand wrapped around your ankle, you scream out in pain.

You never lose consciousness, but would have a hard time describing the next ten seconds. You’re sure you’re a goner. Nothing good is going to come from this, you’re sure. When the man drops your foot, you’re more scared. The man you maced, is screaming beside you, cursing you, yelling the horrible things he’s planning to do to you, when he crumples to the ground. The other man, the one who had just dropped your foot, collapses at nearly the same moment. You look around wildly, but can’t see anything.

You glance at the body closest to you and see blood puddling around it. You jump up, ignoring the searing pain that erupted up your leg as you did so, and pull your earbuds out. Your dimly aware that it’s a miracle they stayed in, and despite the horrific scene in front of you, you laugh. It comes out more as a sob.

“Are you okay?” A smooth voice asks beside you, and you jump, and back away. When you can fully take him in, you realize it’s one of those masked vigilantes. You think he looks like a guy from the news, but you can’t remember what he calls himself.

“Yeah, god, that was horrible. Thanks.” You tell him, clasping your hands together to hide their shakiness.

“They were nasty. You’re tough, though. Good work macing that one.” The guy jabs a thumb out in the direction of the dead body, you don’t look over. “Maybe you’ll start crime fighting, too.” He muses, hands on his hips.

“Doubt it. I’ll leave the crime fighting to you. What’s your name?” He cocks his head at your question, his expression somehow perfectly on display despite being hidden by an entire face mask.

“Your, like, vigilante name. Not your secret identity.” You clarify. He laughs, a little too loud, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“It’s Vigilante! I’ll see you around.” He tells you, waving for a second, before turning to leave.

“Wait!” You call out, grabbing his arm when you get to it. He pauses it, cocking his head to the side again. You take a deep breath, and then you tug his mask up quickly, just over his lips, and seal yours against them. He seems too stunned to move, his hands hanging limply beside him, his mouth slack under yours. You pull away, and tug his mask back down. The whole affair only lasted a few minutes, and you regret it almost immediately.

You turn away from him, determined to leave as quickly as you can, and you feel pressure on your wrist, turning you back to him.

“We should talk about what just happened.”

“We are not talking about how I just…totally lost control and kissed you.”

“No, not that. You’re bleeding.” He tells you, dropping your wrist and pointing at your leg. You follow his finger down, and feel a wave of dizziness pass over you. You weren’t just bleeding, your leg was fucked.

“Probably need some stitches.” He assesses, almost clinically.

“Can you do them?” You ask, looking away from your leg.

“Oh, probably. But you should just go to the hospital.” He tells you, shrugging.

“Then I’d have to report this whole mess, right?”

“Mmm, you probably shouldn’t lie about how it happened, and I don’t care if you report it. Doesn’t matter. You don’t know me!” He chirps, hands resting on his hips. “Need help to your house?” He asks, nodding in the direction of your home.

“How’d you know it was that way?” You ask, eyes narrowing again. He doesn’t say anything. “Fine, help me.” You instruct, and he puts your arm around his shoulder to help you limp along. You get ten steps in when he stops you.

“Let me wrap it, at least.” He mutters, pulling out gauze from a pouch, and kneels in front of you. He’s tender, his touch is light and he’s gentle with the gauze. The whole thing reminds you of when you skinned your knees as a kid, Adrian always insisted on cleaning the wounds. He was so peculiar about you never getting any scars. He’d kiss the bandage once it was on, to ensure it would stick, he’d say. You smiled at the memory, as Vigilante finished up. He pulled back to slip the gauze back into the pouch before leaning forward and pressing his masked mouth to the bandage.

You jerked back, confused, and he looked up at you like he was as confused as you were.

“What the fuck?” You asked, not sure what to make of the situation.

“Oh, sorry!” He laughed, standing up beside you. “Most people know this, I’m surprised you don’t. You have to kiss it to make the bandage stay. I think it’s only for bandaids, but I do it for all bandages.” He explains, with an easy shrug.

“Adrian?” You ask, tentatively. You're dizzy again, and your heart thumping in your chest echoes in your head, you swallow the ball of emotion that has begun to crawl up your throat. You sit on the curb, heavily.

“Wh-who? What? Uh-uhm nope, not me.” You hear above you, the voice you recognize too well stammering through a denial.

“You aren’t fooling me.” You whisper, the words too heavy to speak loudly. “You never did. I’m so stupid. Of course, you’d do this. Anything to be like Chris. Who’s Gut? Batman?”

“Ha! He wishes. Well, he might have wished that. He’s dead now. Why don’t you like Chris? You never did.” Adrian asked, dropping to the curb to sit beside you. You suppose he’s done pretending.

“Chris was an asshole, and I doubt he’s changed at all. You’re the problem, though.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“You become a different person around Chris. Not someone I want to be around. But I am sorry about your brother, I know how much he meant to you.”

“I’m glad he’s dead. Can I tell you something?” You can just see his eyes under the red visor, and you blink hard, stunned at his admission.

“Go ahead.” You manage, dropping your eyes to the pavement.

“I know we’re supposed to hate each other, but I don’t want to do that anymore. Every good memory I have, you’re there, and honestly, I don’t think I ever hated you at all.” You glance back at him, and he’s looking at you so earnestly that you feel it in your chest.

“Yeah, me neither. Now, take me home and stitch me up. It’s been a long time, I wanna see you.” You instruct, getting to your feet, despite your wobbling. It’s a pressure off your chest now, and you feel like you can breathe again.

Then you remember the kiss.

“Oh, god, Adrian, I’m sorry I kissed you.” You tell him in a rush, and you see him duck his head.

“I’m not. You could do that again if you want, I’ve always wanted you to.” He admits, and his words bring a smile to your lips. Maybe moving back to Evergreen wouldn't be all bad.

tagged:

@michi-reads @strawberriesandknives @uncle-eggy @fictionlandslanddreams @uwiuwi @lostinwinderland314 @kidd3ath @aprilfire18 @zekegorilla @hypnoash @greenxtea0

@myguiltypleasures21 @goblynnrockz @racetrackheart @ticharluv

#adrian chase x reader #adrian chase x you #vigilante x reader #vigilante x you #adrian chase #peacemaker vigilante #peacemaker hbo

118 notes · View notes

nerdlifecentralsblog · 1 year

Text

Unknown Secrets [6] - repost

Summary: Y/n heads back to Dubuque with some advice from Rowena. The Hunters and angels are still suspicious and Gabriel catches the reader in a few lies.

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, reader, Gabriel , Castiel, Mick, Ketch, Rowena, and Crowley (mentioned)

Pairing: everyone platonic

Genre: Angst, bit of fluff

Word Count: 3,837

Warnings: n/a

A/N: Wowie, can't believe the last time I posted was Christmas! That's college life for you. Anyway, enjoy this chapter, and reach out if you have questions, suggestions, or something you want me to write! <33

“Rowena, you really don’t have to worry about me. I already let Ketch know before I left that I was feeling better and I have to keep their suspicions as low as possible. Disappearing wouldn’t help my case.” I say while tidying up the witch’s living room and packing my go bag and backpack.

“I am well aware of the terminal paranoia that runs in Hunter’s DNA, dear,” she says with a chuckle, “I am also aware that gaining Hunter’s trust is hard, but maintaining it is impossible.”

I know she is looking out for me, but honestly, I was hoping for some blind optimism to balance out the anxiety. “Trust me, I remember how long it took for Ketch and Mick to trust me and actually work with me regularly. I can’t lose that, Ro.” I say turning my back on her to continue packing. I hear her shoes click on the floor and stop right behind me.

“Y/n,” she says softly, “turn around and look at me, please.” I sigh and turn to look Rowena in the eyes. She gently takes my hands in hers and continues, “I know that you are a very capable and strong Hunter. And I’m sure those boys know it too, but promise me you will call if something doesn’t feel right or even to check in every few days so I know you’re okay.”

“I promise I will either call you or Crowley if something feels off.” Rowena visibly relaxes and gives my hands a quick squeeze.

“Speaking of my son, he told me this morning before you got up that he might have found some demons who might know of a way that could keep you more hidden from other supernatural beings.” she says, pulling me into a tight hug.

“Tell him thank you from me whenever you talk with him. At least now I have something to tell Sam and Dean that you guys are working on some theories.” I shiver with nervous energy considering the thousands of possibilities of how these guys will react since I’ve been gone.

“Yes. Now you better get going, it’s a long drive back to Dubuque.” Rowena smiles and walks me to the front door after picking up my backpack for me. I sling my go-bag over my right shoulder and grab my backpack from Rowena. She gives a quick kiss on the cheek goodbye and closes her front door.

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

The entire drive back to Dubuque I tried to do some calming breathing exercises to keep my anxiety in check, although I’m unsure that breathing exercises will be any match against warranted suspicions. Driving into the bare parking lot I park next to Baby and Ketch’s car on each side of myself.

“At least I know everyone is here and I only have to face them once.” I assure myself while taking my duffle bag out of the back of my truck along with my backpack that I sling over my right shoulder, closing the car door afterward. I take a deep breath and walk in the direction of room number 63. I called Ketch this morning after leaving Ro’s apartment to make sure they hadn’t changed hotels or rooms yet.

As I get closer to the room, I can hear the boys talking quietly inside and shuffling papers around. I take another deep breath and knock three times on the faded wooden door. I stick the door three times and take a small step back, nervously readjusting my backpack.

I hear shuffling as footsteps draw nearer to the door, they pause and forcefully open the door. Ketch stands before me with a tired smile on his face. I let out a sigh of relief and give him a hug.

“It’s so good to see you, y/n. How are you feeling?” Ketch asks, returning my hug and stepping aside for me to enter. I give a tight-lipped smile to everyone else in the room. Dean and Gabe both stare daggers while Sam is busy on his laptop on the bed furthest from the door.

“Glad to see you too, Ketch. I’m feeling much better, just trying to take it easy. Where’s Castiel and Mick?” I respond, walking inside and setting my backpack and duffle bag on the floor next to the small table. I take a seat on one of the chairs, Dean occupying the other, leaning back with his arms crossed.

Sam sighs saying, “They both went out to try and get some information.” I wait for him to elaborate more, or even for anyone to give me an update but no one speaks up. I glance around the room; no one has changed their positions since I walked in. The only movement is Sam’s keystrokes and Ketch quietly shutting and locking the door.

“What kind of information? Please tell me you guys have more of a lead than I do.” I ask, hoping to convince them to spill a little. Not just for my own safety, but if I’m going to be a part of this hunt I need to know what’s going on.

Gabriel snorts and shakes his head, “Important information that might be a lead depending on what Cas and Mick find out.” Dean says, still staring at me with either anger or distrust. Knowing him, probably a dangerous mix of both. I decide to stare back, plastering a confused look on my face trying to hide the frustration. I know exactly what they are trying to do, keeping me in the dark so they can gather information that I can only assume is against me.

Ketch stands behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. I'm sure he’s trying to calm me down and back off from this stare-down with Dean, but I’m lost as to how going along with this manipulation will benefit me.

“Yeah, I assumed that Dean. What would be helpful to know is maybe where they went, or possibly what information they’re finding to investigate a theory.” Sam’s typing stopped. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me and Dean as I wait for the dam to break on me.

Ketch’s hands tighten slightly as Dean leans forward and opens his mouth to speak when there is a loud knock at the door.

Ketch lets go of me and opens the door, the tension in the room that was mounting seems to dissipate slightly with this distraction. I look down at my lap and play with my hands, luckily the guys have all stopped watching me and are looking at the people at the door.

“Y/n! We weren’t expecting you for another hour! Are you feeling better I hope?” Mick says gently holding my biceps, as I stand to greet him. He looks at me as though he’s expecting me to pass out any second.

I chuckle at his excitement, “I’m feeling much better, haven’t passed out at all and I’ve been very careful.” “What did he mean that they weren’t expecting me for another hour?” Before I could question what he meant by not expecting me for an hour, Castiel walks into the room holding a bloody angel blade.

“What happened to you bro?” Gabe asks the angel. Castiel then glances over to me and back to his brother, his classic confused look on his face. Mick slowly lets his arms drop back to his sides. I feel my phone then begin to vibrate with an incoming call.

I pick up, “Hey Rowena! What’s up?” I ask cheerfully.

“Just checking up on you my dear, I’m sure they’re all putting you through the wringer right now.” I can tell she is worried about me, and I don’t like that the Hunters and angels are still staring at me.

“Not too bad, a bit tiring but that’s what I was expecting,” I say standing up and exiting the room. I’d rather not add more suspicions but I don’t have enough energy to talk in riddles around them. “I’m outside now, and yes they haven’t told me a thing yet.”

Rowena sighs and remains silent for a moment. “Are you doing okay with that? I know you value your friendships with Mick and Ketch the most. How are they treating you?”

“I mean, they were both very kind and excited to see me, but Mick and Ketch won’t say anything either. Castiel and Mick just got back from what Dean called getting ‘important information that might be a lead depending on what they find out’,” Rowena laughs quietly, “if I’m still on this hunt, how can I be of any use while being left in the dark?” I know I sound like a whiny child but it’s just so frustrating, plus Ro is a very good listener.

“Well, you could always try saying that to them?” I snort and shake my head at her suggestion. “It would also help put them at ease and understand if you’re acting a bit off, it’s because you were left behind and need to play catch-up in order to stay useful and not put yourself in danger on accident.”

“I guess I’m just feeling guilty about hiding what I know and what Crowley is looking into for me. I want them to trust me and to stay in this hunt, but I feel like none of them will trust me again no matter what I say or do.”

“The only thing I would tell you, my dear, is to be very guarded. Right now they all perceive you to be a threat. Don’t do or say anything that could strengthen those suspicions or you’ll be fighting an even worse uphill battle.” I wish there is more that she could tell me, it’s smart advice, it just makes me even more apprehensive about my decision to return to the case.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I'll be careful. I’ll try and call later depending on how much progress we make.”

“Alrighty, take care of those boys now.” I laugh at her comment and hang up, placing my phone back in my jeans pocket.

“Feeling guilty, huh?” I spin around with Gabriel standing a few feet away. Of course, it had to be Gabe who followed me out, couldn’t have been literally anyone else.

“So what if I am?” I challenge. I don’t think this will earn me any cooperation points with them, but maybe it will appear like I’m not hiding as big a secret. “You’re really telling me Sam and Dean don’t hold guilt about past actions?”

His whiskey eyes burned holes through mine, fists clenched at his sides almost shaking with anger. He takes a step toward me, and I take one back, fearful of what the tortured angel might do.

“I’m sure Sam and Dean have messed up plenty and are still living in the past. That doesn’t change the fact you told that witch friend of yours that you feel guilty because you’re hiding something about this hunt. Wonder what kind of super secret information you have that we won’t trust you?” He finished with a threatening head tilt, almost daring me to disagree.

Sam walks out, “You guys okay out here?”

Gabriel looks over his shoulder to look at Sam, “Oh lay off, Moose. I was checking up on your new best friend, y/n, and heard a very interesting conversation she was having with your witchy girlfriend.” Sam sighs heavily and shakes his head at Gabe's antics.

The angel turns to look at me again with fiery eyes again. I shrug at Sam and Gabe scoffs saying, “Don’t play the innocent card with Sammy here after trying to pull the confident, guilt-stricken hunter card with me.”

“You haven’t even given me two seconds to explain what we were talking about!” I interrupt what I assume was going to become another veiled threat, “She told me to update her once we got a bit more settled to make sure I’m feeling okay, and she is worried you are going to try to kill me or connect me to Asmodeus again.” I’m already in a hole with Gabe catching me airing out my dirty laundry, might as well get a shovel to make it look like I was digging a well and not my own grave.

“Fat chance!” Gabe exclaims, taking a few quick steps in my direction again. Sam must have seen the uneasiness on my face and took a few long strides and got between me and Gabriel.

He puts his hands up to block Gabe from nearing me, “How about we all go inside and talk about this with everyone? You can say your piece, y/n says hers, and we can decide what to do as a group to catch this sonofabitch faster.” Gabe stares up at Sam, and they seem to have another silent conversation. “What the hell is with these guys and reading each other’s minds?”

Gabriel huffs and saunters back to the motel door and opens it, glancing back at me behind Sam. “Ladies first,” he says with an exaggerated arm sweep toward the now open door.

I roll my eyes and brush past Sam back into the room, taking my previous seat at the small table, though I notice Dean has since taken Sam’s spot on one of the beds and Gabe has taken to standing right beside me, blocking my view to Mick and Ketch huddled around various weapons and herbs. He is also pointedly blocking the door, locking it shortly after Sam re-entered the room. I think he rolls his eyes at Gabe who rolls his eyes back. Sam walks over to his brother to take his laptop back and sit at the table across from me.

“So, Gabe,” Sam breaks the silence, causing the other men to cease their movements, “why don’t you start with why you were snooping on y/n’s phone call, and then y/n,” he states glancing at me, “you can say what you were talking about on that phone call with Rowena.” I nod and try to look around Gabriel to see Ketch or Mick, but the stubborn angel purposefully moves in front of my line of sight.

“First of all, Moose, not snooping.” I scoff, immediately regretting that choice with a warning look from Sam, “I was actually going to make sure she didn’t pass out or something since she was by herself.”

“Ever heard of privacy, wings?” I snap, another look from Sam shuts me up again.

“I am aware of that, smartass. I overheard y/n telling Rowena how guilty she feels at hiding something from us because she’s too scared we’ll see her differently and doesn’t want to tell us.” I know this guy has been around for thousands of years, but how is it possible he never actually grew up!

“I feel guilty because when I was with Rowena and Crowley I did some research cross-referencing weather patterns, crop failures, cow slaughters, the basic demon signs,” I pause, seeing how frustrated Gabriel was getting since I was speaking calmly and adding more detail. I guess he wanted me to admit I’m being sneaky because I have a huge secret.

“I noticed that there have been some of these demonic signs have been bouncing around between Manchester, Iowa, Platteville, Wisconsin, and Freeport, Illinois for the past twenty to thirty years,” I explain, taking out my computer to show the map I had drawn up with different colors for each demonic sign. I scroll through about ten maps showing different changes every other year as the Hunters and Angels crowd around me.

“While this is really impressive, y/n,” Mick states, “what does this have to do with your guilt Gabriel mentioned? You already gave Ketch a synopsis of what your research yielded.” Dean groans at Mick’s big words and strides back to the bed, flopping onto it.

I smile and continue, “While I told Ketch about my research I didn’t say what Crowley found out about these cities and why they didn’t show up in Rowena’s original spell. And he made me promise-”

“Original spell?” Gabriel asks, squinting at me.

I pause, not knowing what he’s talking about. “Yeah, the original spell. What about it?”

Dean sits up from his relaxed position and tries to stare me down for the second time today. The rest of the guys also visibly tune in to the conversation more and are eyeing Gabe and me.

“You saying Rowena’s original spell implies there were more spells she performed. I know she didn’t tell us about these spells, the Brits have never met her, Gabe and Cas don’t communicate with her regularly, so when exactly did she test out other spells?” Sam asks.

“She seriously did this spell only once with you guys?” Dean is still staring and Sam merely nods. “Ro’s losing her touch then, I asked for her to do the spell again on a smaller map to be sure it was for Dubuque and not a smaller town nearby or anything. And the spell again showed Dubuque.” Sam glances at Gabriel who is doing that stupid telepathic trash with Dean, at least it got him to quit staring at me. Technically it was only a white lie since the map wasn’t of Dubuque, but we did do the same spell again to double-check where the nephidemon is.

“Anyway,” I continue, “Crowley made me promise to not tell you guys that he has a demon with a number of connections has randomly gone off the radar for the past ten years. He wanted to see if this demon had anything to do with Asmodeus or his kid without y’all going in guns blazing and ruining a possible lead.” Everyone in the room aside from Gabriel has relaxed a bit and no longer seems to want me dead.

“So, why again do you feel guilty?” Sam pushes, “It’s not like Crowley has kept his inside demon bureaucracy crap hidden before to keep him as King.”

“Why does Sam have to always be so damn smart and read into everything. I was honestly hoping they might turn suspicions onto Crowley or this made-up demon but no, Sam has to use that Stanford brain.”

“Well, I assumed you would want to know anything I found out that had to do with anything demonic. I felt guilty that I was hiding this because this demon could end up being a big lead if Crowley can find her alive.” The tension that had built previously finally died down enough for me to breathe. Gabriel must have sensed it too and stepped away from me a bit so I can actually see Mick and Ketch by the bed closest to the door.

I’m thankful for the few minutes of silence to collect my thoughts and calm my breathing. I’ll have to remember to update Crowley and Rowena about all the lies I just said, I can’t have either of them getting shot in any cross-fire. Both have been extremely understanding and really put their lives and relationships with the Hunters on the line for me.

Unfortunately, the silence doesn’t last nearly as long as I would like when Castiel speaks up, “What should we do now?” Dean gives the angel a shrug and the rest of us glance between The Brits and Dean. Gabriel is still sulking by the door with his arms crossed, playing with some grooves in the floorboards with his feet.

“Don’t you boys have a Men of Letters Bunker back in Kansas?” Ketch questions, “Those places are filled with weapons, books, spells, anything we could think to need to start seriously going after Asmodeus or his child.”

Everyone agrees and we all pack up whatever gear we brought with us and file outside the motel door towards the parking lot. Dean goes to return their room keys as Sam loads his and his brothers’ bags into Baby, Ketch does the same with his and Mick’s bags.

“Y/n, you should probably ride with us. No offense to your truck but I doubt it would make the drive to Kansas, let alone back here.” Mick says, a bit shy while holding out his hands for my duffle bag and backpack.

“I didn’t even think about that honestly, I’m sure it’s fine to leave it here and I hate long drives alone,” I say with a smile as I hand him my gear.

Dean returns and takes the keys from Sam as they get into the front seats, and the angels climb into the back. I let out a quick sigh of relief that Gabriel chose to ride with his brother and the Winchesters, I don’t think I could handle hours being stuck in a car with him and his suspicious attitude. Ketch and Mick get into the front seats with Ketch driving and Mick sitting passenger side, leaving me to sit in the middle seat in the back so I can still talk to both of them.

”Y/n, you do realize I know when you’re lying right?” Ketch says, looking back at me with the rearview mirror.

I scrunch my nose in confusion and ask, “I know you’ve been trying to convince me I have a tell or something for years, but I doubt that based on how often I beat you in poker.”

Ketch chuckles and Mick casts a smirk my way. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You do have a tell and no, I will never tell you because where’s the fun in that?” I roll my eyes and lightly smack his arm, “when you said that Crowley was looking into that demon that disappeared, your tell happened. Everything else seemed truthful, but you do know the truth will come to light sooner than you want.”

It almost sounds like a warning. I really need to try to bribe Mick to tell me about my supposed tell sometime, “Whatever you are hiding, you need to be straight with us.” Mick says, fidgeting with his collar. I might have a lying tell, but Mick messing with his cufflinks or shirt collar is certainly his nervous tell.

“I appreciate what you guys are saying, and you don’t have to worry that much about me. I’ll be okay.” I look at them through the rearview mirror, hoping to portray honesty because I truly want to believe that I will be okay through this whole thing.

“Anything you’re hiding, y/n, you either need to right it, tell us, or don’t let it bite you in the ass,” Ketch says as silence fills the car aside from faint radio music. He’s one-hundred percent right and I know it, and I’m unsure which of the three options will cause the least amount of relationship setbacks and Gabriel’s level of hatred directed at me and my father.

“No, I can’t afford to relate myself to that monster. I never have been and never will be like that, I can’t let myself.”

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #arthur ketch #mick davies #rowena #castiel #gabriel #crowley #spn x reader

26 notes · View notes

flam-burr · 2 years

Text

First hunt - Yautvember day 1

Content: Three years ago, Marianne survived the Xeno plague that destroyed her research station and decided to take off with the Elites that helped her survive. Now, she has to face her chiva to earn her rightful place in her new family.

Tags: slight mention of PTSD, Original human character, Original Yautja characters, average violence

A/N: So, yes, here I am jumping on @jacklycan 's Yautvember train :3 I don't know if I'll manage to post every day of the challenge, but I'll try. And I'm going to do it by writing 'cause I so damn slow at drawing lmao

From the main deck, Marianne could see the planet slowly getting bigger as the ship got nearer to its atmosphere: a huge ball floating in the empty darkness of space, standing out in its blue and green hues.

Earth.

A small part of her was happy to see her birth planet again. It looked so peaceful from up there. Yet the weight of the weapon in her hands reminded her why she came back.

“Are you ready, little one?”

Va’stba was hovering over her, his golden eyes fixed on her from his near 12 feet like he expected her to answer with a no. Maybe he even hoped so: she was so tiny and soft and the challenge ahead so dangerous.

Marianne took a deep breath, then smiled at the giant and stood.

“You can bet I am.”

The impact was bone-wrecking. Marianne silently thanked again Eh’Ka for adapting the cockpit to her softer physique before leaving Yautja Prime, otherwise she would have been already dead.

She quickly checked her gear then opened the doors.

The arctic chill stang like a hundred daggers over her termic net, picking at her neck and the thin stripe of skin left uncovered between the gauntlets and the gloves. Luckily, the mask prevented it from getting to her face.

She pulled herself outside of the capsule and looked around for the other two Youngbloods she was expected to work with.

They were emerging from the snow on her right, searching for her in the dim light of the arctic winter. Their bodies didn’t betray any sign of nervousness, but the way they chittered while turning around told her they were eager to start.

With a last pull, she emerged completely from the little capsule and walked towards them.

The inside of the pyramid was just as terrifying as she expected it to be: cold as a freezer and dark as the night, she could easily understand why it was used for the chiva.

The taller male had taken the role of leader and had led the three of them down the ice tunnel towards the hidden building, then inside, to the weapon room.

By the time they had gotten there, Marianne heard the cracking sounds of the newborn Xenomorphs breaking their flesh cradles on the higher floor.

She tried not to think about them or the humans that were led to the temple for the ritual: it was too late anyway and she could feel the Youngbloods’ gazes on her, looking for any sign of weakness.

Their leader opened the sarcophagus and handed Marianne and the other Yautja their plasmacasters, adjusting his own on his shoulder.

“Stay together and keep your eyes open. We start by leading them in the maze.”, he said. He then looked down on Marianne. “Try to keep up.”

She held her tongue for she knew arguing with him would have brought her no good and nodded, trailing behind the two Youngbloods in the heart of the pyramid with her dah’kte ready.

After three years in space, her last encounter with the Xenomorphs had the same consistency of a dream.

Marianne remembered the screams, the running and the blood, they had tormented her in her sleep for a long time, but more than anything else she remembered the fear: a gut wrenching feeling of helplessness and panic, piercing like ice.

The moment the first serpent showed up, that fear came back to her like a wave.

Marianne felt it grow and spread from her core to her limbs, shaking her to the bone before pooling in her belly like a stormy lake.

Her prey instinct screamed to run and hide.

The hair on her nape stood, skin covered in goosebumps.

Her mind brought her back to that day, when her only weapon was her wit and her will to survive.

Marianne felt all this in less than a second, then her body reminded her who she was and her mind cleared.

She charged her plasmacaster and aimed at the creature. The bright sphere lit up the tunnel and hit its target, showing her two more serpents coming from that direction.

“Contact!”, she screamed.

Marianne heard her teammates roar, ready to fight as the hallways filled with hisses and high-pitch screeches, and unsheathed her h’sai-de, lifting it in her left hand.

“M-di h’chak.”, she said, almost growling at the creatures. “M-di h’dlak!”

Marianne briefly prayed Paya for her strength, then her teammates repeated her chant and she charged.

Va’stba stood still on the main deck, his massive arms crossed on his chest as he eyed the tunnel dug in the ice a few feet away.

Eh’Ka was by his side, observing some readings from the pyramid on his gauntlet.

“Can you stop that?”, he said.

“What?”, Va’stba asked.

“Worrying. It stresses me out.”, answered the shorter male.

“It’s not like I can prevent it.”, sighed Va’stba.

“Don’t you trust her?”, Eh’Ka asked, eyes still on the screen.

“Of course I do.”

“Then stop. She'll be fine.”

Va’stba growled, then turned again towards the window.

He heard Eh’Ka sigh, but kept his eyes on the white land outside, waiting.

Of course he trusted Marianne. He was the one who trained her in the first place, he knew what she could do. Yet…

A shadow poked out from the hole in the ice, followed shortly by another one and a third, smaller.

Va’stba waited for the three figures to be in the open before allowing himself to breathe again, finally relaxing when his eyes found Marianne's mask, thanks to Paya still attached to the rest of her body.

Eh'Ka stood and joined him at the window with a scoff.

“See? I told you.”, Eh’Ka said.

Va’stba waved a clawed hand to dismiss the comment and turned toward the entrance of the ship.

“Open the door.”

Eh’Ka obeyed, an amused smirk on his gray face, and shortly followed the older hunter.

Marianne climbed the small ramp to the entrance with a growing feeling of victory in her chest.

She did it.

She survived not one, but two fights with the Xenomorphs. Even better, she hunted them down like damn turkeys. The weight of her trophy was a reassuring pressure in her hands that witnessed her success and the end of her fears.

She waited for the two Youngbloods to leave with Eh’Ka in the core of the ship before turning to face her teacher.

Va'stba watched her stand before him: Marianne took off her mask and lifted her trophy, a serpent’s head, beaming inside as his gaze lit up with pride.

“Did you witness me, father?”, she said.

Va’stba smiled, lowering one knee on the ground to be at her eye level. Marianne lowered her trophy and leaned forward as he pressed his forehead against hers, keeping her in place with a hand on her nape.

She copied his gesture, holding herself from sniffing as a deep sense of calm filled her as he spoke.

“N’jauka, daughter.”

Glossary

Chiva = rite of passage to adulthood

Dah’kte = wristblade

H’sai-de = sword

M-di h’chak. M-di h’dlak = No mercy. No fear

N’jauka = welcome

#the predator #yautja #yautja oc #avp #original female character #original male character #yautja x human #found family #chivas #writing challenge #predvember #yautvember

26 notes · View notes

ashriverr · 2 years

Text

It's You, It's Always You

This fic is also on my AO3!

Pairing: Megumi/Yuji

Words: 4.2K

Summary: Fushiguro Megumi is absolutely starstruck with Itadori Yuji. How could he not be when he’s just so perfect? But his lingering fear of rejection and ruining what they already have causes him to push his feelings away. So the days pass. And the number of fingers left dwindles. And Itadori's execution draws nearer. And there Megumi stands, holding the knife to his best friend’s heart.

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

Being in love with your best friend is one thing. But being in love with someone you know who’s going to die eventually is something completely different. Megumi realized long ago that he’s already too far gone to care anymore, though. He is irrevocably in love with Yuji Itadori. So in love, in fact, that it has become increasingly obvious to everyone. Everyone except, of course, Itadori himself. He could very well change that, but the fear of rejection and the possibility of ruining the relationship they share now makes him keep his feelings locked in a cage, hidden deep within himself.

The way they are now is perfectly fine anyway. Or, at least, that’s what he tells himself to feel better (it doesn’t work). He tried asking Gojo for help once, but that was a mistake. Now every time he and Itadori are in Gojo’s presence, Megumi has to deal with smug looks and kissy faces when the boy is looking away. At this rate, he wouldn’t be surprised if Itadori catches on. But he doesn’t, and Megumi couldn’t be more relieved.

The door behind him slides open and a familiar, comforting voice speaks up. “There you are!” Itadori shouts excitedly from behind. It’s a warm, summer evening. Megumi is seated on the steps outside the dormitory basking in the warmth of the remaining sun and the sounds of the cicadas quieting down for the night. The chilly breeze marks the approach of fall.

His heart jumps as his friend plops down on the steps right next to him and he nearly has a heart attack when Itadori bumps their shoulders together. He wishes the touch could last longer. “You’ve been out here for a while. Something on your mind?”

Yes. You. You, you, you. You and your bubblegum pink hair, your sweatshirts that smell like fresh laundry, your slightly crooked smile that is just so you, your calloused hands that brushed against mine a few times causing a whirlwind in my mind for the entire night. You. You, Yuji Itadori, are on my mind.

If only he had the bravery to say it out loud.

“No. Just enjoying the weather.” The two sit in comfortable silence for a few moments. Megumi turns his head to look at Itadori who’s staring up at the sky with a gentle smile on his face. The breeze rustles his hair and he closes his eyes and lets out a contented sigh. Megumi imagines himself being the one to cause this reaction from Itadori instead of the breeze. He pictures himself running his hands through his hair and it's as smooth as the finest silk. He imagines Itadori closing his eyes and leaning into his touch, perhaps leaning into his whole body until his head is in Megumi’s lap and he’s staring up at him. Maybe if he goes to stretch and “accidentally” brushes his hand against Itadori’s hair in the process then he can-

His thoughts are cut off when he notices the boy staring at him with his head tilted to the side a bit like a confused dog. Megumi swallows thickly.

“Did you say something?” he asks, cursing himself for how weak his voice sounds. He tries to keep his eyes on Itadori’s, but he glances down at his lips just for a second before looking back into his eyes.

“No, no it’s fine.” Itadori closes his eyes and puts a hand on his forehead dramatically. “I know my handsomeness gets too distracting sometimes.” Megumi snorts and feels the corners of his mouth quirk up. He tries to look away and places a hand on his cheek before Itadori notices, but it’s too late. He gasps and leans toward the boy. “Is that a smile I see? Did I make the Fushiguro Megumi smile? I should get an award for this!”

“The sun was in my eyes,” he says, yet the sunbeams that are just now beginning to disappear under the horizon struggle to filter through the trees in the forest beyond. He takes his hand off his cheek and turns back to face Itadori. “I was just…” his voice trails off. He’s now face to face with Itadori, noses nearly touching. The sun casts a golden glow on the pink-haired boy’s face and Megumi swears he’s staring at the sun itself. Itadori’s scent envelops his nose and he feels like he’s on cloud nine. His breath hitches and his brain is begging him to move away, to put some distance between them, but his body won’t let him. If only he could just lean forward and connect their lips, then perhaps this unbearable pining could stop. But he can’t act upon his selfish desire and potentially hurt his best friend in the process; he can’t deal with the guilt. And so, he keeps his urge at bay and focuses on the boy in front of him.

Itadori’s smile turns soft, and his eyes lose the crinkle they get when he smiles wide or laughs. He’s staring straight into Megumi’s eyes, his irises sparkling in the light, pupils dilated. The look he’s giving him is tender and filled with admiration as if he’s studying a painting. “Y’know,” he begins, lightly. There’s a different tone to his voice, but Megumi can’t quite figure it out. “You should smile more. It looks really good on you.”

If it’s possible for Megumi to fall even deeper in love, he just did.

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

Megumi and Itadori are leaning against a wall side by side, shopping bags all around them from Nobara who’s currently pursuing a store. She only dragged Megumi with her to hold her bags, but Itadori decided to tag along. Megumi isn’t sure why he’d want to do this in his free time when he could be back in his room watching a TV show or reading a manga, but it gives him a confidence boost, albeit a small one. Perhaps Itadori tagged along because he likes to be with him. Because he likes him in a more than a friend way and wants to spend every waking moment with him. There’s a small spark of hope in the forest of his heart. A big enough spark to keep an eye on but not big enough to set the forest ablaze. However, a deep part of him has a feeling it’s just Itadori’s FOMO kicking in. He kicks a pebble in front of him.

“Do you ever think about getting a girlfriend?” Itadori asks, breaking the silence. Megumi nearly chokes.

“Why are you asking?” He turns his head to look at Itadori who’s staring into the distance. Of course I don’t want a girlfriend. I want you.

Itadori shrugs. “Well, y’know, we’re teens. Every teenager wants someone special in their life. Nobara talks about how she wants a girlfriend all the time, so I just wondered if you thought the same.”

Yes, he does. He thinks it all the time. As he’s falling asleep, as he’s eating breakfast, as he’s walking to class. It’s always Itadori taking up space in his mind. He might as well start paying rent for all the space he takes up. “No, I don’t.”

Itadori chuckles, “Right. Yeah. I had a feeling.”

Megumi turns to look straight ahead again and notices a couple in the distance, walking along the sidewalk. He pictures Itadori and himself doing the same; they’re holding hands as Itadori tells him about his day and he listens, letting him ramble because he loves to hear him talk. “Do you?”

Itadori hums and scratches the back of his head. “Mm, not really. I think my mind’s just been too preoccupied with other things.” Megumi looks at Itadori and notices a slight shade of pink dusting his cheeks. Why does he look embarrassed? Before he can overthink, Itadori speaks up again. “Like babysitting you.” The look of horror on Megumi’s face makes Itadori erupt with laughter. He doubles over, clutching his stomach.

“Ha! I wish you could see yourself right now!” Megumi pouts and crosses his arms.

“Why are you even here anyway? Wouldn’t you rather spend your time somewhere else?” Once Itadori recollects himself he stands back up and faces Megumi.

“‘Cause, you’re here, duh!” His pout instantly vanishes, and his heart stutters. What’s that supposed to mean? Does he just mean that as friends? Is that supposed to imply something more?

“What-”

“Hey nerds,” Nobara interrupts. She has two shopping bags that she holds out to Megumi. “Watcha talking about?”

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

Itadori ate another finger.

There is now one left.

Time is ticking, but Megumi is still too much of a coward to do anything. Not even as the two sit in silence, shoulder to shoulder, on the floor of Itadori’s room. Itadori is scrolling through his phone, both his legs outstretched. They haven’t spoken a word since their last mission. Megumi is reading a book, the arm holding the book resting on his outstretched leg and his other arm resting on his bent leg; his eyes just keep scanning the same sentence over and over again. How could he focus when his best friend’s death is drawing nearer?

Itadori sighs and locks his phone. He tosses it to the side and drops his head onto Megumi’s shoulder. Megumi freezes and nearly drops his book. Itadori has been getting more touchy by the day, and it still catches him off guard. “I’m scared, Fushiguro,” he whispers, absentmindedly picking at the pills on Megumi’s sweater.

He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? No words, no amount of affection, can be enough to quell the fear of death. Besides, how could he even begin to comfort someone when he himself needs just as much? When he can already feel himself falling deeper and deeper into a pit of despair, soon unable to dig his way out. He swallows and suddenly feels as if the walls are closing in on him.

“What if there’s something I can do? Something that… that we just don’t know about? What if I could fix this?” Itadori picks his head up and places his chin on Megumi’s shoulder to look at him and he turns to look back. His friend’s gorgeous light brown eyes aren’t filled with their usual gleam and it pains him.

“There’s nothing you can do.” He sounds utterly hopeless. Megumi opens and closes his mouth as if he’s going to speak but doesn’t. He knows there’s no way out of this, he knows.

“I don’t want you to go,” he admits, quietly. His words seem void of emotion, but Itadori can see through it.

“I don’t want to go either, but this is the only way we can get rid of Sukuna.”

Megumi grits his teeth. “It’s not fair.”

Itadori moves his head back to rest on his shoulder. “I know,” he whispers as he slides his arm down Megumi’s and slowly intertwines their fingers. Megumi’s eyes widen and he can feel his heart beating a mile a minute. Friends do things like this all the time, but Megumi can’t help but feel that this is different from just normal friends holding hands. He can’t help but feel some sort of hope that maybe, just maybe, Itadori shares his feelings. But he still doesn’t confess just in case there’s a chance he doesn’t. He needs to crush the hope before it takes over his mind.

They continue to sit in comfortable silence and Itadori eventually falls asleep. A part of Megumi wants to move because he knows that if he stays like this any longer, it’ll be the end of him. But another part of him is okay with that. He’s already fallen too hard, after all. And Itadori was the one to make the first move anyway, so it’s not like Megumi’s being selfish by staying like this. He’s just comforting his friend who needs it.

And so, he places his head atop the boy’s and lets him sleep.

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

“Are you insane?” Megumi spits. The Jujutsu higher-ups must be joking.

“We were going to have Gojo be the one, but we decided that you would be a better fit,” one of them explains, a slight smirk showing off his disgustingly yellow teeth. “He did put up quite the fight when we broke the news to him.”

“I won’t do it.”

Another higher-up clicks his tongue and Megumi’s nostrils flare. “That wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order. You are to execute Itadori Yuji whether you like it or not.”

Silence.

“You are dismissed.” He walks out of the room with fire in his veins and goes to the dorms where Itadori is waiting for him in his room. When he sees the way Megumi whips the door open and stomps in the room, slamming it shut, he rushes up to him and grabs his shoulders.

“What’s wrong? What did they say?”

Megumi stares at the ground. “They want me to be the one to execute you.” Itadori’s grip falters.

“What?”

“Those bastards want me to be the one to kill you!” He raises his arms and drops them to his side. Itadori slides his hands off Megumi’s shoulders and he misses the touch. “It’s like they get some sort of satisfaction at this. Like we’re entertainment for them.”

Itadori chuckles dryly, trying to lighten the mood. “I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how they see it. They’re probably some sort of sadists.” He frowns when Megumi doesn’t react and cups his cheeks, pulling his head up to look at him. Butterflies fly around in Megumi’s stomach and he swears they’re going to burst when Itadori steps closer. He’s still upset at the situation of course, but his mind is starting to become fuzzy. “Hey, I’m still alive right now. Let’s focus on that, yeah? Don’t waste your time worrying about the future when we can still enjoy the present.”

Megumi licks his lips. “Yeah,” he says, but he didn’t really hear what Itadori said. He’s too focused on their distance, or lack thereof, to think about anything else at the moment. His senses are overwhelmed. His eyes never leave his friend’s lips, and he knows he’s probably being way too obvious at this point, but he can’t help it. Maybe if he gets one kiss, everything will fade away; he can forget what's going on for just a moment and only focus on the feel of the boy’s lips against his. He knows that won’t help in the long run. He knows that after they pull apart, the world will become clear again and he’ll have to face the future, but it wouldn’t be too bad forgetting for just this moment.

His eyelids lower as he puts all his focus on Itadori’s lips and he feels himself slowly leaning in like a magnet being pulled to a piece of metal. However, before he can lean too far, he panics and encases him in a hug instead. Coward. Itadori laughs lightly (it sounds… pained?) and wraps his arms around him tightly, resting a cheek on his shoulder. His hair tickles Megumi’s neck and squeezes back. They stay like that for a while, desperately holding on. He wishes for this moment to never stop, but unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

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

Megumi grips the cursed weapon in his shaking hand as he stares at his best friend tied to a wooden chair with rope oozing with strong cursed energy to keep him in place. Looking at his helpless form makes his skin crawl.

The day after Megumi’s meeting with the higher-ups, they’d announced Itadori’s execution date which was only three days later. Most of the time, Itadori spent those three days with the others, saying his last goodbyes. Megumi was always there in the background. He selfishly wished to have all of Itadori’s attention on himself. The time they did spend alone together was spent in silence with the occasional small talk in between. They held each other in their beds each night and it hurt Megumi to know that he would never be able to hold him like that again, especially as anything more than friends He wishes he could have said something then, given himself closure. Unfortunately, it was too late.

“You know, Megumi,” Itadori begins, his voice wavering. “I was too much of a coward to say this before, and I know now’s not the right time, but I love you. And as much as it hurts me to say it, I hope you, no I want you to, find someone who can love you the way I couldn’t.” Tears begin to stream down his face. What sick fuck decided that the both of them deserve this fate? What did they ever do besides be two teens in love? Two dorky teens who didn’t know how to admit their feelings.

“I’m a coward too,” Megumi replies, weakly. “I’ve been in love with you since the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

“Love at first sight? I didn’t know you could be such a sap.” Despite the sorrow that suffocates the room, Itadori’s comment manages to make Megumi crack a smile. A small one, but still a smile. “There’s my favorite smile.” They both go silent for a moment until Itadori speaks up again. “Can… Can I be selfish for a moment?”

“Of course.”

“Can you kiss me? Just once.”

His heart drops. “Itadori,” he begs.

“Please. I know that’s selfish of me but please. Please just one kiss.”

Itadori’s sobs ricochet off the walls and Megumi can barely hear the words that escape his mouth. “Do you realize,” he hiccups, “what that’ll do to me when, when you’re gone?”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve just wanted to for so long.”

“Then why didn’t you do something sooner?” Megumi yells. He’s not mad, he could never be mad at Itadori. But he’s overwhelmed and frustrated and he doesn’t know how else to express it.

“I tried!” Itadori yells back. “All those times I put my head on your shoulder and sat or stood a little too close to you, hell, I even held your hand once, I was trying so hard to say something, to even hint at it. I thought you would eventually catch on.”

Megumi froze. All those times that he brushed it off as Itadori just being friendly, he was trying to confess to him? “I didn’t catch on,” he began, “because I was too insecure and stupid and scared and all I could think about was the fact that you probably didn’t feel the same way.” He drops the tool and frantically rubs at his eyes.

“Megumi…” Why did he have to say his first name now of all time?

Megumi collapses to his knees at the sound of it. It sounds so wonderful coming from his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for not realizing,” his voice cracks and he doesn’t try to hold back anymore. “It’s all my fault.” He rests his head on Itadori’s legs and grips the fabric of his pants as he finally lets his feelings free. Sobs rack his body. “Please don’t leave me. I don’t want you to leave me!” He wants to cut the ropes and be enveloped in Itadori’s warm hugs. He wants to cuddle with him under the stars and steal kisses before bed. He wants to take Itadori and run away, far away where nobody will ever find them. He wants them to be happy, and most of all, free of all burdens.

“Hey, look at me.” He looks up at Itadori. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault, you hear me?”

Megumi wipes his eyes and slowly sits up until he’s kneeling between Itadori’s legs which are tied to the legs of the chair. He grabs the boy’s cheeks and they look deeply into each other’s eyes as more tears spill. Their first kiss wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be on the dormitory rooftop at night while the world was asleep and it was just the two of them. He would initiate it and it would be so clumsy, so perfect, so them. Itadori would pull back and make a joke about his attempt at wooing him. Megumi would become defensive out of embarrassment and try to turn away but Itadori would grab his face and kiss all over to make him feel better. He’ll never get that now, though.

Megumi stares into Itadori’s eyes for just a moment longer, memorizing every little detail, even the small dot of gold on his left iris that shines so beautifully in the sun, before leaning in and connecting their lips.

With broken hearts and an immeasurable amount of love, enough to challenge Aphrodite herself, they share their first and last kiss. It begins gently but instantly turns desperate as Megumi tries to pour all the love he couldn’t express before into it while Itadori does the same. They break away for just a moment to catch their breaths before diving back in, unable to get enough of each other. Their tears cause the kisses to taste salty, but neither of them cares.

An impatient bang sounds from the door and the two pull apart, panting. Megumi feels a lump form in his throat, reality coming back into focus and his hands begin to shake again.

“I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this,” he murmurs, his heart rate and breaths quickening. He takes his hand off the boy’s cheeks and frantically rubs at his eyes again.

“It’s gonna be alright,” Itadori croaks. He tries to smile, but the corners of his eyes don’t crinkle like usual. Megumi’s legs feel like jello and he feels sick to his stomach. Everything sounds muffled now, and the world is becoming dim as if the sun is being shielded by dark clouds.

“Remember what I said earlier. All I want is for you to be happy.”

I can’t be happy unless I’m with you. Megumi reluctantly picks up the cursed tool and slowly positions it to level with Itadori’s chest. They look into each other's eyes for the last time. He takes in a deep breath.

“I love you, Yuji,” Megumi says, voice unwavering. The boy’s smile makes him feel like he’s staring at the sun again.

But then he plunges the tool into Itadori’s chest and the sun goes out.

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

The world is dull and Megumi is numb. He’s spent the past few days after the execution in Gojo’s room, unable to sleep by himself due to the images of that day replaying through his mind, haunting him. When he finally manages to drift off, he eventually awakens in the middle of the night in a cold sweat with Gojo cradling him and whispering words of comfort. He runs his hand through Megumi’s sweat-soaked hair and rocks them back and forth until his shaking eventually subsides and sleep whisks him away once again. On the days when the night terrors decide to be nice, he’s plagued with dreams of what his life could have been if Yuji was still alive. He can’t decide if that’s worse.

Yuji’s room is eventually cleared out, without Megumi’s help due to his inability to walk into the room without wanting to collapse, but a box of his most prized possessions is given to him. He can’t even bring himself to open the box, so it sits in the corner of his room gathering dust. The only piece of Yuji he has out is the hoodie he was given on a cold night that he found in his dresser. It lays crumpled next to his pillow, full of Yuji’s scent. It’s the only reason he’s able to sleep on his own, and Megumi fears for the day when the scent inevitably fades.

Yuji’s last request sits in the back of his mind for months after that day. Fulfilling it is the least he could do, but nobody is Yuji; nobody is good enough. So instead of finding someone new to love him, he tries to surround himself with those who already do. He spends even more time with Nobara (they’re practically attached at the hip unless she’s with her girlfriend, Maki), occasionally hangs out with Inumaki and the others, and makes sure to spend time with Gojo as much as he can, even if it’s something as small as having dinner together every night. He eventually asks the man to be his legal guardian and would admit to this day that he’s never seen Gojo cry as much as he did after he was given the papers to sign. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him truly happy for the first time in a while.

So yeah, life started to become pretty good. Well, as good as can be without Yuji. He lives it to the fullest and slowly puts his shattered pieces back together. They are messy, no doubt as if a child attached them with school glue, but he is content.

And when it is eventually time for him to go, he closes his eyes and smiles, for he would finally be reunited with his love for eternity.

#Jujutsu Kaisen #megumi fushiguro #itadori x megumi #itadori yuuji #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #pining #fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #itafushi

42 notes · View notes

that-salty-ghost · 1 year

Text

As Above, So Below | Chapter 23: Date Night Pt 1: Not So Smooth Sailing | Viktor [Arcane] // Male Reader | Rating: M Throughout

A/N | TW: It's cut off, but there's mention of the f-slur in here. Read with care please <3

Word Count: ~6.2k

That late v-day life ;_; I almost hit my deadline goal bahaha it's FINE Anyway, happy v-day, enjoy.

----------

You’re not surprised that Viktor is punctual, but you are a little taken aback when you see him sporting a backpack this time.

In a feeble attempt to make sure the man stays clear of R&R’s and the chaos within, you push your weight off of the door to meet him further down the street, your already heightened heart rate unable to steady as you draw nearer.

A rush of sheer excitement surges through you as you take in more and more of his figure. The tidy academic that you met was nowhere to be found and a grin begins to crawl steadily across your face when you see how positively Zaunite he looks.

Viktor’s jacket is patched at one elbow and completely frayed at the cuffs. The worn-in striped shirt beneath tugs nicely across his chest and is messily tucked in on one side of his trousers that parachute at the knees but tapper at his boots.

…the man is wearing boots.

“[Y/n],” Viktor’s voice is smooth as silk as he says your name, but is tipped with a new enthusiasm that mirrors your own excitement. “It’s so good to see you.”

He catches you eyeing his wardrobe and you arch your brows at him, not hiding how much you’re enjoying the new look. “I almost didn’t recognize you for a second.”

Viktor chuckles and pivots his cane into the ground, outstretching his arm while he holds one side of his jacket open with his free hand—inviting you in for a better look. His focus shifts from down his torso to your eyes as you stop in front of him. “You think I’m always in my Sunday’s best?”

That’s a fair point, you met him the day he was presenting to the board of the Academy. You really had no idea what he usually wears, but this was definitely a pleasant surprise.

“Well, this sure doesn’t look like your Sunday’s worst.”

He tips his head at your almost-compliment and shamelessly eyes you from head to toe, a grin slowly pulling at his lips the more he takes in. It feels like your heart has either gone into full on arrest or time has simply stopped while his gaze moves carefully over your frame.

“I think you look nice too...”

“I…you—”

…[Y/n].exe has stopped working.

It is infuriating how his entire…everything causes your brain to just shut down and render all words in your vocabulary completely useless. You can’t freeze up like this all night, get your shit together.

By the way he’s grinning, you’re sure he knows you’re having an all-out internal crisis, but you’re grateful when he speaks up again.

“Have you eaten yet?”

You shake your head, still trying to gather up some semblance of confidence so you can at least pretend to function tonight. “Uh no, not yet…”

“Perfect, me either.” He nods towards the road ahead and bends his arm at the elbow next to you. “You ready?”

Your heart is pounding in your ears when you realize he’s asking you to take his arm. You feel frozen in place until you meet his eyes. They’re warm, sweet as honey, and pull you into him like they often do.

With a slow nod, you weave your arm under his and feel his chest fill with a quick inhale before taking a tentative step forward with you. Then another. And another until the two of you figure out a pace that works for you both.

Viktor’s shoulder gently bumps against yours every now and then regardless of matching each other’s stride and the tap of his cane against the cobblestones soothes your nerves with how close in proximity the sound is. You weren’t expecting a simple action like walking with him to put you at ease like this and find yourself breathing more easily with each step.

“So…” You’re finally able to find your voice and Viktor glances over with a small reassuring smile. “What’re you hungry for?” Food is a safe topic—even an easy topic. Just start small and see where it takes you.

“How do you feel about seafood?” His brows lift curiously and his lips remain slightly parted after he speaks.

“…Swell.” You exaggerate a sly grin to him, quite pleased with yourself for coming up with that on the spot.

Viktor tucks his bottom lip under his teeth before furrowing his brows and holding eye contact with a silent pause. “…Was that a play on words?”

“No.” You answer quickly.

“…it was, wasn’t it?” A smirk curls up his lips, eyes alight while he pushes for a confession.

But you ignore his question, trying to shut that shit down in case he wasn’t a pun person and regretting not just saying that you like seafood. “Where are you thinking?”

A chuckle escapes him when you dodge his question, understanding that was indeed your attempt at a pun. You’re not sure if he’s entertained by the joke or you avoiding the topic, but cherish the sound of it anyway.

“There’s a food cart near the docks that I’ve heard is noteworthy.” He motions forward, giving the slightest downward nod with his brows raised again curiously. “If that sounds good to you?”

You might know the one he’s referring to, some of your usuals at The Last Drop recommended it if you’re thinking of the right place.

“Is that the one with the fried prawns?”

A small, toothy grin flashes across his face. “Yes, have you been there?”

“Not yet, but it’s been on my list to try.”

“Oh, good.” His tone tips upwards cheerfully. “Then let’s get that crossed off.”

You smirk at that and only make it a few steps until you crack. “Okay, I have to ask.” You eye the backpack Viktor is carrying.

“Hm?” He searches your eyes and follows them over his shoulder. “Oh, this is for later. Post-fried prawn activities.”

“Can’t wait. You have the whole evening planned out?”

“Mm—not completely.” He hums as he tips his head side to side. “Just dinner and what’s in the bag. I thought we could see where the night takes us from there.” He glances over at you with a coy grin. “Does that sound alright?”

The air around Viktor feels different tonight, more at ease…lighthearted even. Something about him just made sense—felt natural. It was hard to place and scary to trust, but you were getting tired of fighting the comfort he brings to you and could feel yourself giving in bit-by-bit.

“Yeah.” You look away with a small smile wondering what he means by ‘seeing where the night takes you’ and shoo away the possibility of mud wrestling before answering. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“…But since we’re on the topic of backpacks—I’m surprised to see that you’re without yours tonight.” You catch Viktor glance at you before keeping his eyes forward again.

“I was…advised to leave it behind so I don’t look like a workaholic.” You answer with Kass’ voice playing in the back of your head.

Viktor chuckles before cocking his brows curiously, eyes still forward when he asks, “Are you?”

“Am I…?”

“A workaholic?”

“Hah. I don’t wanna be.” You laugh lightly before finishing. “But the trade I’m in never really sleeps.”

“You do seem to have a pretty vast network.” Viktor admits before he guides you gently to the side as you almost step in a puddle. You follow his movement and mutter a small ‘thank you’ for steering you away from a night of sadness and soggy socks. He nods in response before continuing. “Is there a craft you specialize in?”

Your brows raise as you exhale against your pressed lips, making a “phhh” sound as you try to narrow that down. “I guess it changes with demand. I’m more of a jack-of-all-trades now, but my roots were in alchemy and apothecary work.”

“Like your mother?” He watches you carefully, unsure if that topic is off the table or not and trying to gauge if that’s something you even want to talk about.

“She was better.” You smile to yourself, momentarily caught up in a memory. “But yeah. Like her.”

“Mm—given what I’ve seen you do create so far; I doubt that you’re far behind.”

His compliment steamrolls over you entirely. Somewhat because it was him saying it, but mostly because no one’s really compared you to your mother before—always your father. It was both liberating to hear and difficult to accept all at once, but you clung onto his words like a lifeline.

You test the waters by tightening your arm just slightly around Viktor’s. It’s a minuscule movement, but he seems to take notice as you feel him lean just slightly more into you with a small hum.

“So, what about the ehh…metalwork?”

You almost forgot that was the first thing he saw you make. “That’s newer. And it’s definitely not my specialty, but…” You hesitate, unsure how much you really should be talking about with your new underground ammunition job.

He’s hanging onto your last word and waits patiently for you to finish.

“I’m…I’ll be…sort of getting into that more I guess.” You shrug and try to not make it a bigger deal than you’d like.

He nods slowly. “I see.” His expression turns thoughtful. He doesn’t pry, but instead dips his head down as his brows arch. “Well, should you need any assistance with that, metalwork is one of my specialties.” Viktor glances over at you briefly with a smirk that widens into a small wink. “One of them.”

The more you thought about it, Viktor’s help wasn’t something you were particularly interested in turning away, especially when you hadn’t made bullets in years. It was more of a matter of trust—something that was hard for you to build with most people to begin with.

But maybe he was worth a shot…literally.

“It’s kind of a ‘hush hush’ project. How good are you with keeping secrets?”

A quiet pause passes between the two of you—slowing your steps to a stop once you feel his weight start to lean further into you. You look over to see him dip his head down closer, breath hitching in your throat as his face comes within inches of yours. Viktor remains silent—responding only by moving the arm he has intertwined yours up so that he can trace his lips with his index finger and thumb, pretending to zip his lips.

You watch as a crooked grin begins to form on him and can only nod as your focus involuntarily darts back and forth from his bright and playful eyes to his slightly parted lips.

“Good.” You manage to answer, although it’s practically a whisper while you try to keep your breathing even. Viktor pulls away to stand back upright, arm still wrapped snugly with yours as he continues forward with you.

You fall into a comfortable silence for a couple blocks until the river and docks come into view. The smell of fresh fish and frying oil fills the air and you suddenly become more aware of just how much you haven’t eaten today.

It’s a little busy with people shuffling between food carts and bars and you wonder if Viktor will want to separate so it’s easier to move through the crowd.

He doesn’t.

Quite the opposite, you feel him pull you just a little bit closer while you weave through the traffic of people and vendors. The masses blur past you as you notice how warm Viktor’s side is as it presses against yours. The faintest tightening of muscles in his arm as he holds you close. The way you catch him peeking at you from the corner of his eye, checking on you periodically as you walk. You relish in all of it.

It felt good to have him on your arm…or the other way around. It didn’t matter, what mattered was amidst the commotion, he only held onto you tighter.

You’re not far from the cart with the fried prawns and tilt your head up to make out the sign above it. “Ziggy’s huh? …I had no idea that was the name.” You tilt your head up to see better and notice the line is pretty long. Must be good.

“Me either, I’ve personally only heard it called the prawn place.” Viktor notices the line as well and turns his head away from you. You follow his gaze to see what he’s looking at and notice a beer cart that has no line at all.

When he looks back to you you’ve already got a grin on your face, reading his mind about grabbing a beer to pass the time in line.

“Good idea.”

“Thought you’d like that.”

After ordering two ales, Viktor insists on buying your drinks and hands off some coins quickly so you can’t go far with your protest.

“Then let me get us the prawns, yeah?” You plead with him as you hand him his drink.

“I asked you out, let me treat you.”

“I said yes, let me treat you too.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“Oh?” You grin slyly and reluctantly clink your mug to his when he offers it. “And how does this work?”

“Allow me to walk you through it.”

The two of you fall into harmless bickering about who’s paying for prawns until you hear a shriek, followed by the crowd in front of you shouting. It takes a second for the two of you to put the pieces together until you realize what the word being shouted is.

“Cutpurse.” You look around and sure enough, spot a scrawny man scrambling and sprinting towards the gap behind the two of you.

Viktor turns to see the man rapidly approaching and glances back to you. Your breathing is already picking up—there isn’t much time to think, but you know you won’t be able to reach him with how fast he’s running. Your eyes widen slightly when you look back up, only to watch Viktor quickly extend his arm, tripping the man up with his cane and sending him tumbling.

Shock and awe consume you as you look down at the thief on the ground then back up to Viktor, your expression completely dumbstruck. He nonchalantly hooks his cane over his arm and rolls out his wrist, a few pops sounding out as he stretches the joints back out after the impact.

“Are you hurt?”

“No. Not yet at least.” He answers as the man picks his head up, searching for who knocked him down. Once he locks onto you and Viktor, the scowl that forms behind his bloodied nose and lips is downright dripping with rage as he pushes himself off of the ground to stand.

“Good.” You take one more gracious sip of your drink before walking up to Viktor. “Hold my beer?”

Your date glances at the man approaching, then back to you before taking your mug. He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes soften when he realizes why you need both of your hands. You shrug your jacket off, but don’t have time to unclip your holsters and make a mental note not to fall and break the goggles on your side.

“Ya got some fuckin’ balls on ya.” He spits at you before wiping the blood from his nose and taking a fighting stance.

“Hah. You said balls.” You stand neutral, giving none of your positioning away as you run all of Vander’s training through your mind.

‘Analyze what you’re up against.’

People were yelling cutpurse; he’s got a knife on him somewhere, watch for that.

‘He’s also pissed, use that against him.’

You try to shake away your father’s voice ringing even louder in your skull as well, even if he would’ve been right about using this guy’s rage to your advantage.

Check his feet, his right foot is forward in a southpaw stance—he’ll jab with his left, adjust your slips accordingly. Check his posture, he’s leaning forward and trying to stay low—he’s sloppy and he’s going to try and tackle you to get the upper hand. Check his eyes, he’s flicking them down towards your legs with each step.

‘Anticipate his movement, then what’s your counter?’

He’s going to lunge at your legs with his left shoulder dropped. Slip to the right, grab him and throw him back the other way so he won’t get close to Viktor. He’s already staggering, he’s likely going to fall and that’s when he’ll panic and use his knife. You’ll need to taunt him to keep his focus on you and keep him sloppy. He’ll hold it in his left and you’ll need to slip until he tires, then you can grab his arm, disarm him, and outbox him.

You lick your lips as you shift your weight to the balls of your feet, bracing yourself for any sign of movement. You’ve never fought well when you’ve struck first and instead shake out your hands as he creeps closer, waiting for the right opportunity.

Then you see it, his shoulder twitches and you anticipate his lunge before he can get close. Once you slip to the side you grab onto his arm and use his momentum against him, swinging him back the direction he came from and causing him to fall down again, hard.

Your fingers flutter out one-by-one as you continue to loosen up. You roll out your wrists and brace yourself as he gets up.

‘There it is.’

The man draws a small blade in his left hand and looks like he’s about to try and charge at you again. His shoulder twitches a second time, giving away his next move and you shuffle to the side once more, slapping him on the ass so he doesn’t keep running towards Viktor and hoping that’ll spur him back to you.

“FUCK YOU, FUCKING FA--!”

Yep, that worked.

“Was that an offer?” You wink at him with a kissy face and that’s enough for him to lose the rest of his cool. For a moment, you catch a glimpse of Viktor behind your snarling opponent—his eyes fixed on your every movement, wide and worried and it makes your heart sink.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous about what was about to happen, but manage to give him the slightest grin and reassuring nod, silently asking him to trust you to be okay. It’s not much, but you see him inhale deeply and give you the smallest nod back.

And that’s all you need to see.

The cutpurse switches his grip and starts to slash wildly at you. You stay patient, keeping focus on his eyes and shoulders that are giving him away and shuffling your feet as you dodge accordingly.

It doesn’t take long for him to get increasingly frustrated and sloppy with each miss—shouldn’t be long until you can finish this up and eat delicious fried prawns with your date. After one particularly awful attempt to cut your throat, he finally loses his footing.

About damn time.

You grab his wrist, dig in, turn his arm, bring your other hand to his shoulder, pull down, and drive a knee into his elbow—fracturing the bones inside before blocking his rogue right hook and throwing an uppercut below his jaw.

Once he hits the ground you kick the blade away and check your hand, growling when you see a small bit of blood form on your middle and ring knuckles.

Not a clean hit.

To your irritation, the man tries to sit up for one more round and you shake your head at him.

“Ah, ah. Down boy.” You step your boot up on his chest and nudge him so he rolls back onto the ground. A relived sigh escapes you when he stays down and you look up to find Viktor amidst the sizable crowd that has formed.

“Thank you so much!” Another man runs forward and picks the unconscious man’s pocket to reclaim the coinage that must’ve been his. “Please, take this.” He hands over a good chunk of change and you shake your head.

“No, it’s really fine I can—”

“Please, I insist.” He places the money into your palm and forces your hand closed, holding eye contact and quietly pleading for you to just accept it.

“Okay, okay. Thank you.” You put the coins in your holster before walking past him over to Viktor. The way his brows nearly meet at the bridge of his nose sends your heart into another frenzy and all the nerves that faded earlier have resurfaced.

“I have so many questions.” His mouth is parted, not in shock but in relief. His eyes are soft, still coming down from being worried and your already pounding heart skips a beat with how affectionately he’s looking at you. You’re not sure when he put your jacket in his pack, but you ask him to hang onto it since you’re currently burning up.

“I know…want to talk over prawns?” You shake your holster so he can hear the bounty you just earned jingle, trying to help settle his mind a little. “Now neither of us are buying.”

His chest heaves as he forces himself to inhale before nodding ever so slightly—an even fainter laugh leaving him at the sound of your jingling. “Yes.” He hands your beer over and your grin spreads from ear-to-ear as you’re happily reunited and take a sip.

Viktor’s guard falters while you lift the mug, his eyes are heavy as they move from your hand in your holster up your chest until they hover over the leather on your shoulders. “I ehh…need to get another drink though.”

“Hm?” You cock a brow as you eye him over the brim of your mug and nearly choke on your beer from laughing when you barely hear him whisper “Fuck.” before turning to get a refill.

As bad as you felt for stressing him out to the point of binge drinking, you would do it all over again to hear that word fall from his lips another time.

The line at Ziggy’s has all but disbanded since your first try and you’re both grateful to finally get your hands on some food. You pay for a giant boat of fried deliciousness with your blood money, happy to be rid of it and grimace when you see your already bruised hand is starting to shake. Viktor notices and you immediately speak up before he can.

“Where to?”

He opens his mouth to speak, exhaling when you beat him to the punch and licks his lips before shifting his gaze towards the docks. “Somewhere we can talk privately.”

You follow him quietly, stomach snarling and breaking up the silence as you catch a whiff of the deep-fried seafood in your hands. The two of you walk onto the dock, swaying gently with the water under your weight as you get further out in the river.

“Is this alright?” He asks as he takes a sip and looks over at you, his hair moving steadily in the breeze that’s picked up.

“More than alright. I actually come here to clear my head sometimes.” You set your drink down so you can sit on the planks without spilling.

“Hold my beer?” He asks with a small grin. You return the smile along with the favor you asked for earlier so he can offload his pack and come down to sit with you. “How so? The water calms you down?”

“A little. But what I like to do…” You lean backwards until your back is against the dock, glancing up at Viktor as he watches you intently. “Is lay like this with my eyes closed—if you focus on the way the dock sways it feels like you’re on a boat.”

Viktor sets the large bowl of prawns between you, grabbing two before leaning back to lie down with you. He offers you one, which you take and playfully tap against his as a small toast before taking a bite.

The two of you stay like that for a minute—dock oscillating back and forth gently between the current and the breeze similar to how a boat would. The sounds of the city now muffled under the soft crashing of waves beneath as your knuckles lightly brush against Viktor’s while the two of you blindly reach for more of your dinner.

Which is fucking delicious by the way.

“These are even better than I was expecting.” You state before you both move to sit up as you continue to munch.

Viktor hums, only nodding before trying to politely cover his mouth with his hand while he speaks. “Whr’ll hehrve terh chrmh behrckh.” He shakes his head when your eyes narrow, trying to understand him through his full mouth and accent. After swallowing and taking a swig of his beer he tries again. “We’ll have to come back.”

The sensation of your stomach grumbling against the butterflies forming from Viktor mentioning going out again is peculiar, more so than his desire to go out with you again given the last hour.

“So, you are…having fun?” You chuckle as you look out at the river—reflections of the moon as it starts to battle the sun for its time in the sky rippling along the current.

“Well, I’m certainly not bored.” He takes another bite and smiles to himself, seemingly enjoying his time again now that no one was actively engaged in a knife fight.

Once you’ve finished your meal, you lean the back of your hand on the side of your mug, reveling in the respite the cold exterior brings to your throbbing knuckles. You try to keep from shaking, but to no avail.

“Is it broken?” Viktor shifts his eyes from the water to you, only barely turning his head when he glances down.

“No. Just a bad hit on my part, it’ll heal.”

“A bad hit? You knocked his lights out.” His confused chuckle makes you laugh under your breath, eyes closing easily while you enjoy his phrasing. “What made that a bad hit?”

“Clipped him with my ring finger.” You hold out your hand for him to see—bruises blotching around two of your knuckles that are trembling against your will. “Should’ve landed it with the index and middle knuckles.” You point to the areas that do better on impact for reference. “Here.”

Viktor tilts his head before gently sliding his hand under yours to stabilize it and get a better look. You inhale at the sudden contact while his fingers meticulously rotate your hand, taking care not to budge any fingers past your index and furrowing his brows at the discoloration that’s formed.

“Where did you learn…whatever that was?” His voice sobers up, reflecting the worry that radiated from him earlier as he rolls small circles on your index knuckle, soothing the pain in your joints below.

You look down at his hand as he traces his thumb from your knuckle up your index finger and back down. A small hum catches in the back of your throat. “My father…and Vander.”

“Why?” Viktor’s voice cracks just slightly into a breath as he tries to wrap his head around what would warrant you knowing how to…knock someone’s lights out—his words.

His feather-light touches send electricity up your arm and you’re relieved that the involuntary twitching in your fingers could reasonably be chalked up to the trauma your hand just went through.

He follows your gaze to your hands and his expression softens while he watches how your body reacts to his touch.

You feel your armor come apart at the seams when Viktor tentatively starts to guide your hand towards him. His eyes meet yours as he pauses—a silent “is this alright?” which you answer with a nervous inhale until you close the gap and feel his leg under your palm “yes.”

The strain on your fingers immediately lifts as they splay out on top of him and you gently rub your thumb along his left knee, grateful for the relief he’s providing. You hear a small sigh leave him before he moves his hand on top of yours, covering it with more gently circles as you get comfortable.

“Vander’s planning an uprising…” You finally manage to answer, both of you now keeping your eyes on the water as your hands absent-mindedly wander along one another.

“Mm. Yes, I’ve heard whispers of that.”

“He’s been training me for years, basically picking up where my father left off.”

“…And where would that be?”

“Back with the scrawny little kid that dropped off your salve almost 10 years ago.” You pause and take a deep breath, licking your lips as you watch the small waves lap up against the front of the dock.

“Is…that why you never came back?” It was hard to ignore the shift in his voice, like the boy that you met all those years ago was still in there—asking the question through him.

“Yeah.” Your own tone dips before take a drink from your mug and feel Viktor do the same next to you. “My father took me away a few days after we met.”

You catch Viktor nodding slowly out of the corner of his eye, mentally putting decade-old missing puzzles pieces together one-by-one. “Where did you go?”

“I honestly don’t know. I just remember it was covered in snow. And so fucking cold.” You take another sip, warming your chest as you continue to explain.

“He called it survival training…was out there with him for about six months until he thought I could hold my own. When he finally brought me back home that’s when he started taking me on his…hunting trips.” Viktor looks up at you and you try to gauge how much he knows about what your father had done. What you had done. “I’m not sure those are quality first date stories.” You admit.

His eyes flick from you back to the river, chewing on his cheek and continuing to mindlessly draw circles on your hand while he assessed your wording carefully. “I take it you weren’t hunting…animals.” It sounded more like a statement than a question, but you knew he still wanted confirmation.

“…No.” Your voice is low, more of a breath than an answer and you can’t take your eyes off of him while you laid out all your demons for him. “But he wanted me to believe that we were.”

You would think the silence that passes after that answer would’ve been tense, but it was far from it. Viktor only nods again, coming to terms that you’ve killed people and takes a deep breath before speaking.

“I have a hard time believing that was something you wanted to do.” You can tell his wheels are turning in his head as he tries to make sense of how you fell into such a shit line of work.

“You’d be right about that.” Your voice falters, softly giving away as you try to ease the rest of your words out. “What I wanted to do was go home and…” you laugh to yourself at how such a small dream was so impossible for you when you were young. “…play with that boat you were making when it was done.” You take another sip before finishing. “While I could even remember that, he—I know I still have gaps in my memory.”

Viktor turns to you with a small smile. He gives your hand a light squeeze before pulling away—the sudden lack of contact making you wonder if you shouldn’t have told him as much as you have. It’s a conversation you weren’t really ready for, but were hoping if he could handle it, you could finally relax around him…maybe even more than that.

You bite your lip nervously, unsure if he still wants to be alone at the docks with you now that he knows your upbringing was a level of fucked up that you could never prepare anyone for. Your heart begins to pound and you take a gracious sip to ease your nerves until Viktor’s voice catches your attention and pulls you back.

“Well, you’re home now.”

You manage a quiet nod when you peek over to find him digging into his backpack—moving your head curiously to get a better look.

“And from the sound of it, this has been overdue for both of us I think, yes?”

You squint, furrowing your brows and shaking your head as you only grow more and more confused when he lifts his hand from his bag, handing you a small key.

“…I just told you I killed enforcers for a solid year and a half of my childhood and you want me to move in with you?”

“No!—No, I mean…” He chuckles nervously as he pulls another key out and sets it by himself before digging into his bag again. “While I’m not trying to trivialize how hard that must’ve been on you, it doesn’t change how I f—” He cuts himself off, but you think you got enough to know what he was going to say and feel your stomach happily drop.

He looks flustered and you try your best to hold back the grin itching around the corners of your lips. “Yes?” You watch as he quickly lifts his head up from the bag—deadpan expression sealing your assumption that he’s not about to repeat a single word, which in reality…said plenty.

Your smug grin doesn’t last long when Viktor finally pulls the post-prawn activity from his bag—immediately forcing your expression to soften as the dream that had felt so unattainable was now being placed directly in your hands.

Viktor’s doe-eyed expression takes you back ten years in three seconds. Although his living room floor has been exchanged for a dock while you sit side-by-side, his crooked grin and breathy laugh is contagious as ever as he hands over the mechanical boat.

The toothy smile on your face only grows wider as you examine his invention, turning the metal creation over and over in your hands as you examine his craftsmanship. You laugh as you flick one of the gears to see the rest of them spin in sync.

“It’s The Nautilus, right?”

Viktor licks his lips before answering, looking out at the water when he does. “Ehm—it was. I…changed the name to Rio.”

“Rio’s great.” You’re still smiling ear-to-ear when you glance over to find Viktor reaching for his cane to pull himself up.

“Sh—uhm…” He stutters and you flick your eyes over him, curious about what he was trying to say until he finishes. “I think so too.” He inhales and shakes out his wrist before holding his hand out to you. “What do you think? Want to try it out?”

You’ve never grabbed this man’s hand more quickly in your life. “Yes please.”

The two of you walk a little farther away from town until Viktor takes you to a runoff where the water is shallower. You walk down a way with your key in hand, turning to talk at Viktor as you get some distance.

“So how does this thing work, just take the key and crank it?”

“Heh, yes that’s it.” You catch his grin as he speaks and give him a nod back while you spin the key around your finger.

You watch from a short distance as he starts to turn his key into the helm, switching his grip on his cane to lean forward so he can set the boat in the water. The gears and pistons push it down towards you and you crouch to stop it once it’s close.

After picking it up out of the water, you repeat the cranking motion Viktor just displayed. The gears turn against one another as it winds up until you feel pressure against the key. Once you pull it out, you can’t fight your breathy laugh as the boat whirls to life in your hands. Pistons move one-by-one as the gears turn on their own—powering the small machine with ease.

Once you set it down in the runoff it takes off downstream towards Viktor. He leans forward again, stopping the boat and repeating the motion to send it back towards you, laughing when you almost fall in as you catch it and continue the game with him.

There’s no way you could’ve prepared for the blend of emotions you were feeling. The pang of feeling robbed of your childhood pulls at your chest as you try to focus instead on just how happy you are right now.

You try not to dwell on the what-ifs as they attempt to tarnish this moment. Not ‘what if you never had to leave?’ or even ‘what if there could’ve been more moments like this with him?’ which only becomes easier as you watch the man standing across from you.

Viktor’s shoulders shimmy while he winds up the boat, causing you to laugh and for him to shout over at you—asking what’s so funny and only able to laugh back when you mimic his unintentional dance moves.

There’s a peace that washes over you more quickly than your regrets could consume you. Despite everything you admitted to him tonight—he’s happy to be here with you, cranking up a toy boat that you’ve been waiting to try out for almost a decade.

It was something you had wanted, even craved; this small semblance of normalcy. You clutched this dream as close as you could while you tried not to starve or freeze. Hanging onto it like a prayer until your mind finally forced you to forget—making room for your survival instincts to take over and develop as you grew.

And now?

All you could hear was the sound of Viktor’s laughter. All you could feel was cold water washing the pain and dried blood from your knuckles. All you could think about was how good this man makes you feel. And all you wanted was to give him the very same.

This was exactly what you needed tonight. What you needed with him as you felt your reservations and nerves drift away as steady as the current below.

----------

A/N: Next part is in the works! Will have more crimes, specifically on Viktor's part. 👀 And more touchy feely...writing that out as we speak. Hopefully this one was still wholesome even though it wasn't the best start lol

Thanks for reading!

Ghost

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor #arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane #arcane viktor #as above so below fic #that salty ghost fic

6 notes · View notes