#bellies should be doing at least 2 of these things at any given moment
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pierced. | spencer reid.
Moving into a new apartment in a new city is stressful, what's even more stressful is when there's a fucking murder in the apartment across from yours... at least the fbi agent is cute.
you can find the other parts on my masterlist.
cw: fem!reader, 18+ piercing, fluffyish, reader has pierced tiddies, flirting, wondering if i should do a part 2 fr
a/n: coming from a pierced nipple girly who wants a cute boy to knock on her door. also enjoy <3 and follow >:) also yay for the first thing i've posted :3
You let out an exasperated sigh as you collapsed another cardboard box.
Moving into a new apartment was fun in theory, but the practice of filtering through everything you own and finding a neat little spot for it? not so much. You took a long sip from your now cold cup of coffee before glancing across the room at the looming pile of cardboard boxes that just stood there and mocked you.
You picked up the next box of what was probably clothes and took a box cutter to the almost twenty layers of tape across the seam (it wouldn't stay closed, in retrospect you should have made up another box but you were really determined to make it fit at the time).
You ripped the rest of the tape off and put your hands on your hips, glancing at your cat Tofu on the couch.
"Care to help?" you asked... the cat. Tofu proceeded to curl into herself and begin grooming tubby belly. "I guess not."
There was an abrupt knock on your apartment door, Tofu scattering to the wind at the sudden sound. You furrowed your brows, confused as to why anyone would be knocking on your door.
You had moved here a matter of days ago, knew no one and were far too broke for doordash. You ignored it for a moment, thinking whoever resided on the other side of the door had the wrong apartment. When the knock came again, you thought you'd better answer this time.
You opened the door ajar, just in case it was someone who wanted to steal any of the maybe four things you'd managed to unpack. A tall darker skinned man looked down at you, "Yes?"
"Hi ma'am, I'm Agent Morgan and this is Dr. Reid, we're with the FBI," he introduced himself, holding up his credentials for you to peek at. You opened the door the rest of the way, glancing at the second tall man standing in your door way. He had messy hair just below his ears and was wearing a collared shirt with two black pens tucked into the pocket over his chest, he was cute. He pulled his lips into a tight line and held his hand up in a wave.
Spencer's eyes glanced down your body briefly. He has certainly seen some strange outfits when people answer their doors but none that made his skin run hot like this.
You wore a baby blue tank top and grey adidas shorts, he could see a small sliver of skin between your two garments but that's not what caught his eye. You had your nipples pierced.
Now, Spencer really didn't mean to stare but they were right there. The air of your apartment was clearly chilly given how your nipples pressed against the fabric. He could see the little studs on either side of your hardened nipples and he felt like a Victorian boy seeing an ankle for the first time.
"Oh no, you found me," you joked, laughing at yourself lightly. They didn't laugh. Your smile dropped, "I'm joking. Uh, come in, please." You stood aside, letting the two men into your basically bare apartment.
"Just move in?" Morgan asked, looking around your small living room.
"Uh, yeah, yeah. I'm starting a new job in a week," You replied, trying to make small talk. "What exactly are you here for?"
"There was a murder in the apartment across from yours," Dr. Reid said abruptly, stealing the air from your lungs.
Your eyes were blown wide, "What?"
"Young woman like you, stabbed to death-"
"Reid," Morgan warned, shaking his head softly at the younger man.
"Shit, that sucks," you replied, glancing between the two men. "I assume you're talking to me because I live close by, huh?"
"It's just procedure," Morgan replied. "Can you tell me where you were around 11pm last night?"
"Uh, yeah. I was here, I had a lot to unpack, you know?" You replied honestly, wondering how you didn't hear that someone was being murdered across the hall.
"And you didn't hear anything?" Morgan asked, eyebrows furrowed as he stood to face you.
"No, no I honestly didn't. I had my headphones on while I was unpacking, I went to bed around midnight." Were you incriminating yourself? Maybe you should make some friends so you don't get caught up in this kind of stuff.
"The UnSub we're looking for is white male, mid 20s to 30s, seems out of place. Have you seen anyone like that around?" Dr. Reid asked.
"No, I mean, I just moved here, I don't know anyone. I haven't left my apartment since I got here," you replied, looking Dr. Reid in the eye. You caught him glancing down at your boobs for a moment before he caught himself, clearing his throat.
It was only then that you realised what you were wearing. Fuck. Two FBI agents, one of whom was your type to a T came to question you about a murder and your nipples were gazing upon the world like a deer in headlights.
You quickly crossed your arms across your chest before scampering across the room to grab your hoodie off your couch. You pulled it over your head before staring at the two men awkwardly, your skin feeling hot.
"I'm sorry about... my attire, I didn't even-"
Morgan smiled, chucking softly, "Please, this is your home, sweetheart." Morgan glanced at Spencer, who suddenly found the ceiling utterly fascinating. "You mind if I have a look around? We suspect he used the fire escape."
"Of course, yeah. You can see it from the bedroom," you replied, being left alone with the cute doctor. "You seem young to be a doctor," you said softly, trying to make small talk.
"Scarring, tearing and nerve damage is possible when you get your," he coughed, "nipples pierced... infections and bleeding are also common," he quickly said, lips pulled into a tight line.
"Mm, cute and smart... well, I've had them for five years so... I think I'm safe, Dr. Reid," you replied with a chuckle.
"Spencer," he muttered.
"Huh?"
"Spencer, it's my name. Spencer Reid," he said, hands clutched tightly around the strap of his leather satchel.
"Spencer," you smiled, "I'm Y/N."
"Well, we better get out of your hair," Morgan returned from your room, glancing between you and Spencer for a moment. "Let's go, Reid."
You opened the door for them, Morgan thanked you as he left and started down the hall to the elevator. Spencer paused for a moment, glancing at you for briefly before walking out the door.
"Hey," you called softly. Spencer spun around to look at you and you definitely couldn't let him escape without your number. "Do you have a girlfriend?"
"Uh, girlfriend? I, uhm-"
"He doesn't!" Morgan called from down the hall, making you smile.
"You don't know that!" Spencer retorted, making a face at Morgan who was grinning.
"So... you do?" You asked.
"...No, I don't." He muttered.
"Okay, well," you laughed, plucking the pen from the pocket of Spencer's shirt. "Call me sometime," you scribbled your name and number with a little heart onto a scrap piece of paper that once wrapped your toaster.
"Yes... Okay, I will," he replied nervously, holding your number in his hands gently. He glanced at it, a smile beaming across his handsome face.
"You, uh, might wanna go before your partner loses it," you giggled after a beat. Spencer muttered a quick 'oh' before walking quickly toward the elevators.
"Bye," Spencer said softly, waving at you with a little smile.
"Bye, Dr. Reid!"
Spencer stepped into the elevator with Morgan, the silence palpable in the tiny mental container.
"'Bye, Dr. Reid~'," Morgan raised his voice an octave, planning to tease Spencer relentlessly and text the group chat as soon as they got to the car.
"Shut up!"
reblog and follow me :3 also come chat, i love to yap.
dividers by @cafekitsune
#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#dr reid#spencer reid#fluff#spencer reid fluff#x reader#criminal minds x reader#derek morgan#spencer fluff#dr spencer reid x reader#reid#criminal minds spencer
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Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff [Part 3]
Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff
Word Count: 2.3k
Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 3)
ie. Detention begins, and the topic of Winter Break plans comes into question.
[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]
The first detention went about as well as you could have hoped.
You sorted paperwork, mindlessly graded the very same pop quizzes that had nearly given Deuce an aneurism just that morning, and shined all the stupid glassware that was needed to make all the stupid potions. It was grueling. And to think—you’d been doing this shit for fun not a month ago. What had been wrong with you?
“Maybe it was the Stockholm Syndrome,” you muttered irritably under your breath.
“What?”
“Nothing, sir,” you grumbled, and went back to organizing all of your tormentor’s seemingly endless collection of bits and bobs.
Professor Crewel looked over at you, his face twisted up like he wanted to say something. But after a moment of awkward silence, he just ducked his head back down to his paperwork and carried on without saying a thing.
The next afternoon didn’t look like it was shaping up to be much better. You shined, he scribbled, and you wished for nothing more than the sweet release of death. The quiet was disconcerting. Say what you will about all the time you’d spent holed up in this office before The Incident, but ‘silence’ had never been an issue. Even Crewel’s snide little barbs would be better than this—this nothingness.
‘You’re not even worth insulting anymore,’ your brain supplied helpfully. ‘Wow. Isn’t that a trip?’
“Are you almost finished?”
You startled a bit. It was the first full sentence he’d spoken to you all day. You glanced pointedly from him, to the walls upon walls of vials, and then back.
“No, sir.”
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, like this entire situation was just all sorts of unpleasant for him. And not like, you know, he’d been the one to lock you into the school equivalent of prison labor for the next four weeks.
He closed the ledger he was working on with a pointed snap and stood from his chair with a grand swirl of his fur coat.
“You can be finished for the day,” he said, leaning forward to rifle around in the top drawer of his desk. “It’s already late, and you should start making your way back to your dorm before it gets too dark.”
You fought and won against the intense to desire to roll your eyes. The path back to Ramshackle was no easier to traverse in the black of night than it was in the bright light of the afternoon. And besides, it’s not like you were particularly worried about anything happening to you out there. The monsters at this school prowled its halls no matter the time of day. If anything, nighttime meant less potentially murderous magicians out on the loose. No one but you was stupid enough to try and go toe-to-toe with a wandering Tsunotarou.
“And take these with you.”
You startled once more as something was pressed into your hands. It was a familiar box—sleek and artfully colored with matte backgrounds and swirls of golden lettering etched across its face. These were the fancy cookies.
Thankfully, the spite in your belly was enough to gobble up whatever lingering love you had for the treats. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself when you passed them back to Professor Crewel with a tight smile.
“Thank you,” you said, pointedly reaching into your own backpack to procure a nearly wrapped pouch of Annie’s homemade pastries. “But I’m all set.”
His dark eyes lingered on your stash of chocolate chip cookies in a way that made you think he was going to demand you throw them away, and maybe start ranting hypocritically about the dangers of bringing food of any kind into an alchemical lab. His jaw ticked and you had the distinct impression that he was grinding his teeth.
Instead, Professor Crewel just sighed and returned the treats to his desk drawer.
“Of course,” he huffed, looking a bit dejected, and collapsed back into his chair without his usual elegance. Huh. Maybe you’d just foiled his plans to try and poison you or something. “Good evening, Prefect.”
The next afternoon, he did not mention the cookies. However, on your way out the door at the end of the night, you noticed that he’d placed the box near the coatrack—not quite on top of your belongings, but close enough.
And then it was there again the night after that.
And then again, and again.
.
.
“How’s the internment going?”
You heard a dull thwack and some angry shushing. Mister Rogerson’s laughter was muffled through the phone’s speaker, and you had a feeling that Annie had just tried to beat him with her shoe.
“It’s alright,” you snickered into your hand. “Prison is prison.”
“You know,” Mister Rogerson huffed. “I still say all of this is horribly unfair.”
You shrugged, and then remembered he couldn’t very well see that through a phone call, and sighed. “It could be worse.”
“Could it?” he asked, a clear frown in his voice.
You dutifully did not mention anything about Overblots and just sighed again. “I mean, probably.”
There was a bit of a scuffle on the other end and you heard little snippets of Annie’s kind trill. There was more laughter. It sounded warm—cozy. You glanced around at the grey, soot-stained walls of Ramshackle and tried not to feel sorry for yourself. Grim rolled over in his sleep and burrowed into your hip with a contented little mewl, which did help a bit.
“Annie wants to know if you got her care package,” Mister Rogerson said after a moment, sounding a bit like he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him. “And if you’ve thought at all about our offer to host you over the winter holidays.”
“I did, thank you,” you smiled. “It was all delicious.”
“And the break?” he asked after a moment.
“Crowley sent me some angry letter about taking care of the fairies that live in the kitchen stoves,” you said. “So I’ll have to see about that.”
“Just keep it in mind,” Mister Rogerson pressed, a bit of concern slipping into his otherwise laidback drawl. “Please?”
“Okay,” you smiled, feeling like you’d managed to steal a bit of that bubbly glow of theirs and tuck it away tight enough that even the chilly shadows of your new home wouldn’t be able to taint it. “I will.”
.
.
“Take care of the fairies in the boiler?”
“Yes,” said Crowley, with deadpan sincerity.
The other members of the staff looked on in silence—a lovely range of ‘fed up’ to ‘outright contempt’ twisting their faces.
“Well I thought it was an excellent idea,” he huffed, crossing his arms petulantly over his chest.
“No wonder this child hates you,” Trein hissed under his breath and worked his fingers into his temples like maybe if he drilled hard enough he could kill the Crowley-Induced-Migraine before it began.
The Old Crow gasped.
“How dare you—”
“And you,” Trein interrupted, turning on Crewel with a sneer. “What exactly are you trying to accomplish with any of this, Divus? An entire month’s worth of disciplinary action for one infarction? I thought you were better than, well,” a pointed glower at the raving Headmaster who was nearly collapsed in tears before them, “that.”
Crewel’s lips curled into a bitter snarl, but the aging historian before him was far from cowed.
“That’s none of your concern,” he snapped. “This is a matter between the Prefect and I, and their willful disobedience when it comes to following the rules of this institution.”
“Is that so,” Trein hummed, arching a brow in obvious skepticism. “But then again, what would I know anything about raising unruly children? I only have two lovely, successful, daughters of my own. Remind me, when was the last time you allotted even an ounce of affection to anything that wasn’t one of your purebred mongrels? Or your own ego?”
Crewel stepped forward with a scowl that was more a restrained baring of teeth.
“That has nothing to do with anything,” he sneered.
“Say what you will,” Mozus Trein tutted, and glared down his nose at the pair of them—Crewel with his poorly cloaked rage and Crowley who still refused to stop wailing about the injustices of it all. “But both of my children will be coming home for the holidays. Voluntarily.”
“Oooh,” Sam trilled, uncurling himself from the shadows for the first time all afternoon. “Get ‘em, Mozus.”
.
.
You ended up staying at Ramshackle over the break, if only because you couldn’t tell at this point if ‘oven fairies’ were a real thing, and if they were and they did starve, you’d feel absolutely terrible. Your rap sheet in this word was already a mile long—you didn’t need to add homicide to the list.
And then, of course, you ended up being kidnapped by Jamil and his smooth-talking self not a day in, so your act of goodwill really was all for naught.
You paced around your luxurious little guestroom cell, phone in hand. There wasn’t a lot of charge left on it, but you definitely had enough to make a call or two. Mister Rogerson would come help you, you knew he would. But… the problem was that you were kind of becoming a Blot expert at this point, and from the looks of things, Jamil Viper was about to go apeshit and melt into Enraged Ink Monster Number Four. Sure, the guy may have kidnapped you. But he also made great curry, and really didn’t seem that bad underneath it all. Just... quiet. And fed up with living a life of forced servitude and mediocrity. Which, y’know, totally fair.
You paced and paced.
“They have to be reported to the proper authorities,” Mister Rogerson had said. “And dealt with accordingly.”
“They’d be taken away?” you’d whispered.
“I know it sounds scary, kiddo. But that’s what we have to do to keep everyone as safe as we can.”
You grit your teeth and called Ace and Deuce instead.
They were immediately no help at all and Jamil ended up Overblotting anyways.
“Y’know,” Grim grouched, shivering into your side after Evil Jamil had yeeted you off into The Unknown and Freezing Corners of Sandy Hell. “You really should start charging for these things. We could probably make a lot of money or something.”
“That’s a great idea,” Azul nodded along, and you wanted to beat the shit out of them both.
In the end, you saved the day. As usual.
Jamil was de-inked. He was still a miserable wad of repressed hatred, but at least he was being open about it now. Everyone was alive. Azul promised to only bill you his usual rate for assistance rather than the holiday upcharge. Kalim held a feast, as per usual. And Ace and Deuce showed up at the tail end of it all, which was incredibly sweet of them and also on track with their usual brand of stupidity.
Everything had turned out great!
Except…
“How was your break?” Mister Rogerson asked. “We missed you over here!”
“It was great,” you lied, images of black tar running from narrowed eyes and the suffocating sensation of dark magic flooding your throat. “It was great.”
.
.
You walked into detention on Monday afternoon feeling like shit warmed over. And looking like it too, you would guess, seeing the way Crewel’s eyebrows shot all the way up his forehead.
You stayed silent throughout the whole thing, quietly sorting bottles and blends, and trying to keep your mind off the fact that you had very nearly died. Again. You could feel Crewel’s eyes on you throughout the entire ordeal, tracking you in a way that reminded you of someone watching a car crash that they just couldn’t quite force themselves to look away from.
“Prefect,” he called as your were half-way through shrugging on your coat at the end of the evening.
“Yes, sir?” you sighed, not even bothering to look up from the floor.
He was silent for one moment, two, three.
“…Get some rest tonight,” he ordered. It sounded like a cop out—like he’d wanted to say something else but hadn’t had the words for it.
You sighed again, bone deep and weary. “Yes, sir.”
.
.
You did not, in fact, rest that night. A horrible cocktail of nightmares tugged at your brain from dusk ‘til dawn, and you woke up feeling worse than you had when you’d gone to sleep.
You barely forced yourself to go to detention, and only because you knew it would only get worse if you tried to skip out. However, when the door to Crewel’s office creaked open, you were not met by a head of neatly dyed black-and-white hair, but a yowling mass of flying fur and limbs that immediately sent you sprawling to the floor.
Jasper and Badun yelped and cried in the ways that all excited dogs cry, and laved your face with so many kisses you couldn’t have counted them even if you tried. Your hands went into their soft scruffs on instinct, and you had to fight valiantly not to burst into tears.
There was a hand at your back then, urging you towards the comfy, plush, chair that you’d once called yours. You plopped gracelessly against the opulent cushions, and the pair of delighted dogs quickly bounded up to join you—squishing their too-large bodies into your lap and across the armrests. The duo buried their noses into your shoulder, your hip, any nook and cranny they could reach. And you felt warm for the first time since the holidays.
When you woke up later (hours? Days? You couldn’t tell), you and Jasper and Badun were all still bundled together in that chair—the three of you tucked in gently beneath the soft furs of a very familiar black and white coat.
.
.
TAG LIST [CLOSED]
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#twisted wonderland imagines#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#My Writing#NRC Staff#NRC Staff x Reader#Divus Crewel x Reader#Dire Crowley x Reader#The NRC Staff's Horrible Parenting#But maybe getting a lil better#Heroes vs. Villains#Crewel x Reader#twisted wonderland OCs#twst ocs#Divus Crewel#Dire Crowley#Heroes vs Villains The NRC Staff Part 3
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Hi it’s been a long time right ? 😭
So this is the second part of Jisung’sMix up ! I really like this part and can’t wait to write the next part ! Make sure to have read the chapter 1 and enjoy 💜
This is a weight gain fic, if you don't like don't read.
This contain, weight gain, weight loss, magic weight gain/loss, bullying, and humiliation.
Jisung’s Mix up
Chapter 2
Jisung was now sure of his decision, he had a choice to make and although it wasn't really the only things he can do, he had the power to change things. For years, he had suffered again and again, but for once in his life the keys were in his hands, and he was sick of running away and being afraid all the time time, so now he was going to do something for himself and maybe for Hyunjin too. He was no longer living his own life but the life he'd dreamed of, except that this life didn't belong to him but he was still the one who controlled it, and he didn't want to spoil his chances. For too long, he'd cried over his fate, but that was no longer the case, he felt capable of making a choice and even undertaking things himself. So he walked through the corridors, using the adrenalin inside him to keep himself motivated. Trying to breath calmly and try not to be scared of what could happen, he arrived in front of his classroom and waited for his class to end. In the meantime, he had time to think about everything that had happened, his new body, Hyunjin's new body, which he couldn't help finding sexy. Because seing him like that was kinda like a dream he could have make in is life ans if we was really having Jisung body, he knew how his body had worked, so he began to imagine Hyunjin gorging himself as he tended to do in times of stress, and even though it wasn't his aim at the moment, he began to feel aroused and blushed. Jisung also noticed the change in people's attitudes towards him, everyone was greeting him and he could even see that he was attracting attention for once in a positive way. Whereas when he had seen Hyunjin earlier, he had begun to see something in other people's eyes that he had never seen before: judgment towards Hyunjin. He had gone from being the most handsome boy in the university to being a fat student, less attractive in the eyes of the others, which made Jisung sad. So why did he feel that Hyunjin was becoming a little more perfect in his eyes? He thought of his face becoming round, his big belly sticking out of his t-shirt or thighs rubbing together and when he'd rushed off his whole body jiggling. He was losing himself in his thoughts when suddenly people started coming out of class and it didn't take him long to spot him, and head towards him. And after a few seconds he grabbed Minho's arm.
"We need to talk!" he said seriously.
"What is it babe?"
"First of all...don't call me that anymore! I don't want to go out with you anymore Minho! You're an asshole who hurts other people! And I don't want you in his…hm…in MY life!" Jisung's heart was beating fast, he was so afraid of it that he'd let go all of a sudden, because of the stress. And then part of him didn't know if he really had the right to break up with him, given that he had Hyunjin's life. But he hurt him so much, and he'd hated Minho for months, and now he could finally part with him.
"What? What's the matter with you today?"
"Nothing! I've realized what I need in my life, and it certainly isn't you!"
"Jisung can we at least talk about it?"
"No. Leave me alone now."
"Wait..."
Jisung wasted no time in hurrying off, feeling his heartbeat quicken; he'd always dreamed of saying these things to Minho, and now it was done. Still, he didn't feel any more relieved than that...it all seemed unreal perhaps because he wasn't the version of himself who should have said that. Of course, he can be confided, he was in Hyunjin’s life, not in a life where Minho could destroy him everyday. But at least, he had done something…Then he sighed, feeling relieved and as if a certain pressure had just fallen from his shoulders. He'd suffered for months because of Minho, and by taking Hyunjin's place, it was as if part of him knew he'd succeeded in hurting him. He felt his heart pounding and went to find a place to relax. Class wasn't his problem right now, he had other things to deal with. So he went to the park where he often went when he needed some air, and walked towards it, before seeing Hyunjin there. Of course, this was his place now too. He start approaching him slowly when he saw what he was doing and suddenly he feel very surprised to see Hyunjin eating a rather large pizza all by himself, with a big slice of cake on the side and a whole bottle of soda next too him. He felt slightly excited, but he'd never eaten so much in public... He walked over to him and sat down gently beside him. Hyunjin was surprised but said nothing, bowing his head and continuing to eat his pizza. Jisung then looked at Hyunjin's swollen belly, which protruded slightly under his shirt as it had done in the past. hat had happened to yesterday's delicate boy who never ate more than necessary?
"What are you doing here?" asked Hyunjin, breaking the silence.
"I...broke up with Minho..." said Jisung, sighing.
Suddenly Hyunjin sat up surprised and frowned. He looked angry and Jisung didn't really understand. What did he care after all? If he had his own life he should have been happy about it, but Jisung understood that he hadn't inherited his feelings for him. You can't change everything...he thought. Hyunjin sighed and moved closer to Jisung, taking him by the shoulders.
« ARE YOU STUPID ? Why did you do it?" Say suddenly Hyunjin, and jisung was so shocked as he never see Hyunjin angry.
"Well...it's complicated..." he said, trying to explain, but Hyunjin immediately interrupted him.
"I don't find it complicated! You've got everything you wanted, haven't you? The boy you liked? My friends? My life? My body? If I agree to live your life, it's not so that you can destroy it, which is why I'm sacrificing myself! TRY TO THINK BEFORE YOU ACT!"
"What? So... you know? YOU KNOW?" Finally say Jisung still shocked.
"Of course I know! And no, I don't have the explanation, but I quickly understood when I saw my body this morning, and especially my best friend who spends his days at the gym stuffing his face with pastries for breakfast, barely able to get up and breath properly… »
"Like Binnie...so...BUT WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING?"
"I WANTED YOU TO ENJOY! AND ME TOO! You think I like pretending to be perfect all day long when I hate it! I hate watching what I eat, being smiley enough to be appreciated, never complaining, and above all DATING Minho!"
"wait wait...so this morning when we ran into each other you knew? w..why dating him?" then said Jisung feeling confused about the situation but part of him was just getting curious about Hyunjin's life that he hadn't suspected when he made that wish.
"Because at first he was really nice and caring but then he started hurting you and being mean and selfish...and I was afraid for myself...BUT YOU! You had him! You've loved him for months, why leave him?"
"I DON'T LOVE MINHO! He nags me every day, I remind you! What do you think?"
"Then why do you spend your time looking at us? Talking to me so you can be with him? Trying to catch his eye? TELL THE TRUTH JISUNG!"
« Its…..just…that…i..mean…I…I LOVE YOU YOU OKAY ? Since high school ! So stop pretending, I know you didn’t know…I know you weren't attracted to people like me..." Said he, lowering his head.
"Wha...what? No...I...then...if it wasn't Minho...why didn't you say it to me…? »
"I was afraid...you're so perfect and look at me...or look at you..."
"Jisung..."
Jisung was finally feeling more and more lost. The man who thought he was the only one who remembered was in fact in the same situation as Hyunjin, and Hyunjin was going through the same thing as him...Except that he had accepted his fate unlike Jisung, but he couldn't pretend he had ever been able to. He wiped a tear from his face before looking back at Hyunjin, who seemed as lost as he was. It's true, Jisung had just confessed his feelings to him, even though he'd always thought they were for Minho.
"Jisung...I thought you loved Minho...and...I didn't want to break up with him because I was afraid that...you two...because...I like you a lot too...I..I didn't dare tell you because...well I'm a coward...but...excuse me for everything. And forgive me for wishing I were you to end it all...I didn't think you suffered so much every day..I thought you were happy because even if Minho is mean…you were always so brave with him…and I was thinking that if I have your life…maybe you would suffer anymore and that I can’t take his meanness for you… »
"I...I-I wished the same thing...I dreamed of being considered and being you...but...you're suffering too…and sorry that you have me life now.. »
« Dont apologies ! In fact you know...I enjoy having your life and..body…I feel...good...well...it's different from what I've experienced but...yes it's pleasant and...peaceful" Jisung then laughed lightly, perhaps from nerves or relief and looked at the man he'd loved for years, his face may have been rounder and his body bigger but Hyunjin still remained perfect in his eyes, like a work of art he could admire over and over again.
"I can see that, yes...I too appreciate your body...it feels weird to be so light..."
« Yeah…see this have some good point right ? Like…this morning I had trouble getting out of bed! And to wash myself, I had to sit down because I had to bend down...it's quite pleasant actually...and Chan seems to be less stressed too...I don't know...maybe...it's a blessing in disguise..."
"You mean you enjoy being fat or just the change in our lives...?"
"Yeah...I...I wanted to enjoy it!" he says, looking at the pizza. "I like your body Jisung...and...I've always liked you too..."
"M...me...?"
Hyunjin then moved closer to Jisung before placing his hand gently on his cheek, the oldest heartbeat began to quicken and he flushed, lowering his head. Hyunjin lifted him tenderly, stroking his face and detailing it with a shy smile. Jisung felt his breathing quicken too, and his eyes fell on Hyunjin's luscious lips as he gently drew closer. Hyunjin did the same, but the truth was that Hyunjin had never really ignored Jisung. He'd gotten used to seeing him and found him cute and kind. He'd never found it fair what Minho did to him, but the truth was that he too was afraid of what he might do to him. So it was like a gift he'd been given, he'd thought Jisung would never appreciate him and now he finally knew the truth. He then placed his lips on him, which surprised Jisung, who closed his eyes to enjoy this timeless moment. It was everything he'd ever wanted: Hyunjin. The boy he'd admired and loved for so many years, and now he finally had the chance to have him. He threw his arms around his neck as their tongues met. He felt a shiver run down his body and Hyunjin's lips warmed him. They still tasted of food, which he found cute and made him want to taste them even more. Hyunjin, for his part, almost had tears in his eyes at kissing Jisung and feeling loved in a way he wasn't used to. Jisung then put his hand on Hyunjin's waist and suddenly felt how swollen his belly was. He stepped back and looked down at him.
"Hyunjin...I didn't have a belly that swollen you know...."
"hm...I...I...I like being able to let myself…go..."
« Really ? » he said, gently caressing his belly.
"Well...it's nice to be able to eat your fill...and be...comfortable...I mean I've always been very thin but...I don't know I find it exciting to have a bigger body! And...I wanted to...feel even...heavier..." Jisung was surprised at this statement but didn't let go of Hyunjin's belly.
"So why don't...I help you finish everything you've got left?" he said, resting his eyes on the food.
"R..really? W...why...?"
"Might as well make the most of what we're given, don't you think? And then...I must admit, being fat makes you even sexier..."
Hyunjin blushed and laughed lightly, not knowing that Jisung could feel this way too. Hyunjin had grown so fond of Jisung in recent years because he found him cute and loved his shape. Sometimes when Jisung put on weight, Hyunjin found him even more handsome, but this time he was the one who was allowed to change, to put on weight, to let himself go, and what's more, he had Jisung at his side to help him. Jisung then looked at him before reaching under his sweater to gently touch his belly and his bulges, Hyunjin gasped and looked at Jisung with flushed cheeks, wondering if he had the same idea as him. Unsure of himself, he took a breath and looked up at Jisung, whose cheeks were also flushed.
"Jisung...wouldn't you like to take advantage of this..."
"What do you mean...?"
"What if...we took advantage of this chance we've been given to indulge our...hidden...desires..." said HYunjin shyly and Jisung then smiled and in a burst of confidence he asked Hyunjin.
"And what are your hidden desires Jinnie?" At the nickname Hyunjin lowered his head shyly.
"Would...you...like to help me...let...myself...go..."
"Would you really want to get...bigger...?"
"I've...always found it attractive...not sure why but...imagine myself getting fatter...and then...now that we're both in this situation...why not enjoy it before things go back to the way they were...?" Jisung then smiled and raan his hand on Hyunjin's fat cheeks and nodded.
"How could I refuse you anything? So let's do this...let's help the prince of the university turn into a fat pig..."
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I'm 3 months and 2 weeks on T now and I'm sooooo happy with it :D the first two months and then some were SLOW, so much so if it wasn't for one thing and the (temporary) side effects of the hormonal mess, I would've thought it wasn't working lol
but over the past month I've started really seeing changes!!
my voice started dropping, I can hear a difference with my voice pre-t!
I'm already growing facial hair on my neck and chin. at this rate I'll hopefully be one of the lucky ones with something decent before the end of my first year on T hehe
my belly is getting hairier
I think my face shape has started to change but that's harder to tell
so yeah I'm really happy because so far I'm getting nice changes and I haven't been plagued with being hungry, hot and horny. no mood changes either or anything. I don't feel any different from before T besides feeling more confident in my appearance. and I still have some palpitations when I lie down to go to bed in the evening and still in bed in the morning but I saw a cardiologist with echography and EKG and I'm good so it's likely the hormones. it was much worse before my third shot when we increased the dose.
also I don't know if it's related but before T I would get really nauseous (at the base of the neck rather than the stomach, idk how to explain it) at least once every three weeks or so, most of the time when I woke up in the morning and then it went away once I got up and went about my day. a week or so after I started T it got worse as in it started happening more frequently, at night too, and sometimes lasted throughout the day. then towards the end of the sixth week, before my third shot, it got so bad for like five days I thought I was gonna die hahaha but same as the palpitations improving, we did the third shot at full dose instead of half and the nausea disappeared. I haven't had a single instance of it since. so?¿?¿??? (both these things were already there before but probably made worse by a medication I started taking a little after going on T though. I stopped taking it as well)
I'm a liiittle anxious because "oh my god what if I'm doing a mistake" but I'm really looking forward to the next few months!!!
anyways, I did two shots by myself so far, the first one went perfectly well and the second one I felt like passing out but it was likely because I did it in the morning right out of my hot shower sjdkln I lied down for 20 minutes and then felt fine again.
also I got the results of my check-up blood test yesterday and my T levels have very nicely increased (I'm at like 55) and everything else is normal :3
but also WELP because besides my sister my family doesn't know. my mother hasn't called me in a month so odds that she'll notice something next time she calls me are not nonexistent and it's Not going to go well and I'm wholly unprepared for that conversation
next week I'm having lunch with my godmother whom I last saw on the day I started T, so that should be interesting too....she's always been supportive and nonjudgmental (to my face at least hahaha) but also given that she believes in the woke agenda I have no idea if HRT is going too far for her. wait and see :')
as for my dad, I'm frankly starting to wonder if he's just pretending not to have noticed anything. the voice I can get because he talks to me everyday so without a direct comparison it's not impossible that he hasn't noticed. but the facial hair??? I have way more than before and it's surprising he hasn't commented on it. anyway. either way the moment my mother knows he's probably gonna be made aware too.
anyway. excitement but also Fear
#beelio talks#also got a 24h EKG planned this month to be 100% sure but the cardiologist wasn't concerned at all#whoops this got long sorry
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Prompt #2: Bark
A small knife, sharpened to an edge keen enough to split hair that might fall across it, was the only proper way to collect the samples that Qata was so carefully drawing from the spindly little tree. A respectable feat to grow beneath the dense canopy that ensured the swampland beneath remained as dark, damp, and dreary as it was. While such a condition may have been off-putting to those more attuned to bright, sunlit meadows it was a lovely state for the young poisoner to collect samples from rare insects and plants that thrived there.
An impressive collection for the day, at that! From delightfully toxic mushrooms that would have unlucky sisters bemoaning their existence, to the debilitating diseases within insectile mandibles just waiting to lay burlier nuisances low for long enough to complete research upon the charmingly lethal seeds that had yet to be mastered. Yet to be named! The possibility of granting a title to a new concoction was enough to set the Keeper's tail whipping back in forth in clear excitement.
"Shimmers? Expulses? Whimpers? Whimpers! Hm. No, that sounds underwhelming."
Distracted by the loose concepts that had moved from mind to tongue, Qata felt the hard thump of a glass container striking her lightly on top of the head. Thankfully the flattened bottom, as having a bottle aggressively smashed over her skull would have addled the thoughts going through her mind rather than simply distracting them for a moment.
"What are you rambling on about, sister?" Pelhna scowled down at the shorter miqo'te, hand tapping that container a few more times for good measure. "Finally pickled your brain? Or is this the last bit of brine to finish the process?"
Glancing upward, Qata squinted in confusion at her. What last bit was the older woman talking about? It took several moments before she came to realize that they were talking about the strips freshly cut from the tree. And a good deal of effort not to break out into cackling that may have incited more enthusiastic fury from her short-tempered sister. Appraising the particularly large centipede rattling around in that jar helped shift thoughts down less amusing channels.
What a beautiful specimen. And the muscle contractions it induced were positively memorable!
"Yes, my dear sister! Have you not yet worked with it? Fantastic materials! Simply crush it to dust and it paralyzes the lungs! Cut too deep and the sap within twists your belly all up in knots if you consume even a drop! Why, I got a single splinter once before and was fairly certain I was going to lose the finger! Luckily Sehkrah was nearby to resolve the matter!"
As anticipated, the swift rattling off of particularly unappealing effects should the sapling be poorly handled was enough to earn a bit of space as Pelhna skittered back a couple steps. Though whether because Qata was speaking so enthusiastically with broad gestures of her knife wielding hand, or the sample holding one, was difficult to determine. But she was confident she could develop a strong theory regarding it should she so wish.
It was actually the overly thrilled, and unwittingly goofy, fang-bearing grin that had crossed her face that had actually accomplished it. Though she had never come to realize that was a familiar expression whenever she began to ramble on far too energetically about unsettling topics.
Stuffing that centipede into her satchel, Pelhna gave a brief hissed reply, "Just keep it away from my table! You never warn us when you leave such things unattended!"
"Rest assured, my most beloved sister! I would never do something like that! On purpose, that is. Never on purpose!"
Had it been any of the other Ooja of their generation, the comment would have been a lie. A bald-faced one, given the way they embraced the concept of sabotage so readily amongst the clan. But one of Qata's few virtues had always been her stalwart honesty. Often to a bafflingly overly frank fault.
Not in this situation, of course. At least not in regards to the exhaustive list of side effects she made up on the spot. Simply a harmless little lie to keep the less dexterous, or at least less self-destructive, Ooja from tampering with the lovely little tree she had discovered. It was of grave importance. A rarity amongst the Shroud, or at least the section of it that the Ooja resided in. Simply the pinnacle of material to work with.
It did make such a lovely smelling incense if properly processed.
Qata would happily come up with even more frightening descriptions of the sapling's effects so long as it kept anyone else from helping themselves to the harmless little thing instead.
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Please have some Skywalker Babies + Uncle Rex.
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Title: skittles
Summary: Padme dies, but Anakin doesn't turn and as a result ends up with two little ones who are, naturally, adopted by the 501st--well, Leia is. Luke keeps getting stolen by a filthy thief.
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Rex has the twins for now. He has never felt terror like this before. He can’t stop checking over his shoulders for threats to their teeny tiny persons.
In his humble opinion, it should be illegal for humans to be born this small. He ran it past Ahsoka recently and she agreed, but she also provided intelligence that the twins’ size was not necessarily average for their species, either.
The other brothers helped him investigate this. They all gathered round and put the holonet searches on the projector so that they didn’t have to smash buckets over a datapad screen to be educated. Their search for ‘newborn natborn human baby’ was rewarded with images upon images of reddened tubies with big, round bellies and curled up limbs.
They did a new search for ‘2 weeks, natborn human baby’ and were rewarded with even more pictures, to which they held the twins up next to and found them wanting. The twins’ proportions were all wrong, their limbs were too skinny, their faces pinched. The babies on the holonet didn’t have hair, but their baby girl did.
The conclusion was that the research was inconclusive. Further, it was interrupted by the resident thief coming in to take his chances. Cody told them later, upon returning their baby boy, that they were better than this. Kenobi wasn’t slick. They needed to stop letting their guards now.
He said all this while ignoring the way the baby boy burrowed into the side of his throat and made smacking noises.
Such a strong man, that Cody. He is, unfortunately, not available now even though Rex has both twins and a heart attack waiting to happen.
The Thief is nearby. Rex can sense him. He heads back the way he came.
--
The baby girl, who has a name, but Anakin is too heartbroken to speak it, fists her hands at Rex and shakes them as if to threaten him into compliance. He does not know how to help her understand that he has not taken the blanket off her face out of malice, but rather to keep her from suffocating. She is angry with him regardless. She is often angry with him and endlessly crying when he does not put her exactly where she wants to be exactly when she wants it.
The thief calls her a princess, and so everyone else has started doing the same in lieu of her name. The child is bound to grow up thinking her name itself is ‘Princess’ at this rate. Ahsoka has been trying out different titles for her, but she doesn’t respond to them in the same way.
For all that the princess is royalty through and through, the baby boy is thoroughly a commoner. Catching him awake is a miracle. Part of that is because his waking hours are spent with the Thief, since Kenobi has decided, for some mysterious reason, that this child is his favorite of all in existence. He will not be separated from this child and when he is, he gets crafty in his attempts to get him back.
The princess does not like Kenobi. At all, period. He touches her and she screams and reaches her stubby hands for Rex. If Rex is not available to be screamed for, she will wail until her father comes to stuff her in his tunic.
Anakin is fine to hold the princess, but he cannot look upon the baby boy, even to feed him. He looks so much like his mother. It is a struggle for everyone—except Kenobi. Rex wonders aloud to Ahsoka if Kenobi will raise the boy on his own and a moment of silence fills the canteen.
Ahsoka throws herself from the room and goes sprinting for the masters’ quarters.
--
The twins are tested for Force Sensitivity and it becomes abundantly clear why Kenobi continues hoard the baby boy against all sense and wisdom. He is described by the jedi as a ‘sun’ in the Force. The princess too, but her presence in the Force blends in with her father’s until she is gazed upon in Rex’s Force-empty grip.
Only then is she, too, declared a star.
Twin stars, they are called.
‘Kenobi, put that down,’ the boy is named. ‘Kenobi, give that back,’ is his middle one.
The first time Rex sees the baby boy awake, he is startled by how blue his eyes are. His sister’s are dark, but his are light like water at the base of a waterfall. He makes a little sound and turns his heavy head to the side to blink at Rex’s forearm.
He is the older of the two, but the Princess is already overtaking him in weight. Kenobi has been scolded for this. In return, he locks everyone out of his quarters.
--
The twins are two months old when they stop being blinky-maggots and turn into smiley ones. Anakin cannot put the princess down or she will scream until she is blue in the face. As such their dedicated General can be found with his arms full, slowly banging his head against the nearest hard object.
He calls her ‘Leia.’ Princess Leia.
The baby boy is ‘Luke.’ Just Luke.
Anakin spends his time these days bouncing Leia and on the hunt for his son. He walks like a zombie towards Kenobi’s door and plasters his back against it. He slides down and tries desperately not to fall asleep at the bottom.
He will not let Rex take the princess when he’s in this state. He wants only for Kenobi to open the door so that he can fall back onto his floor and demand his son. Kenobi never gives him his son back. There is no longer any question that baby Luke is Kenobi’s child. The fact that he’s been produced by Anakin and Padme is a footnote in the broader history being made here.
Kenobi will, however, take Princess Leia, too, if left unsupervised. She still hates him—more than ever, really, but he doesn’t mind. He likes to lay the twins out together so that Leia’s jerky fussing will ruin Luke’s sleep cycles.
Kenobi is a man with no respect for the law in these parts. More jedi masters have to step in to get him under control. Master Koon takes the most pity on Anakin and gives him both of his children. The masters and the clones watch him stagger up with both babies and drunkenly return to their quarters.
A note is made to check on all three of them in fifteen minutes.
--
The twins, at 6 months old, have developed even more distinct personalities and hair. So much hair. Ahsoka puts Leia’s hair in pigtails and Leia will scream if anyone tries to adjust them or if she feels that they are falling out of shape.
Rex’s hands were once clumsy around ring-sized rubber bands. He is now an expert. He is such an expert that he can even make the occasional one stay in Luke’s slippery hair, which, of course, invokes an expression of betrayal in Luke that is so comical, Rex can’t see it without being brought to tears.
Luke hates him for this. He whimpers for his father—no, not that one. The good one.
These days, Kenobi is a cat who has gotten the cream.
The boy called him ‘dada’ before he gave the name to Anakin, and Kenobi nearly lost his life for it. He regrets nothing. He is technically barred from being around Luke, both by the other jedi and by Anakin specifically, but rules are things for other people in Kenobi’s world.
Anakin threatens him with bodily harm at every opportunity that he is not holding his daughter upside down.
She enjoys this. This is not just a daddy-thing to her either; she expects everyone to carry her like this. If not feet-to-the-sky, then at least draped over an arm, face-down like a sack of flour. She hums the way a cat would purr.
--
At nine months the babes are mobile and it is the worst thing that has happened to Anakin besides Padme’s death. They are not effectively mobile, but they are professionals at grabbing things and hauling themselves up to their chubby feet. Leia holds onto the fingers of anyone she can get and makes every brother who passes her walk her on their feet to her chosen destination.
Luke is a little slower.
He can get to his feet, but what he wants is to bounce there. If anyone tries to hold his hands, he clams up and falls down and doesn’t get up.
Anakin has begun negotiating with Leia to be more like her brother. She laughs at his face in great peels when he does this. She finds his serious expressions hilarious and wants to cuddle him anytime they appear which is great for domestic time and not so great for council or state meetings. Anakin has taken to appearing before these people with Leia latched around his ankle. Only her, though. Luke can’t bear being in the presence of so many bodies at once. He becomes overwhelmed and handles the pressure by going to sleep. Or crying.
For Kenobi, of course.
And when Kenobi is not around, they all may as well go start digging their own graves before the guilt propels them to do it anyways.
Luke is not a big crier. Anakin can’t understand him. They’ve had many conversations about telling adults when he needs things, all of which Luke elects to ignore in favor of trying to eat bugs and dig in sand.
The latter is the greatest sin that Anakin can dream of.
--
I just think that, given the opportunity, Obi-Wan would be the best grandpa ever and by best, I mean he would see his chance to have a baby and Anakin would end up chasing him around going ‘he’s MY mistake and MY responsibility, you crusty old fucker, give him back’ while Obi-Wan talks to Ahsoka about how nice the weather is.
#star wars#captain rex#Anakin Skywalker#Luke Skywalker#leia organa#Obi-Wan Kenobi#ficlet#fic#don't mind me I'm just over here doing shit other people have probably done already without a damn care in the world
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Congrats on 2k mama sweet,,,!! :))
Since there is no sk8 requests yet how about option 2 - Kaoru x reader <3 Had this thought after reading ur arranged marriage fic... how about at the start of the marriage reader thinks that Kaoru is cheating on her when he sneaks out at night but after he tells her about S, reader feels kinda silly for thinking so.. next thing you know Kaoru is taking reader to all the beefs as his lucky charm. Reader even has a matching costume and the others start calling her "Lady Cherry" or smth,, teaches reader to skate (she's lowkey jealous of carla >.<) + some domestic fluff (what if reader finds out she's pregnant....) This doesn't have to be connected to the other fic & you can ignore the cheating part if u like... :-*
A/N: :0 Lady Cherry is a super smart name!
other fic here
Please enjoy~🍰
*******************************************************
There he went again...
The sliding door of your shared room altered you from your sleep. This was the 6th night in a row that he left without a word in the middle of the night. The first 2 nights you thought he was simply tending to business and was just busy. After the 4th day, you were suspicious and a bit hurt. He did tell you he didn’t want to hurt you and treat you right....so where was he going?
This was another night he had gotten up, so instead of staying in bed you followed him.
“Carla, make sure to lock the doors when I leave“ he said to his AI
“Yes, master“ you scoffed. You had to admit the stupid computer got on your nerves. He practically loved talking to her and every time she answered him, he gets all giddy. You were really jealous but you wish he’d get that way with you.
Just as he was going to leave you called for him
“Kaoru?“ he froze and turned around “It’s late...“ you said coming closer to him. That’s when you noticed what he was wearing, he was in a sleeveless yukata with a black mask over his face, and a...skateboard?
“Y/N I...um...“ being that he can’t speak about S he was contemplating whether to tell you or not. But you were his wife and he wanted to be open with you on everything. However what you said next caught him off guard
“...if there’s someone else please just tell me...“ and the way you looked when you said it just broke his heart. Did you really think he was cheating? Even though this was arranged, he couldn’t ask for someone better to be his wife. You were smart, shy but bright, not to mention beautiful.
“Y/N“ he walked to you and rests his hand on your shoulder “I would never cheat on you and I assure you there is no one else.”
“Then why do you leave at night?“ you ask
“*Sigh*....I go skating.“ he said bluntly. There was nothing to hide from you and it was all true
“...huh“ he lifted his board for you to see
“Some friends and I go skateboarding in a secret location for races and such. We only go at night so we go unnoticed.“ he held up a small pin “It’s called S..now that you know you can’t tell anyone. Now go throw something on, we’re heading out.“
Just as he said you were heading out in the dead of night. And of course you had to ride on Carla, every time he spoke to her it was like he was talking to his crush. As you approach a gate with two guards he gives you a larger sticker of the letter ‘S’. You show them to security and make it inside where people had started screaming. You knew he was popular among women but this was more than you thought
“Lord Cherry!!” one screamed
“Kao-”
“Cherry” he interrupted
“What?”
Getting his bike to a stop he helps you off and says “we don’t use our real names here for security reasons. Here I’m Cherry blossom.”
So what he was telling you was true. You honestly felt a bit silly for jumping to conclusions so quickly. Before he was off to what he called a ‘beef’ he introduced you to JOE. You were surprised to see the popular chef here as well, although you knew they had been friends for years. The large screen in the area showed you just how goof he was at this.
He was fast but graceful, sharp an precise on corners. The crowd only cheered louder than before.
“So, you’re the one he’s been talking about huh?“ Joe asked
“He’s been...talking about me?“ you asked
He nodded “He was gone for like 3 days in a row not to mention he was brushing off more women now. That’s when he told us there was someone he wanted to be loyal to.” okay, now you felt really silly. After the race was done and over with Cherry had made his way back to you. He comes and embarrass you and whispers in your ear
“You brought me good luck.“ you felt your heart skip a beat from the feeling of being close to him
“oooo, look at Lord Cherry with his lady~“
“Shut up you big oaf!!“
<>
During the next few months you had gone with him to almost every beef. You had even gained a name for yourself, ‘Lady Cherry’. You had become quite popular among some men there and even cherry’s female fans. He would usually bring you as his ‘lucky charm’, it was cheesy but sweet at the same time. They also had a habit of saying
“The Cherries have arrived“
On his free time he would actually taught you how to skate, well he tried anyway. Balance wasn’t exactly easy and being from a traditional family, this was unusual for you. You’d be holding on to his shoulders while his hands held your waist
“Don’t let me fall“
“You’re doing just fine dear. Why don’t we try some tricks“ he offered
“Are you sure you’re the man I married?“ you ask with a smirk
“The one and only dear“ he kissed your cheek
It was honestly so cute to him. You’d have a scared but excited look on your face. Your cheeks would turn pink and it just made his heart fluttered. On top of all that you were willing to indulge in something he has loved from a young age. He always took you with him to each beef he attended. Both for showing you off an he is in love with the idea of winning every race for not just himself but for you as well.
Although tonight you wouldn’t make it to the beef. He was going to race Joe but that was put on hold. You had been feeling sick all day and you just finished emptying your stomach. As much as you told him to go, he refused to leave.
“You’re my wife and you’re clearly not okay“ he said helping you up off the floor “you come before any beef or competition. Now come on, let’s get you to the hospital and get you checked out.“
A short drive to the general hospital was taken that night. No, he would not wait until tomorrow morning. He wanted to know that you were okay and didn’t have anything terminal. After speaking with the nurse and giving some blood and urine samples you both patiently waited. You leaned against him playing with the digits of his fingers.
*Knock knock* “Ma’am we have your results” the doctor says holding up a couple of papers and even some medicine. “well, you’re clear for any terminal conditions or diseases. although you have some hormonal imbalances and some new ones kicking in.”
“Meaning?“ Kaoru urged him on
“Congratulations, you’re 4 weeks pregnant.“
“....“ you both sat in shock at the news. You were pregnant? Well, you two were active, and maybe Kaoru has his own little rituals. Either after or before a beef he’d get frisky and was set on pleasing you both. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that this would have happened, still it was shocking news
“These are some prenatal vitamins you’ll need to take for the month. Make sure to make an appointment to check on the baby alright?” giving you the vile of pills he takes his leave leaving you both in silence. What were you supposed to say? How were you going to deal with this? Were you even ready?
“-together.“ you didn’t catch his whole sentence
“I’m sorry what was that?” you ask him
“We’ll this together alright?“ he took your hand in his “believe me I’m as shocked as you are but, we’ll figure this out together okay?“
“Alright“ you smile back
“We should probably start with a bigger house for the three of us“
<>
“Kaoru, come on it’s just paint I can-“
“You are not moving a muscle“ he cut you off “I want you to rest all you can. You’re making a baby and that’s enough.“
To say he was strict during your pregnancy was an understatement. As soon as your belly started showing you were no longer going to beefs with him. You were currently 6 months along, and expecting a girl! Kaoru was over the moon to know it was a girl. he would have been happy with a boy too, but a little copy of you was like a dream. He couldn't wait to see the little girl that would look like you and act like him.
Today was nursery day, which meant painting, building and organizing. Kaoru had you only fold and organizing the clothes and things while he painted. Of course being your idea you had called the boys over to help. Joe was building some stuff along with Shadow. Langa and Reki were actually helping to paint the walls.
“I appreciate you guys coming to help“ you smile
“Hey it’s no problem, at least you told us about it“ Joe commented. Oh yeah, he also wanted to keep it a secret so that
‘the idiot wouldn’t ruin your pregnancy‘ which made you laugh for a good 5 minutes. But they were very good help and made the process easier
“Hey so what are you naming the baby?“ Reki asked
“Well, Kaoru kind of wanted to associate it with his skate name so we agreed on Sakura.“
“AAWWHH“ everyone said out load slightly teasing him. Without turning from the wall he said
“....I just wanted a beautiful name for her was all.“ although he was cold at times they knew he meant well especially for his family. A while late Joe made a small dinner for you all to enjoy. You thanked them for coming over and you were done for the night. You were putting on some lotion over your rounded middle when Kaoru came behind you. He wrapped his arms around and over your own hands and rested there for a moment
“Who would have thought we’d be here huh?” You whisper
“In all honesty I was hoping for it” he admired “before we married you were described as a caring and sweet woman. But you were so much more once we were married. You’re compassionate, intelligent, stubborn, beautiful, and absolutely perfect” he said kissing the side of your head “and now, you’ve given me the gift of being a father. Thank you”
Turning in his hold you wipe away small tears “oh Kaoru , thank you too. You’ve treated me like I’m the only person you need. On top of that you take care of me but still give me my freedom. I love you..”
“And I love you” he rests his forehead against yours as his fingers trace over your baby bump.
*******************************************************
I hope this was okay!❤️
#kaoru sakurayashiki x reader#kaoru sakurayashiki#cherry blossom x reader#sk8 the infinity x reader#sk8 the infinity#sk8 cherry blossom#cherry blossom#sk8 the infinity fanfic#sk8 fanfic#sk8 x reader#sk8 kaoru#anime#anime x reader#arranged marriage au#sk8 the infinity fluff#anime fanfiction#fanfiction#sk8 the infinity pregnant
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Chapter One - My Sweet Angel
Warning: Explicit Smut -Dirty Talk and Oral (fem! Receiving)
Word count: 1544
Please forgive any mistakes, English is not my first language.
Nothing else had happened after the kiss, you just said goodnight and went to your room, he was thinking that maybe you had regretted that idea.
But the next morning, as soon as he wakes up he finds a note on your bedside table with your handwriting on it.
Rules of our little agreement:
1- Thomas will teach anything Y/N asks.
2- Both sides of the agreement must be comfortable with what is going to be done.
3- Let me know if you want to stop.
4- I will let you know if I want to stop.
5- Neither Harrison nor anyone else should know about this agreement, it will be our secret.
Sign here at the bottom if you agree to my terms and let me know if you want to include any conditions.
He laughed, of course you would make a list of rules, it was exactly your kind of thing. After he finishes getting ready he takes a pen from the table and signs his name on the paper just below where his signature was and slips the small paper under his door before leaving for class.
You barely got any sleep last night, all you could think about was everything that had happened and when you did get some sleep you dreamed about Tom and woke up gasping for breath.
Your dream was incredibly real, you felt every touch, and the way Tom ate you in the dream made you needy for it.
Tom received a message from you during one of his classes.
Y/N: Meet me later in my room.
He answered a simple okay, trying to pretend he was calm when inside he was freaking out. Tom spent the rest of the day thinking about his message, barely able to pay attention in class.
•─────✧─────•─────✧─────•
Tom was thankful that it was Friday, all the boys were getting ready for some party at another fraternity leaving the house just for the two of them, as if fate was cooperating with their plan.
"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Harrison asks Tom again.
"No man, today's classes were pretty tiring, I'd rather stay home anyway" Tom says.
"You're going to miss the best party of the year" Tuwaine says as soon as he enters the room.
"All these parties are the best of the year" He laughs, rolling his eyes.
"Y/N not coming with us?" Tuwaine asks Harrison who denies with his head.
"No, she said she had a new series on Netflix she wanted to watch" he says to his friend before turning his face to Tom and speaking "Take care of her ok?"
"I'll take very good care of her" he smiles.
If Harrison knew what would happen when he left the fraternity he would never let Tom near you again and would probably punch him in the face.
The two of you leave the house, and a few minutes later the other boys are leaving too, soon the house is empty except for you and Tom.
Tom walked slowly up the stairs, he was a little nervous to tell you the truth, he had slept with many different girls, given them orgasms that made his legs shake. But you were different, he wanted to give you the best experiences possible, give you all the wonderful sensations, and he would definitely need more than just one night for that.
"May I come in?" he asks knocking on the door.
You take a deep breath before answering "Yes."
He enters the room, he has been here countless times before, but he never thought he would be in here in this situation.
"I saw you signed the paper" is the first thing you say when you look at him.
"Yes" A silence fills the room for a few minutes.
"Sorry I'm a little anxious".
"You can quit if you want" he sits down on his bed in front of you.
"NO" You say a little too loudly.
He laughs at your reaction and holds your hand pulling you to sit on his lap with each leg on one side of your body, you take another deep breath and look at him.
Tom looks at your gaping mouth and licks his lips, holding himself back from giving in to the urge to kiss you right now, their hands grip tightly on your hips, probably impossible but you could feel yourself getting wet just from that touch and the way he was looking at you.
His lips come close to yours but pull away before you can kiss him and they move on towards your neck.
"I have a condition too" He says softly and goes back to spreading kisses across your pulse point.
"What?" His question comes out almost as a sigh.
"We are not having sex today".
"Why?" you ask disappointed, Tom had no idea how needy you were for him.
"Sorry honey, I don't think you're ready for this, but if you let me I want to do something else with you today" he looks at you as if asking permission.
"What's your idea?"
"I want to taste you".
You...you want to?"
"Actually I'm the one who's been daydreaming about it myself since last night angel."
Tom had already given her several cute nicknames, but angel was new, he had never called any girl that, at least not in front of him.
"Are you okay?" he asks with a smile.
When you nod, he quickly kisses you. He had really been wanting to taste you since you left his room, daydreaming about what you would taste like.
One of his hands goes up your thigh, lightly lifting your skirt until it reaches the fabric of your already wet panties, his thumb makes a circular motion over your covered clit making you moan between kisses.
"I barely touched you and you're already wet" he says with a smug smile on his face.
"Actually all I could think about was you all day.... Tom" you moan his name as he pulls your panties aside to properly touch your clit and feel its wetness.
"Did I make you wet all day, angel?" he already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it coming from your lips.
"Yes." He picks her up in his lap and lays her down on the bed getting on top of your body and kissing you again, his kisses trailing a trail again to your neck.
"May I?" He asks holding the hem of your shirt and you affirm, he quickly pulls it off your body and bites his lips as he sees your breasts in the pink bra.
"I think I'll let you, you look amazingly hot in it" you blush at his comment.
He kisses the top of your breasts and runs his thumb over one of the nipples making you sigh, he runs his tongue slowly over it and even though the fabric prevents full contact the sensation is still wonderful.
The kisses move down to your belly and soon he is pulling your shorts off your body and your panties are the only thing keeping him from touching you where you want them.
"Tom, please," you beg as he kisses the inside of your thigh.
"Please what angel?" he gives you a mischievous smile.
"I need you."
"You do?"
"Yes, please."
He finally removes her panties from her body and stands between her legs placing one of them over her shoulder for easy access.
"Fuck" he says as he runs two fingers over your entrance "you are fucking wet" his fingers reach your clit and you push your hips towards his touch "so needy".
First he just licks a long strip from your vagina to your clit and you take a deep breath at the yummy sensation.
"Better than I ever dreamed of" he says before sucking you again.
One of your hands holds his hair tightly, while the other you place over your mouth to avoid moaning. Tom quickly removes it from your mouth.
"I don't want you to be silent, I want to hear how good I am making you feel."
He mentally thanked himself for doing this, her moans and sighs were the most beautiful melody he had ever heard.
Tom wanted to make it as pleasurable as possible for you, he took his time to form your orgasm slowly tasting you until he brought you to the edge.
"Holy shit, Tom" he knew you were already close and he goes even deeper.
He clamps his lips around your clit and sucks it making you even more needy, he moans against your pussy and you whimper loudly.
"Tom...Tom it feels so good"
His gaze settles on yours as he still sucks you, you cry out his name and feel as if you might explode at that moment.
He sucks your clit one last time and you finally cum on his lips throwing your head back in ecstasy with your mouth open in an inaudible moan. This was surely the dirtiest scene Tom had ever seen.
Your body falls to the bed, your breath panting, your chest heaving. Tom could never get tired of seeing you like this, he stands over your body again and kisses you slowly, you taste him in your mouth and sigh between kisses.
"Thank you" you say and he just smiles in response.
He lies down on your side and pulls you to lie on his chest.
"I can help you" he says looking at your very apparent erection and running his hand down to your sweatpants.
"Don't worry about me angel, this is about you" he moves your hand away from there and hugs you tighter "now try to get some sleep ok" he kisses the top of your head.
You fall asleep a short time later hugging your body. He leaves your room before Harrison arrives and finds you there, but before he leaves he leaves a small note on your bedside table.
I hope you enjoyed today, I loved it, I think I will dream of your flavor for the rest of my days. Because darling, you are my sweet angel - Tom.
TAGLIST
@a-daydreamers-day
@cherryobx
@bevanbexley5252
#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland smut#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland x you#tom holland imagine#peter parker x y/n#tom holland one shot
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Afloat
length: 2.3k
tags: nsfw; pwp, daichi x f!reader x kuroo, threesome, masturbation, fingering, mating press, creampie
a/n: tis a long (literally 2 months eye— sorry > overdue piece for my babe ;; my ride-or-die @mrs-kuroojinguji ana, kuroodai’s main!! ilysm bitch ♡ ♡ bc HEEEEY NEW YEAR, NEW ME !! no more procr-ass-tinating ╰(*´︶`*)╯
It’s simple:
They know how to make you feel good.
They’re the only ones who can make you feel that good.
The thing is, although you want it, and need it, and when you get it you simply melt, it’s hard for you to admit it to himself or to anyone else. Even when you can sense it spreading down to your core, crawling under your skin in the way that you get too snappy, when you start getting antsy while preparing for your tests, when you carry around the sleepless nights of the busy weeks of your projects with the drooping line of your shoulders.
You go through so much, thinking you can and should be able to deal with everything on your own. But time and time again, Daichi reminds you that’s not the case. He knows that you can do anything you set your mind to; but he will always be there to help you de-stress and take your mind off things.
He had an arrangement with Kuroo, established long before this came to light. A product of long days and nights spent trapped in the same places together despite their different jobs. They're friends, secure in the knowledge that they’ve got each other’s back no matter what. Neither would cross the line unless it’s called for. And Daichi did call it.
When Kuroo first showed up, he had walked in on the two of you with slick mouths all over each other. You were clueless as ever and Daichi was frozen in place—he was prepared that Kuroo wouldn’t come—but the man crossed the distance with impatient strides.
Now, they both keep you afloat.
And you don’t always need this kind of attention—they’re simply more than happy to provide it.
Now if only you would stop being such a brat about it. Even when you’re already so wet, even when Kuroo has already pried you open and stuffed you with his fingers, you still want to talk back.
Good thing they like a challenge.
You’re pulling away, crawling to the edge of the bed to reach for Daichi, but your effort is rendered futile the moment Kuroo curls his big hand around your ankle and pull you back down the bed with a kind of ease that has your stomach tied in knots and put a satisfied smile on the other man’s mouth while he palms his cock.
Kuroo chuckles, curling an arm around one of your thighs and flips you back around until you’re on your side, leg helplessly hooked around the bend of his elbow.
“How naughty,” he purrs at you. He shuffles closer, fingers of his other hand diving back down to your well-slicked hole. “Need to be taught a lesson, maybe?”
You’re torn between shaking your head and scowling fiercely but your already heated cheeks are going even darker with a flush. Your eyes are glittering as you look back at him, glancing at the strong line of his jaw to the wide set of his shoulders. You turn to stare at Daichi instead, his thighs, and quickly look away again—caught looking—when he flexes for you.
Kuroo smirks and shuffles closer. His cock is flushed and rigid, swelling a bit fatter than usual; though not as girthy as what Daichi is packing, its length could reach the sweetest spots inside you that make you shake uncontrollably.
He takes himself in hand and starts dragging its head against your nice little pussy you have offered up before nerves got to you and you try to be cheeky.
Daichi is watching from the side of the bed, gloriously naked and cock in hand; eyes travelling as much across your tiny body as they are tracing Kuroo and his effortless dominance he reigns over you.
Maybe spread your legs and push your knees up to their shoulders just to humiliate you.
You’re already sweaty and breathless; and the two haven’t even properly begun.
Kuroo leans forward, hooks your leg across his shoulder to have his arms free, then pushes in. Your tits sway with the motion and both men immediately stare at them. He sighs as he starts to easily fuck you, and you startle when Daichi’s hand curls around your ankle, not unlike Kuroo did moments before, and easily pulls you closer across the already rumpled sheets.
You could kick at him and try to squirm away, but it would be equally futile. The thought excites you inordinately but you made no move nor said any words, only a glazed and needy look on your face.
You are nothing but their slut and… it feels good. They take care of you how they want you; Daichi likes to see you stretched out next to the other man close enough that you can curl your palm around his cock. Your hands are small, barely able to wrap itself around his girth, but they are pretty looking. And incredibly soft.
But now you have your hands unthinkingly curled against Kuroo’s shoulders, looking up at him with heavy lidded eyes and breathing deeply. You glance at Daichi, and your face goes all soft and warm.
“You’re doing so good, baby.” Daichi praises you and flush, pink and humiliated.
He is stern when he wants to, but he’s yet to have actually hurt you. You don’t think he has it in him to be too harsh on you, apart from the rough fucking he always grants you with.
Kuroo leans forward, hands braced on your hips as he picks up his pace. You stretch for him and bare your throat, groaning deep in your chest when his cock slides deep and almost too easy. He could lean forward and bite at your shoulders and neck. Give you warm ticklish licks on your nape, or the patch of skin under your ear.
But he can’t take his eyes off of your swaying tits and the soft jiggle of your belly, visibly contracting with every thrust forward.
You’re easy for them; stroking their egos by coming quick and gracious with little incentive given. It’s the only testament to your beauty; your body is deliciously sensitive and they love exploiting it. Have your thighs nearly bust their skulls or squeeze their neck so hard when you lose control and come so hard you squirt.
They are very determined to make up for lost time.
“That’s it,” he groans as his hand starts to stroke his cock faster, his voice getting your nipples tight and excited. You’ve been primed to his voice to an embarrassing degree. “So well… such a good girl.”
You try to stifle your moans so that you can focus on the sound of his voice, throw one arm across your eyes so it’s harder for them to see your flush. Daichi breathes deeply and nods quickly, a bit overeager when Kuroo looks questioningly at him, wondering how far they should go tonight. Daichi smiles in satisfaction.
He can’t even remember you ever having been as flexible as you are now, folded in half before Kuroo mounts up on you again, but he knows you always do your best for them. You may have been shy and hesitant, only sticking to missionary and the likes, but that was once upon a time. If you mind the sharp hip bones and hard muscles poking at you while you’re getting put through your paces, you do not show it.
You do, in fact, not look like you’re in the position to notice much of anything anymore. Your face is a dull brick red and sweaty, hair sticking to your forehead and cheeks as you try to wheeze through the new position as your knees are nearly at your shoulders.
Daichi watches as Kuroo’s hands cradle your head. They look too big on your face; you look like a puppy that still has to grow to fit into its owner’s loving arms. He clumsily wipes the hair out of your eyes while his hips pump down into the wet mess of your hole. He’s already filled you up with a couple loads—fucked even more of them out of you—but he does not seem to be done by a longshot.
This, at least, Daichi wants to burn to his mind. Being so endlessly horny; bursting with energy. Spending the first half of the night fucking his hand just out of the sheer pleasure he gets when he watches the fellow former captain rail you onto the mattress, your faces so close you are practically sharing the same warm puffs of air.
“You’re so beautiful,” Daichi hears his own voice drawl. It’s surreal. You are making a weird sound in response; a long, drawn-out whine that rattles weirdly in your throat before it breaks and you scream out Kuroo’s name again, while your glassy eyes are unfocused and soft, staring up at him with undivided attention.
He knows that look well, and he feels himself tense in anticipation, leaning forward on the chair he’s pulled close enough to the bed that his knees are hitting the edge of it.
“How does it feel, baby girl?” He croons. He wants to reach out and touch you as well, but he likes the look of Kuroo’s broad, damp fingers playing with the brown strands of your hair, then drifting down to rudely squeeze your breast. “Come on, tell us how you feel.”
He catches Kuroo’s curious glance for a second but does not elaborate further. The latter jumps on it like a dog on a bone, predictably. Daichi does not need to do more than stand back and enjoy the show as he braces himself next to your hand and pushes himself up, staring down at you.
Daichi can see your legs wiggling pathetically in the air when Kuroo stops dicking deep into the sloppy mess he’s made of you, where your toes were just curling, feet bouncing in the air just seconds ago—but he just wants to give you a breather. Let you rest for a minute or so while your body calms down.
“Yeah? Wanna tell us something?” There’s a glint in Kuroo’s eyes; not teasing but close to it. Something sharp and hungry and less affectionate than Daichi. He’s been impatient, not wasting a second longer to get his dick wet in your hot cunt, and he’s not pretending he likes to wait either. You do not seem to mind it; if anything, it probably gets you all the hotter and needier… makes you debase yourself underneath him.
Let him slap your tits and pinch your ass and as you drift in and out, listen to Daichi’s orders to tell you to lift it higher so Kuroo doesn’t have to work so hard.
You’ll do it all just to get a nice deep dicking with their cocks in a way that nothing else can quite satisfy, not yourself, not anyone else. They don’t like it when you do, anyway, and it’s not as if either of them would ever let you meet any other men, let alone fuck them.
Daichi has always been soft for you; he can’t help wanting to coddle you and croon at you and make love.
“Come on, tell me.” Kuroo is not even out of breath. He pulls back, dragging his cock out of you in a slow, wet motion that produces a nasty squelching sound as more cum bubbles out; fucked frothy by him already.
You squawk, undignified, trying to grab for him, but Daichi slaps your hands away.
“Please, Tetsu, please...” You are more than eager to give them what they want as long as it’ll get you filled up again. You moan deep and rattling in your heaving chest, trying so hard to keep your hands to yourself. “W-Want your cock!”
Daichi pauses for a second, his mouth parted in a small ‘o’ of surprise before it stretches in a big smile, one that can be mistaken as nothing else but love and affection, right before he lets out a scoff. It usually takes more time to work you up to this, no talking back to them, using your every breath to beg.
“Oh fuck. That’s it, hm? You want his cock back inside you?”
Kuroo makes a move right away, not paying attention to you trying to grab at him and places your hands at the backs of your thighs to have a better leverage to fuck back into you with a sharp, deep thrust that has you jerking and throw your head back.
You scrabble at him, finally able to curl your hands around his biceps. You are holding on for dear life as he starts fucking again in a way you remember too well; sharp and fast thrusts as he chases his own orgasm and completely forgets that the warm hole around his dick belongs to a person.
You don’t seem to mind. You are chanting his name now, voice wobbling in time with the quick thrusts that seem aimed at fucking right through your belly button. Daichi watches it happen with a quiet, pulsing kind of affection. His cock is red and flushed, having grown even bigger as he strokes it with his palm, leaking into his hand.
He cannot bring himself to treat you with as little gentleness as Kuroo does, but it sure is nice watching someone do it… fuck you right through your orgasms and not give a damn about your mewling about not being able to take anymore, trying to wriggle away; Kuroo just grabs you and dicks you through it until you become lax and glassy-eyed again.
It is, quite frankly, a revelation. This is his favorite thing to do.
#daichi smut#kuroo smut#daichi x reader#kuroo x reader#haikyuu smut#haikyu x reader smut#daichi x reader smut#kuroo x reader smut#sawamura daichi#kuroo tetsurou
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I just finished Inazuma and I have words
TL;DR: Hate the story, mixed on characters, love the design and tired of being treated like a 4-year-old with a learning disability.
SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT
Let’s start with what I like.
Inazuma is absolutely beautiful.
I’ll admit Inazuma hits a lot of aesthetic points for me. All the islands are different enough to feel unique but they still look like they are a part of the same land. There are a lot of secrets to discover through just exploring. Each island has a world quest to help it (make it less hostile towards you) so it very much feels like you are saving Inazuma from itself.
.
The puzzles are alright.
I like the cubes that rotate, I always put in the effort to figure them out properly.
Hate the ones that don’t rotate, they just aren’t engaging enough for me, so I just hit them at random and hope for the best.
The glowing floor tiles were fun, once you actually realized what they wanted you to do. A little bit too easy if I’m honest.
The electro compass isn’t really much of a puzzle, more of a fetch the nearest electrograna quest.
Those little pillars that require an electro connection are kinda boring to me, again not much of a puzzle, the hardest part is finding both pillars.
I love the new electro seelie, kinda hard to follow the jittery thing in certain parts but they make a nice contrast to the regular seelies.
.
I’m very much mixed on characters.
Yoimiya is adorable. She is so bright and bubbly. What little game play we had with her was fun and I love her over the top style of fighting. Kinda disappointed she’s another pyro archer but I do admit it fits her character well. It was also wonderful seeing her just settle down and be quiet, just be a part of that moment that obviously meant a lot to her. It’s always nice to see that bubbly, energetic character have that one quiet thing, ya know. Kinda funny it’s fireworks, of all things, for her.
Gorou I like, from what little we’ve seen of him. My man killed a dude with his thighs so I’m down. I do find it kinda ridiculous that a resistance general has his whole damn belly exposed. There is also something about his voice that just does not fit. I cannot for the life of me put my finger on what exactly it is. Could be the tone itself, could be just voice acting. It sort of feels like the VA is trying to sound deeper than he actually does.
Sangonomiya Kokomi, mixed. I like her design, she looks like some sort of mystical priestess. Again something about the voice is jarring. I expected her to sound sort of airy, like she isn’t 100% present, like she’s seeing something we can’t. TBH she reminds me of Luna from HP for some reason.
Yae Miko, I was interested because of her design. She sounds very arrogant and up her own ass, which would have been fine...if she hadn’t given us that god-awful line. “...I have high hopes for you, child. Don’t disappoint me.” Dear lord I wanted to punt her off the mountain. Or fucking what! Also she’s some bigshot priestess of the Sacred Sakura and yet she can’t do her damn job properly. Why couldn’t her arrogant ass come down from her high perch and cleanse the stupid roots? Why did the traveler have to do that shit?
Baal looks dead inside. Booba sword is overrated, get a life. I want a remach! And no cutscene shenanigans this time!
Kujou Sara seems like one of those ‘honor above all else’ characters. Those are either hit or miss with me. You have my attention for now. Also what are those shoes woman?! I’d rather you wear those leg-killing, needle point stilettoes instead of those Wish gag shoes. How in the name of all that is holy can you run in those?!
Thoma, I like him. At first I thought we were gonna get another Childe incident, but Thoma is too much of a innocent puppy to pull anything that horrible. To me he fits a fox a lot better than Childe does. Childe is a dingo and I stand behind that.
Kamisato Ayaka...hate her. At first I was neutral on her. Nothing about her design really spoke to me, but I was willing to wait and see. But then miHoYo started to violently push her friendship at us.
We are totally friends now, this is the first time you see my face, but we are so totally friends now. And during her story quest everyone was like “Ah, you are so good Ayaka. You are so nice Ayaka. You are so perfect Ayaka. We all love you so much Ayaka. And oh, how could a mere merchant like myself...”
Ew, go away.
This is the first time I’m actively not pulling on a character banner. Normally I pull even if I’m not particularly interested in a character, because you never know how good their gameplay is until you take them out in the map. But I think I’ll be skipping this one. No thanks.
.
And now, the worst part, the story.
We’ve been hearing about the situation in Inazuma for a long time. There has been also a lot of talk about how hard it is to get there. About the wall of thunderclouds that surround the islands. So to have it cut to black and then voila Inazuma, feel just so cheap.
I was expecting something. An animation. A struggle. A quest. A minigame. At least show us the horrible weather! Something! Anything!
Hell if they wanted to be assholes about it they could have made it so that if the player fails at this point the ship is damaged, you return to Liyue and have to wait until tomorrow for the ship to be repaired. No Inazuma for today. That sure as hell would have raised the stakes.
The next complaint I have is with Yurika, the 2 milion mora processing fee girl. Later on Thoma mentions that the agency people see the fees as easy money, so her attitude doesn’t make much sense. After all someone like her would want to extract as much money as she can, but you still want the people to be able to pay that.
So it would make more sense to me if she was overly friendly and asked way too many questions. She’d need to get a much information as she can and after all the previous hostility people would be very open with her. So she’d be able to quickly find out why someone is here, what they are selling and roughly how much money they’d be able to pay. A merchant selling expensive silk would have more many than a regular ore merchant. So she’d be able to extract as much money as she could.
“I know this is a lot of money, especially for something so simple, but there is nothing I can do about it. I’m so very sorry.” And people wouldn’t say anything bad to her because she’s the first friendly face they see in Inazuma.
The stealth mission was just god-awful and I hope we never have to do that nonsense again.
Getting off of Ritou was a bit janky at the end, Chisato should have had a better reason for coming along. But I’m honestly just glad we didn’t get out the usual way...getting stuffed in a crate and smuggled out.
As a side note, I’m getting really tired of characters overexplaining things to me, especially Paimon. Dear lord, not everything has to be said, you can leave me to come to my own conclusions and solutions. Just please, who cares if a few player struggle for a bit, you don’t have to hold my hand through the whole thing.
Ayaka’s three were...ugh. It was basic emotional manipulation. Oh no this guy forgot about the love of his life and he’s been waiting for decades. And oh how sad this guy was so good and he helped these people so much but now he can’t remember. And oh the tragedy this guy forgot his life goal and is now hunted by the demons of the past. Oh the humanity!
And it did not work. Know why? Because I have no emotional investment in any of these people, in this land. What is happening to the vision bearers in Inazuma is tragic, true, but that doesn’t make me want to overthrow the government. I don’t live here. I just got here. I wanna ask a question or two and then move on. None of this concerns me.
I was so happy when the traveler just flat out refused to start a revolution. And then we had to go and meet some people and immediately I knew this was going to be some oh noes the tragedy moments and then we would agree to help them.
It’s so forced.
Wanna know what would have been better?
Just as we are leaving the Kamisato estate Thoma catches up with us. And he tells us he gets it. We are an outsider and this doesn’t concern us. He was hopeful but he expected the denial. We shouldn’t hold it against Ayaka.
He joins us as a guide because he knows of the people we have to meet.
And so as we help these three we also get to know Thoma. We find out he was an outsider too. He got in just before the worst of it started and then he was stuck in Inazuma. He lost someone to the Vision Hunt. They slowly lost their mind after loosing their vision, their ambition too closely tied to their personality to continue without it (what is happening to Domon hits a little too close to home and he has to walk away, this is where we hear the story of the one he lost). And the same would have happened to him if the Kamisatos hadn't taken him in. He owes them his vision, his sanity and his life.
So this rebellion is personal for him.
At the end of the three wishes the atmosphere is somber. We tell him we understand why Ayaka fights, why he fights. We know that this is all wrong, that it should be stopped...but not by us. We came here to get a lead on our brother. And rebellion isn’t an overnight affaire and we can’t loose so much time in Inazuma.
And yeah, he expected as much. He just asks that we let Ayaka down gently. It’d be a shame if someone as idealistic and hopeful as her lost their spark.
And so we are gentle but firm with Ayaka. She looks like she wants to argue with us but Thoma shakes his head at her. So she sighs and tells us that a promise is a promise. We should come to the Komore Teahouse in a few days and she’ll have a plan for us to meet with the Shogun.
Now we can still have a character story quest with Yoimiya and we can still somehow get involved with helping Master Masakatsu, but it’s through Yoimiya instead of Ayaka.
And instead of a character story quest with Ayaka we have one with Thoma. Hell, give him a whole damn hangout event even.
You can probably guess why I’m pushing the friendship with Thoma so much.
Because. He. Gets. Kidnapped. For. The. 100th. Vision. Ceremony.
And that would have been the perfect emotional in to get us involved in the rebellion. After all we just saw what happens to people who have their visions taken away and we are not letting that happen to Thoma, someone we just got close to.
So Baal makes it personal for us as well.
.
I have a few more minor complaints.
Aoi is stupid for asking for compensation after she tells us everything we needed to know because, ya know, we could have just walked away. We should have.
The whole stupid misunderstanding about the value Kurosawa’s sword holds. Kinda obvious he meant emotional value instead of monetary.
The suspicious amount of visionless NPCs and by that I mean this is the first time we have NPCs with vision. This wouldn’t have been a problem if we’ve seen NPCs with visions in Mond and Liyue.
The whole rebellion camp bit feels incredibly rushed. We just sort of lollygag over there and then there is a fight (against Sara and her stupid shoes).
Don’t make us fight Baal just to force us to lose. It would have been better if we were forced to retreat, because Thoma was injured, because there are too many soldiers for us to handle on our own. Hell, you can have a funny scene where we straight up jump off a cliff with Thoma clinging onto us and screaming bloody murder until he realizes we are slowly gliding away and he’s not about to plummet to his death.
The Sakura cleansing quest should have been voice acted.
The Mirror Maiden and Pyro Agent are totally on a date, I will not be told otherwise.
#genshin impact#inazuma#genshin inazuma#genshin 2.0#Thoughts#opinion#yoimiya#gorou#sangonomiya kokomi#yae miko#baal#kujou sara#thoma#kamisato ayaka
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hello! i was wondering if you could write the following request; you are a member of the Brotherhood, the most dangerous assassins league of Middle Earth. To say that the Company of Thorin Oakenshield is both impressed and intimidated is an understatement.
The Company/Reader: Killer Good Looks pt.1
Trigger Warnings: Referenced assault and child abuse, murder
----
To say you're an excellent fighter would be a gross understatement.
You're the very definition of a rogue; you like shiny things, you're stealthy, cunning, persuasive, what are we missing...? Oh! And you're also an infamous deadly assassin for hire, and you get hired alright.
You're wanted (in more ways than one), for people are always looking for someone to fulfill their dirty deeds for them.
Almost everything is on the table with you; you'll steal things for people (and yourself), kill if the price is right, infiltrate and lie, and many other things, however, there are some things off limits.
For example, you won't kill kids. You never have and you never will, you flat out refuse; you also don't sell yourself to others for pleasure or other things of inappropriate nature; and, most importantly of all, you don't kill those whom you have a relationship with (meaning you don't kill friends, though those are few and far between).
When you were but a child your parents sold you off to put bread on their table, and you knew nothing but torment from that moment on.
For months the lady's husband would sneak into your rooms at night, and she would always pretend not to notice; she took to releasing her frustrations out on you under the false pretense that you were an issue, beating you, berating you, yelling, abusing; they were horrible people taking advantage of a 10 year old child in every way imaginable.
You felt no remorse when you finally gathered the courage to slit their throats one night, and to this day you still don't.
The news of your deeds spread quickly, for they proved to be quite shocking and a wonderful topic for conversation.
A mere child servant manages to kill their masters unseen and unheard, escaping into the night never to be seen again? That would catch anyones attention. And it certainly caught the attention of The Brotherhood.
They found you, took you in, and honed your sloppy skills to make you into the perfect, lethal weapon.
You've killed more people than you can count, stolen more than even the richest man has, and lied to everyone you've ever met at least once.
It's safe to say that you're not exactly a stand up citizen.
Your name, as well as the name of the organization who taught you all you know, is well known throughout Middle Earth which is why you were, ultimately, employed to assist and protect the line of Durin in their journey to reclaim Erebor...
Except, unbeknownst to them, you have ulterior orders from The Brotherhood regarding the operation.
Once the dragon is either confirmed dead or slain and the mountain is reclaimed, you are to kill the Durin's (and anyone else who stands in your way) and claim the mountain for The Brotherhood.
When you were first given this assignment you had no qualms with it.
Yes, dwarfs are strong, brave, and resilient, but you are fast, intelligent, and one of the best fighters in the organization because of your early start and ability to disconnect yourself from almost every situation. Also, you don't know them, any of them, and you've never had trouble killing royal, powerful people before.
It was supposed to be easy.
You joined the group in a cute little place called The Shire in a hobbit hole belonging to one Bilbo Baggins, and when you met everyone you figured that killing them would be easy, but as time went on you began to forget about your mission.
Everything started out simple. You didn't talk much and they stayed away from you for the most part; partially out of intimidation, but also from reservations on disturbing you.
You're a private person, and they'd hate to make you dislike them by being nosy or prying.
Gandalf is the only one who knows of your past, but even knowing who you truly are, he never for a second suspected what your true purpose was.
It's around the time you all leave Rivendell and return to the road when things start to change.
Thorin wanted to keep a schedule and reach the Misty Mountains before the end of the 4th week, and halfway into the 4th, you're already there are the entrance to the mountain pass.
Because the group makes such excellent time Thorin chooses to reward the group with a day and night full of rest to spend restocking supplies, regrouping, and relaxing, which is something that benefits you all greatly.
By this point, you've worked up enough 'trust' to actually sleep in short bursts around them, and you take full advantage of this day of rest to regain your strength.
At some point during the night you manage to fall asleep, and hen you wake you find that you managed to pass out for a good 4 hours.
The very first thing you notice is Dwalin sitting not far from you, and the blanket draped over your resting form.
To say you're taken off guard would be an understatement, for you never expected to be treated with such tenderness (or at least, tenderness by your definition considering the life you've lead).
"Dwalin...?" You call after a time of looking ahead, wanting to find out his motivations.
His gaze snaps over to you and a small, greeting smile falls upon his lips, "Good evening. It is mid-night, I'm sure you'd like to know."
You glance briefly up at the sky and observe the position of the moon and stars and find that he's correct, then your gaze returns to his face. "I see. What are you doing over here, though?"
The balding dwarf looks a tad more sheepish when you ask your question, and his voice contains slight embarrassment, "Well, we know you don't much like sleeping around us, or in general, so I thought that keeping watch here may help you feel even a bit safer."
Those words shock you to your very core.
"You'll always be safe with us, you should know. You protect us in waking, so the least we can do is return the favor in sleeping."
Any and all responses that come to your mind in this moment seem inadequate in comparison to his declaration, so you're left sitting there looking at him with a blank, yet dumbfounded stare.
"You needn't say anything in response. I just thought you should know." Another smile graces upon his lips, and then his attention turns back out towards the darkened tree line surrounding the mini camp in a half circle. "Sleep more if the desire is to suddenly strike you."
And, for some odd reason, you do.
---
For the first time in what has to be years, you sleep through the night and do not wake again until the sun beckons you to do so.
When the first light shines through the trees and makes the forest sparkle with morning magic, you arise and find that a new dwarf, Ori, has taken the place of Dwalin.
A feeling, one that you can't identify, rises within you, and you find yourself unable to handle it.
"Ori." You greet curtly, "I am going to depart for a time. Expect me back in 20 minutes."
The young dwarf looks up at you and nods shallowly, not even entertaining the thought that you would need an escort. "Alright. Get back safely."
His words linger with you after you leave, for the act of being cared for is alien to you.
When was the last time someone genuinely cared for your well-being and not just what they would lose if you were to perish? When was the last time someone thought of you as a person who could be harmed instead of a weapon that maybe tarnished every-so-often?
These thoughts plague your mind as you go to search the game traps you lay around the camp the morning before, and you find that the prize is well worth the early journey.
3 rabbits, 2 squirrels, and a wild hog around 2 feet long and a foot wide. The hog you caught along the way, actually. It had been sniffing around one of the game traps you sent (the trap wouldn't have been strong enough to hold it anyways), and you wasted no time in throwing a dagger straight into its' head.
You string up the rabbits into a line of rope and carry the hog over your shoulders (it's really heavy, so you made sure to evenly distribute the weight), and then you head straight for the group with your prizes in hand.
When you enter the clearing you're noticed immediately, for the game hanging from your body draw a lot of attention.
"Odin's beard!" Gloin exclaims, jumping up from his spot once his eyes fall upon you, "Look at all of that!"
All eyes are on you as soon as the red-haired dwarf alerts them to your presence, but you maintain a mask of nothing even despite your discomfort with being the center of attention.
"Where did you get all that?" Fili calls, getting up and approaching you to help carry the load.
You shrug off the line of rabbits and squirrels to him when he begins to tug on it and bring the hog to the middle of the camp, dropping it down heavily.
Bombur looks up at you with a grand smile and praises you in his low, baritone voice, "Well will you look at that! Now that's a hog."
You dip your head in acknowledgement of his compliments and offer right after, "Do you want me to skin them?"
"Oh, no, no! You have done more enough for us, we can manage that at the very least." The older dwarf assures you, patting the fat belly of the swine, "Thank you, lass. We haven't had a commendable meal in months, so this will be a real treat."
You received so many compliments and acclimations that you almost began to blush, but that's an unconscious ability that had left you a long time ago.
Everyone traveled with full bellies that afternoon, and there was plenty of leftovers to last everyone well into the next day as well.
Things like this are seldom the topic of talk or praise in the organization you work for, and you can never rely on anyone. You're all thieves, after all. Liars, tricksters, murderers... how could you trust someone like that to have your back? But... somehow, they trust you to protect them and their precious royal friends.
You: the liar, trickster, and murderer.
They sleep in your presence as if you hadn't stolen millions in treasure, product, and money; as if you hadn't killed a quarter of the people you've met in your lifetime. They trust you, the real you (or at least the realest version of you that there is), and it's a truly foreign feeling.
Of course, even though these good feelings long since lost to you have returned for a time, you keep yourself in check with the thoughts of what they would do to you if they found about your true intentions.
The images of their betrayed, angry faces, the disgust that would shine in their eyes when they realize what you're truly capable of... you're always sure to not lose sight of your end goal; the Mountain of Erebor and its' lost treasure. If you're to fail, you're certain that you'll be killed (either by the dwarfs or The Brotherhood), so you don't even entertain the thought of abandoning your mission.
---
Later in the day, during the trek up those horrible, treacherous mountains, you're approached by Bofur, the hat wearing dwarf with a smile more contagious than any sickness.
"Hello." You greet curtly when he falls into step beside you, eyeing him in your peripherals. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"Oh, no." He shakes his head no and reaches up to straighten his fur hat, "You just looked a little lonely, is all."
Lonely, huh?
You don't reply right away and look ahead with your usual blank expression and dull eyes, though you do feel an uncomfortable, appreciative feeling swell inside of you. "I am not lonely." You inform him matter-of-factly, though when you glance down at his face you see that your words have slightly hurt his feelings.
Your heart twists slightly painfully when you see his saddened countenance, and before you can even think about it you're blurting out, "But I welcome the company regardless."
His frown is immediately replaced with a brilliant smile and his eyes positively shine with enthusiasm; you never thought your acceptance would garner such a reaction from him (much less anyone for that matter).
The dwarf practically talks your ear off while the 15 of you travel up the Misty Mountains, telling you everything he possibly can about his homeland, family, and feelings regarding the journey (as well as other things), and while all this incessant blathering would normally irk you, you actually find that you quite like it.
Bofur's excited speech does eventually die down when it starts to rain, though, for he and yourself both think it safer to concentrate on the hike as its level of danger grows.
It isn't long before night falls, and once it does the rain becomes a much more dangerous obstacle.
There is lower visibility and the rocks become horribly slippery, though neither of these things could ever hope to top the giant stone beasts that begin to battle right in front of you all.
The stone giants don't seem notice any of you, and if they do then they simply don't care, and you all barely escape with your lives. They throw huge boulders bigger than any building you've ever seen, and their hand-to-hand combat leaves you all shaking against the mountainside, fearful of falling to your deaths as you sway every which way.
To your, and everyone else's luck and great joy, a little cave in the mountainside appears before you all (after a horrible death scare with half of the company), and it becomes your resting spot for the night.
You, like usual, choose a spot closest to the cave entrance with rock that covers both your back and left side and fall asleep effortlessly. You plan on only resting for four or so hours, hopefully until the rain passes, and then you can resume watch so the others may regain their strength (they're heavier and bigger than you, so they need more rest and food).
Those 4 hours (and an extra half!) pass by without issue and your internal clock eventually wakes you up.
One of the first things you see when your eyes flutter open is the stone ceiling of the cave hovering above you, and the next is Bofur who sits in the little watch spot right across from your sleeping area.
You sit up as soon as your sleep addled mind clears and your blurry eyes gain focus and call softly, "Bofur, go ahead and take a rest. I can resume your watch."
The dwarf jumps slightly when your soft voice breaks through the silence and reaches out to him, but he doesn't move to get up. Instead, a small smile upturns the corners of his lips and he whispers back, "No, you do a watch of your own every night and refuse to wake anyone else up often enough. Please, go back to sleep."
He noticed that?
You can't even keep the surprise from your face, for your eyes widen almost imperceptibly and your lips part slightly. "I..." You've been shocked speechless, something that you thought impossible.
"We have all noticed, in case you're wondering. Now, go ahead and resume sleep. I've still got another 30 minutes of watch."
And, for some reason, you don't protest.
Sleep calls to you and tugs at your eyelids, making them heavy and causing your eyes to burn. What spell have they put you under to make you tired again under a simple command, you wonder?
You fall back asleep despite yourself, but it doesn't last long, for within 20 minutes after Bilbo tries to leave and the storm begins to quiet, the floor opens beneath you all and swallows everyone whole.
#the company x reader#thorin oakenshield#bofur#dwalin#bilbo#fili#kili#assassin reader#reader insert#the hobbit fanfiction#the hobbit#bofur x reader#thorin oakenshield x reader#dwalin x reader#bilbo x reader#kili x reader#fili x reader
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of night owls & early birds
Kuroo x Reader
desc: Kuroo, your roommate and longtime best friend, likes you but he really dislikes your sleep schedule. alternatively, your crush gets up way too early and you “suffer the consequences.”
a/n: the irony of working on this fic at 5 am doesn’t escape me… but it also hasn’t assuaged my awful sleep patterns. i hope you enjoy!!
warnings: school/general anxiety, crass/offbeat humor (jokes about planning your own funeral), idk if you’re scared of love don’t read this - it’s very fluffy.
wc: 3.6k
---
You’re screwed, you think, as a light flickers on just outside of your room. It illuminates the carpet underneath your doorway with a warm orange tint.
And though it shouldn’t make your heart jump into your throat, it does.
You’d promised, swore to Kuroo, that you’d be asleep by 2 am - and to him, even that was a stretch. But he should count himself lucky that you’d even agreed to his demands at all.
After all, he is well-versed in the world of night owls.
Kenma, though maybe not your kindred spirit, shares at least a couple of qualities with you. Kuroo likes refer to these “qualities” as crimes.
One of these crimes (and quite possibly Kuroo’s least favorite) is your god-awful sleep schedule. And you’re a repeated offender.
There was only so much nagging and bickering you could take before you’d cracked and told exactly him what he wanted to hear. In a flurry of words, you’d agreed to turn off your laptop, close up your textbooks and actually put your head to a pillow.
You also may have been bribed.
To sweeten this deal, Kuroo had promised to buy you pizza this upcoming Friday, given that you actually did get some rest.
But as you reluctantly lift your phone, the glass screen glowing a little too brightly, you realize that it’s already 5:30 am.
You grimace.
It’s Tuesday morning. Meaning that the repetitive beeping across the hall is Kuroo’s alarm.
Your lips press into a firm line. Most birds don’t even get up at such a godless hour.
You can’t help but wonder what it’s like to have a functional morning routine. Or a morning routine at all.
Leaning back in your plastic desk chair, you squeeze your eyes shut.
It stings.
You probably got so caught up staring at the blob-like words on your computer screen that, somewhere in the process, your body had forgotten how to blink.
And while the tension in your neck and shoulders is painful, it’s nothing in comparison to the festering guilt of not listening to your longtime best friend and now roommate (a suspiciously well-intentioned college boy who had somehow managed to win your heart over the course of this fall semester.)
Thinking back, working on your final English assignment at midnight wasn’t the brightest of ideas. It wasn’t even due for another week. But as due dates loomed, the impending fear of a bad grade had begun to burrow deeply within you.
If you could just pump the brakes on deadline anxiety, you wouldn’t feel so pressured to type incoherent sentences at odd and empty hours of the night.
And maybe Kuroo wouldn’t feel the need to coerce you into a firmer sleep schedule. Though you do find this caring habit of his to be inexplicably endearing.
Thus, the prickling feeling continues to infiltrate your restless mind and the brewing concoction of anxiety and guilt in your tummy makes you feel uneasy.
But before you can sneak into bed and tuck yourself inconspicuously under the covers, you hear a floorboard creak.
As if on instinct, you hold in a breath.
Kuroo isn’t one to forget about little promises. Of course, he’d want to know if you’d made good on your side of the deal.
Gently, you close your laptop and swivel your chair to face the door. You still your movements, keeping your body taut against the back of your chair.
More soft steps fall just outside of your room.
Your eyes can’t pick a place to land, so they choose to wander. And with a quick scan of your room, it doesn’t take you long to realize that your bedside lamp had been left on - an instant giveaway.
You begin planning for your funeral.
However, if it were up to you, you wouldn’t go out this way. You prepare yourself for death by interrogation or shame-induced coma.
Regrettably, neither options seem very interesting to you. If you ask politely, maybe your friends will engrave a portion of an epic poem into your gravestone just to make your passing seem more sophisticated. Yeah, that sounds nice and pretentious.
Okay, you might be overdramatizing things - Kuroo would never send you to your grave. But that doesn’t change the fact that your psyche likes to play tricks on you in the wee hours of the morning and that the eerie quality of the atmosphere somehow reminds you of a cemetery.
As you sort through who-gets-what on your will, there’s a not so sudden knock on your door. The soft tap makes your heart skip for two reasons:
The first being that you still haven’t gotten used to the fluttering in your chest from him being present all the time. Developing a crush on him (and suspecting feeling on his side) had made you a little jumpier over the past few months.
And the second had to do with the fact that you were actually going to have to talk to him about this. To apologize for being a bold-faced liar. It wasn’t clear to you whether you’d be teased or reprimanded. And honestly? You’re not sure which option would feel worse.
So you take a breath and steel yourself.
“Y/n?” A gravelly voice sounds from outside your room.
It’s tainted with sleep. You shiver.
There’s a preemptive sigh, “C’mon y/n, your light is on. I know you’re awake.”
You’ve been caught, so there’s no point in prolonging it.
“...You can come in.” You reply meekly, clenching and unclenching your fists.
The door cracks open.
That soft orange hall light floods into your room and directly into your eyes. With a squint, you try to fully visualize Kuroo. He’s positioned himself so that he’s leaning in your doorway with his arms crossed.
Before coming to grips with the situation, you scan the boy up and down. Amusingly, you realize that he has to duck his head just to fit underneath the door header - he really is tall. You have to wonder if he’ll ever stop growing.
Aside from his intensified bedhead (which doesn’t shock you) and the sleepiness in his eyes, he looks normal. But you must look positively spooked, because the moment he sees you, there’s a flicker of humor in his golden eyes… and an almost invisible smirk.
At least he isn’t angry. That fact alone allows you to let out the breath you’ve been holding in. Anger isn’t really a trait you’d ascribe to him anyway.
“It’s funny…” He wonders aloud, “I thought we’d agreed to something yesterday.” Kuroo brings a mocking hand to his chin in a thinking motion.
Your body naturally begins to shrink into your seat. You want to sigh, protest, explain yourself… anything to keep him from lecturing you. But, technically, you deserve this.
“I’m pretty sure you promised me you’d be in bed, asleep,” He emphasizes “by 2 am…”
“And” he adds, motioning evenly to your set up, “I highly doubt you’re up early just to get work done.”
You bite your lip while gripping and releasing the fabric of your sweatpants.
Kuroo isn’t a mind reader by any extent, but the body has a language of its own. Right now, your actions are murmuring signs of discomfort. And exhaustion, according to your dark circles.
Kuroo heaves out something between a sigh and a yawn before he takes another couple of steps into your room.
The sound of mattress springs and rustled bed sheets gets you to turn your head toward him, though you hesitate to meet his gaze.
He makes himself comfortable.
This is a familiar scene, Kuroo invading your space. Well, it’s less of an invasion and more of an unspoken agreement that the both of you can ‘come and go as you please’ in regards to bedrooms, granted that the “invader” knocks first.
Essentially, if Kuroo wanted company, he would find his way to you and plop himself on the edge of your bed. You would do likewise. The interaction could last 5 minutes or 3 hours depending on your mental stamina that day.
In a way, it mimicked your childhood - going over to Kenma’s and knocking relentlessly on his bedroom door until he finally let you and Kuroo tumble through the doorway together. The only difference now is in the way that you spend time together. Conversations become deeper a lot faster. Belly-laughs after a miserable day of classes are considered sacred. Study sessions are done shoulder to shoulder and with a myriad of disgusted faces when frustrated with a particularly tricky problem.
But this is different from your usual conversations. It’s sickeningly early, you haven’t slept a wink, and a tidal wave of stress from this entire semester is finally crashing into you.
“I’m sorry,” You start softly, fiddling with your fingers, “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about this expository essay I’ve been working on and my mind is totally numb. I’m so stressed out by all of these-”
“-Classes.” He finishes for you.
You swallow, bobbing your head softly in confirmation.
“I get it.”
And just by looking at him, you know he understands. For someone so laid back and put together, Kuroo’s eyes could speak a novel’s worth of emotion and information at any given moment.
“But you’ve already spent more than enough time on it.”
Have I really? Have I actually done enough? Because it feels like I’m failing. Like I can’t seem to finish what I’ve started. I can’t even complete this paper.
But at least Kuroo sounds resolute.
He’s stating a fact, not an opinion.
And he’s not trying to be unempathetic. He does get it, he really does.
But Kuroo also sees how hard you work already. And he knows all too well that there’s only so much work you can get done in one night. You’ve got enough on your plate even without your classes, so having the extra academic pressure is just the cherry on top.
“Mm,” you hum, “yeah, I guess you of all people would know.” You hunch over and rest your elbows on your thighs, using your hands to prop your head up.
He’d been there at your most and least productive moments. On days when you were cranking out a few thousand words and nights when you could only jot down a few sentences. Hell, Kuroo had even volunteered to help you edit and format it when the time came. What kind of person offers to do that before they’ve even been asked to?
It’s just another feature of his charm, you suppose.
But you still feel stuck. Like you’re a boat stranded in the middle of the ocean and you just can’t seem the muster up the strength to pull up the anchor. The anxiety lingers.
“...It just doesn’t feel like it’s ever enough, y’know?” You breathe out.
There it is. Finally out in the open.
And Kuroo hums thoughtfully to himself.
He’s been there.
Not knowing if the effort he put into his work was having any actual effect. Being unsure as to when he should stop taking responsibility for something. Putting work, classes, and people before himself.
It’s draining; a swirling spin-cycle of exhaustion.
But he’s also been learning that “enough” is subjective. So he decides to say just that.
“Enough is a pretty vague word, don’t you think?”
You blink.
Yeah, you suppose it is.
Hopefully this isn’t another one of his bizarre epiphanies - the kind that makes you think your brain is going to implode. Sometimes Kuroo could be a little too philosophical for his and your own good. But you humor him anyway.
Shifting in your seat, you give him a stiff nod.
Satisfied with your understanding, he proceeds with his thought.
“What I mean is that we probably have totally different definitions of enough...” he drawls on, “... and different standards too.”
“Okay...”
“What I mean is that-” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “-what’s ‘enough’ to you may not be ‘enough’ to me. And vice versa.”
Kuroo tilts his head back, brows furrowing in thought. He’s grasping for the right way to put it.
“Y/n, I think you’ve done enough. You’ve worked hard,” he points out, “and I don’t think I know anyone who deserves a break more than you do.”
That makes you pause. You lift your head up to catch his gaze - his eyes are already studying your expression. Something inside of you stops functioning because never have you seen such raw sincerity. Or maybe you have, but you’re only just now noticing it.
He gives you a gentle smile. It makes your chest ache.
“You mean it?” You half-whisper.
“I wouldn’t lie to you.”
You’ve known this for years now, but Kuroo truly has a way with words. They had the ability to pierce like a harpoon or stick sweetly to you like warm honey. Even with a few (thousand) shitty jokes littered throughout your conversations, it’s only natural to be awestruck by him. By his ability to make even the most awkward of situations a little more bearable. How he subliminally knows how to soothe and temper you. You think he would make a really great businessman - he’s quite persuasive; a real salesperson.
One part of you wants to apologize to him again. Another part wants to jump up and kiss him. To tear up and cry in his arms with relief. You chalk these potential reactions up to exhaustion and hormones… but you don’t write them off entirely.
Because suddenly being 3 feet apart feels like miles. And your bed is looking terribly comfortable.
“Mind if I join you?” You ask, but you’re already moving from your seat.
He gives you an indifferent shrug - though he feels anything but.
“It’s your bed.”
Oh, you’re well aware of that fact. You can already feel heat rising to your face.
You stand up slowly, raising your arms to the ceiling in one final attempt to stretch. Then softly, you place a knee to the mattress and wedge yourself on the rest of the way until you’re sitting crisscrossed in front of him. He shifts his torso so that it’s facing you.
And now that you’re finally eye to eye, you can breathe.
He may be your crush, but you feel strangely comfortable in his presence. You always have. It’s part of what makes Kuroo... well, Kuroo. He embodies security while still pushing you out of your comfort zone. And for that, you’re grateful.
You break the silence.
“I really am sorry,” you echo your earlier apology.
You undoubtedly are. And you’re not sure why it feels like such a heavy thing to say over something as menial as a good night’s sleep.
“Hey, hey,” He soothes, reaching a hand over to ruffle your hair, “it’s no big deal, alright?”
You send him a half-hearted glare but it immediately breaks into a soft smile. His hand lingers for a moment longer than it should before he draws it away. You miss the teasing touch.
It’s becoming increasingly difficult to maintain eye-contact, but even as you look away, you note that his eyes remain concentrated on you. You can’t tell if it’s you who has moved closer or if he has. Either way, those few inches of distance have narrowed by a decent margin.
“I honestly just wanted you to get some rest. You’ve had it rough and by the looks of it-” He scans your face like he’s trying to diagnose you with something.
“Hey, watch it-” You warn, narrowing your eyes.
You already know you look tired. Kuroo loves reminding you of that in his own little way.
He smirks playfully, continuing anyway.
“-You could really use the sleep.” Kuroo’s raspy voice trails off.
“But apparently even pizza isn’t a convincing enough strategy.” He gives you a lopsided grin.
You shake your head, “Oh no, no, the pizza was very convincing.”
He scoffs, “Was it, now?” Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, “Because you seem very awake to me.”
“Can’t we just blame this on the paper, please?” You sigh.
He furrows his brows in contemplation, “Hmm, no. I don’t think so. This is partially your fault.” A rather underwhelming response.
“A small part.”
“I’d say it's fifty-fifty.” He reasons with a raised eyebrow.
Rolling your eyes, you respond, “Okay, you can quit whatever-” You gesture to his expression, “this is.” He always managed to pull the strangest faces and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you laugh.
He snorts, “Oh? I thought you liked-” Kuroo gestures to his own face, “whatever this is.”
His voice has a curious edge to it. Some might even call it flirtatious.
And you go quiet.
You can’t help but stare at him. His messy hair, his barely parted lips. The fact that Kuroo just woken up and somehow still looks this attractive to you is so annoying. So frustrating.
And words are failing you.
It was an innocent comment. He’s just messing with you like he usually does. Maybe this has all gone a little bit too far. You should probably just say good night (or good morning) and rest your eyes.
Yet you can’t shake the feeling that this could be the perfect segway into addressing your relationship.
At literally any other time of day, you might be more rational. You could reason with yourself that this is quite literally the weirdest time to bring up your feelings for him. But something in you needs to close the literal and figurative gap between you two. And, for some indecipherable reason, it has to happen right now.
Whatever the outcome, you trust that Kuroo will always be your safe place.
So you throw caution to the wind.
“Actually, Kuroo…” You begin, staring at your hands which are placed neatly on your lap. “I really do.”
His eyes snap to yours.
This time it’s Kuroo’s turn to go silent in contemplation. Taking in a steady breath becomes an act of labor.
“You… really do what?” He asks slowly, grasping for your intended meaning.
Your heart pounds.
“I really like you.” You clarify.
It isn’t at all eloquent, but it’s sincere. You’d once heard that honesty came easier late at night, but you had no idea that it applied to early mornings as well.
But you finally make sense of the words that just escaped your lips. Panic arises. In an attempt to hide, you bury your face in your hands. You wish you could put the words right back into your mouth.
“I-” You take a deep breath, “I think I spoke without thinking.” Is all you allow yourself to mumble.
You no longer trust yourself with words.
Your face, your whole body really, feels like it’s on fire. Humiliation begins to wash over you in red hot waves… but you startle when a pair of hands meet your wrists.
You lift your head.
His fingertips are warm and worn. Still decorated with calluses from his years of volleyball back in high school. You want to question why the world has withheld this touch from you for so long.
He lures your hands away from your face, grasping both of them gently. For a sensation so new, it was somehow strikingly familiar. A thumb is meditatively tracing small, slow circles in the middle of your palm.
You gawk in disbelief… and as you scan his face, you catch a hint of pink on his cheeks. You can’t say anything though - your own face feels like it’s just become 1000 degrees warmer.
“I kinda figured you might,” Kuroo breaks the tension rather… bluntly.
Of course he did, wait what?
“But the thing is…”
Is this some sort of rejection? Is he just letting you down gently? Is that why he’s holding your hands like they’re as fragile as fine china? Then why is he looking at you so sweetly, so tenderly-
“I wanted to be the one to say it first.”
You start planning your own funeral again.
However, this time, emotional whiplash will be your stated cause of death. At least it’s a more unconventional way to go out.
“I- uh,” you swallow, “w- what did you just say?” It comes out as a stammer.
You’re squeezing his hands a little too tightly. When you recognize your modest death grip around his fingers you loosen your hold.
Kuroo smiles, his eyes crinkling slightly.
It’s nothing like that cunning smirk that you find annoying, yet so adorable. It’s also not one of his full-scale grins. It’s far too simple and reassuring. You almost don’t trust it.
“Well, in short, I like you too,” He re-explains, searching your face for a reaction, “but... I’d hoped to tell you that over pizza on Friday.” Kuroo looks away.
If you weren’t already gaping over his personal confession, you would probably be laughing at this new side of Kuroo. He looks unmistakably bashful.
It takes you a second to recover, but you finally open your mouth to respond...
But you’re cut off by Kuroo, once again. His softened expression is long gone. And, much to your dismay, he’s suddenly shifting himself off of your bed.
“It’s just too bad you didn’t keep up your end of the bargain. I guess that means there’ll be no pizza… no movie… no me.” He slowly releases your hands, knitting his brows together to feign sorrow - it looks hilariously forced, but you’re too worried about the warmth leaving your fingertips to care.
He’s teasing you like you’re his best friend.
And that’s because you are.
So then why does it feel like something’s changed? Like he’s daring you to make the next move?
Before he can pull away and leave, you tug at his hand which draws his whole body toward you.
Your heartrate spikes through the roof. When’s the last time you’ve been this close to someone? To a guy? A guy who’s shown actual living, breathing interest in you.
And he’s in your face.
Close enough that his scent, his cologne, is drowning your senses. Close enough that his breath is fanning faintly against your cheek. Close enough that you know there’s only one thing left for you to do.
Before you can think to hesitate, your lips are brushing up against his.
Intuitively, he brings his hands to your face, closing any extra distance.
Kuroo’s thumb feathers over your cheekbone, stroking it tenderly. His lips apply very little pressure and it’s unbearably delicate, but it fills you with an indescribable warmth. His lips linger just long enough for you to detect the mint from his toothpaste - he can probably taste the cinnamon tea you’ve been sipping on over the past hour. As far as kisses go, it’s reserved, but perfect for this distinct moment.
Plus, you figure, this is just the first of many longer, more eager kisses - though you can’t imagine being more breathless than you already are right now.
But you can hardly get another taste of him before those warm hands on your cheeks are prying you away. He stares. You stare back. His eyes are brimming with something warm and full. You immediately choose to label it, “affection.”
And in a much lower voice, Kuroo murmurs, “Let’s save this for later.”
You scan his face, wondering if he’s actually serious. He gradually makes his way off of the bed and onto his feet and before you can protest, Kuroo is speaking again.
“You-”
He leans down and gingerly lifts your chin with his fingers. The gentleness of his touch almost makes you flinch, but you somehow manage to hold it in the road. Though now you’re really at a loss for words.
“-need to get some good rest.”
He places a chaste kiss on your forehead.
You still feel it after he pulls away. After he closes the door. After you’ve laid you head down on your pillow in shock.
How does he expect you to fall asleep after all of that?
---
extra: this is dedicated to Izzy - our sleep schedules may be jacked up, but i’m pretty sure it’s a blessing in disguise if we’re taking our time zones into consideration. thanks for making me laugh & for not stealing my quarter of the braincell.
and to my precious friends and followers - thank you for being patient with me. it’s hard to post or even write at the moment, but i’m steadily pushing myself toward a better mindset. i appreciate your comments, likes, and the fact that y'all even bother to check out my works in the first place. i’m working on it.
also happy birthday, Tetsu. you’re a real star.
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When the Chips are Down
part 2
masterlist
Hello darlings.... I did a thing. I did not intend to update this, in fact I was going to do SWGD updates or do a sequel to Baby Mine, but here we are. It’s a little short, but enjoy!--- chaotic puff.
Y/N was exhausted both mentally and physically. Pushing Namjoon away didn’t work. The man was like an octopus. Take away one arm, and another takes its place. She just didn’t have the energy to keep him at bay. It was easier just to let him wrap himself around her. It wasn’t as though she could run. Where could she hide on a plane? And she doubted very much that any of the attendants or Jin would help her either. She was in a heap of trouble. Even though Namjoon promised no repercussions, she knew he had to have something else in mind. Namjoon was never one to let such a slight go unpunished.
The flight left her even more exhausted, and she had to be begrudgingly grateful for Namjoon’s foreplaning. The pajamas and the bed were extremely comfortable, much more so than her dress would have been or even any of the cushy seats outside of the private bedroom. Namjoon was also extremely attentive to even the slightest sign of discomfort from her. The attention to detail made the flight slightly more bearable even if there was a constant niggling anxiety over the health of her baby. She knew full well she wasn’t supposed to be flying in her third trimester, but it wasn’t as though Namjoon was giving her a choice. He never gave her a choice.
He did allow her her rest, and that was a small mercy. He didn’t push her to talk. He even encouraged her to rest knowing how taxing the journey was going to be on her and the baby. She’d slept for a good while, only waking up to allow Jin and the labor and delivery nurse to check her over and when Namjoon had had dinner delivered to them. He’d seemed apologetic for waking her up, but according to him, it was important to keep her strength up, for the baby, and she wasn’t going to tell him that skipping one meal probably wasn’t going to hurt either of them. It just wasn’t worth the argument.
She cradled her stomach with one hand as she thought of what was waiting for them in Korea. Namjoon would never let her out of the house again. There was little doubt of that, but what would that mean for the baby? Her poor little fútbol player. Her miracle. She never wanted this for any child of hers. Children had always been so iffy for her. Her last two pregnancies had been disastrous. She had been constantly worried over the health of the baby. It was part of the reason that she and Mark had settled in Italy. She was worried about losing the little one, worried how the stress of constant running would affect them both.
She should have kept moving. She should have allowed Mark to bring them both to somewhere that Namjoon never would have found them, some small island in the middle of the ocean, or deep in some forgotten countryside. It was too late for what ifs though, far too late. There would be no escape for her, but she prayed that there could be one for Mark however slim the possibility was.
A small comfort in all of this was that her sister was safe. She’d been so careful to never let Namjoon know about her sister. Iya and Chester would be safe at home living their lives free from the mess that she had gotten herself into. It pained her more than anything that she would never see Iyla again, but it was worth it to keep her sister safe even if she couldn’t do the same for herself or her baby. Iyla was safe. By some minor miracle, she was safe.
She groaned shifting as the baby sent a harsh kick to her kidneys. Namjoon instantly perked up hovering over her worriedly.
“What’s wrong?” He asked eyes flitting over her form and hands hovering over her belly unsure of what to do or what was wrong. He’d been hovering the whole flight.
“I’m fine.” She hissed rubbing soft circles on her belly silently asking her little one to calm down. Every time the baby kicked too harshly, Namjoon began to fret over her. She didn’t need any fretting. She needed some peace and to not be several thousand miles in the air, maybe then she could relax. The estate was a prison, but it was at least a familiar and an exceedingly comfortable one.
“Is it the baby?” He asked placing his hand over hers his gaze intently focused on her belly. “Should I get Jin?”
“They’re just kicking.” She groaned sinking back into the pillows again. “They’ll settle down soon enough. They’re just a little active right now.”
Namjoon’s eyes flickered to the monitor nervously. It was an odd expression on him. She didn’t think that she’d ever seen him truly nervous before. “Are you sure? I can get him.”
She nodded tiredly, adjusting herself so that she was half lying down with a pillow supporting her belly and another stuck between her legs. It was one of the few ways she could get comfortable now that her belly was so large. Mark had always made sure that she was settled comfortably.
She could remember the first night her growing belly had caused her too much discomfort to sleep well. He’d come back the next day with a variety of new pillows and a heap of advice from the nonnas of the village. She rarely had to ask Mark to do things. He went above and beyond without ever saying a word about it. If he saw a problem, he fixed it. It was one of the things that she loved about him. He had made the adjustment to motherhood easier. He had been a pillar for her even though he was grieving as well. They’d leaned on each other to get through the worst of it, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to finish this pregnancy without him. She wasn’t supposed to go through the last of it without him.
He’d treated her and her baby as though they were family, as though they were his own. He’d been there for everything, the first flutters of movement, the first kicks that he could actually feel. He’d been there for every prediction that the nonnas gave her about the baby, and the nonna did love to predict and give advice. Some were convinced it was a boy because of how the baby was sitting. Others swore she was having a girl. She and Mark didn’t care though. All they wanted was a healthy baby.
Mark wouldn’t be there for the most important part though, and that killed her. He was supposed to be there. He was supposed to hold her hand and tell her it was alright as she brought their baby into the world. It was their baby, not Namjoon’s, never Namjoon’s. She couldn’t let Namjoon know that though. It would be detrimental for both herself and for Mark. She’d have to readjust her thinking to play into Namjoon’s ego. Unfortunately he was the most important person at the moment. All of their lives were in his hands, and if she didn’t cater to his whims, they would all be in danger.
“I should get Jin.” Namjoon murmured even as he wrapped himself around her showing no sign of leaving her to call for the doctor.
“I’m fine.” She hissed again but made no move to make him remove himself from her. It was too much effort when he would just wrap himself around her again.
“You should get some more rest.” He murmured into her hair. “We have a few more hours until we land.”
Rest. Both Jin and Namjoon had been henpecking her telling her to rest, but how could she given the circumstances? There was too much uncertainty, too much to worry about. Mark would have told her not to worry. Worry was bad for baby and bad for momma, but Mark wasn’t here.
If there was one thing she could take comfort it, it was the fact that she doubted Namjoon would hurt her while she was pregnant, and she very much doubted that he would hurt the baby. Namjoon was far too prepared and fussy not to be concerned over both her health and the baby’s. She wouldn’t be surprised if he already had everything ready for them at the estate, or at least as ready as he could be without knowing the baby’s gender. But gender didn’t matter so much with newborns. They outgrew clothes so quickly that it was better just to go with neutral things that could be reused for any other kids that came along.
Now that was a thought. Would she have other children? How many did Namjoon want? It wasn’t something they’d ever really discussed. It wasn’t something she’d ever really wanted to discuss with him, but kids were upon them whether she liked it or not. If the baby was a boy, he’d have his heir, and maybe they would be done. If it was a girl, there would definitely be more children in their future if only for the sake of succession.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like kids. She adored them, but she wasn’t so sure of having Namjoon as the father. She didn’t want him as a husband much less something as permanently binding as the father of her children.
She’d dared to dream in that little Italian village of a life, a life with Mark. Their little house would be filled with life and laughter. There would be siblings for her current little one running around. It would have been quiet, nice. It would have been almost everything she could have ever wanted, but daring to hope was foolish, especially with the baggage hanging over both of their heads, and Namjoon’s arrival proved that. And with his arrival, her little fantasy life drifted away like so many other dreams.
“I’m sorry, jagi.” He murmured into her hair. Stunned to hear an apology, she waited, keeping silent to see if he would elaborate. “I know flying has to be uncomfortable for you right now, but it’s the fastest way home.”
Of course that was what he was sorry for. He was sorry that she and the baby were uncomfortable, but there was no remorse for once more uprooting her from her life.
“It’ll be over soon.” She muttered under her breath nuzzling into the wall of pillows that kept her and Namjoon propped up. They had to be either Namjoon or Jin’s doing. There was no way that the plane regularly had such an absurd amount of pillows.
“Just a few more hours.” He assured his long fingers intertwining themselves with hers over her belly. “And then we’ll be home.”
part 3
#bts#bts fic#yandere bts#bts rm#bts namjoon#bts fanfic#kim namjoon#namjoon x reader#mafia namjoon#yandere namjoon#RM#rm x reader#mafia#mafia au#a dangerous game#dark romance#when the chips are down#yandere
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Toxicity - ao3
- part 2 -
The situation with the Wen sect continued to deteriorate.
Not too long after finally conceding to his friendship with Lan Xichen and taking on Meng Yao as his exceedingly competent deputy, it became clear to Nie Mingjue that there was no way he could leave his sect to Nie Huaisang with the issue unaddressed. For his brother to live free and carefree as he had always wished for him, the Wen sect would need to be completely eradicated, leaving no remnants that would come back later to harm his brother, with his mediocre cultivation and laziness and desire to live a worry-free life.
If that was what it took to make Nie Huaisang’s dreams come true, Nie Mingjue would devote the few years he had left to seeing it through.
“I want you to go back to the Cloud Recesses when the war starts,” Nie Mingjue told Nie Huaisang, holding him tightly in his arms in relief after hearing the reports of the horrific indoctrination camp at the Nightless City that all the other sect heirs had been forced to go to.
Nie Huaisang had not gone.
When the request had come to the Unclean Realm, Nie Mingjue had told the messenger that the Wen sect could not force him to comply without starting a war, and that if they wished to do so, he would welcome it. He had activated all of the defenses he had spent a lifetime building for Nie Huaisang’s protection and refused to budge one bit on his refusal no matter how much Nie Huaisang said that it would be all right, that he would handle it, that surely it wouldn’t be so bad, that it would give them more time to prepare...
In the end, the Wen sect had backed off.
In the end, the other sect heirs had not been all right.
They been used as bait for a wretched beast in a cave. Several smaller sect heirs had died; Lan Wangji had ended up with a broken leg and Wei Wuxian with wounds all over and both of them starved half to death, Jiang Cheng with his feet bloody from running all the way back to the Lotus Pier, Jin Zixuan who’d never known a day of hardship in his life thin as a rake from vomiting up the poor food they’d served him for weeks and with a twitch in his eye from the constant ambushes they’d faced in their escape…the best and brightest of the youngest generation, and Nie Huaisang was far away from their standard.
He had been right to refuse to let him go.
“The Cloud Recesses, da-ge?” Nie Huaisang asked, surprised. “Not stay here?”
Nie Mingjue shook his head. “Even if we can get agreement with all the other sects on a response, which I think might be possible now that their heirs were so mistreated, the Wen sect will redouble their efforts to attack us as their greatest threat. We can’t win a war by sitting inside our walls, and that means whoever is left behind here will need to protect our home against a siege with virtually no manpower.”
That person would not be Nie Huaisang. His gentle younger brother - no, even if he could, Nie Mingjue would never permit it.
"You’ll be safe at the Cloud Recesses,” he continued. “Xichen took me to tour their defenses the first time I visited. They were extremely strong, just as you’d expect from a places as reclusive as that, and those were just what they were willing to show me. It will reassure me to know that you are there and safe.”
Nie Huaisang’s shoulders slumped in silent agreement, and then a moment later he brightened. “At least I’ll be able to spent some more time with Xichen-xiong, who my da-ge likes so much…”
“You brat,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes and pulling him in for another hug. “Stop making fun of me.”
“I’ll stop making fun of you when you finally confess your feelings to him! You’ve liked him for such a long time, and you’re so straightforward about everything else. Why won’t you do this?”
Nie Mingjue hesitated.
“…da-ge?” Nie Huaisang asked, sensitive to such things. “Is there something I should know?”
Nie Mingjue licked his lips. “It’s been getting worse,” he confessed. “The – every eight years.”
Nie Huaisang went as still as a statue.
“You know how I always spend my birthday in my room, even on off years, just in case? There was always a little pain. It used to be just a bit on the date itself – minimal most years outside the eighth, but still present – but recently...”
“Recently, da-ge?”
“Recently I’ve started having the same sorts of pain at other times, randomly,” Nie Mingjue confessed. “And after what happened at the last one…I barely survived it then. The next eight year mark…if it’s as much worse than the previous time as that time had been from the time before that, then there’s no way that I’ll make it through.”
“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang whispered, his eyes wide and glistening with tears. “That’s – there’s only five more years left.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Nie Mingjue said, pressing their foreheads together. “I had hoped that I would have longer.”
It didn’t seem fair that he was doomed to lose his mind at the age of thirty two, leaving Nie Huaisang to inherit the sect at the age of twenty-four, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do about it. Meng Yao, who did not know the details of the curse, was very solicitous of him and Nie Huaisang both. He was always helping them find new efficiencies, new ways to delegate work, to make their lives easier; he helped Nie Huaisang, who suddenly devoted himself to learning about sect leadership with a fervor and occasional jags of crying, to find teachers and did not ask too many questions, undoubtedly assuming the cause to be the war; and as for Nie Mingjue, he always finding medicines that seemed to help stem the pain without ever asking for an explanation.
The medicines helped, but Nie Mingjue knew that it would only get worse from here on out.
The Wen sect, he concluded grimly, would need to go before then.
Despite his best efforts, the war dragged on, long and slow and painful. The Wen sect had amassed a considerable following, and while Nie Mingjue’s personal gifts were enough to protect him and sway the battles he himself engaged in, it was still not enough to fight their vast armies, nor to face up against the monstrous cultivation of Wen Ruohan, two or three generations his senior but with a face younger than his own.
At least Lan Xichen visited often, acting as a courier between the various battlegrounds and sects leading them, including his own. He brought news of Nie Huaisang, reassurances that Nie Mingjue’s brother was well, and Nie Mingjue was always immensely glad to see him - and not only for the news.
Through some coincidence and a variety of reasons, Meng Yao was never available to meet with Lan Xichen when he came, and Nie Mingjue was too selfish of his limited time with Lan Xichen to really complain. When they’d finally won a large enough battle to make a real difference, with Nie Mingjue taking Wen Xu’s head in a fair fight on the field of battle and getting dubbed ‘The King of Hejian’ for his troubles, he finally invited Lan Xichen to spend a full week with him, thinking that he could finally re-introduce the two and let them spend some time together. After all, it had been Lan Xichen who had sent Meng Yao, and he undoubtedly missed his company, and Nie Mingjue, who was doomed to leave Lan Xichen alone within a few years, had no right to be possessive.
And yet, right before Lan Xichen was scheduled to arrive – he’d been delayed by an unexpected downpour in Yunmeng that had caused some disaster for the common people there, and Jiang Cheng had requested his assistance in particular – Meng Yao approached Nie Mingjue with a plan to go behind enemy lines as a spy.
“I share a bloodline with the Jin sect,” he explained, wincing a little, and Nie Mingjue, far too familiar with the promiscuous tendencies of Sect Leader Jin, winced a little in return. “Between that and my role as your deputy, it would not be difficult for me to position myself as a ‘catch’ for Sect Leader Wen. I can use that to get into his confidence and feed you information, and perhaps we can end this war faster.”
Nie Mingjue was reluctant at first, thinking the risk too great even given the promise of rich reward, but Meng Yao was insistent, and in the end he was his own man, free to do what he wished. Nie Mingjue could do nothing more than wish him well.
“It’s a pity he left before you could see him,” he remarked to Lan Xichen, who smiled and nodded.
“You speak so highly of him,” he said warmly. “I would be happy to meet him.”
Nie Mingjue blinked. “Meet him? I thought…he came to me on your recommendation. Had you not met him before that?”
Now it was Lan Xichen’s turn to blink. “On my recommendation…? I don’t recall...You said his name was Meng Yao?”
Nie Mingjue frowned, but then thought of Meng Yao’s wince as he described his parentage and thought that perhaps he had adopted a new surname. “He shares a bloodline with the Jin clan?”
“Oh!” Lan Xichen exclaimed, and seemed surprised. “Oh, yes – I suppose – perhaps it truly is someone I know, and well enough to recommend to you, too. I hadn’t realized A-Yao had reached out to you…I wonder why he didn’t mention it to me?”
“A-Yao?” Nie Mingjue asked, arching his eyebrows, distracted from his concerns by a strange twisting feeling in his stomach that he knew the cause for but refused to acknowledge. “You are that close, then?”
Lan Xichen smiled. “If your Meng Yao and my A-Yao are the same, then yes, quite close. He saved my life once, long ago, and I consider him my younger brother.”
The tension in Nie Mingjue’s belly disappeared at once. “Oh, well, then,” he said with a shrug that he tried to make nonchalant. “In that case, it is truly a pity that you missed him.”
Lan Xichen was looking at him with fond eyes. “I am happier to see you,” he said, and reached to take Nie Mingjue’s hand into his own.
Nie Mingjue swallowed hard. “Xichen…”
“I am not blind,” Lan Xichen said. “I have held back only because you do not seem to have any interest in pursuing what you feel.”
“It’s not –” Nie Mingjue tried to speak and tripped over his own tongue. “There’s no lack of interest…”
“If this is about you dying, I won’t hear another word about it,” Lan Xichen said, and pressed his lips, warm and dry, to the back of Nie Mingjue’s hand. “I know a war is not the best time for such things, but please, think about it. Or do you think I would mourn you any less because the opportunity had slipped through our hands instead of us having seized it?”
Lan Xichen left not long thereafter, and Nie Mingjue thought his words over at length, the thought ringing in his ears until it seemed to consume everything. Even the by now persistent pangs of the poison seemed almost eradicated, as if he were healing instead of deteriorating, and in the end he decided that Lan Xichen was right.
He only had a few years left before the end – he didn’t want to die, to leave Lan Xichen behind when they were just starting out, but if he did, then let him leave those he loved behind with full hearts and happy memories, rather than regret.
Once decided, Nie Mingjue first sent a letter to Nie Huaisang, asking his permission – he received it joyfully, as he’d expected, but he wanted to be cautious about such things – and then the next letter to Lan Qiren, asking if he could send Lan Xichen his way at the next opportunity to discuss a personal matter of some importance to them both. Asking, furthermore, that if Lan Xichen still felt the way that he did in their previous discussion, that he grant them his approval.
The letter he received back was – slightly unusual, in truth, but for all of the mystifying references to size and scale, age and experience, and related concerns that seemed all directed at him rather than at Lan Xichen as he would have expected (he was taller, but only but a little; judging by appearance, older, by a little; and certainly no member of the Lan sect could be expected to have experience, and yet for some reason Lan Qiren seemed to be trying to offer him advice about not being overwhelmed), the letter contained the approval he had requested. That was the most important thing.
He smiled down at the letter, barely able to think from sheer happiness.
“Is it true, then?” Lan Wangji, who had brought Lan Qiren’s letter in person, asked. “You’re courting xiongzhang?”
“I am,” Nie Mingjue admitted, because he of all people knew how important the approval of younger brothers could be. “Your uncle has approved my suit. Is that all right with you?”
“Xiongzhang can do as he likes, of course,” Lan Wangji said, and he seemed almost – impressed, with Nie Mingjue? That seemed to be right, but he really wasn’t sure why. “And he agreed? To your suit, I mean?”
“He indicated that he would be willing,” Nie Mingjue said, a little uncomfortable at how Lan Wangji was staring at him as if he had just announced his intention to scale a very large mountain. “It was I who was – slow to understand.”
Lan Wangji raised his hands and saluted, bowing very deeply even though Nie Mingjue had long ago told him not to bother. Nie Mingjue got up and went over to try to pull him up at once, but Lan Wangji persisted.
“Chifeng-zun is a brave man,” Lan Wangji proclaimed in that serious way he had. “Noble and upright, steadfast and unflinching. I wish you both happiness.”
“Thank you,” Nie Mingjue said, now completely uncomfortable, but luckily Lan Wangji didn’t seem interested in saying any more and left shortly thereafter.
Lan sect, Nie Mingjue thought to himself, utterly bemused. He would never understand them.
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home is people, not a place 2/?
Part 1
Summary: Clay gets attacked on base. DEVGRU finds an issue in that.
TW: Blood mention, physical assault, canon typical violence
Tag: @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @bravo-four-seal-team @velvetcardiganbucky @supervalcsi @abby-splace @itsonautopilot @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @pinkrockstar19 @softi92 @mrsmarvelous1995 @jayhalsteadfan-2417
Lisa is pissed. She has every right to be. Clay had been attacked in the Bravo cages.
She’d watched the kid go from a strap who couldn’t stay in his own lane to an operator who could lead Bravo – and Tier One, for that matter – into the future. And then he’d been attacked in his team’s cages, in his own cage. Blackburn was still at the hospital – he’d found the kid in a pool of his own blood; Lisa wouldn’t blame him if it took an apocalypse to separate him from the kid – making sure that the kid got appropriate care.
She pushed open the door to Bravo’s briefing room, not that it actually had any members of Bravo in it. Alpha, Charlie and Delta were all there, waiting on her brief on the situation. Echo would have been there, if not for them being halfway through their first deployment as a team. There had been hesitation about deploying Echo – the loss of the last Echo line-up still sat heavily in the Tier’s mind.
The three team’s Master Chiefs and 2ICs had sat in Bravo’s usual chairs. Full Metal and Derek sat in Jason and Ray’s chairs, respectively. Beau and his second in command had taken Sonny and Trent’s, while TJ was sat in Brock’s. Delta Two had distinctively chosen not to sit in Clay’s seat, instead sitting in a chair usually used for either Cerberus or a support staff member, depending on the op.
(It was very funny to watch Brock and Clay push a wheely chair with Cerberus on it between the two of them, and they’d pretty much mastered the art of doing it in the last few months. Cerb had found that if he allowed it to happen, he’d get belly rubs and treats, so he was unbothered about it)
The other seats had a random assignment, seemingly first-come-first-serve. The ones unlucky enough to have not found seats stood tensely, arms crossed and grumbling under their breath to each other.
Nobody sat in Clay’s seat.
All 18 operators looked up when she walked in, attention snapping to the person with the most information. As she walked in, her gaze caught on the table space in front of Clay’s chair. Clay had left his book on the table. It’s about as thick as a brick, and Sonny would probably take a glance at it and tell Clay it was as dry as one. The embossed cover didn’t read English, and Lisa had a feeling that there would be very few, if any, people in the room able to read any part of the book.
She stood at the front and pushed her emotions down. These operators were here for information, not emotion.
“At 0145 this morning, 4 Green Team members entered Bravo’s Cage room. At 0157, they left, and returned to the Green Team barracks. 0204, Lieutenant Commander Blackburn entered the Bravo cages. He dialled 911 and was assisted by Alpha Four-”
She cuts herself off for a few seconds, as various operators slapped Jordan on the back, mumbled thanks spreading through the room as they reassured themselves that one of their own had helped their kid.
“Assisted by Alpha Four at 0207. Ambulance arrived at 0215. The Green Team members were apprehended by Alpha and Delta at 0248.”
She pauses again as a ripple of thanks goes through to room, Alpha and Delta thanking their Master Chiefs and each other and Charlie thanking both teams.
“Petty Officer Spenser was admitted to hospital at 0224, and was assessed as having a concussion, a broken nose and 5 bruised ribs.”
Alpha, Charlie and Delta’s medics all take note of this. They’re probably going to be on Clay’s ass for the next few months about this, right behind Trent.
“Bravo arrived at the Hospital at 0243. They are all with him. Hayes has asked that he is included in any appropriate punishments.”
Full Metal snorts. “Bet he didn’t word it like that”
A series of chuckles and grins echoes around the room. He did not word it like that. There was much more swearing, and much, much less formal language. He’d implied murder no less than 5 times.
Lisa allowed a smile to pass through the stony calm façade she had up.
“Command has delegated these appropriate punishments to be carried out within DEVGRU and have stressed the importance of leaving an impression on future graduates. This cannot be a recuring event.”
TJ pipes up first, almost before she’d finished talking. “I say we let Metal work his magic, make sure nobody finds them.”
This gets mixed responses, but Lisa isn’t surprised when none are wholly negative. They all had a younger brother in the form of Clay, and they had all trained for years in the art of killing their enemies as swiftly and efficiently as possible, and these candidates fell wholly and completely under the title of ‘Enemy’.
Metal gives a faux hopeful look to Lisa, and Lisa can tell that he’s not entirely dismissed the possibility, even as he does a terrible job at pretending to still consider it an option that Lisa could authorize. Lisa plays into the joke – god knows that Tier One needs some light in this disastrous day – and gives him the look mostly used for when Bravo (usually Sonny) suggests a stupid idea that shouldn’t had even crossed their minds. Blackburn jokingly referred to it as her “bad dog” look, and it worked for its purpose, making the operators put their tails between their legs. A few faces form smiles, and a few look to be wavering on the edge of smiling.
“No murder, and no death.”
This gets her grumbles, and not all of them are joking. Clay had gotten all of them out of sticky situations. Every operator in Tier One had a handful story where Clay had needed to be briefed on their op, and all of them had at least one where he’d taking calls at 2am to translate over a connection that he could barely hear English through. He’d never berated them for waking him up, and had often taken time to teach various operators key phrases, if he knew they were deploying somewhere where he knew the language.
Beau goes next, possibly the most level-headed of the Master Chiefs – both in the room and not. “Advanced SERE?”
Now this, Lisa can work with. Something about her posture must change, a twitch in her face, because the room suddenly erupts in sound. Charlie Two, Delta Five and Alpha Three all are in close enough range to clap Beau on the back, and they do so in quick succession.
“Gentlemen.” She raises her voice to be heard by the room. There’s nothing gentle about the looks on their faces.
“I’ll leave you to figure something out. Report to me with a plan of action.” And with that, she gives them a single nod and begins to leave. Her turned back does not block out the whispers of violence, but it does hide the vicious smile that’s stretched itself out along her face.
Nobody would even think about hurting their kid. Ever again.
+
As Clay blearily opened his eyes, he realised that he’d succumbed to pain-med-induced sleep. A few hours had probably passed since then, based on the fact that sunlight was now filling the room. Sonny was sat on his right side, gaze focused on the room’s TV screen, which was showing a play-by-play of a football game. The volume was cranked down, and even as Clay becomes more aware; he can only hear every other word.
“Son?” The word passes his lips without him meaning it to. Sonny’s head snaps over to Clay, so fast that Clay fears he may have given himself whiplash.
“Hey Bam Bam, how ya doin?” The toothpick moves hypnotically. Stop looking at the toothpick. Stop it. Stop it. Sonny’s casual expression is betrayed by the slight waver in his voice, a sliver of raw emotion that Sonny couldn’t fully supress. Clay gives him a strained smile in lieu of answering and reaches his hand out. Sonny catches the hand before it moves very far, holding it in a tight grip.
Sonny’s thumb absently runs across Clay’s unblemished because he hadn’t even been able to fight back knuckles, and his spare hand turns off the TV, leaving them in silence.
“Kid.” Clay’s eyes widen slightly, and he almost pulls his hand out of Sonny’s grip at the softly spoken word. He tries to get in the apology, the explanation, before Sonny can tell him that Jason is punishing him for being unaware.
“I should have being paying attention. I know I should have been paying attention, I was just so tired.” I’m sorry I’m so sorry don’t kick me out please
Sonny freezes. What?
“Clay. Stop. Stop-” he has to cut himself off before he says something that includes those really touchy-feely-emotions he’s feeling. Thankfully, Clay doesn’t take the pause as an opportunity to continue. “Stop trying to defend yourself. None of us blame you, Blondie. You were on base. You should have been protected. We won’t fail you again.” Sonny gives him facts, because he knows that if he tries to do anything else he’ll make it worse.
“Son?” Clay recalls a voice calling through the dark, through the black water he was floating in, a voice he’d recognised; “Did Blackburn find me? He- he had blood on his hands”
For a moment, Sonny curses Clay’s blessings as a sniper. He’d always been able to notice the little things, the things none of them would notice. “Yeah, he was checking that none of us were sleeping in the cages.”
Clay nods, and then his brows furrow. He breaks eye contact with Sonny and frowns in the genal direction of his feet. His face makes what Sonny calls his ‘Brainiac’ Face, and Sonny can only assume that he’s thinking about what happened with Blackburn, not rationalizing with himself that the beating was somehow his fault.
“Son, can I talk to him?” Sonny doesn’t want to think about whatever that conversation is going to be, so he nods and begins to gather his stuff. His cap is hanging precariously from one on the bed’s corners, his phone on the bedside table. He stands and ruffles Clay’s head, laughing despite the stink-eye he gets for it. Clay doesn’t mind it, and he has the feeling the next few weeks, if not months, are going to be filled with various forms of physical contact to reassure his teammates that he was still with them.
And now he’d asked Sonny to get Blackburn. God what do you even say to the guy who had found you beaten? ‘Hey Boss, I’m sure that what you saw was horrifying, but I’m alright now?’ God help him. Sonny hadn’t given him a weird look, so he’d probably been expecting Clay to ask at some point.
Clay’s train of thought is interrupted when a soft knock sounds on the door. There’s a second of pause before the door opens. Clay can’t think of a time when Blackburn’s looked worse. There are dark circles under his eyes, and a vaguely haunted look in his eyes. His eyes have a red tinge, and Clay can’t tell if that’s from sleep deprivation, or something else. His hands are rubbed red and raw, and Clay can tell that Blackburn had taken extra care to get every fleck of blood off his hands. He’s in a jacket that looks too big for him, and Clay suspects that Trent had a hand in that. Since the injured person – Clay – wasn’t someone he could immediately care for, Trent had gone for the next best thing, a shaken Blackburn. Under the jacket, he’s still in his fatigues, and by the time he’s finished the assessment of Blackburn’s top half, he’d moved close and sat down, hiding everything below his waist from Clay’s view.
Blackburn reaches out, putting a palm on Clay’s forearm, Clay’s hand mirrors it on Blackburn’s arm, and tension bleeds from Blackburn’s figure. His shoulders slump slightly, and he leans forward.
“How are you feeling?”
Clay considers lying, considers saying that he’s not in any pain, considers easing Blackburn’s mind. He decides against it. Blackburn had found him in a pool of blood, it’s the least he can do to tell him the truth. “My ribs hurt. But I’m, I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you were there.”
Clay is the sometimes literally bleeding heart of Bravo, levelling out Sonny’s emotional constipation, and the admission is the balm of some of the burns on Eric’s soul. Eric leaned forwards, shuffling closer to the bed, trying to hide the blood on his knees. He hadn’t been home to change, a call to his wife at 8am had told her that he wasn’t going to be home for a while. She, like the amazing wife she was, had been understanding, and then grumbled at him to let her sleep. They’d both laughed and exchanged ‘I love you’s before his wife ended the call. Clay didn’t need the stress of knowing that Eric had knelt in his blood. Nobody needs that.
“Gave me quite a scare, gave all of us quite a scare.” Eric doesn’t tell him that he’d spent the last half hour scrubbing his hands raw, that Jason had needed to strong-arm him into the waiting room, that Trent had given him one look and offered up his jacket, that he’d had his head in his hands until Sonny had come into the room and told him that Clay wanted to talk to him. Doesn’t tell him that he’d stood outside for nearly a minute before he’d knocked, that he’d needed to barrel in before he lost the nerve to speak to his operator. He usually prides himself on staying calm, on being collected, but Clay had been attacked in one of the few places on earth that he could honestly and without reservation call home. That scared Eric. If he couldn’t keep his operators safe on base, where would they be safe?
“Davis is talking to command about adding locks to the cage room doors, make sure this doesn’t happen again.” If she wasn’t already talking to command about it, she would be soon.
Clay nods. He shifts and grimaces in pain.
“Do you want me to get a nurse?” It’s a safe question, one that doesn’t involve the emotions in the room.
Clay ignores the lifeline. “I’m alright as I am. Did you get the guys?”
Eric nods. Breaking the news to Bravo had been the highlight of his morning. “Command is letting DEVGRU work out how to punish them.”
Clay grins. “I bet Metal is having fun with that.”
It’s Eric’s turn to smile, and a soft chuckle makes its way out. “Davis is under strict orders to not accept a plan that involves murder. I’m sure Alpha’s disagreeing with that.”
Alpha was most likely to deploy with Bravo, and all were in line with their Master Chief’s ‘Bury-first-questions-second’ policy when it came to Clay. Eric had a feeling it wouldn’t take much convincing to get Delta and Echo behind the plan, and that Charlie would only argue on principle.
Tier One was a brotherhood that didn’t take kindly to injury, as the world would learn.
+
Echo One – Zack Greer – a newly promoted Delta Two, wasn’t a very outgoing man. One and Twos were meant to both complement and contrast each other, a precarious balancing act honed over years of living out of each other’s pockets. TJ had needed a level head, so his Two was calm in the face of crisis.
Echo Two, on the other hand. A Floridian man, Elliot Howe, promoted from Charlie Three, who was under strict orders to never drink unsupervised with Sonny Quinn, lest they empty a bar and then burn said bar to the ground. He’d chaffed under Beau’s tight ship, so when the opportunity to move to form Echo had arisen, he was hard pushed to say no.
Together with Echo Three (Alpha Three), Echo Four (Delta Six) and two Green Team graduates as their Five and Six, they’d created a tight brotherhood.
Echo Five, Dan Wilder, a multilingual K9 handler, had initially been lost at DEVGRU, not quite fitting in. He’d reached out to the youngest operator – Bravo Six – in order to get some advice. What he didn’t know at the time is that their languages had overlap. Together with Clay and Ares – his K9 – he’d been able to find someone to practice with.
Echo had long since lost count of how many times Clay had come into their cage room, with a well-loved book, offering it to Dan with a brief explanation of how it would interest him. The book was never in English, and neither was the explanation. For all they knew, Clay could have spent the last few months giving Dan anything from Harry Potter to The Anarchist’s Cookbook (he’d actually only given Dan one of those, and Dan was under strict instructions not to tell them which, and Dan had been recommending others back).
Sonny, on the days when they were hanging out after work, sometimes tagged along to these exchanges. He’d joked about a book club, and Echo Two had picked up on the joke immediately, and since then the pair had resigned themselves to the nickname.
Between Clay’s frequent interactions with Dan and the fact that all of DEVGRU was deadly protective of Clay, it was no surprise that when Echo had heard the news, they hadn’t been happy. Command had fought a battle with Echo to keep them deployed, and Echo had nearly won. Dan had been on many rants, talking to empty space in Pashto – Four only caught a few words, and those were all along the lines of murder and death. Ares was giving out a low, constant growl. Both of the DEVGRU K9s were as protective as their owners, it seemed.
The door to their dorms slammed open and Zack marched in. Echo looks up in sync, and if it weren’t so serious, Zack would be amused by how much his men look like Meerkats. “Got word from Virginia.” This sets his men on edge, Howe half-steps forward, and his shoulders visibly tense up. “They found the green team rookies. We’ve been asked to approve the plan of their punishment before it gets sent to be approved by command.” Malicious smiles break out among the barracks.
They may be 7000 miles away, but they wouldn’t let anybody off the hook because of it.
#seal team#scott carter#clay spenser#trent sawyer#ray perry#brock reynolds#full metal#jason hayes#sonny quinn#fanfiction#ao3#writing#my writing#crossposting#ocs#protective brothers#whump#comfort#seal team imagine#seal team fanfic#dog#theres another dog#cerberus#Elliot Howe#he's fun#eric blackburn#how did i forget him#hes a focal point of this chapter#lisa davis#beau fuller
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We've Got Tonight - Ch 3
Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”
Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”
Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.
18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED
Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.
What the hell, let’s give it a shot.
Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.
Word Count: Ch 3 - 1637
In case you missed it:
Chapter 2
ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist
...
We’ve Got Tonight
Chapter 3
One month is not enough time to get used to nights in the bunker, she thinks as she stares at the back of Dean’s door. It’s too sterile, too unnatural, with the quiet permeating every crevice and recess.
There must be some sort of muffling spell or noise cancellation technology… or maybe just really good insulation. She’s used to the chatter of customers, the ding of the door chime, the clatter of plates, and the sloshing of the dishwasher. She’s never had to listen to herself think this much before, and she freely admits she is not a fan.
It’s been about four hours since Dean stormed out. “I’m done,” he said, but she doubts she’ll have to wait much longer. Those last words he shouted before Castiel came in, the way he gripped her and she had to force herself not to cling right back, tells her they aren’t finished, either with their argument or each other.
Muffled footsteps, the only sound besides her heart beat and non-stop internal monologue, let her know moments before the doorknob turns that Dean is back. The door swings open, not with the angry force she’s expecting, but with the same weary resignation that bows his shoulders as he steps into his room and shrugs off his jacket.
His eyes meet hers for an eternity, then he deliberately takes two more steps forward and closes the door firmly behind him.
She’s in his arms without a moment’s hesitation, her mouth on his, devouring him with every bit of desperation she possesses. He tastes of scotch, and she can picture him sitting despondently at the local watering hole, glaring balefully at a single glass of liquor for hours.
His arms constrict automatically until she’s equally breathless from his embrace as she is from the kiss. Just when she thinks he may have to physically hold her up, Dean pulls away just far enough to stare hard into her eyes, his expression daring her to challenge his next words.
“We are not done talking. You are going to tell me every detail of your deal, whether you like it or not. And don’t think for a second I’m going to let you go through with it. Choices be damned, Andy, this isn’t just about you anymore, and you know it.”
She refrains from telling him how much of a dad vibe he’s giving off as she shoves his flannel from his shoulders and pulls his face back to hers, clenching a handful of his t-shirt in a death grip.
Neither of them is gentle as they remove clothing and stagger their way to his bed; she knows they don’t have the time to be, and he suspects as much but doesn’t say so aloud. Neither is willing to ruin their precious remaining moments together by bringing up something as distasteful as reality. Nails score flesh, fingers bruise limbs, even their lips come away with faint traces of blood from accidental clashes with teeth.
“How long?” he rasps, his lips ghosting over her sternum. Her nails dredge shallow furrows across the backs of his thighs as he pulls back before thrusting hard, driving her into his mattress. “How long have we got?”
She tugs his mouth down to her breast, hissing as his teeth scrape and tug. Her fingers thread into his hair, holding him in place, silently willing him to let the subject go. She can’t answer him. She’s had a month with him, and while she’d rather have something closer to a lifetime, all she’s asking now is two more uninterrupted, untainted hours.
If she tells him, then the shortness of their time becomes real, everything becomes devastatingly real. Here in the bunker that is far too quiet for her own peace of mind, she can pretend the outside world and all it’s insane occultists and apocalypses and demons and deals don’t exist. She can pretend it’s just her and Dean, and nothing else bad is waiting on the other side of the horizon.
And he’d try to stop her. And probably succeed. So, no. She can’t tell him.
It’s some time before both of them are sated enough to lie relatively still. She keeps her back to him, knowing if she looks in his eyes she is liable to spill every bit of information she has left, and she does not want a repeat of the scene from earlier. Once was more than enough.
“I’m waiting, Andy.”
We all have to learn to live with disappointment, hun, she thinks. Aloud, she sighs and pushes herself back until her shoulder blades press against his chest. She’s been cold since they first brought her to the bunker, and his warmth is almost enough to make her forget that she’s chilled to her marrow. She shivers, forcing a partition up in her mind to keep out thoughts of her impending departure. She’s going to wait until he’s asleep, then head out to make the last rendezvous.
Sunrise, Dean, she thinks, despite her best efforts. I’ve got til sunrise. We’ve got less than that.
Luckily, she’s had enough caffeine to give a draft horse the shakes, and he’s running on three hours sleep for the last couple of days, so he should pass out pretty soon. The last thing she needs is the infamous Winchester Interference with her plans.
With the confidence that comes from knowing she’s right at the end of everything, Andy rolls over and pulls Dean’s head down so his cheek rests between her breasts, cradling him like a child and stroking his hair just as she’s longed to do since he strolled into her diner and winked at her over a stack of pancakes. He doesn’t protest, doesn’t even pretend to resist, instead nuzzling deeper in her embrace, and that’s when she really knows she’s wounded him far more deeply than she should have been capable.
“It was only supposed to be a fling,” she remarks to the top of his head as she runs her nails over the base of his skull. He shivers, pulling the blanket over them up to his chin and sliding his arms around her waist. His shoulder lies on her stomach, its weight sitting comfortably against her belly. “The first time I met you, you declared your love for me because I brought you bacon, for God’s sake. At four in the afternoon. You were supposed to be a good time, Dean, one good night, and then ride on out of town like a good boy.”
“You’d already be dead if you hadn’t given me your number,” he points out. For once, his lascivious nature is dormant, and he doesn’t so much as sneak a stray lick or grope, despite his optimal position. She strokes her thumb down the side of his jaw, scrubbing over several days’ worth of stubble that covers his cheeks. He turns his face into her touch, sliding his nose against the sensitive skin under her breast, and then it’s her turn to shiver.
“Andy, before you do anything stupid, anything else stupid, I need to tell you...I need you to know that I...”
“No, you don’t,” she chides, cutting him off before he can choke out any more ill-advised words. She can’t hear them right now, they would break down every barrier and barricade she’s constructed to hold herself together for these last hours. And, anyway, he can’t possibly mean them. They barely know each other. “But you could. I think both of us might have, eventually. So, we have that, at least.”
Her ribs creak at the sudden tightening of his grip, and she squirms until he relents enough to allow her breathing to return to normal.
“It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”
His words end on something that she would never in a thousand years tell him sounds like a crack. She silently strokes the velvety hairs on the back of his neck, waiting for him to finish clearing his throat.
“Don’t try to be the hero; it never works out for anyone involved, even the people you’re trying to save.”
“Don’t start with me, Dean Winchester. Here we are, having a nice moment, and I will not let you ruin the time we have left with arbitrary things like depth and honesty.”
The air system hisses soothingly in the background, but she won’t let herself be soothed. This time left is for him, she’s not fooling herself about that any longer. What does she have left but Dean, anyway? She’s got three, four hours left at the most, and this is how she chooses to spend them.
She rolls once more, pulling Dean underneath her until she lies atop him, flush from collarbone to ankles. He watches her, his face soft and open for once, golden and warm in the dim light of the little bedside lamp. His hands move slowly, reverently, to glide over the curve of her jaw and mouth, and she can feel the faint tremors that run through his hands. She kisses his fingers one at a time before lifting her eyes to his.
“No, you don’t,” she repeats, “But you could.” The world needs the Winchesters around a hell of a lot more than it needs her. And while she might make people happy, saving people and hunting things is the Winchesters’ family business. This is her only chance to make sure they and the world stick around long enough for that to keep happening.
...
Chapter 4
#spn#spn fic#spn fanfic#spn fanfiction#supernatural#supernatural fic#supernatural fanfic#supernatural fanfiction#andy#original character#original female character#dean winchester#sam winchester#castiel#crowley#angst#higher than show level violence#violence#light smutting#major character deather#more major character death sort of#more angst#cult activities#blood#inferred suicide#demons#apocalypse
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