#but it’s also stressful because like my freedom is right there but now it’s hurry up and wait
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#having one of those days when I want to just throw what’s important to me in my car and drive away 🙃#I miss the fucking sun and the wind and the rain#feels like all I know anymore is bad restless sleep and going to my stressful dead end job and getting yelled at#all I do is have nightmares about work and nightmares about my family#there is no escape even in my sleep#I’m so fucking depressed#the medicine is helping to a certain extent but like#I’m stuck in a shitty living situation and a stressful job- the medicine can’t fix that and they’re the root cause of everything#I leave on vacation in like a week and I need it so bad#I’m away from my shitty job for 11 days and from my shitty home for 8 days#gonna miss my cat while I’m gone though and worry about him being over fed 🙃#feels like vacation is the one week a year I actually get to feel like I’m alive instead of just trying to survive#which is really just sad and pathetic at this point#as soon as my husband finds a new job we’re going house hunting#and then here we come Maryland!#but moving to another state is hard#but it’s also stressful because like my freedom is right there but now it’s hurry up and wait#and idk how long we’ll have to wait#I miss drawing and writing and reading and being out in the sun#all I do is sleep anymore :(#idk I’m too tired#I’m upset and rambling and idk anymore#hopefully things will get better soon
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Last meeting
Summary: You were able to escape.
He understands that it's time to let you go
But still, he thinks that lastly he should give you something.
Has nothing to do with canon, just a funny thought that came to mind.
Author's note: This is based from my character Mateo, who happens to be a yandere. I made a visual novel where he is one of the main characters. If you wanna play my game(to what i will be really happy) here is the link: https://simemeow.itch.io/love-stuck
It is known that time puts everything in its place. If you are patient, you can witness these very changes; of course, it is unlikely that a person will be able to greatly influence the course of time and change everything as his ego wishes.
Then many questions arise from this. Are all your actions in vain and will lead to one unhappy end? This is too pessimistic. This is a terrible nightmare for all humanity who go out of their way to adjust everything in this world to their will.
You tossed and turned restlessly on the mattress, burdening your head with negative judgments. The blanket that kept you warm had long ago ended up on the cold floor, which was also heavily littered.
“Just calm down. You just need to do a calming exercise,” you tried to reason with yourself. No matter how many times you reminded yourself that you were able to successfully escape from Mateo, you still had a gnawing feeling of danger, that he was still somewhere out there looking for you. You took a deep breath, gulping air greedily. Having filled your lungs with air, you slowly exhaled, relaxing your shoulders. Were you really that tense?
How long has it been since you ran away? Three months, and all this time there was no hint that Mateo was somewhere nearby. Perhaps your brain just still can't get used to the sudden freedom. After all, you’ve never had the opportunity to go anywhere further than the porch of Mateo’s house before. A house that was far from the company of other people. Therefore, the former environment may be more familiar to you than a city where there are a lot of people, where it is so noisy and bright. But you won’t trade this uncomfortable life for the old suffocating conditions. No matter how Mateo tried to give the appearance of his house heavenly conditions, you understood that it was a pathetic and deceitful carbon copy of paradise. He himself was saturated with sweet lies, which managed to poison you too. His speech, which promised you a happy life, was nothing more than promises that were not destined to come true.
Picking up the blanket from the floor and burying yourself in it, you closed your eyes, hoping that you would fall asleep soon. Sleepless nights made themselves felt and slowly your eyelids began to get heavier, and the stream of thoughts ended.
Even in a sleepy state it was not easy for you, you tossed and turned from one place to another. Your breathing was ragged, your fists tightly clenching the sheet under you. Stress has eaten you alive, not allowing you to feel even a moment of peace.
“You look tired,” Mateo whispered. If you weren't sleeping right now, you probably would have died from what you saw. He approached you, not too close, at arm's length. His hand automatically reached out to touch your face, but at the last second he pulled it away, abandoning the idea. “I'm glad to see you after so long. I’d like to think that you do too… But I know that most likely my feelings are not mutual.”
The guy looked around in the room you rented with his stolen money. Involuntarily, a grin appeared on his smile from the state in which you keep yourself. He felt sorry for you, so he decided to save the money for last before leaving your place.
“I hope you don’t throw this away,” he said, placing a piece of paper next to you with a drawing of you and a simple “I love you” written on it.
Looking at you one last time, Mateo hurried to leave, because the police were actively looking for him. He seemed to understand that this might be your last meeting and that at this point your paths would diverge forever.
#lovestuck#lovestuck mateo#lovestuck loren#male yandere#soft yandere#tw yandere#visual novel#yandere boyfriend#yandere male#yandere oc#yandere visual novel#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere headcanons#yandere
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I reincarnated as a side character in my favourite novel to prevent the villain’s death!
Chapter 1
Cicilia and I wandered through the busy streets. The lanterns were decorated with festive flowers, traders announced their goods every time we walked by and cheerful folks danced on the market place. It was the kingdom’s founder day when the king blessed this land with freedom and independence. This celebration lasted for a whole week.
„Stay close to me, sweetie.“
„Okay.“
We stopped at a small shop in a deserted back alley. Who would ever find this? The owner should seriously consider moving the location if he wants to make profit.
„I have some business here with the shop owner. Can you wait here for me?“
„No problem.“
„It won’t take long!“ Cicilia shouted from the back as she followed the owner.
I inspected the shop out of boredom. Some necklaces with colourful stones, several jars with preserved monster limbs and bones and lots of potions in display. It seemed like this shop sells magical items.
Suddenly I heard shouting from the outside.
„Leave me alone! I don’t have your belongings!“
„Don’t fucking lie, you little brat! I’ll make you pay with your body, when I get you!“
„Someone…please-!“
My blood pumped faster as I heard the panicked steps and angered stomps rushing by the door. I scanned the shop for anything helpful. In the end I grabbed some potion bottles and leave in a hurry. There was no time to think. My body moved on its own. I swore to myself that I will live this life without regrets so this is what I want to do right now.
„Give me back the diamond of omnipotence!“
„I tell you I don’t have it! Please listen to me!“
Diamond of omnipotence? I’ve heard that before.
„Kyah!“
„Finally caught you, thief!“
The girl tried to free herself from the man’s grip to no avail.
„I wonder if you hid it under your clothes…“
„Don’t touch me!“
Wait a minute, I recognize this scene. But this is not the time for that!
„Hey! Over here, catch!“
„What?“
As the man turned around, a potion bottle broke on impact with his face making him scream in pain and stumble back. I took the girl’s hand and run away with her.
___________________________________________________________
I was on the way to work until a reckless idiot rammed into my car. Surprisingly, it was a painless, quick death. I don’t remember much of it. To my surprise, it didn’t end there. I woke up in another woman’s arms. Even though I was already looking forward to finally rest from all the stress… is that how the afterlife works? Maybe this dream is a great opportunity for me to do all the things I never had time to in my life. But I’ll really miss my phone, hah…
I’ve been looking forward to read the manga version of my favourite romance novel. It’s about the cheerful heroine Hanna Sapphiere who caught the attention of the duke Marius Hartner with her peculiar but precious behaviour. However, it turns out that she is hiding her curse of her ancestors which prevents her from reciprocating the duke’s feelings. She will pursue love someday, but she and her partner will suffer a tragic end. The curse will continue with their child without fail.
The one who casted this curse was a powerful, resentful dragon who loved a human woman. The dragon was hunted for his blood and its healing abilities. The woman who was Hanna’s ancestor took care of that dragon because of her genuine kindness. But that dragon couldn’t accept the fact that she didn’t love him back. He punished her and her whole bloodline for that „betrayal“.
"If she ever dares to love anyone besides me, they will suffer the consequences!"
Hanna doesn’t want her child to suffer like she did. To break the spell, the heroine seeks out a famous mage named Orion and eventually becomes good friends with him. Until then, she will abstain from catching feelings for the duke. However, little did she know that Orion who was willing to help actually possesses the dragon’s blood and is also falling in love with her. The strong emotions of the dragon in his blood will slowly overtake him which forces Hanna and Marius to kill their best friend before he loses his control over his powers. I could never get over this ending and cried several nights.
„My poor babies didn’t deserve that! They were such a nice trio. Orion was even willing to give up his love for Hanna for the happiness of his beloved friends. It’s just too cruel, huhu…“
There were other plot points about the kingdom’s politics and more, but honestly I was only interested in the trio’s dynamic.
„Now that I live inside my favourite novel’s universe, I should have paid more attention to it…“, I thought to myself after saving the girl from the creep. After we ran, my adoptive mother Cicilia already was looking for me.
„Renee!“
I live with her in a forest cottage outside the capital. She is incredibly knowledgeable in medicine and herbs which she has been teaching me since I was little. Literature and simple algebra were also a part of it. Although some things are outdated for me because I knew better from my previous life. She disliked it when I tried to correct her, but still listened when I did. Sometimes I forgot that a child can’t and isn’t supposed to do some things adults do, so Cicilia scolded me pretty often.
„Why didn’t you call for me?? You could have gotten hurt!“
As always, her scolding was pretty intense but she didn’t take as long as she usually does. Perhaps it’s because the girl shaking right beside me was still holding my hand tightly.
Cicilia sighs. „Anyway, I’m glad you’re both safe. Are you okay, sweetheart? What is your name?“
„My n-name is…Hanna. Hanna Sapphiere“
There was no doubt about it. In that moment the heroine of my most loved novel was at my side. In the original plot she would get assaulted by that man which would explain her fear of touch later. That scene was also a flashback introducing the „diamond of omnipotence“ that will be an important plot point for breaking Hanna‘s curse.
“T-thank you for saving me…”
Hanna then bursted out in tears, maybe from relief or shock. I smiled softly at her in hopes of calming down her nerves.
“I only did what I thought was right.”
I never liked that scene. It only made my blood boil so I feel proud preventing it. I wondered how much this would affect the future though…
“My rascal can be pretty reckless but I admit that she did well.”
Yes, please acknowledge my good deed!
“But no need to ride on your high horses now.”
I pouted.
“This was very dangerous. Please leave this to the adults next time, okay?”
“Okaaay.”
“How should I pay you back? Those potions seem expensive….”
Hanna who has calmed down a bit fiddled with her fingers looking at the ground.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart! I explained the situation to the shop owner already. Just let us escort you back home.”
“Oh…that’s not necessary, Lady Cicilia. I don’t want to inconvenience you any further.”
What Hanna actually meant was that her home was an orphanage and didn’t want to admit that to us. Her background story always hurt to read. Now that it became a reality it’s even more heartbreaking.
“If you want to return the favor…then why not be friends with my daughter Renee?”
“Eh?”, puzzled I look at Cicilia.
“We live in the woods away from the nearest town so she doesn’t have a lot of opportunities to make friends. It doesn’t help that she’s a bit different from her peers either.”
“I am fine the way I am, thank you very much.”
“Yes, yes. Anyway, what do you say, Hanna? Can you do this for us?”
“Um…I’m not sure if i’m good enough…”
Cicilia gave Hanna her best puppy eyes expression.
“…but if Renee is fine with it…”
“I don’t mind.”
“Huh? A-are you sure?”
“As long as you treat me right, you can be my friend.”
In truth, I knew that Hanna in the novel is the nicest person you could meet. Although I wasn't sure how much of the novel translates to this dream. It was better to observe the events unfold without bias. It’s possible that I might have changed the course of the plot already too. Besides, who wouldn’t want to be friends with the person you have always looked up to? I won’t let this opportunity pass!
“You can come to our cottage sometime! I could show you some cool things you can do in the woods!”
Amused and surprised by my enthusiasm she responded, “Hihi, okay then. I look forward to it.”
There it is; her warm smile just like the novel described. It could melt away all your worries at one glance. A desire to hug her dwelled up inside of me. But I barely managed to hold back. Ah, I hope I can keep her safe this time.
#brainrot#light novel#I've dreamed about this story and wanted to write it down before I forget everything again#Idk how these characters look but prob hot#story writing#i'm not dead yet#romance#fantasy setting#reincarnation#I came up with the names on the spot#english is not my first language#first time writing#reincarnated to prevent the villain’s death
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*busts through door with the conspiracy board*
So i’m losing my mind right? Because I keep coming back to thinking about Takaya and what in christ’s name his characterization is supposed to be like.
I’m the kind of person who doesn’t really like to just do whatever I feel like with a canon character, i’m all about that media analysis, give me one of those multiple choice questions about “based on what this character has said, what do you think they feel about etc” I love it. And if I get the vibe a character is just poorly written or not very well thought out, I probably won’t rewrite them, I’ll just lose interest.
But I get this impression... they really thought about what takaya’s personality is... he’s just a very weird guy? Lmao, like what little we see of him is trying desperately to convey a specific, well rounded archetype of character that I don’t quite recognize but I can tell they have something in mind? But without the full picture he looks confusing.
This is what I mean-- Takaya is somehow both extremely passionate and a total nihilist. A poet that can reason out the beauty of life but hates it anyways. He’s described as being damaged by his experiments to the point of being drunk on indifference and almost carefree, like a goth hippy, but also he will lose his mind about being chosen and of importance as if he has a responsibility that causes him stress. He’s intelligent and cunning but also... just not trying that hard and spends most of his time not giving the main protagonist much thought.
Literally, I mean the novel takes place mid game and he is dealing with a problem utterly unrelated to any of the main characters, and he doesn’t even seem in a hurry to deal with them.
He’s visibly happy to have found another surviving strega child in the novel where he actively tells them generally innocent advice of just being happy with the simple life he has with the adopted mother who cares about them ( he assumes they’ll be dying soon, but still, he clearly understands the value of what they have and that’s odd?), and even consistently in the main game gives advice about death that is completely correct by the game’s own logic-- but then he’s ALSO... completely indifferent to the death of Chidori... possibly... because he believes in her freedom to choose that outcome based on the movie, but... isn’t simply indifferent to the end of the world, he actively fights to ensure it, he makes a point of that in the in-character AMA...
which might be tied to the religious side of him which is present in all depictions of him... and might explain the one thing he seems to actively care about which is being “chosen” to ensure the fall possibly ( do you notice they never directly say what they’re even chosen for I’m losing it-- )
and... then there’s the musical which puts more of an emphasis on a general dislike of the world, being fed up with it’s pointless pain and hardship... but that doesn’t necessarily contradict also having a hedonistic appreciation for short term happiness and wanting to live only for today, as he tells Jin... and family and friends might count as that to him.
And these sound like they might just be inconsistencies?? but they’re consistent inconsistencies across all his depictions just in different instances! And it just gives me this strong vibe that he has a motivation in mind, a specific philosophy to his character that all the different people writing him have been instructed on and just... aren’t telling us lmao?
I have written Takaya... for years now... and I think I still don’t quite know how to capture every aspect of his character at once sdfjklhsfd
#( sorry i'll draw eventually i swear i just#i lost..... the planning i had for the comic i forgot to save it and my computer reset for an update and i'm a dumbass-- )#Takaya#persona 3#rambling
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If I had to give Naoya kinks that aren't stuff like breeding and being an misogynist.
Yeah I totally peak him as the breeding type, and talk about it obsessively. Definitely also the possessive type to claim you, making you his. Degradation and humilation kind of things. Hmmm fucking your housewife.
But!! I want to be creative, I feel like all the breeding and claiming is like every naoya nsfw fic so imma walk the extra mile and be a siMp.
my list
Naoya x reader
Predator and Prey
Naoya is fast, ridiculously fast. You won't escape his grasp so easily once you're tangled into his family's mess, as a servant, as a wife or whatever. You're not getting out once he has set his eyes on you, he won't allow it.
What he does allow it for you to try and run, but only when HE allows you to.
When beloved Naoya is bored, he'll take you to the woods, or to any deserted area "Would you like to play a game with me?"
No, you're fucking scared. Why is Naoya taking you out to a deserted forest?? He isn't going to kill you, is he?
"You're free to run from me." he tells you as he looks at the time "I want you to hide and run, if you manage to escape me, I'll let you go."
You looked at him strangely and he chuckles sitting down on a log "I said if you manage to escape."
A soft nod "...and if I don't?"
His amusement often meant your misery, you didn't like the grin on his face at all "I'll punish you."
"Hmmm, I'll close my eyes for...let's say 5 minutes, and you get to run and hide anywhere you want. Then we'll count down hm...15 minutes, if I don't find you in that time, you win, if I do find you I win." He explains and you nod again.
"Okay..." you weren't sure why he wanted to play, or what he'd gain from this game, but you're willing to try. Willing is funny, Naoya will find a way to force you and play with him. You're here for his enjoyment afterall.
"Good, now go run a little and hide little one, or I'll come and eat ya~" he says and ushers you off, placing a timer on his phone putting his hands over his eyes with a smile on his face. He seems enthusiastic about the game "Alright 5 minutes."
So you started to run into the woods, your legs carrying you as far and deep into the woods as possible not caring about the loud sound of leafs beneath you.
You ran and ran until you couldn't see him anymore looking around the forest to find a place to hide or run to.
Meanwhile, Naoya was still sitting on the log waiting for the 5 minutes to be over, curious of where his little plaything could have run to.
He feels excitement bubbling in him getting to hunt down his little prey. Breathing in the forest air he truly felt closer to the nature. Naoya adores the scent of the trees and everything these woods had to offer, he can hear little birds chirp.
When his phone beeps signaling for the 5 minutes to be over he takes his hands of his eyes, re-coordinating where exactly he is adjusting to the light.
He yawns walking towards to the direction you had started to running, assuming you're stupid enough to just keep running that direction, after all you were pretty loud.
After a minute or two of him just taking a walk through nature, he's just enjoying himself. Maybe he should have taken a calming stroll with you before he ruins it.
Time wise he still had more than enough time, so it didn't matter to him all that much, he'll just take his time.
You on the other hand was given a false hope, Naoya is just playing with you.
Where is he? Isn't he taking too long to find you? How much time has passed? Is he close?
Could you win?
Your heart pounds at that though, being able to escape Naoya? Being able to escape the Zen'in? Your heart is beating out of your chest, a nauseous feeling of anxiety creeps up as you continue to walk, he should be around now, so you should be more quiet and move on until you find a good hiding spot or are just out of his range.
Oh pretty, you're too easy, aren't you? Naoya has been following you for the past minutes, and you haven't even noticed.
He chuckles inwardly as he just continues to sneak after you, his pretty little prey so obvious to the fact that he is right there.
The way you're walking, careful yet loud steps, looking around so anxiously and unsure, with your hands close to your chest to calm your loud heart, is just so adorable.
Little prey doesn't even know the predator is right around the bush ready to pounce on you.
Looking at the time he smiles, 10 minutes left. Did he give you a glimpse of false hope?
Can you taste your freedom?
He sure hopes you can, because he wants to see the crushed look on your face, the fear when he comes for you.
Deciding it's enough he made sure his steps are louder, he made himself visible to your hearing again.
Oh, how cute you're already shaking just from hearing steps. Getting anxious yet?
10 minutes is still too much, he'll hunt you down in less than a minute, he wants to enjoy this.
He'll make sure you can hear him coming closer and closer, yet pretends to be obvious about it, as if he could see you hiding behind those trees.
Naoya just adores the look of fear, it's so delicious. You're so scared, aren't you? He's right behind you, somewhere you don't even know. He could come out any second and catch you, take away all this freedom he offered again. Drag you back to his house and don't forget about the promised punishment, by him.
Wonder what he has in mind for you? You'll find out soon. How much time has already passed? You've been running and walking for a while, how far have you gone?
"Little one, I feel like you're really close~" Naoya calls through the woods "It's just a couple of minutes left. Shall we bring this to an end?"
When you start to sprint for it, he laughs, such a good little prey, make him run for you. Make him hurry, make his heart race too.
"Haha!! Good, run, run faster little one. Don't make it too easy for me." he smiles your eyes locked for a second when you turned around.
You felt paralyzed for a second, he is playing, that amused smile on his face, he is definitely playing with you.
Closing your eyes you look forwards and continued running, you can hear his hurried steps behind you as you're running.
You can feel ache step each branch as you're running in the cold air of the woods, your heart is beating out of control as you run.
"Hurry up, or I'll catch you my little prey~" you heard Naoya sing-song behind you.
Feeling yourself sweat and your body burn, you're exhausted, but can seem to stop running scared of what he'll do once catches up.
Begging internally to continue to run faster, you're scared, so scared you don't even want to look anymore closing your eyes, but that's your mistake.
Closing your eyes in the woods not watching where you're stepping falling forward into the dirt.
For a second you didn't even feel pain, just the shock, the slowing feeling of time setting in before you try to get yourself up.
Get up.
Get up.
Get up!!
Everything is so overwhelming, your body suddenly so tired and exhausted, your breath so heavy and uneven, you felt your temperature raise, from the stress of the panic.
Before you could even fully get up you feel a hand tugging on your clothes "Oh how unfortunate, did my little prey trip?"
Turning your head you meet with the ends of Naoyas all the familiar light hakama.
"Look at me" he commands, and you look up to meet his eyes, he leans down and cups your face in his hand.
"You're so pretty." he wipes tears you didn't even notice are falling from your eyes "My pretty little prey, falling back into your captors hands hmm?"
He brings you closer to him and kisses your lips so softly before he bites "you're shaking."
Holding your shaking hand he hums "so cute, I just want to eat you." You felt him licking along your face tasting your tears.
You felt so hot in his cold hands, you're so warm, you're body emitting a sacred heat, yet you're shaking, feeling almost dead cold in your hands with a rising heat in your face.
It's so precious, the rawness of your emotions is just so pretty to him, his pretty, pretty little prey, doesn't even fight back, submitting to their predator.
Begging silently for mercy of their captor, a quick and painless death perhaps? No, Naoya isn't that ruthless and at the same time not that merciful.
He doesn't want you dead, and if he did, he wouldn't want it to be quick.
Naoya is a man, who wants to see you scared, he wants to see you suffer.
Are you really that surprised when he is groping you under your shirt? Are you surprised he is biting and moaning against your neck?
No, not really.
"My pretty little thing." he praises as he lowers you to the floor tugging at your clothes.
You weren't even sure if you're able to perceive the situation at hand. Too much is going on, the completely out of control of your body, Naoyas hands on you. Your wild thoughts that are still too confused and anxious of what has happened, the feeling of failure that you didn't manage to escape. Your exhausted body and the stinging pain of your wounds?
An electronic ringing sound plays ripping you out of your thoughts as the situation finally sets in, Naoya had tugged of your shirt exposing yourself chest to him fully, you're laying on the dirty ground in the woods, and he has a wicked smile on your face "That's the 15 minutes." He showed you the timer as he puts a pause to it putting his phone down "Means I won our little game."
His fingers find your bleeding knees and rolls his eyes simply tying a piece of fabric over the wound "Wouldn't want it too dirty hmm?"
Flipping you over your face pressed to the dirt of the ground he chuckles "Such a good little one, you tried didn't you?" he kisses your back biting and nipping at your skin leaving his mark.
He claims his prey in the mids of the empty forest with only the birds, trees and insects to witness.
The birds chirping so happily in the distance without a care of what's happening in their beloved forest.
Your cries echoing through the space with no human soul to witness. The slapping of skin, the grunts, everything, every degrading word that leaves Naoyas lips "My pretty prey gonna submit?"
"Pathetic little lamb." he coos watching you whither underneath him "I'm just claiming my prize, having my meal."
You're beautiful teary eyed expression fills his hunger, you're shaking form underneath him, is his prize.
.
.
.
"Let's go back home little lamb. How about you'll call me your Alpha from now on~ After all I've claimed you as mine. Marked you and breed you ♡"
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yooo i just thought of something else i don’t know where i’m getting these ideas from and i’m sorry if i’m being super annoying you don’t have to write it or you could wait like six years to write it if you don’t want to right now but i have another idea for yandere jay 🥴🥴
basically his s/o tries to be saved by pretending to order pizza for them but actually calls the police and tries to tell them her situation by pretending to order pizza, but he figures it out and stops her 😶
sorry if i’m pressuring you by bombarding you with ideas you don’t have to write them if you don’t want to 😭 you’re a queen and i hope you have a good day :)
Noo it’s okay cutie I only appreciate you!! I hope u have a good day too ;-; also sorry for lowkey writing smut again and then soft asf lmao
~ Trapped pt. 4 - yandere Jay ~
sooo i’ve like finally figured out how to end the series, can’t drag it out forever. Buuuut I can’t spoil wether it’s a happy or sad ending just throwing it out there :p
TW / trigger warning: yandere themes, abusive relationships, violence, gore, blood, murder, cursing, sexual themes
word count: around 2k
Summary: y/n is a stupid ass bitch who won’t give up
“ Get off me! “ you shrieked, still trying to kick him off. You heart was already beating a thousand times per minute thinking of his punishments that would follow this time. They only got worse as time went on. And now that he knew your soft spot, you were fucked.
You were met with a blank face when you were turned over to lay on your back. He was still holding your wrists in a firm grip but his expression baffled you.
‘‘ You’re..you’re not mad ‘‘ your voice sounded small, ready to flinch at the slightest movement in order to protect yourself.
‘‘ It was a fun game. That’s all it was ‘‘ he responded and got up, pulling you up with him and heaving you over his shoulder.
‘‘ Hey! Let me down ‘‘ you shrieked.
‘‘ Behave ‘‘ he hit your butt which made you shriek again and from your place you could see that he had started to move. The world was bouncing up and down. Your boyfriend went up the stairs and then towards your shared bedroom, throwing you down aggressively on the bed.
You held your breath and watched him pace back and forth in the room, still with a blank expression on his face.
‘‘ My punishment? ‘‘ you said slowly, like a question thinking that it’d be better to just get it out the way.
‘‘ You won’t get one this time- ‘‘ you looked up at him in surprise having stared at your hands ‘‘-BUT, if you try even the smallest thing I will make you feel pain like nothing you’ve felt before ‘‘ he smirked, knowing that it would probably happen very soon and the thought of punishing you again turned him on.
‘‘ I haven’t seen you cry in a while ‘‘ he suddenly said, lost in his thoughts and you saw the growing bulge in his jeans as he said this making you feel disgusted but also well..intrigued. You couldn’t deny that he was good looking he looked almost ethereal having his back turned gazing out into the garden through the window. His shoulders were so...
No stop stupid y/n! you thought to yourself and physically gave yourself a light smack on the head. You suddenly realised what he had said.
‘‘ What? ‘‘
He turned to you and sat down on the edge of the bed.
‘‘ Don’t worry. I’m sure it won’t be long until I do...’‘ Jay was speaking more to himself now than to you and when he trailed off he put his hands up to your face slowly stroking your cheek.
You smiled at his rare display of affection willingly letting yourself get pulled into a hug.
‘‘ I love you ‘‘ he whispered and rested his chin on your shoulder like a little kid clinging onto its mother.
‘‘ I love you too ‘‘ you ran your fingers through his hair.
You two sat like that for a while. It was peaceful like this, only the sound of your breathing filling up the room. Without noticing, he had pulled you down on the bed and now he was more holding you than you were him. The sleepiness had crept up on you and when he noticed, he started rocking you a little bit giving soft kisses to the top of your head. You tried so desperately to keep your eyes open but failed and the last thing you felt was the kiss of the person who loved you most.
When you woke up it was dark outside, assuming it was evening and you had just taken a nap. You listened for sounds and caught a few voices and clattering. The possibility of it being food made your stomach growl loudly so you made your way out of the bedroom. On the top of the stairs you saw that the dining table was decorated, several dishes peeking your interest. Jay was sitting on the chair on the furthest end facing the stairs. He was expecting you and gave you a warm smile when you met his eyes and made a gesture to the seat next to him.
‘‘ Morning sleepy ‘‘ you hurried down the stairs practically running and sat down next to him.
‘‘ Ha ha ‘‘ you said sarcastically and poked your tongue out at him.
Not giving it a second thought you started diving in not noticing your boyfriend watching you closely.
‘‘ What do you want to eat for dinner? I have some work to do, from home ‘‘ he asked once you had basically cleared the whole table, saying the last few words sharply. He could only refer to when you’d tried to escape when he was away at work...twice.
‘‘ Pizza ‘‘ you tried to ignore his tone, clearly he was still pissed and thought you would try it again.
‘‘ You call when you’re hungry yeah? ‘‘ he stood up and waved at one of the guards who called in a server to clear the table.
You only nodded and suddenly it dawned upon you. Another escape opportunity. He had told you to call which means that you could try the pizza method when you’re calling 911. Only what he said next would prove to be a slight hinderance to your plan.
‘‘ But you will have guards following you all day. Don’t try anything ‘‘ he smirked a little and left it at that, walking up the stairs and disappearing into his office.
Dammit
You could still try it, surely you still had a chance?
A hand firmly grasped your arm making you jump.
‘‘ Miss, Jay requested that you be in your room ‘‘
It was a guard, and another one in a black suit joined you on your other side. You felt trapped and so small.
‘‘ What the hell ‘‘ was all you could whisper out.
They had started pulling you up the stairs and when by the bedroom door, you were harshly pushed inside and the door slammed in your face. You had tried to turn around and push down the handle but a click sound told you it was too late. They had locked you in. And sure enough when you tried to push it open, the door didn’t move an inch.
You sighed and laid down on the bed staring up at the ceiling. You imagined that this day would be quite eventless, being locked up in your bedroom like Rapunzel you’d have nothing to do. You spent the day looking out of the window, thinking about freedom, just hating Jay in general, planning your escape, then hating him a little bit more and reading a book while taking a bath. When hours had passed by, as you could see on the large clock hanging above the door, you decided to put your plan into action. Clearing your throat and trying to come off as innocent as you possibly could you leaned against the door and said,
‘‘ Heyy, I’m uh hungry now. Jay said that I could call for pizza. ‘‘
Some rustling and grunts were heard, the door rattled and then the lock was turned. You were met with the grumpy face of one of the guards and also...
‘‘ Sunghoon?? ‘‘ you bursted out.
One of your boyfriend’s bandmates was standing there. Real and breathing. You had never met any of them since Jay was very possessive and protective, well more jealous in your opinion. He thought they would ‘’ steal you away from him ‘’. He bit his lip nervously, looking around as if waiting for someone to pop out at any moment.
‘‘ Listen we don’t have much time “
You couldn’t help but feel bad, he looked so stressed but also you were curious. How the hell did he even know about you? From what Jay had told you, no one close to him knew about your existence. The fact that his bandmate was here, talking to you was a mystery in itself.
“ what? What do you mean? “
The only reason you knew it was Sunghoon was because you had memorised all their names, because you were home alone one day and very bored. Jay had been at work and it was safe to say that he was pissed and suspicious of you learning their names, punishing you for it that very night.
“ I will help you escape “ he said as if it was obvious.
You suddenly were aware of the guards’ presence now and came to the realisation that they didn’t care. They were within a distance which meant they would be able to perfectly hear everything that was said. Yet, they didn’t seem worried or angry, maybe he had some good guards after all.
“ How? “ you no longer cared about how he knew about you or your situation. The thought of someone finally helping you even in the slightest way made you excited.
“ The pizza thing, you know that method when you pretend to order a Pizza but you call the police? “ he explained.
“ yes, I was gonna do that “ you answered a bit disappointed, thinking he’d come with something easier or revolutionary.
“ Okay good. I’ll try to distract him, the band is meeting here tonight and I think he had plans of hiding you in this room all night “
You nodded in agreement. Then he gave you a small encouraging smile and looked to the guards, slowly backing away and walking down the stairs. You were alone now and everything was on you, no time for mistakes. When Sunghoon had disappeared downstairs to the library you assumed, one of the guards handed you a smartphone.
Your hands were slightly shaking as you put the number in. The signals seemed to never end, before a spark was heard and a voice spoke, relieving your anxiety slightly. But then, the door to Jay’s office opened which made your heart skip a beat.
He was coming over here, he knew what I was gonna do. He’ll kill me, you thought and swallowed, trying to speak as casually as you could. No one had come out of the office yet but you heard voices from inside.
“ Hi, uh..I would like, I- “ you caught sight of your boyfriend, walking out with two other men behind him and he looked at you. He stopped for a moment turning his back to you and started chatting to the men again.
You cleared your throat, trying to not let the anxiety win. Everything was gonna be okay.
“ I would like to order a pizza “
You sounded a little bit more confident than before but on the inside you were screaming. You weren’t even sure if this was gonna work.
“ What? Ma’am this is the wrong number “
“ No, no no no! “ you shrieked, making Jay turn around and give you a curious look.
“ Oh yeah, the address it’s umm...it’s “
He was still watching you closely, and the fact that he hadn’t turned around to continue to talk was worrying you.
Instead he was moving, straight to you. And when you saw his eyebrows furrow and the look in his eyes you knew that he knew.
Paralysed with fear you couldn’t move and could only watch as he snatched the phone out of your hands. Everything became a blur, the voices fading out but amidst the chaos you could make out what would be the signal of the end of your escape attempt.
“ Yeah sorry. My wife is mentally ill, she often calls 911 to prank call or accidentally thinking it’s another number- “ he continued but you couldn’t hear at all now, only feel the tears that slowly traveled down your cheeks.
You didn’t even feel it when his guards dragged you into the basement as you stared hopelessly into nothingness. Only realising what was about to happen when the sound of the door being slammed was heard and the darkness surrounded you. Footsteps came closer and closer.
You were terrified. He was coming.
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Gift of The Angel
I’m finally done with this fic!! Thank you to all of you who were so patient while I was taking my exams <3. And thank you to everybody who sent requests! I’m super excited to get around to them after Wednesday, when I finally finish all of my tests. You’re all incredible and all of you reading this is my gift of the angel. Enjoy!
Cecily was reluctant to detach herself from Gabriel’s embrace, but she felt as though she was holding in enough water to fill a dam. She peeled herself away and awkwardly moved to the edge of the bed. She hissed when her feet touched the cold floor and threw a longing glance at Gabriel, who was so nice to sleep against. By the angel, she thought as she crossed her legs, she was about to explode. She walked quickly across the room towards the bathroom. The moment she sat down, Cecily swore she gave birth to a waterfall, which confused her greatly, for it was a strange sensation. How peculiar.
Oh.
Oh.
Cecily put a hand to her swollen belly.
Her water must have broken. Cecily sat there for a minute, pondering, before shrugging and saying to herself: “Well, that was convenient.”
No clean up required.
Cecily almost laughed as she got up and padded over to Gabriel. She was ecstatic; her pregnancy had felt so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to not be pregnant. And Gabriel will be so excited! Stressed, but excited. Cecily couldn’t contain her smile. She was about to place a hand on his shoulder and shake him awake, until she looked at his face.
He seldom slept so well; like everything was all right. She had the full intentions of waking him, but he was so peaceful at the moment, that to wake him felt like a crime.
No, he did not need to be woken up immediately and besides, she hadn't started having contractions yet. Letting him sleep outweighed waking him up. Knowing Gabriel, he would stress throughout the entire process, which will not be good for his health or youth. Yes, he should sleep. Cecily kissed his brow lightly, picked up her book and went into the drawing room. She had debated going back to bed herself, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep; not after her feet had become so accustomed to the floor. She also had no desire of being awoken by contractions. So, she got as comfortable as she could, and read her book.
…
A while later, Cecily put a hand to her belly. Goodness, she should probably wake Gabriel. Though she wanted him to sleep, she couldn’t imagine him being too happy if he slept through the birth of his first child simply because Cecily had wanted him to rest. She struggled for a while before she was able to get on her feet. Oh, she cannot wait to not be pregnant anymore and be able to do things easily. She braced a hand on her lower back as she sat down on the bed, next to where Gabriel was sleeping. She sat down the only way she could: with her legs spread wide open. She smirked at the way her mother would react, seeing her in such an unladylike position.
“Gabriel,” she said, nudging him half-heartedly. She wasn’t really in a hurry.
His brows furrowed in a semiconscious state. Cecily smiled down at him. He was so very adorable. She took his warm hand into her cooler one.
Cecily pressed a kiss to his soft cheek, and felt his eyelashes flutter against her skin. He turned over and looked into her eyes with that beautiful shade of green she loved so dearly. He smiled sleepy at her, massaging small circles into her palm. All she really wanted to do was climb into his arms and fall asleep beside him. What a shame she was in labour.
Gabriel suddenly opened his eyes wide, as he realized that if Cecily was waking him in the middle of the night, there was probably a reason behind it.
“Are you alright? Is the baby all right?” He sat up and put one hand to her belly and another to the side of her face
“Yes, Annwyl, everybody is fine.” She said, combing his hair with her fingers. “It’s only my water. It broke.”
She said it with such casualty that Gabriel sighed in relief, before opening his eyes wide open once more.
“Did you just say your water broke?!”
“Yes,” Cecily said, looking down. Oh dear, a thread in her nightgown is loose. Now she’ll have to sew it back. How unfortunate. She really did despise sewing.
Gabriel threw his legs over the edge of the bed. “When?” he asked.
“What?” Cecily said, before remembering what they were talking about, “Oh, right. Just about an hour ago.”
“An hour?!”
“That is what I said, wasn’t it?”
“Cecy,” he said.
“Gabriel,” she said, matching his tone of voice and proceeded to laugh at its accuracy.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Gabriel said, clearly not pleased.
“You were sleeping.”
“Really? I had no idea.”
“You know what I mean, Gabriel.”
Gabriel paused and looked away from her. Even after all of this time, Gabriel still had trouble sleeping most of the time. Cecily, being a light sleeper, would wake up upon hearing his panting and thrashing while he slept. Sometimes, he even cried in his sleep and mumbled how he was sorry for what he had done over and over again.
“Gabriel, it’s all right,” Cecily would say, kissing away his tears and wrapping her arms around him. He would hold on tightly to her and bury his face in her neck.
Now, Gabriel was standing up and walking away.
“Where in the world are you going?”
“To call the Silent Brothers,”
“Gabriel, stop being dramatic. You know we’re only supposed to call when I start getting contractions.” Cecily was already having contractions, but Gabriel was going to have a heart attack if she told him. One thing at a time.
“Your brother calls them when he gets a paper cut, I think we can call them now.”
“We don’t need them now. Besides, I would like to reduce the amount of time anybody spends looking down my you-know-what, thank you very much.”
Gabriel threw up his hands in a gesture that meant he gave up.
“Then I’m going to get changed.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to be in my nightclothes when Will comes in to ‘murder me’ like he said he would.”
“Gabriel, just relax.”
“Relax? That baby may pop out at any minute!”
Cecily scrunched up her face and walked over to where Gabriel was buttoning on his shirt.
“Do you know nothing of childbirth?”
Gabriel jumped and turned around.
“Cecy! Go lay down!”
“Why? I feel wonderful.” Cecily gave a little twirl to empathize her point.
“Because you are in labor.” Gabriel sounded exasperated.
“I hardly see why that is relevant. It’s not like I’ve gotten sic—BLOODY HELL!” She cursed, bracing an arm against the wall. Instantly she felt Gabriel beside her, holding her upright.
Pain shot through her body as she struggled to take deep breaths. Labour must be kicking in. She screwed her face until the pain subsided.
“Would you like to go lie down now?”
Cecily rolled her eyes. “If you insist.”
...
Gabriel hung up the phone and looked over at Cecily. He opened his mouth to talk but Cecily held up a hand.
“If you ask me if I am alright one more time, I’m divorcing you.”
Gabriel kneeled down in front of her and put his ear to her belly. “I’m just worried.”
Cecily brushed his hair to one side. “You needn’t worry for me, Gabriel.”
“I know,” Gabriel smiled, “I just love you so much, I cannot help it.”
“I love you too, but I’m not annoying about it.” Cecily said gently.
She felt Gabriel shake from laughing silently before he stood up and offered his hands to Cecy. She took them and he hoisted her up.
She instinctively put her head on his chest and hugged him tight.
His arms went around her, too. They couldn’t get too close, since Cecily’s pregnant belly seemed to make it's mission to separate them as much as possible, but they managed. Gabriel leaned down so that his forehead and Cecily’s were touching. One of his hands found her belly while the other stroked her cheek.
“Are you relishing your last moments of freedom?” Cecy asked, referring to that fact that they’ll have an infant to take care of soon.
Gabriel opened his eyes, stealing her breath with his bright green eyes. “No. I’m anticipating the start for something new.”
Cecily felt her insides melt, which was something no person, other than Gabriel, could do. However strange it may be, Cecily was excited to give birth. She wouldn’t be pregnant anymore (which had been a torturous experience) and she would finally get to meet the baby she had been carrying for nine months. There was a small nagging in the back of her head that said the baby might be born sickly which Cecily tried to dismiss. Worrying is the root of everybody’s problems, and Cecily had sworn she would do everything in her power to avoid partaking in it. Now that she was almost a mother, however, she worried. She worried more these past months than she had her entire life for now she was responsible for a new life, and she couldn’t imagine anything terrible happening to it.
“Cecy?” Gabriel said.
“Yes?”
Gabriel looked at her.
“Are you all right?”
“Just a little bit nervous.”
She got on her tiptoes, in hopes of receiving a kiss on the lips. Gabriel lowered his chin, and Cecily closed her eyes. She felt his lips on her forehead and they shot back open. Gabriel laughed at her expression of pure betrayal.
“You have to lie down before you get another contraction.”
“That won’t happen for ages.” she protested.
“You’re like a child sometimes, do you know that?”
“Hm. Would a child do this?” Cecily said, doing something scandalous to Gabriel.
Gabriel’s eyes widened. “You’re in labor, and you do that?”
Cecily smirked. “What can I say? You are irresistible.”
“Do you need a cold bath?”
“Will you be assisting me?”
“Well, that defeats the whole purpose of taking a cold bath,” Gabriel said, walking her over to the bed.
“Pity.”
…
“How big is this baby?!” Cecily gasped.
Normal sized, for an infant.
“Stop lying, Enoch.”
“I’m sorry to say, but the Silent Brothers don’t lie, Cecy.”
Push.
Cecily pushed until her legs started to shake.
“Bloody hell, I intended to blame Gabriel’s height for my torture.”
“I’m so relieved it’s normal sized.” Gabriel said.
Push.
“I’m trying to!” Cecily snapped at Brother Enoch. She was definitely not in a good mood.
“We can see the head, Cecy!” Sophie said, who was assisting in the birth, due to her previous experience.
“The head?! What about the body?”
“The body slides out,” Sophie explained, “the hard part is the head.”
“And you are just seeing it? Wonderful.”
Push.
Cecily pushed. It wasn’t so much that she was tired, but the pain was unbearable. Nephilim do not have numbing runes or medication to help with birthing, much to Cecily’s dismay. Somebody should really get to inventing that; perhaps she could get Henry to look into it, if she survived this torturous birth.
“She’s almost out! You’re so close,” Sophie exclaimed, smiling widely.
Cecily felt tears pricking her eyes. Her baby. She was so close to holding it.
Push once more, Cecily Lightwood. It’ll be the last one.
Cecily took a deep breath. She felt Gabriel’s hand on her back tense; he could feel it too. One more. She pushed with all of the strength she could muster.
Seconds later, Brother Enoch held up their crying daughter for the new parents to see. An “oh” escaped from Cecily’s lips as she watched Brother Enoch clean the baby, wrap her in a blanket and place her in her mother’s arms. No wonder she suffered so much during the pregnancy; it would have been unfair to all of the mothers in the world if she did not suffer and still ended up with the most beautiful baby to ever be born. Cecily had looked through a multitude of names and their meanings in preparation for the birth, so she knew what name she wanted as soon as she laid eyes on her daughter:
“Anna.”
For the Angel has favored them.
She looked up at Gabriel in question.
But he was looking at their daughter in wonder. She found his hand with her own and gave it a squeeze. They had created something and the feelings they were feeling were unfathomable.
…
Cecily lay on her side with a pillow in between her knees as a means of easing the pain birth had left her in. Apparently, childbirth can tear your lady parts, something Cecily would have liked to have known, so that she would have been giving time to mentally prepare. Her eyes drifted to Anna, who was sleeping next her. Cecily wished to pick her up and cuddle her, but did not wish to wake her from her slumbers. So, she just watched affectionately.
She heard footsteps coming in and soon Gabriel laid down next to her, wrapping her in an embrace.
“My baby pouch is still trying to get back to normal.” Cecily said.
“I like it.” Gabriel said, patting her belly.
Cecily smirked and tilted her head backward to kiss the bottom on his jaw. “Well, it’s uncomfortable. And I want to patrol again. Though I do appreciate the fact that you’re trying to make me feel better.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel better. I love you for who you are, not what you look like.” he said, nestling closer.
Cecily closed her eyes. If only her young self could hear those words. It would have caused her
so much less pain.
She opened her eyes again, just barely, and caught a look at her daughter. Cecily vowed that she would support her in every way she possibly could. Anna will never hide in the shadows.
Gabriel kissed her shoulder. “What are you thinking about?”
“I can’t believe we have a child.”
“Neither can I,” Gabriel said, shivering. “It’s very strange.”
“A good strange.”
“Yes. Definitely a good strange.”
“I’d say a seven.”
“For the feeling, or Anna?”
“The feeling, of course. Anna’s score is immeasurable.”
She felt Gabriel nod against her.
“The birth was a negative 10.”
Gabriel chuckled, “you made that very clear throughout the process, love.”
“I want to see you give birth.”
Gabriel kissed her, “thank you.”
Cecily was taken aback. “For what?”
“For suffering through those nine months so that we can be parents. For enabling me to be a father.”
“I would do it again. I want to do it again. In the future.” Cecily added quickly.
Gabriel chuckled, “For now, Anna is all we need.”
Tagging: @celias @hitheresomeoneusingthus @tsccreatorsnet
#gabriel lightwood#cecily lightwood#cecily herondale#anna lightwood#lightwoods#Lightwood fic#tsc fic#tlh fic#tid fanfic#cassandra clare#gabrily#gabriel x cecily#Gabrily fanfic#shadowhunters fanfiction#the shadowhunter chronicles fanfiction#gabrily kids#the last hours#the infernal devices#the shadowhunter chronicles
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Harem AU Chapter 19 - Don’t Own Me
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Category: Other
Fandom: Transformers
Relationships: Megatron/Sideswipe
Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Megatron, Skywarp
Additional Tags: Rape, Sticky, Forced Orgasm
Words: 14580
( Previous )
Knock Out was at the doors to his medbay the moment they stepped into the harem wing, beckoning them in for one very thorough inspection. He berated them for the damage their paint jobs had suffered from getting tied down who knew how many times, as if it was their fault they hadn’t considered things agreeable enough to just submit themselves to the treatment. Still, most of Knock Out’s frustrations seemed to be aimed at Shockwave, rather than them. The medic made sure they were in perfect repair, which they weren’t according to him, not before he’d straightened some things out in their chests.
They didn’t want to open their chestplates for him, honestly, but this was Knock Out. Knock Out, who had never done anything weird, despite how many times he’d fixed injuries that would’ve been so easy to make weird.
And for sure he had never expressed any particular interest in their spark.
So… After a long internal debate that Knock Out waited impatiently through because he wasn’t willing to force the matter, they did eventually open their chassis for inspection, and he fixed what needed to be fixed. He didn’t request access to their spark, either. Rather the medic was perfectly content to use their frames’ built in diagnostics to find out the state of their spark.
The verdict was that there was some strain, but nothing that wouldn’t fix itself if they left their damn spark alone and didn’t put it through who knew what.
They asked about merging. Knock Out admitted to being no expert when it came to split-sparks—big surprise there, who was—and in so many words told them to do what felt right to them. The logic seemed to be that things would feel uncomfortable if they were exerting their spark further.
Which made sense enough. Wasn’t it sensible to assume that their spark would give them a bit of a warning before flickering out?
And then came their curiosity over why Knock Out seemed so… Concerned wasn’t really the right word, but aggravated.
“Because I’m your physician, and if something is wrong with you, it’s my hide on the line.”
Not Shockwave’s? Technicalities, Knock Out called that. They weren’t in Shockwave’s care anymore, were they? So it was back to being Knock Out’s responsibility.
They weren’t sure about that logic, but who were they to argue.
It wasn’t all the way to evening when the medic told them to go rest and they left the medbay, grateful for… What? For being back here?
Yes. The harem was a prison, but so were Shockwave’s clutches, and they rather had this familiarity over the sterile chill of Shockwave’s area of the tower. Nothing about the harem wing was sterile in the same way. Here there were smells to bring life to the place, just as lush as the warm colors everything was dressed in, and comfortably shadowed corners from the lights that didn’t aim to banish all dark. Megatron continued to loom over them as an inescapable threat that could pounce them at any moment—just one summons and things could go to pits, and there’d be nothing they could do about it… But if nothing else, Megatron had never poked and prodded at their slagging spark.
But he had given the permission for Shockwave to do that, so… He wasn’t any better, really. Of course he wasn’t. How could he be?
So why did they still feel, right now, like they’d rather get called to Megatron’s berth over another round with Shockwave?
Primus, things were so messed up. Enough shit was being thrown at them that they were starting to prefer getting raped over other things, and not just that, but raped by one specific mech rather than anyone of his “court”, or whoever else.
How had this become their life? And how the frag had Megatron managed to position himself as the lesser evil over enough things that it was downright disturbing? There shouldn’t have been anything they’d prefer him over! Not after everything he’d done to them.
Here they were anyway.
Slaggit…
They hit the washracks first, deflecting the questions of the mates they passed, their concern over how they were doing, and curiosity over what had happened. None of that was anything they wanted to talk about with anyone, but luckily once they picked showers from a further corner of the washracks, they were left to their own devices despite them not being the only occupants of the room. With nothing to say between them, they washed themselves and each other in silence, ridding their frames of the scents and smudges of Shockwave’s lab, before they went to shine themselves. Their scuffed portions were undone by their work, and then… It was like nothing had happened.
On the outside, anyway. Their spark still felt wrong, like its halves didn’t really fit into their individual chambers properly anymore. They couldn’t really blame it after everything Shockwave had done.
And mentally, emotionally… They were slagging well exhausted. They’d had enough time to themselves in the tiny ass room they had been provided with, but it had hardly been enough to balance out the stress of Shockwave’s tests and straight up experiments. It didn’t help that it wasn’t… Familiar. Not the way the harem wing was. They knew how things ran here, at least mostly.
Shockwave’s area was a big unknown that had only had answers of unpleasantness. It wasn’t as if the harem was devoid of unpleasant things, far from it, but it was still the familiar. They knew the mecha here, more or less. They had comparatively much freedom to do whatever the slag they pleased. They weren’t locked in a single room—just, you know, an entire wing. Like that was so much better. Psh.
The others were sure to be curious over everything that had happened to them during their absence, but they still didn’t feel like talking about it overmuch. So, instead of hitting the entertainment room, they instead slipped by it with just a wave at the occupants on Sideswipe’s part, before they hurried to the berthroom—and more than that, to their own cots at the very back of it. The library would have been more private if privacy was what they were after, but the… Quiet. They didn’t need more of that right now.
The berthroom wasn’t quiet during the day like this. No, there was conversation between a few mecha, the words they exchanged and their laughter, and—of course—fucking.
Complete with all the clangs and moans and encouragement that could be expected to accompany a solid foursome.
They walked by that scene and the length of the room, and sat down on one side of their combined cots, their backs to the rest of the room, but then, even that—the vigorous interfacing they couldn’t just unhear—was… Something. It should have bothered them a thing fierce, but it was the kind of lively noise that belonged in the harem wing, in a weird way. It had its place here just like all the friendly conversation did. It lulled them back into what their normalcy had become.
Sideswipe leaned against Sunstreaker’s shoulder and felt him do the same until they were propping each other up. The wing was at such complete odds with what their last orn had been like, that…
He was relieved. He was damn well relieved to be back here.
Even better would be if he was just out of the whole damn palace entirely, on the streets, but that wasn’t achievable just yet. It needed a bit more work.
In the meantime this just had to be good enough, and it mostly was. Just as long as Megatron wouldn’t demand them anytime soon. They could handle the rest. Rest, recover… And to start with that, they sat side by side, without a word, letting the sounds and smells wash over them and begin to bury the memories Shockwave had created.
They’d get over that whole thing yet.
-------------------------------------------------
Admittedly, they recharged better that night than they had the previous few nights. Slept in a bit, too, and were on the sluggish side in getting up even once they awoke. There was no one telling them they needed to go there or do that, and no one came to disturb them even once they were obviously awake. That was a nice touch.
And maybe their previous day’s refusal to say a peep about the whole Shockwave thing had clued the others in on them not really wanting to answer questions about it, because once they were up and about, they were only wished good morning without any further prodding. They could still feel everyone’s curiosity, and for sure they would probably need to hand out even some answers eventually lest someone die from their curiosity, but for now they were content to just… Not do that.
Even Skywarp only left it at a brief, “You okay?” when they ran into him in the dining hall. Their Seeker friend’s concern was obvious, but it looked to be assuaged a little by Sideswipe’s smile.
“Yeah, we’re fine.” It was only half a lie, too. But if Skywarp recognized its partial untruthfulness, he didn’t say anything, just nodded and gave a smile in return.
“Awesome! Hit me up in the entertainment room once you’ve had breakfast, yeah? I’ve missed playing with you,” Skywarp said with a poke at Sideswipe’s shoulder.
Sideswipe laughed, made his promises, and they parted ways for them to grab cubes for themselves. Ones they’d actually chosen for themselves, with all the taste they wanted them to have.
It was a really nice change of pace to not have their energon just handed to them. Honestly, they hadn’t even realized how much they appreciated the dispenser. Distance really did make the spark grow fonder.
Sideswipe could say he wasn’t still in the chattiest mood, but also, he probably wasn’t going to start feeling better by avoiding all social contact. So instead of withdrawing with Sunstreaker, he made the effort to go sit with one of the small groups that had gathered in the room and joined in on the conversation. Sunstreaker sat next to him, but held to his silence. That was just normal for him, though.
Sideswipe tried to act his own normal, too. And… It did make him feel a little better to chat and laugh as they sipped on their energon. Moping around would’ve been tiresome anyway.
He could do this.
And he had a date with Skywarp to get to afterwards. Once they made their way to the entertainment room, the flier immediately roped them into a familiar strategy game that they still sort of sucked at no matter how many times they’d played it.
You know, at least compared to everyone else who had played it way more times. They were a little outclassed.
It was still fun, though. They played it smart afterwards too, and excused themselves fast as they came once the game was over and everyone could be trusted to get down and dirty because the mates for sure hadn’t changed during the orn they’d been away.
Out of the room and free of interfacing just left them with the problem of now what. Distractions were welcome, but not in the form of fragging, thanks.
“Hit the library?” Sunstreaker suggested. Sideswipe made a face.
“Too boring for me.” That was no distraction at all. What else was there to do? Something in the berthroom? He hadn’t really gotten into crafts yet, and honestly, those weren’t guaranteed to be any more interesting than the library–
Sideswipe’s optics brightened and he snapped his digits. “Isn’t there a kitchen here, too?” A door at one corner of the dining hall, no? “I wonder if we’re allowed to use it? That could be fun.”
Sunstreaker cocked an optical ridge at him, then shrugged. “Go ask someone. I’ll be in the library.”
Alright then, apparently that was them deciding on what they wanted to do. Sideswipe snorted, but nodded, and Sunstreaker set down the hall while Sideswipe took the turn into the dining hall and marched from the doorway to the back left corner. There was a nondescript door there. Not completely hidden like the servants’ entrances, but not meant to draw attention either.
He opened it carefully and peeked inside. The kitchen’s lights came on for him, revealing every nook and cranny of the… Very, very well equipped room. Sideswipe didn’t know much about kitchens to begin with and could recognize, like, one fourth of the stuff around.
He’d probably blow the whole place sky high if he tried to use this stuff, but…
Sideswipe pulled back from the door to cast a glance around the dining hall. There weren’t exactly many other mecha present anymore, but Sideswipe waved for the attention of one of the mates anyway. “Are we allowed to use the kitchen?”
He got a nod in return. “Yeah, it’s here for us.”
“…Are we supposed to know how to use it? I mean, it looks pretty fancy…”
“Oh, there should be a datapad… Somewhere there, if you look around a bit. It has a whole host of recipes on it, complete with instructions on how to use all the appliances required for them. That’ll get you started.”
Ooooh. That was going to be helpful. Sideswipe said his thanks before he slipped into the kitchen entirely, letting the door close behind him.
From there it was just about hunting down the datapad, which turned out to be very easy because it was just sitting on the counter in one corner, all by its lonesome. Poor thing. Sideswipe turned it on and perused its contents. There was… A lot. Hell of a lot. He could scroll all he wanted and yet there was always more.
Chances were, then, that if he wanted to find the instructions for something specific, they’d already be somewhere on the datapad. He wasn’t going to run out of things to try probably ever, if cooking was something he wanted to spend more time on.
He wasn’t sure he did want to, yet, having never actually tried the whole thing, but he did love new experiences. Figuring out how to make something that would hopefully be delicious seemed like a pretty nice thing to try.
Lucky for his inexperienced self, there was a way to order the recipes based on difficulty. Sideswipe did so, looking through the easier ones first. Maybe not the easy easy ones, there wasn’t much to even do with those, but…
Aha, crusted energon thingies with a soft center. That sounded good, and didn’t look too complex. He’d need a few things, but Sideswipe only had to walk around the room and locate everything he needed. Everything else was already done for him, basically, with how step by step the instructions went.
Probably for the best, seeing his current experience level.
Sideswipe copied the recipe into his own systems and set the datapad aside to instead read the instructions internally and set to work, happy to lose himself in the task and… And not think about things. Get the energon he needed, the additives, the utensil, turn on this device and that to this heat and that, combine and mix and make little shapes, cook and roll the results in this thing and then that, cook some more–
“Sideswipe!”
The voice from the doorway had him jumping, and the mate snickered at his spook before he got to the reason for his interruption. “Megatron summoned you. Three breems and he wants you in his wing.”
Whatever good mood Sideswipe had managed to scrounge up quickly evaporated. They’d barely… Pits, they’d barely gotten back from Shockwave’s tests and already Megatron wanted one of them? How was that fair?
Nothing about this whole damn place was fair.
Biting his lower lip, Sideswipe looked at his in progress creations, but before he could ask the mate what he was supposed to do about those, the other was already gone. Did he just… Need to leave them most of the way but not quite done, or something? That couldn’t be right. Besides, they were so close to being all finished.
But he was on a timer here himself. Sideswipe hurried over to the doorway and looked into the dining hall. “Runamuck!” he called once he recognized the particular grounder. Runamuck looked up at him and Sideswipe gestured behind himself. “Megatron, uh, wants me, but I was kind of in the middle of something, so do you mind taking those out of the oven when the timer’s done?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Alright, so that was that taken care of. Good. “Thanks!” Okay, then what? He was going to leave a mess in the kitchen, but someone could probably clean that up for him. He’d return the favor somehow.
Next. He didn’t want to go to Megatron dry, that’d just hurt. He didn’t have a hell of a lot of time, but with someone who knew what they were doing, it should be just enough.
And he was familiar with someone who knew exactly what they were doing on that front.
Not that that wasn’t basically everyone here.
Anyway. Sideswipe hurried out of the kitchen and dining hall and set out on a search for a pair of wings. As ever, there weren’t very many hidey holes in the wing, so after the entertainment room proved devoid of Skywarp, the next stop of the berthroom already contained him.
Skywarp was in the middle of a frag with two others, but still took notice of him even before Sideswipe had a chance to try to get his attention. The flier waved at him cheerfully. “Hi Sides! Wanna join?”
Usually the answer would’ve been pit no, but…
Ugh. “Megatron sort of summoned me?” Sideswipe as he walked over to the three of them, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Megatron’s wing. “Like, on really short notice?”
“Oh.” Understanding dawned on Skywarp—and everyone else—right away. “Wanna get ready? We can help you.”
Sideswipe barely had the time to nod before two pairs of hands reached for him and practically yanked him down. His undignified little yelp went blessfully unheeded in the midst of all the Primus damned groping that got going right after. Someone’s servo, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know whose, found its way over to his valve cover. Despite his full frame shudder, Sideswipe let that slide aside. Digits invaded his frame right away, but when there was really no lubricant to speak of, they were replaced by someone’s mouth and glossa.
As he had trusted, the other mates were proficient as ever, and it didn’t even matter that it wasn’t Skywarp behind him, since he was kind of sprawled on the Seeker’s lap. Skywarp wasn’t the only one who knew how to ‘face and make it good.
It also just happened that with him in Skywarp’s lap, the flier’s very erect spike was uncomfortably close to Sideswipe’s face. There was no inconsiderable amount of anxiety regarding if he’d be asked to do something with it, even past the distraction of the mouth that did things at his valve. That threatened to scatter his thoughts all over again every time he managed to gather them.
But no, Skywarp didn’t ask for his help with his spike. Instead all the Seeker did was run his servos along Sideswipe’s frame, and while he would’ve rather maybe not had that, he couldn’t deny the trace of Skywarp’s claws along his seams was lighting up his sensors pretty badly. His vents were growing hotter by the minute, his hips wanting to nudge back against the glossa finding and exploiting all of the sensors in his valve—and all of that was pretty good because he’d need to be going soon.
But, he didn’t want to go to Megatron frustrated and already on the edge of an overload. That was just… No. No no no.
So, it would be preferable if he got an overload right here and now, despite the fact he was probably already wet enough that he wouldn’t have needed to worry about Megatron hurting too much.
The act chafed, but Sideswipe gave in to his frame’s urge to jerk back against the face of whoever was performing oral on him. That whoever purred at his partial reciprocation and Sideswipe had to hide his grimace. He really didn’t need any of the mates thinking he was into this, ever, despite the fact they seemed completely oblivious to any hints that he wasn’t, which probably made it a moot point. But still. The last thing he needed to do was encourage them.
Here he was anyway. Sideswipe buried his face against Skywarp’s thigh as the charge built in his systems, steadily on the path to an overload. Not a mighty big one, a pretty rushed one rather, but that was all the same. As long as he wasn’t tip-toeing that line in front of Megatron.
It wasn’t actually the oral that did it, but rather, Skywarp reaching along the length of his frame and… Grabbing his aft. That did it, and his charge released abruptly to a surprised gasp from Sideswipe. His frame tensed, there was pleasure–
And then it was already over. The crest was short and not very high, as he’d predicted, but it did the trick. His valve was plenty ready enough that Megatron shouldn’t hurt, and he wasn’t teetering on the edge of an overload he didn’t want, but that his frame sure did.
Right on time. Sideswipe released a big ventilation he hadn’t realized he was holding before he leveraged himself up on his arms. “I gotta go. Thanks.” Manners?
“I can walk you,” Skywarp offered right away. Everyone detangled themselves, Sideswipe and Skywarp put their equipment back behind their panels, and he was wished good times by the other two as he followed Skywarp. Sideswipe ignored the how the pit was he ever supposed to have a good time, and waved his goodbyes back before they were out of the room and walking down the hall.
Sunstreaker was standing at the doorway to the library, his face shrewd and optics sharp. Sideswipe reached over to squeeze his servo as they passed him and got a barely perceptible nod in return. “I’ll clean the kitchen after you,” Sunstreaker said, and that was that concern taken care of, at least.
Sideswipe nodded too, and from there it wasn’t far to the main doors, through them, and then the way to the doors to Megatron’s wing.
Skywarp parted ways with him when the guards opened those for him. “Have fun!” he said chipperly, unexpectedly parroting the overarching sentiment of the harem. Sideswipe was significantly more lowkey about it when he smiled back and waved his byes before the doors closed between them.
He was never going to understand what was ever so fun about Megatron’s attention. Alas, he was about to have it no matter how much he didn’t want it. Sideswipe’s shoulders slumped before he could stop them and he couldn’t quite dredge the will to regain all of his posture before he walked down the hall, past the doors on both sides that just seemed perpetually closed—did Megatron even use them?—and through the open ones at the very end.
Megatron was present, naturally, but so was Soundwave and… Onslaught. All three looked up when he entered, but only Megatron acknowledged him.
Unless you wanted to count the quirk in Onslaught’s mouth that looked a hell of a lot like amusement, but Sideswipe tried not to read too much into that.
“Go to the berthroom,” Megatron told him, and to Sideswipe’s relief his tone wasn’t… Annoyed, despite the terse and very direct command. That probably meant he was in a decent mood.
Thank Primus or whoever.
Sideswipe nodded, but after having managed to take only two steps in the direction of the berthroom, Megatron’s voice had him freezing in place. “What do you say, Sideswipe?”
If his posture had had any time to regain itself, all of that was swiftly undone. “Yes, my Lord,” Sideswipe murmured, loud enough that he was sure he would be heard, but no louder than that. He dared peek in the direction of the three Kaonites, just to see Megatron nod at him, because Megatron could get away with all the nods he wanted to while Sideswipe needed to be all respectful and slag.
Onslaught rumble was definitely amused this time, Sideswipe didn’t need to read into anything there.
But with Megatron’s go ahead, he hurried the rest of the way to the berthroom door. It opened for him and he all but escaped the lounge and its occupants, as much as the berthroom wasn’t going to be much of a safe space for long.
“How obedient. Do you have plans for him today?” he could hear Onslaught say, but the door closed on his heels before he had the time to hear Megatron’s answer.
He too would’ve loved to know what Megatron had planned for him, but he was going to find out sooner or later anyway even without asking, unlike Onslaught.
Slag literally all of them.
Not really sure what he was supposed to do while made to wait, Sideswipe did… Nothing. One of the worst things to ever be doing if you asked him, but the berth didn’t particularly call to him and there wasn’t that much else in the room.
So he stood a few steps from the door all awkward like. He could only hear the most muffled sounds from the lounge, not enough to clue him in on more than the vague assessment that someone was talking. How long would they be doing that for before Megatron was free to have his way with him? His guess would’ve been not long since Megatron had specifically had him show up at this particular time, but pit if he knew.
His guess was right, though. It wasn’t even half a breem—that still felt like way too long—before the sounds died down. Sideswipe stared at the door, and sure enough, it opened to admit Megatron after minimal delay. By what brief glance he could have past the tyrant’s bulk, he couldn’t see anyone else in the lounge anymore.
“On the berth.” Expected, and preferable to ‘under the desk’, Sideswipe did as told and hauled himself up on the forever too high berth, scooting away from the edge to give Megatron room to follow him when he made a move to do so. “Bare your valve,” was the next order. Also expected, and Sideswipe followed that too, letting his cover retract. Thankfully, not to the tune of fluids seeping out of him. He wasn’t that wet and no one had come in his valve anytime recently.
He suspected his valve still looked wet enough for the good guess that he was all prepped, while simultaneously suspecting that Megatron probably didn’t really give a damn about details like that. Either way there was no warning before three of the tyrant’s digits had sunk straight into his valve, prompting Sideswipe to twitch with the desire to just beat it the hell out of there.
He didn’t follow through with that urge. Megatron began pumping his digits at a decisive pace that didn’t feel bad, and Sideswipe would have let his helm roll back in part because a curl of pleasure lit up his systems, and in part because he just didn’t want to look.
Would have, but that plan wasn’t allowed. As soon as his helm was so much as straight instead of drooping all over the place, Megatron’s servo came to grab it and tilt it forward with enough force to function as a clear warning. “Optics open.”
Right. He didn’t want to look at the way Megatron’s digits dipped deep into his valve only to come back out glistening wet, before pushing right back in. He already had to feel it, the way his rim wasn’t really tested by the width of three of Megatron’s digits combined, the brush against sensors inside, back and forth.
And yet he had to look anyway.
Frag this.
He wasn’t convinced the sight wasn’t negatively affecting his rising arousal, but uncomfortable to look at as the whole thing was, his frame still very much responded to the stimulation. Megatron didn’t really even work for it. Even with the state of his calipers—too loose and too wide—the tyrant’s digits were plenty big enough to touch. Just the constant in and out motion was enough to reach enough sensors that his frame took interest even as his mind, as always, tried to deny the whole thing.
It didn’t matter this time any more than any past time, and Sideswipe was squirming in place before long, undecided on whether he was trying to move away from the digits or into them, and succeeding in doing neither.
Likely for the best. He didn’t exactly want to frag himself on Megatron’s digits, even by accident.
“Whose servo is it touching you?” Megatron unexpectedly asked. Sideswipe would’ve glanced up, if just the slightest attempt to lift his helm hadn’t had the servo keeping a hold of it tighten just a little. That order clearly hadn’t gotten rescinded.
But what was he supposed to answer to that? What was Megatron expecting to hear? There had to be right and wrong answers to this. Weren’t there always?
When he dallied with his indecision too long, the servo tightened again, though Megatron didn’t speak up. Sideswipe thought quickly at that, not too eager to push Megatron too far, and answered with the most obvious thing he could think of: “Yours.”
“Who am I?”
That… Wasn’t the wrong answer, then? But more questions?
Who was Megatron?
What did he want to hear? What did he think of himself as, deep down? Did he believe in the propaganda the city spoke of him?
Who did Sideswipe think Megatron was?
No one flattering, that was for sure.
He thought fast, again, before Megatron could prompt him further, and went with one of the obvious answers, again. “The leader of Kaon.”
“Who am I to you?”
Sideswipe faltered. It was already getting harder to think by the moment due to the pleasure he couldn’t fully deny in favor of lucid thinking, because Megatron never once stopped moving his servo and his frame never once stopped appreciating it. Megatron didn’t hurt. It just felt good.
It was a little depressing to know that even if Megatron had been using his spike instead of just his servo, the situation would’ve been pretty much exactly the same. The tyrant wasn’t exactly in the habit of being bothered by things like interfacing.
Question. Answer.
What the pit was he supposed to say?
The thing he said was probably the last thing he was supposed to say. “My rapist.”
If he’d expected a violent rebuttal to disrespect, honesty like that, he was mistaken. Megatron didn't all the way laugh, but it was a close thing. He was amused by Sideswipe’s accusation—no, Sideswipe’s statement of fact. Did Megatron even really disagree with it, or was he just not the type to care?
“Am I now?” Megatron asked instead, but it didn’t look like he was wanting or expecting an answer, because he chose that moment to speed up. He was still careful with his claws, careful not to hurt or even cause discomfort, but the pace of his digits became swift in the worst of ways. Sideswipe gasped when the building pleasure in his systems suddenly flared. “Optics open,” Megatron repeated, leaving Sideswipe wondering how the pit did he even know he almost closed them in the face of the growing torrent of charge–
But details like that didn’t really matter when the effect was that he was still forced to look Megatron finger fuck him in ways that felt far better than they had any right to.
Pits, was he even really forcing him to look? It wasn’t like Megatron was physically keeping his optical shutters up and optics online. What would’ve happened if Sideswipe had just closed his optics anyway?
Nothing pleasant, that was for sure. He didn’t want to find out.
So he watched and felt every second of Megatron manipulating his frame like it wasn’t even meant to be under Sideswipe’s own control. His ventilations stuttered, then stalled, then came back to life, then repeated that cycle at an ever increasing pace, and slag, he didn’t want to, but he knew there was jackall he could do about the overload Megatron was herding him towards with absolute certainty. “Optics open, Sideswipe.” Again, how did he know?
Sideswipe watched all the same, gasping through every uneven ventilation until he was whining on the cusp of an overload he didn’t want slag to do with. He was teetering, holding back with sheer force of will he didn’t have nearly enough of–
“Overload, Sideswipe.”
That wasn’t what did it, pits, of course that wasn’t it. It was the one final push in, followed by a deliberate hooking of Megatron’s digits that caught right into one sensory cluster and pressed and stroked against it until he had no choice. Sideswipe violently silenced his vocalizer as the charge finally burst, traveling across his frame but centering at his core. It tingled along his plating, tightened every part of him, and still he could feel Megatron infernally rubbing against his sensors until the release was only extended far past its natural course.
He didn’t want it.
If it wasn’t for Megatron still holding his helm, he might’ve plopped straight onto his back once the tension abruptly left him. As it was, he slumped in place, venting heavily and wondering what Megatron’s game was this time, because it really felt like there was one and this wasn’t just Megatron fragging a pretty mech for the sake of fragging a pretty mech.
It would’ve been all the same if he’d flopped onto his back without Megatron, because as soon as Megatron let go of him, it was just to… Push him down. Onto his back. Sideswipe went down without resistance, not in small part because he still didn’t feel like holding himself upright under his own power. He allowed his legs to be spread further, too, because Megatron moved between his thighs after fetching his digits, and from there it was the obvious course of things. Megatron released his spike, lifted Sideswipe’s aft a bit, and pushed into his valve in one smooth stroke.
His valve that was still feeling just a little sensitive after a not so insignificant overload, and that was now definitely well lubricated enough that there was absolutely no discomfort with Megatron’s entry.
Surprisingly, the pace Megatron set wasn’t… Rough. It wasn’t gentle, either, but there was something languid about it, like he was ready to take his time with things, and by Primus he could take his time if he wanted to, that much was well known. Sideswipe, not so much. He didn’t have the supernatural ability to just deny his frame until the end of time, especially not right on the heels of one overload that hadn’t really even dissipated entirely. Charge reared its head all over again in no time at all, ready to climb that mountain and make him all the more miserable for the ever betrayal of his body.
He was looking forward to just laying back and letting things happen, to stare at the ceiling or maybe close his optics entirely, but of course Megatron had other plans. When Sideswipe’s gaze began to wander, a firm servo caught his chin. He started, his optics returning back to Megatron even before being told so, though no doubt that would have come within a few seconds if he hadn’t done it himself.
Megatron stared at him. His expression was once again aggravatingly unreadable, right along with his field, giving very few clues as to what the pit he was up to this time. Every time Sideswipe tried to shift even just his optics away, nevermind actually turning his entire helm, Megatron’s hold on his chin tightened, a clear indication that no, he wasn’t to look anywhere but at him—and then that hold would loosen back up when he looked at Megatron like he was supposed to this time, when sometimes optical contact like that would have read as defiance.
He couldn’t say he really enjoyed the staring contest with Megatron, though, especially when he got the distinct feeling he was being judged and measured in some way. But, if nothing else, his discomfort on that front partially distracted him from the utter lack of discomfort at a particular other front. Not enough to stop his frame’s steady march towards another entirely unwanted overload, but at least it slowed it down a bit.
It was just postponing the inevitable, but fraggit, he’d take even that much.
“Who am I to you?” Megatron asked again, as if his first answer hadn’t been satisfactory. Sideswipe frowned, then bared his denta, then squeaked when the next snap of Megatron’s hips was unexpectedly harsh.
Still not in the way to outright hurt, but he was definitely meant to feel that one. And he did, so kudos for that.
“The pit do you want to hear?” Sideswipe asked back, proud of himself for managing to growl it out. “That you’re the love of my life or something? Hate to break it to you, but you ain’t.” They were supposed to be trying to earn Megatron’s favor here, but confusion, frustration, and the very real hatred he felt for the damn mech really made that attempt a tall order right then.
Megatron still didn’t take offense, or, didn’t do so as violently as he could have. He did react, though, by considerably speeding up the motion of his hips and putting enough force behind every thrust that Sideswipe almost felt like denting.
Maddeningly, it still didn’t hurt. Maybe it was dancing right on the edge of that, but he knew Megatron could have gotten even rougher very easily, and yet he refused to employ enough of his strength to make it into something other than just pleasure.
Sideswipe didn’t want the pleasure. He fragging well didn’t want the way his vents stalled at a particularly deep thrust that pushed against his uppermost sensors, or the shiver in his thighs as his array was assaulted with things his frame definitely didn’t consider negative, and he didn’t want the tightening in his core that heralded another overload in the very near future.
Megatron drove him towards it pitilessly, even as it looked like he was refusing to be affected by any of this. It got harder to keep his focus on Megatron as his frame steadily demanded more of it, but for sure Megatron didn’t look to be having similar difficulties.
And still he ordained that Sideswipe look at him. Every time Sideswipe’s attention threatened to move too far inward, the servo on his chin would tighten, calling him to look the damned mech in the optic even as he fucked him onto the cusp of an overload–
“Overload, Sideswipe.”
–And past it until Sideswipe was again tensing, again cutting his vocalizer before he could moan or groan or whine or whatever the pit else, and again charge danced along his frame.
Megatron didn’t come, so of course it didn’t end there. In fact, Megatron never once stopped moving his hips, and through that distraction it was only distantly that Sideswipe could feel the grasp on his chin leaving just for his entire helm to be grabbed instead.
He might’ve recovered quicker if Megatron had given him a slagging break, but as things stood, it took him an embarrassing amount of time to gather enough of his wits to actually focus on the outside world again. As soon as he did, Megatron bent his helm forward, applying enough tug that to spare his poor neck Sideswipe saw it best to prop himself up on his elbows–
And then he was back to staring Megatron frag him, just with his spike this time.
He might’ve preferred the digits over the sight of a spike that should’ve been too damn big for him disappearing into his frame without any of the resistance there was supposed to be. The thing’s size was still terrifying.
He didn’t want to think about how many times it had gotten jammed up this hole or down another for him to have gotten used to it, at least mostly.
“Who’s inside you?” Megatron asked.
Sideswipe grit his denta, from pleasure as well as distaste, and responded on the same vein he had before. “You are.” There was a shake in his frame he didn’t like one bit. The pleasure he felt built atop what he’d already felt, and this coming overload felt even closer than the one before when he hadn’t been given any chance to even properly climb down from it. It did nothing to aid his thoughts run smoothly.
They didn’t run smoothly at all anymore, but he still tried to keep them on a straight path to have even a fighting chance at whatever this was.
What was this?
Pleasure. Megatron was providing him with undiluted pleasure with every move of his hips, the back and forth as well as the little things he did to change things up a little—hit different sensors, delivered just a little different sensation, always in a good way that only drove his charge higher.
And Sideswipe had to not only feel it, but watch it too, because every time he tried to close his optics or his optics tried to close, Megatron would tell him to open them.
“Who am I to you?” he asked, again, once Sideswipe’s overload was already so close he could fragging taste it and all of his thoughts fired in different directions. It was near impossible to think, to try to figure out what the pit Megatron wanted to hear, what he’d do if he didn’t hear it–
Sideswipe just didn’t know. So, he asked again, far less sarcastically, “What do you want to hear?”
Megatron didn’t answer him. He just fragged him until Sideswipe’s frame tensed and–
And Megatron pulled out right before the final release. Sideswipe vented, confused, staring at the full length of Megatron’s spike, every inch of it wet with lubricant. Dripping, really, and the same fluid seeped from his valve from the amount of it, even without anyone’s transfluid having gotten added to the mess.
Just as soon as the overload he’d so barely avoided tapered off enough that he wasn’t on the edge of it, Megatron pushed in again, without fanfare, and continued right where he left off.
The charge built back up within moments. “Who am I to you?”
Sideswipe clutched onto the berthtop, his frame aroused to the last, but he didn’t have an answer and right when he was again about to overload–
Megatron pulled out, left him on the edge, then waited until he’d climbed back down just a bit.
Only then he’d push in again until he was toeing that line again, almost, almost there–
“Who am I to you?”
When Sideswipe didn’t answer quickly enough this time either, Megatron pulled out, and Sideswipe didn’t want to feel the frustration he did, his frame’s slowly increasing desperation for the overload he was kept away from.
He felt it anyway. But it was just his frame. Not his mind, and definitely not his spark. Those wanted nothing to do with this.
But his frame wanted, and still he didn’t have an answer. What was Megatron supposed to be to him in Megatron’s own mind? What did he want to hear?
What was the right answer?
The damned mech pushed his spike back in. “Who am I to you?” Megatron repeated. His hips moved at a steady pace, at a fast pace, pleasuring his frame–
He was on the edge of an overload again, and Megatron was about to pull out and leave him hanging. “I don’t know!” Sideswipe rushed to say, just to give even some answer in the hopes it would be enough–
And Megatron pulled out and denied him the overload.
Repeat.
“Who am I to you?”
“What do you want to hear?!” He didn’t want this! He didn’t want the pleasure Megatron provided when the natural conclusion of that was a climax he wasn’t allowed to have, when he wasn’t granted the release that should’ve been there, that his frame was telling him in no unclear terms he needed to have because being brought to the edge over and over again to never actually go over was–
Megatron didn’t answer him, but kept him from an overload, left him hot and frustrated and waited until his arousal had tapered off just a little–
Tears rose into Sideswipe’s optics when Megatron thrust back in him this time, knowing he’d only be edged and then denied again unless he answered right.
But he didn’t know what was right! What was right? What did he need to say?
“Who am I to you?”
It was so hard to think with the arousal jumbling his thoughts, but it wasn’t going to get better unless he thought and thought fast and gave Megatron what he wanted to hear–
What would he want to be to them?
He wasn’t fast enough. Megatron pulled out, left him hanging, waited–
And when his spike returned to his valve this time, the tears ran loose.
He was so confused.
“Who am I to you?”
What would he want to be to them?
What did he think he was to them?
…Was that it?
He was so close to an overload, he didn’t have the time to spend forever on this because Megatron would deny him the overload again, and he was going to pull out any second now because Sideswipe was so close, so close–
“My mate,” he gasped, desperate for the right answer because he was going to lose his fragging mind at this rate, but he didn’t want to give Megatron what he wanted but he needed–
And Megatron rumbled in approval and didn’t pull out.
But he stopped. He stopped moving, and while the presence of his spike was enough to keep his charge from lowering again, it alone wasn’t enough to push him over the edge he just wanted to be over already. Sideswipe’s frame moved despite himself, trying to get the necessary stimulation on its own, but Megatron’s free servo, the one not keeping a constant hold of his helm, caught his hip and forcibly stilled him.
What more did he want?
Sideswipe wished he hadn’t found out.
“Who do you belong to?”
He was sobbing, he was outright sobbing, because he knew the answer to that—the answer Megatron wanted, and that wasn’t really untrue as things stood.
He didn’t want to say it out loud, he didn’t, but he needed… And when Megatron moved as if to pull out all over again, Sideswipe rushed to it. “You,” he said, ignoring the way his voice cracked as he told himself that was only temporary, that it wouldn’t be the state of things forever– “I belong to you.”
He was rewarded. Megatron’s hips snapped forward in that instance and Sideswipe’s back tried to arch against the bend it was held in, and, “Overload, Sideswipe.”
He did, but only because Megatron angled his hips differently for the thrust he timed those words to, only because the sensation from that was enough to finally, finally let him go. Sideswipe’s cry broke into static as all of that bent up energy was let loose in one violent motion, exploding outward and inward and in every direction in between and shattering his whole world until there was nothing but the pleasure–
And Megatron’s spike, moving through it, making sure Sideswipe couldn’t crash all the way back down, that he was held falling forever and ever, every second extended beyond all rational sense–
And he couldn’t reach the ground again. Megatron wouldn’t let him, because he fragged him straight towards the next overload that he couldn’t deny any more than he had been able to deny any of the others… Sideswipe moaned, in pleasure, in pain when the charge became too much and turned against him–
“Overload.”
–He did, but only because Megatron came too in that very moment, and the heat of fresh transfluid against sensors beyond primed shoved him over the edge whether he liked it or not.
And he didn’t like it.
He didn’t. It didn’t matter that his frame claimed this felt near the levels of arousal during the orgies, that it made the interfacing, the overloads, just that much better, more rewarding, fulfilling… It was just his frame’s claims.
It had nothing to do with reality. He didn’t want this, and he didn’t like this.
Megatron kept their hips flush together through his own overload, didn’t move, and it finally gave Sideswipe the chance to gather some of his scattered senses. He was on the edge in all the worst ways, physically as well as mentally. He was nervous and tense inside and out, because Megatron was playing with him in all ways. He was making his frame do what he wanted it to do, and the mind games. Sideswipe wasn’t blind to them. He wasn’t stupid.
But he still didn’t know what Megatron wanted to accomplish with them. He wasn’t that smart, or pit, so deranged he could have gotten into the head of someone as heinous as Megatron.
It left him wondering, worried, and above all, confused. It was impossible to prepare and steel himself against everything that would still come when he had no idea what that would be.
No. He just had to remember, all he needed to remember was that all of this was temporary, that he’d just need to withstand all of this until the moment he and Sunstreaker could escape. Just until then. Not indefinitely.
He wasn’t sure anyone could’ve taken this indefinitely without… Changing.
Megatron started thrusting again once he’d enjoyed his own overload, clearly not done with this whole thing yet. Sideswipe gnawed on his lower lip, still propped on his elbows, Megatron still holding his helm, still forced to watch the repetition of thrust in, pull out as Megatron began to build another overload in him. In the both of them, maybe, whenever Megatron willed to overload again himself.
Sideswipe didn’t get that many choices.
“Who’s inside you?” Megatron asked again, like he was stuck repeating the same questions, but Sideswipe couldn’t laugh at him for that—not with knowing it was for a reason. Everything Megatron did was for a reason, even if Sideswipe didn’t know what it was right now.
“You are,” he answered, quietly, but it didn’t look like his volume mattered so much because Megatron didn’t tell him to repeat himself.
“What’s my name?” he asked instead.
And Sideswipe grew even more confused than before. “Megatron?”
“What is my title?”
Bewilderment. That’s what Sideswipe felt right then, still and quiet because his thoughts were running too unevenly for him to try to make sense of any of this within a reasonable timeframe. Megatron continued to move, and Sideswipe continued to watch every single time his spike sank back into his frame, feel it split him open, only to pull out a moment later, and repeat.
Repeat until he was verging an overload all over again, his frame shifting restlessly, and still he needed to think, because he needed to answer with something.
Megatron didn’t rush him, this time, but Sideswipe got the distinct feeling he was also stalling Sideswipe’s overload. His thrusts slowed down, turned more shallow.
So, no overload before he answered, apparently. It was debatable how much Sideswipe even wanted that overload, but his frame very well knew it wanted it. The arousal was real and just too great for comfort, and it wasn’t going to go anywhere anytime soon if he didn’t dissipate it. Especially not with Megatron still fragging him, even if he wasn’t fragging him enough.
But what was Megatron’s title? Didn’t he have quite a few of those? What was his official title?
Sideswipe didn’t know these things. He tried one anyway. “Lord?”
It seemed to be the right answer. The movement of Megatron’s hips sped up all over again until Sideswipe was gasping for any and all cool air. “Overload.”
Megatron changed the angle of his hips again, hit a different sensor cluster again, and Sideswipe overloaded with a strangled groan, his hips jerking into the continued, never once stopping thrusts into him. Megatron didn’t overload, or slow down, or anything.
Just fragged him.
Sideswipe was panting when he only barely passed that peak because the next one was already looming by Megatron’s will. He couldn’t wind down, could barely regain his thoughts, and his frame was so fragging hot and ready there wasn’t a shred of peace to be found.
“Who am I to you?”
Again? “My mate,” Sideswipe responded after just a moment’s delay this time, because he didn’t think not answering would’ve earned him anything.
“What else?”
…That wasn’t enough?
What else?
“I- I don’t know.”
“Who do you belong to?”
Oh.
Now he knew.
“You,” Sideswipe whispered, gritting his denta at the next, deep thrust that was probably meant to be his reward. It and the following grind before Megatron’s retreat sure had his frame singing praises.
“What else am I to you?”
Sideswipe didn’t dare close his optics, but fresh tears blurred his vision anyway so it was really all the same whether or not he looked at the joining of their frames.
He knew. “My master.”
“That I am,” Megatron mused. Casual. He didn’t sound pleased, he didn’t sound displeased. It was like he just thought of it as an inconsequential fact.
It wasn’t inconsequential. It meant… So much. So many bad things. That was what their life had become, just a string of bad things… And why?
Because Megatron thought they belonged to him, that he had a right to them, that their own desires were null and void in the face of what he wanted of them. What they wanted? Worth less than slag.
Right now, he didn’t want an overload. He didn’t want the questions, and he didn’t want Megatron fragging him—pit, he didn’t want to be in this whole damn place to begin with.
But it didn’t matter. Sideswipe couldn’t silence a groan when Megatron picked up his pace, keeping him in place, forcing him to look, as little as he saw past the veil of tears anymore. But saw or not, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t feel it–
“Overload, Sideswipe.”
–And it was like Megatron knew the exact moment when he was reaching his limit and timed his words just right. Sideswipe’s frame locked up when Megatron angled his hips just a little different and circled them in a perfect way to press against already primed sensors.
Still he didn’t stop. If he could just please stop, because the charge didn’t have the time to fully dissipate before it started to grow all over again when Megatron just kept moving—kept thrusting, kept fragging, and there was no way in pit Sideswipe could’ve ever kept up with it. He couldn’t deny his frame like that, not like Megatron could, however the slag the mech did it.
It built, and it felt good, and he didn’t want either. Sideswipe’s vents blew wide in vain effort to cool his frame and–
“Overload.”
–He came again. Megatron pressed into him, aiming for sensor clusters with depressing accuracy, like he knew Sideswipe’s frame better than Sideswipe himself did. He keened this time, shuddering once the peak of the overload passed, only for him to already see the next one. So close. Megatron wouldn’t let it be anything else and the pleasure mounted atop itself until barely anything else remained…
And still he needed to give more. “Who is inside you?” Megatron asked again.
He knew the answer, but it still took a pathetic amount of time for him to gather his senses enough to reset his vocalizer until he could get the one word out. “You.”
“What’s my name?”
Sideswipe tried to shake his helm, but Megatron’s servo remained and tightened until there was no hope of the motion. It was a prompting, it had to be, but Sideswipe refused.
Megatron didn’t ask again. “Overload,” came the order instead, and again Megatron played his frame until he had no choice but to do just that.
He was only crying harder after barely clearing that crest, his frame was so hot and nothing he did would cool him, his valve slicker than he thought it ever had been before, leaking past Megatron’s spike, and it melted his mind and his senses. He couldn’t combat the pleasure Megatron was forcing on him. He had no way to do that.
“What’s my name?”
“No,” Sideswipe whispered, the word breaking into static when Megatron punished him with more pleasure. This time he wasn’t denied an overload.
“Overload, Sideswipe.”
He was given too many of them. Sideswipe’s scream was equal amounts pleasure and frustration when Megatron drove him over the edge again.
And again, when he still didn’t answer that question.
He was sobbing, lost and confused in his own frame as the ecstasy became a thing he couldn’t take anymore, and when he was still allowed to do nothing else but take it. Until what?
What would end this?
“What’s my name?”
“Megatron,” Sideswipe gasped, grasping at the slim hope that playing along would– But why wouldn’t it? Wasn’t that what Megatron wanted? For him to do as told?
Wasn’t that the key?
It had to be, because Megatron slowed down until the march towards the next overload was steady, but slower. He’d take even that much.
“Who am I to you?”
Round and round. “My mate.”
“What else?”
“My master.”
“Overload, Sideswipe.”
It had almost been a respite, a few fleeting moments of not being drowned in physical sensation quite as badly, but then he was submerged again. When he became aware of something other than his frame’s rapture, he was fully on his back on the berth, his servos on either side and little above his helm—and Megatron was holding them, gentle like the lover he wasn’t. He was still buried in his frame, but he wasn’t moving–
Except the moment Sideswipe felt halfway lucid again, he started moving. But Sideswipe didn’t need to watch anymore, so he didn’t, even as his frame ached with the mountain of pleasure he was buried under.
“Look at me.”
He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see, he didn’t want to know, he didn’t want to be here.
Sideswipe shook his helm and closed his optics.
One of his servos was released just for Megatron’s servo to appear on his chin, grasping it and tilting his helm until Sideswipe knew he could have met the tyrant’s optics if he had just looked.
But he wasn’t going to.
“Open your optics, Sideswipe.”
“No.” He hated how weak he sounded, like he didn’t have the resolve to enforce that—and maybe he didn’t, because Megatron began to tighten his hold, and once warnings about impending damage from the pressure started to blink on his HUD, Sideswipe relented and opened his optics.
He was right, he could meet Megatron’s gaze head on like this.
“Keep looking,” Megatron told him as he released his chin just to return his servo to hold Sideswipe’s, pinning them to the berth.
He could’ve looked away. He could’ve refused, and… And then what?
Megatron would just make him again.
“Who’s ‘facing you?”
“You.”
“What is my name?”
“Megatron.”
“Who am I to you?”
“My mate and my master.”
“Do you belong to me?”
Sideswipe’s already unsteady vents hiccuped and his vocalizer clicked before producing a little burst of static.
He didn’t. He didn’t belong to anyone but himself. “No.”
“Overload.”
Why did he have to be so outmatched? His frame rattled with the energy that Megatron’s thrust and twist released, and he could do nothing about it. But one order remained, and Sideswipe met Megatron’s optics through the release, aiming for defiance and knowing he failed miserably. His frame burned and turned his thoughts to molten sludge, and he knew without a shadow of doubt that Megatron knew exactly what he was doing—and knew exactly what he was doing to him.
“Do you belong to me?”
“No.”
“Overload.”
He did. Like every time, he did, because Megatron knew how to force his frame to feel pleasure, when… All he wanted was to be forced without consideration for how he felt. Couldn’t they go back to that? But no, Megatron didn’t allow that. All there was for Sideswipe was the energy in his frame, the sensation his body thought of as positive, told him that he had only felt this good during the orgies—but that this time, there was no signal driving his frame. Just Megatron.
Sideswipe met his gaze, but didn’t think he could’ve read it even if he had had the processing power to think past simple things. His thoughts were so jumbled and always came back to the ecstasy. Always.
“Do you belong to me?”
“No.”
“Overload.”
He was going to fry parts of him at this rate, but Megatron forced him past that knife’s edge until Sideswipe was crying out, and crying. His optics wanted to close, but a growl from Megatron’s engine was enough to make him override that urge.
Instead all he could do was stare into the red gaze of his personal nightmare, shaking and at another’s mercy in a way he could’ve never wanted.
“Do you belong to me?”
“Stop...”
“Overload.”
Tears ran from the corners of his optics when Megatron snapped his hips just right and Sideswipe shuddered through another overload.
“Do you belong to me?”
He wanted to close his optics. He wanted to close his optics so bad and not have to see reality anymore. His reality was torment.
Megatron drove him towards another overload. He wouldn’t be able to stop it, and there would only be more after it, and Megatron wasn’t overloading himself and when was this going to end..?
He didn’t belong to anyone.
And yet the answer he whispered was, “Yes.”
There wasn’t another overload. Megatron slowed his pace instead, and Sideswipe didn’t know if that was better or worse because if anything, it kept him on a level of arousal he had never felt in his life before ending up here… But even if he had overloaded, it would only have landed him back in the same place, wouldn’t it?
Megatron did what he wanted.
“Do you like me inside you?” The words were punctuated by a slow, deep push of Megatron’s hips, and Sideswipe bit back his moan a split second before it would’ve been too late.
He wasn’t quite on the edge of an overload, but the pleasure. He wasn’t going to lose his mind. He wasn’t going to lose his mind.
He wasn’t going to lose his mind. “No.”
Megatron made a sound, almost like a chuckle—definitely amused. “Don’t lie, Sideswipe.”
The tyrant’s pace recovered from its languid pace until Sideswipe couldn’t keep himself from moaning. It got rougher and faster, and still it wouldn’t feel bad. Megatron drove into his frame with so much of his strength, Sideswipe was sure his plating wasn’t going to withstand it–
And it just
Felt
Good.
And once he was right at the peak, Megatron said, “Overload.”
Like all past times, he timed it just right, and Sideswipe reached his overload a second after.
When the tension of it left him, it took all other tension with it too. He had his physical limits, and Primus, they were tested.
But Megatron didn’t come, and Megatron didn’t stop. He just continued building the next overload, and what then? The next, and the next, and the next?
How much longer could he take this? Did Megatron have no limits himself?
“Do you like me inside you?”
Was there any winning? Had there even been any winning?
“Optics open, Sideswipe.”
He wanted to keep them closed, he wanted to keep them closed with everything he was, but Sideswipe forced them back open, forced himself to meet Megatron’s steady gaze that wouldn’t let up any more than the motion of his hips would let up.
“Do you like me inside you?”
“No.”
Please, just stop.
Megatron’s engine revved, the vibrations traveling straight into Sideswipe and pushing him right to the cusp of however manienth overload too many.
And Megatron knew. “Overload.”
Sideswipe sobbed through the crackle of charge, weaker than any past time, but only because his frame was starting to run dry. His batteries were nearly depleted, as his HUD told him in no unclear terms.
He couldn’t take it. He could take it even less when Megatron finally chose to overload too, the massive burst of charge from his frame tipping Sideswipe right over the edge all over again. He screamed.
Megatron didn’t stop. The thrusts turned into little more than grinding against Sideswipe’s array for the duration of pumping his transfluid into Sideswipe, but as soon as that was over… Megatron continued right where he left off.
And Sideswipe despaired. He would have wanted to pull away, but there was no direction for him to move. He would have wanted to push Megatron away, but his servos were still held.
He wanted to escape, but he couldn’t.
“You’ll break me,” he said instead when yet another overload neared him, meeting Megatron’s gaze with desperation, pleading. There was only so much a frame could take.
This was how much Sideswipe’s could take.
And Megatron said, “I will.”
What was he expecting? Sideswipe wasn’t sure, but the utter lack of pity still had his tears running more numerous, knowing he had no way to prevent any of this. Megatron remained between his legs, his spike continued to move in and out of him, he kept his servos pinned against the berth, and there was nothing he could do about it. He could only meet Megatron’s optics and feel every second that preceded the inevitable. The pleasure mounted, his frame shook–
It peaked, the charge burst, and there was nothing left in him.
-------------------------------------------------------
He’d never once in his life needed recharge as badly as he did right then, and blissfully, he was allowed to have it. His chronometer said two full days had passed before his frame roused. Even so, things were sluggish to come back online, as if he still hadn’t had enough of pitch black slumber that hadn’t even included defragging.
Sideswipe’s thoughts finally awoke and caught up fully right on the moment when the sound of movement registered as the likely cause for what had disturbed him out of his recharge. He would’ve wanted to snap his optics open, but instead of a sharp response from his systems, they flickered online far too slowly. Sideswipe directed them towards the doorway the moment he could.
He was still in Megatron’s quarters, still on his berth, and the unmaker himself was stacking datapads on his desk, two cubes of energon also sitting on the surface.
How long had he been there? Sideswipe had no way of knowing, but quickly leveraged himself up on his elbows. It earned him a glance that had him stiffening, but Megatron didn’t provide more than the mild observation of, “You’re awake.”
Yes, he was. Wow, what a truly astute statement.
But Sideswipe didn’t say anything. Megatron set the datapads to the side and picked up the cubes, walking over to the berth with them. Sideswipe sat up fully on his approach and automatically took the cube handed to him–
Only to then blink at it dumbly once its scent reached him.
It wasn’t just any energon. The damn thing was high grade.
He still didn’t say anything, but Sideswipe’s optics flicked up the tyrant only to find him already watching him. His confusion was probably written all over him, because Megatron offered an explanation without any more prompting. “You’ll need the charge,” he was told as an offhand comment and not like the answer full of implications that it was.
Sideswipe’s optics dropped back to the cube, his digits tightening around it. So. How many more overloads was Megatron planning to give him to see fit to put some extra charge in his systems beforehand?
He didn’t want any of them.
“Is this necessary?” Sideswipe asked quietly. The whiff of the high grade rose into his olfactory sensors. It was good quality like everything else here. Nothing like the slag he’d had back in Iacon. No doubt it would taste spectacular, but…
“Do you not enjoy it?”
What? Enjoy being forced to overload to the point of his systems straight up offlining from depleting all of their charge? Sideswipe’s servos clenched further, and a worse quality cube might’ve given at the amount of pressure he was applying. Not this one, though. “…Not really,” was the very honest answer he gave.
And all Megatron said to that was, “You will.”
His frame started to shake, and it had nothing to do with the still low charge in his batteries. His optics wet all over again until quiet tears ran down the seams of his face, but Sideswipe brought the cube to his lips with unsteady servos and took a sip. He was right. The taste was fantastic.
Everything it meant… Less so. His spark ached with the feeling of being so utterly trapped. Megatron would have his way, and was he even wrong? Could Megatron be wrong? He’d proven himself inevitable every step of the way, shown that he was always going to get what he wanted in the way he wanted. Resistance meant nothing.
If he said Sideswipe was going to enjoy this, who was Sideswipe to disagree?
“Drink,” Megatron prompted him when Sideswipe sat in still silence for too long after that first taste. He would’ve wanted to say no so badly. Would Sunstreaker have thrown the whole fragging cube at Megatron? Told him to go frag himself?
Sideswipe didn’t have the strength. It wouldn’t have gotten him anything in the end, anyway.
So the cube was raised to his mouth again, and Sideswipe set to drink its contents. The charge almost burned on its way down, but the feeling wasn’t unpleasant. The taste wasn’t unpleasant. The texture wasn’t unpleasant. Nothing about it was unpleasant.
Yet everything about it was.
He dispersed the cube once it was empty. Megatron had finished his own energon by now too, and Sideswipe wasn’t entirely wrong in his expectation that he'd be grabbed right away. Megatron got on the berth and Sideswipe spread his legs for him, and though there was no outright grabbing, he was still pushed down firmly but gently, until he was laying all the way on his back, his legs spread around Megatron’s hips.
Someone had cleaned up the mess he’d no doubt left behind, and him while at it, but his valve cover was still open and Megatron took the invitation—not to shove his spike in, though, but digits instead. Just two, which wasn’t for the best. If he’d been more impatient, it might’ve even felt bad. He was dry by now.
But the caution worked to do the opposite. He didn’t want that.
“Look at me,” Megatron ordered and Sideswipe grimaced internally. The ceiling would’ve been much more inviting to look at, but reluctantly Sideswipe directed his optics to the tyrant anyway. Megatron met his gaze, his digits intent in Sideswipe’s valve. His frame was heating up, interface array taking increasing interest as Megatron played him with far too much skill for someone who so often just took what he wanted. “Whose digits are inside you?” Megatron asked.
What was with all the questions? Sideswipe still didn’t know, but murmured the obvious answer, “Yours.”
“Who am I?”
“Megatron?”
“What is my title?”
“Lord of Kaon.”
“What am I to you?”
He didn’t want to do this. Sideswipe bit his lip and would’ve averted his optics, if just the slightest motion in that direction hadn’t been enough to have Megatron’s engine rumble in warning. So he didn’t and instead stared evil in the optic as he responded, “My mate and master.”
Just… Don’t think about what he was saying. It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t true.
“Who do you belong to?”
…But it was so hard to do that. Near impossible when he had to look at Megatron every step of the way, focus on him. Hear him and feel him, the things he was doing to his frame. “You.”
Megatron didn’t say anything to that, but his field held just the slightest taste of approval. Sideswipe didn’t want it, but hadn’t he earned it? He was giving Megatron what he wanted. Why?
Because he had no other choice, and because it served their end goal. He had to remember that. Gain Megatron’s trust enough to be allowed to leave the palace, so that they could escape.
He just had to… Had to survive this. Whatever this was. Sideswipe’s vents hitched when Megatron hooked against a sensory cluster and a little more lubricant joined in on what was already slicking his valve.
“Does this feel good?” he was asked.
“No,” he answered.
“Don’t lie, Sideswipe.”
He was lying, they both knew it. It only became all the more obvious when a soft scrape of Megatron’s claw twips against different sensors had him moaning before he could silence himself. The tyrant seemed to take that as a sign that he was ready, which wasn’t untrue; he was getting properly wet and he was hot. The high grade was beginning to buzz in his systems, only adding to his frame’s interest.
Megatron released his spike, but before he pushed in, he caught Sideswipe’s helm and bent it forward like before, and Sideswipe propped himself up on his elbows like before. Only once he had the perfect view of the process did Megatron slowly begin to press himself inside, and Sideswipe had to see every terrible inch that disappeared into him—feel it every time Megatron pulled a little out, then pushed further in. His calipers gave way and his mesh stretched around the tyrant’s girth, and it didn’t hurt.
He was crying again.
Once Megatron had pushed all the way inside, pressing against Sideswipe’s ceiling node, he held there for a moment… Then started to move. His pace was lazy, slow, but that didn’t help anyone. Air gushed from Sideswipe’s vents as the unwanted pleasure started to build, slow but steady.
“Who’s inside you?”
Whose spike could he see pressing into his valve, only to pull back out glistening with his lubricant—whose spike could he feel fragging him, stroking against his inner sensors and filling him so perfectly. “Yours.”
“What’s my name?”
“Megatron.”
“Do you belong to me?”
“Yes.”
Megatron rumbled, but aside from that and the sound of their hips colliding at an increasing pace, there were few blissful moments of silence that Sideswipe spent… Trying to pretend it was… He didn’t know what. He couldn’t deny it was real when it was all around him. Not as bad as his spark told him it was? Probably that. Just make it through.
Until they could get out.
Just make it through to that point. His denta clenched as the faster, harder thrusts awakened his frame good and proper, forcing him to bite back his moans and forcing him to listen to the rev of Megatron’s engine, because for once, for fragging once the mech was actually letting himself be affected. They both were, Sideswipe just a pit of a lot more involuntarily. His hips twitched first, before they jerked into the harsh thrusts against his better sense. His vision blurred again, but pits, he didn’t have it in him to keep his frame from moving into the pounding he was receiving.
He didn’t want to find it enjoyable, pleasurable, but that was exactly what it was, and his vents quickened and stuttered just to slagging broadcast how badly this was getting to him, as if the rest of him didn’t already do that.
But he didn’t moan, he didn’t groan, he didn’t so much as whine even as he approached his climax. It didn’t make one jack of a difference, but it still made him feel a little better.
And again, once he was just one little thing away from there, Megatron said, “Overload.”
It was never the order that did it, but Megatron always timed it to something, and he did so this time too. This time it was the tyrant’s own overload, and the combination of the bloom of heat at the back of his valve and the charge jumping to him from Megatron’s frame was plenty enough to push Sideswipe over the edge. He tensed from helm to pede as his own frame followed Megatron’s lead, his valve clenching erratically around the length buried deep in him and drawing further come from the spike.
Disgust welled in him, but what could he do about it?
But if nothing else, once Megatron had climbed down from his high a little, he released Sideswipe’s helm. Sideswipe… Didn’t do anything at that, frozen in place to stare where Megatron’s spike disappeared into his frame. The tyrant spent a few more moments not moving, though Sideswipe could feel his gaze resting on him.
It didn’t last. “Look at me,” Megatron told him again, and without ever wanting to, Sideswipe lifted his helm to meet his optics. There wasn’t anything in particular to read there, Megatron keeping his expression and field neutral.
If it had just been possible to catch even a glimpse of what went on in his helm and spark, not just his actions… Though his actions alone spoke plenty.
He was evil.
Sideswipe wanted to squeeze his optics shut so tight when Megatron started to rock again, but he knew he wasn’t allowed any amount of escape from the situation. He could’ve tried, but Megatron would’ve just warned him, and handed out consequences if he didn’t listen.
The pleasure built, and with it, the questions came back. Who was in him. What was his name. What was his title. What was he to him. Did he belong to him.
He answered like he was supposed to.
He was told to overload, and something was done to make him do just that.
Over and over. There were… So many overloads. Some almost hurt, some were pure ecstasy, but he could never deny the pleasure Megatron never once allowed to abate in him. Megatron overloaded quite a few times himself, too, at least proving that he was rather enjoying this.
Sideswipe wasn’t. His frame was, but Sideswipe wasn’t.
Who was ‘facing him. What was his name. Did he belong to him.
Yes.
And he was told to overload.
He didn’t offline again, Megatron didn’t drive him to that point. Maybe because he cooperated. There was no need to push him to his absolute limit, was there? He did what he was supposed to—either met Megatron’s optics, or stared at parts of Megatron fragging his valve. It was always either or.
He said all the right things, and still it just continued. He didn’t offline again, but he still needed long recharges between their… Sessions, so deep he couldn’t always even defrag during them. Megatron didn’t give him midgrade, just high grade, giving his systems that little extra boost that was always fully expended once Megatron was through with him. He never had the time to recharge his batteries fully, and still he was burning through more energon in the attempt than what he was intaking.
Whose spike was in him. Whose digits were in him.
Megatron’s, Megatron’s, Megatron’s.
Overload. Always he said that.
Even without counting the days he spent in recharge, the time Megatron kept him stretched to an orn, then orns. He was slagging… Provided with a datapad without connection to the datanet but with games and movies downloaded on it to keep himself occupied when Megatron wasn’t present. When Megatron was present, there was a pit of a lot of ‘facing, as usual. He helped Megatron wash quite a few times too, and got at least the worst of the mess of transfluid and lubricant off his groin when that happened.
But a new mess was always made right after.
He recharged a lot of the time Megatron wasn’t around, but though he didn’t want to, he also recharged many of the nights he spent next to the tyrant, on his berth. He didn’t want to, but pit, he was tired. Increasingly so without either adequate recharge or adequate energon compared to the amount Megatron was making him use.
Who was his mate.
Megatron.
Who was his master.
Megatron.
Who did he belong to.
Megatron.
“Overload.”
Orns. So many orns the exhaustion grew until it was nearly enough to make him straight up delirious. He didn’t feel like he ever woke fully anymore, but still there was the ‘facing, and still there were the answers, spoken automatically by now. He knew what Megatron wanted to hear. He delivered.
Megatron’s digits were thrusting in and out of Sideswipe’s valve, a process Sideswipe was watching without really registering what he was seeing. It was like a waking dream that–
“Does this feel good?” Megatron asked.
“Yes,” Sideswipe answered.
–That felt good. Pleasurable.
More days, until he was surprised he remained online at all. Somehow he did, and Megatron was fragging him again, his spike alternating its pace in ways that made it impossible for Sideswipe to tune it out even in his weariness. His hips were jerking into the thrusts in fitful motions, his gaze locked on Megatron’s, and if everything else was a little hazy and surreal, the burn of the tyrant’s optics was not. “Do you like me inside you?” Megatron asked him.
Sideswipe didn’t lie. “Yes.”
-------------------------------------------
He wasn’t even sure anymore. There were too many orns for him to care count them, and he was tired, and there was always more ‘facing, more overloads that were accompanied by the familiar order seconds before them.
There was one this time too. Megatron told him to overload, and at his next thrust, Sideswipe did, and Megatron did too, and his valve became an even bigger of a mess than it already was. He didn’t bother pushing himself up when Megatron pulled out and moved to the edge of the berth, sitting there to wipe himself clean.
He just wanted to recharge. If Megatron left, he’d have the perfect time to do that.
Things went a little aside from what had become the ordinary, though. “You’re dismissed,” Megatron said, glancing back at him. Sideswipe met his gaze, a little confused.
Megatron’s optics narrowed just so in what looked like amusement. “You can return to the harem.”
And with that, the tyrant got up and… Left.
Sideswipe lay there in proper daze for a while longer before the words really registered. Even once they did, he didn’t exactly leap at his sudden freedom. It was with an inordinate amount of effort that he closed his cover, gathered his heavy limbs and scooted to the edge of the berth, dropping down and predictably not staying on his pedes. He hadn’t needed to be up in a while anyway. Megatron had probably judged he would’ve been useless as a washing aid, and hadn’t asked for that, so… Here he was, not really sure he even remembered how to walk anymore. It didn’t help that his frame was still buzzing. Every sensor felt thrice too sensitive, pinging him with pleasant little zaps that did nothing for his concentration.
But no, he needed to focus. One pede under him first, then the other. Up. There. He could do this.
He followed along the wall the whole way to the berthroom door, using it as a support, then doing the same in the lounge, and the hallway after that. There was no sight of Megatron, not that he had expected there to be. He made it to the door undisturbed, and like it wouldn’t have in a long time, it now opened to him.
On the other side were the guards, but also Skywarp that Sideswipe recognized blearily. The Seeker had one look at him before snickering. “Had a good time?”
Slag no. “Spectacular,” Sideswipe croaked, one hand on the doorway and considering how the pit he was supposed to stay on his pedes if he took a step away from it.
Skywarp was there to help, though, and stepped over to wrap an arm about his waist. Sideswipe murmured a quiet thanks and heavily used the flier to prop himself up as they made their way back to the harem’s doors. “Sunstreaker’s been really worried without you there,” Skywarp said. Sideswipe registered the words after a delay and frowned once he did. “I’ve kept telling him to fuel and recharge and take care of himself, but you two really don’t do well apart.”
They kind of didn’t, did they? Sideswipe made some sort of sound of acknowledgment, and where he hadn’t really looked forward to a return to the harem as much as he had expected he would, he did begin to anticipate getting back to Sunstreaker. His brother probably wouldn’t even be as shiny as he was supposed to be, anymore. They’d need to fix that… Later. Once he’d fueled and recharged. And Sunstreaker too, from the sounds of it.
As was right, Sunstreaker was right on the other side of the harem wing’s doors once they opened. Sideswipe could see his irritable impatience at not being allowed to step outside the wing himself, but waited just until Sideswipe had stepped over the threshold with Skywarp before shoving a cube of midgrade into his servos and taking his weight off Skywarp. The Seeker left without a word, but did give them a smile with a flick of his wings as he parted.
Sunstreaker paid him no mind, but Sideswipe did, before he realized to wonder how Sunstreaker had known he’d need energon.
In answer Sunstreaker pulsed their spark, and… Apparently he wasn’t as withdrawn from his brother as he had thought he was.
“How much did you feel?” Sideswipe asked. He must’ve gotten too tired to keep from passing everything on at some point. Considering how long he’d been in a state of constant exhaustion, that could’ve been… A while ago.
His shoulders slumped, but Sunstreaker just caught his servos and used his hold to direct the cube to Sideswipe’s lips. “A lot,” his twin answered once Sideswipe took a big gulp of the warm liquid, his frame thanking him profusely for even that much. “We’ll sync later. You need recharge first.”
Sideswipe focused a bit further inward than just his half of them and took note of Sunstreaker’s own tiredness. He wasn’t really functioning at max capacity anymore, as Skywarp had suggested. “You too,” Sideswipe noted at that. Sunstreaker didn’t even try to deny it, just nodded.
Megatron could really… Stop separating them. At least for so long.
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Distance
a/n: hey there, felt like writing a lil angst again, it’s not too bad though :) again, tell me if you want a second part and if you want to get tagged (comment or sent an ask) ALSO not Tumblr deleting my post right after posting so here you go again.
masterlist
characters: Oikawa Tooru x fem!reader (but I try to keep it as gn as possible and avoid using female pronouns/ characteristics)
format: angst oneshot
warnings: angst, mentions of cheating
It’s so hard to look at your phone right now.
On screen you see the beautiful face of your boyfriend. His soft brown hair into his face, his eyes are closed, his mouth slightly open. He is shirtless and thanks to the light of his own phone you can make out parts of his toned arms.
But why is it hard to look at such a beautiful few?
Well, the fact that he lives across the world.
You just woke up and he just fall asleep.
Your fingers ghost over your screen, over the picture of his soft skin. How badly you wish to be with him right now, to be in his arms, to caress his cheek, to play with his hair, to feel his lips on yours again.
You mumble a soft “I love you.”, and end the call.
You missed him so badly, your heat arches every time you see him on your screen.
Forcing yourself out of the bed, you get dressed, putting on the beautiful necklace Oikawa gifted you on your first year anniversary and put your hair in a bun. Putting your laptop and Keyes you leave your home, heading to a small cafe, in hopes to finally start your essay.
Three pages later, someone sits down in front of you.
Looking up, you see Luca one of your classmates.
“Hey Y/N.“ He smiles brightly and places a new cup of coffee next to you laptop, “For you, I thought you need it.“ He smiles even more now. With a smile you thank him and take a sip of the coffee.
“Did you already finished the essay?“ You ask with a sigh looking at your document.
“Finished it last night.“ He laughs and adds: “Do you need some help?“ Thankfully you accept his offer.
A few coffees later, you finally click “Sent“ on your email browser and close the laptop.
“Thank you so much!“ You look up at him, your head resting on your closed laptop.
You never really looked at him. His skin is tanned, dark brown hair, which he is right now pushing backwards. His eyes are a beautiful golden color, dark long lashes, making them even more prominent. From the perspective you got, you can clearly see the muscles flex under his shirt, as he pushes his hair back, his prominent jawline perfectly displayed as he slightly tilts his head to the side. His full lips turn into a smile as he waves his hand in front of your face.
“Hey? Y/n? I was asking something.“ He laughs and you snap out of your thoughts. “Sorry..“ You mumble embarrassed.
“It’s fine, I was just asking if you want to grab something for dinner?“ He repeats and lightly scratches his neck.
“Yes sure!“ You smile and start packing your stuff. On your way out, your phone vibrates.
Looking at it, you smile seeing it was a video call from your boyfriend. Quick you throw your back over your shoulder and tell Luca that you have to get this call real quick.
“Hey sleeping beautyyy.“ You tease as soon as you see Oikawas face.
“Hey, I need to keep up with your beauty.“ He winks and you blush. Luca walking next to you chuckles. “Oh, are you busy love?“ Oikawa asks.
“No, I just finished my essay thanks to Luca, and we’re about to get something to eat now.“ You smile and move your phone, so Oikawa was able to see the male, walking next to you. Frowning his brows, he looks at the phone. “Ahhh, I’m glad you finally finished it.“ He forces a smile, “Love, I’m sorry but I have to hang up now, practice starts earlier today.“ He lies and after saying your goodbyes he immediately puts the phone away.
He really doesn’t want to be jealous, he knew he can trust you, but seeing some random guy, doing what he is supposed to do? Helping you with your essays, taking you out to dinner … he’s supposed to be that person. Opening the calendar app, he checks his schedule.
“Perfect“ he mumbles and opens google.
4 weeks later
The past weeks, yours and Oikawas Video chats got shorter and shorter, sometimes you even declined his call. You felt bad for it yes, but it was finals week and you spent all nighters all the time, together with Luca. The two of you got along really well and started spending more and more time together, growing pretty close.
He was always nice and helpful, not even complaining when you fell asleep on him while studying.
Today was the day of your last test, putting on one of the random hoodies, laying in your room, you hurry to your University, trying to call Oikawa, hoping to get some encouraging words from him, yet he didn’t pick up. “He probably is already asleep.“ You think and continue walking.
Still sad form not hearing your boyfriends voice that morning, you see Luca standing at the entrance of the University.
“Hey - wait Y/n? What’s wrong? You just have to pass this test, we don’t get any grades, don’t ne too nervous.“ He says trying to cheer you up.
“No… I’m not nervous, I’m just sad, my boyfriend didn’t pick up today.“ You sigh. Putting an arm around your shoulders, he responds: “Well, it’s his loss, not seeing your beautiful face before he sleeps.“ It was normal for him to say things like that. He knew you had a boyfriend and you just assumed, he’s just naturally flirty, just like you and well… Oikawa.
“I just try calling him later that day..“ You sigh and together you two enter your classroom, ready to end this hell of a week.
A few hours later
“FREEDOM!“ You laugh at Luca, while you two walk down the hallways of your University.
“Ayyy, there’s your beautiful smile again.“ He teases and pokes your nose. „I just miss him, that’s all.“ You sigh. Luca remains silent and continues walking. Just as you two walk out of the building, Luca a few steps ahead, he stops and spins around, standing right in front of you, grabbing your hands. You look up into his golden eyes, which seem to be glowing in the sunlight, but it wasn’t only the sunlight, there was a certain passion lighting them up.
“Luca? What are you doing?“ You ask confused.
“Y/n… I’m so sick to always see you sad. Shouldn’t he make more time for you? And pick up your calls? And come to visit you? Y/n… be honest with yourself, you aren’t made for a long distance relationship. You need physical contact, you need someone to hold you, to make you feel save, to make you feel wanted.“ He says and looks directly into your eyes.
You being to shiver under is gaze and feel tears well up.
Was it because what he said directly hit that weal point of yours? Triggering all the emotions you tried to ignore? Or was it the stress from the past weeks? It doesn’t matter now, you have to admit that he was right. The past months you always put on a mask. A mask to cover up the sadness that started spreading in your soul.
You loved Oikawa to death, yet there was this small dark part inside of your head asking if all of this was worth it. Was it worth staying up all those nights, just to talk to him and then fall asleep in class during the day? Sure he always said that you shouldn’t neglect your education for him, but you had to. You had to hear his voice, to see his face, to hear him say that he loves you. Especially when all you see over social media, was girls, even models, hitting on him, telling he’s their crush in interviews, seeing all those ships with him and certain models. Well especially one certain model. She was on the cover of the magazine of some famous brand and yes you stopped shopping there because you couldn’t see her face anymore. You knew you can trust him. It was him, bringing up this topic, telling you about his fears that at one point all those lies on the internet would get into your head. You promised it wouldn’t, yet here you are. In all honesty, you just needed to feel his touch again. It was easier to shut off those thoughts when they were occupied by his soft fingers caressing you. Deep down you knew Luca was right, you knew that this long distance relationship was fucking up your metal state, but it’s only until you finished University, you planned to move to Argentina so you’d be together again, or well he comes back to Japan.
Even from across the world, he was so loving and sweet. Waking up to a good morning text or his video call was a given at this point. Receiving random presents from him that suddenly appeared in your mail, receiving a bouquet of flowers, whenever he felt that you needed something to cheer you up. Sending you hand written love letters, that always made you tear up and which you kept in a box under your bed. He really did everything he could, being a perfect boyfriend. Your perfect boyfriend.
“Y/n… you can’t lie to me, I saw how you craved my touch.“ He underlines his words by softly running his fingers over your cheek, cupping your face, moving his tumb up and down, wiping away the small tears running down your face.
You feel exposed. You did enjoy the physical affection he gave you. His arm around you, leaning into his strong broad chest, having his fingers comb through your hair, his hugs, falling asleep and waking up in his arms… you really craved that. But you never craved that from him, you always wished it was Tooru, or did you?
You aren’t sure anymore. A few days ago, you had a dream, you were on a date with your boyfriend, Oikawa, but then he shifted into Luca and you can still feel your heart getting warmer when it shifted to him.
“Y/n… let me hep you erase the pain…“ he whispers and moves closer and closer to you until his lips touch yours.
It was a strange feeling.
His lips are smooth and soft, moving perfectly against yours.
He is gentle and careful, yet you can feel all the passion, he’s holding back at the moment, just waiting for you to fully accept the kiss.
The dark sadness inside of you begs to kiss back, to feel loved again, to feel wanted and desired.
But then there’s this sting inside your hear.
And the more seconds pass, the worse it gets.
This is wrong, you don’t want this.
You don’t want him.
You push Luca way and open your eyes.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see a male with soft brown hair, walking away from the University.
“Luca stop! You know that I love Oikawa! Stop taking advantage of me being vulnerable, I thought we’re friends…“ you scream whisper, tears full of ager and regret run down your cheeks now.
“But does he still love you?“ He asks smugly.
Looking at him, you you shake your head, why should he say that, there is no way Tooru would not love you anymore.
Puffing up your chest, you push him away again and start walking back home.
That night you tried calling Oikawa again, but he didn’t pick up.
Neither did he answer to any of your messages.
He still loves you.
He does.
Right?
tags: @writingfreakk @volley-simp ( I know you like him too soooo enjoy the tag lol) @saucysamu @shoyosun ( just because you knew of me writing this lol) @kenmasgameboy ( so you can read some soft angst while being sober lol)
#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu oneshot#oikawa imagine#oikawa headcanons#oikawa x reader#🔪
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Thomastair Week, Day 4: Song(s) Association
1)Fast Animals and Slow Kids, Canzoni Tristi (Sad Songs)
2)Fast Animals and Slow Kids, Non Potrei Mai (I Could Never)
The rhythm of these songs is special for me , and lately, when I listen to each one, I think about Thomastair. Each song resonate with Thomas and Alastair at the same time. Lyrics is in italian so I leave a translation. Plase forgive me for any error! I also put a link in case you wanted to listen them.
@youngreckless
1)Sad Songs
Now that I feel grownup
I should rest a little
But I unpack, I’d like to leave again
So I sleep even less
I race with morning
As if I was a fifteen years old on his first
Hangover
Who knows, up there,
What did you see, for not believing me an idiot
Who knows, if you
In such a hurry,
Could understand what I am saying,
I wish that these notes
You’d sing them in the shower
my words to be drops on your neck
I’d like, just for once, hear you whisper
These sad songs of mine, like when you sing
At sea
They have taught me to bend over backwards and now they are all
From the old man that gets pissed to the child who wants to sleep
From the one who does not speak to the one who does not how to hear
The fellow that stresses you if you don’t quit smoking
Who knows up there,
Into my head
What did you see for not believing me an idiot
Who knows, if you
In such a hurry
Could understand what I'm saying,
I wish that these notes
You ’d sing them in the shower,
For my words to be drops on you neck
I'd like, just for once, hear you whisper
These sad songs of mine, like when you sing at
Sea
I wish that these notes
You ’d sing them in the shower,
For my words to be drops on you neck
I'd like, just for once, hear you whisper
These sad songs of mine, like when you sing at
sea
You know,
For many years
I thought it was alternative do punk
But today
I’m thirty years old
I’d just wish to say what I want
I know, it'll seem strange to you
But after all this is my new freedom
I wish that these notes
You ’d sing them in the shower,
For my words to be drops on you neck
I'd like, just for once, hear you whisper
These sad songs of mine, like when you sing at
sea
I whish that these notes
You ’d sing them in the shower,
For my words to be drops on you neck
I'd like, just for once, hear you whisper
These sad songs of mine, like when you sing at
sea
2) I Could Never
If there's a part of you
That makes me feel right
Of course you'll understand
That I could not, could never
Forget about you
Just because you pray me
Not to see you ever again
I could not, could never
I still have a heart for you
To make you consume
Then you take the rest that’s left
I would not use it if you are not there
What do you have to cry, for me
If you make me feel right
You feel at fault for us
But I am not hearing you
When the sun goes down
How many fears
I want to forget that it hurts
But you don’t want
There's a castaway in the sea, to be rescued
You want to forget that it hurts
But you don’t want
There's a castaway in the sea, to be rescued with you
I wish to know why
You tell me you are fine
I know before you do
But I could not, I could never
See you alone with him
How could it make me feel?
You look in the dumps and you don’t know
That is there that I would like to disappear
You tell me you leave
And then you really do it
I pick up pieces of you
That you leave on the path
When the sun goes down
How many fears
You want to forget that it hurts
But you don’t want
There's a castaway in the sea, to be rescued
You want to forget that it hurts
But you don’t want
There's a castaway in the sea, to be rescued with you
And is gone
But maybe it makes no difference
You find me below
If you come searching for me
You are gone
And maybe is better now
You find me below
Where I must remain for you
#thomastair week#thomastair#alastair carstairs#thomas lightwood#fast animals and slow kids#the shadowhunters codex#thomas x alastair#canzoni tristi#Spotify
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Pseudo Princess Pt.23
Worry Wart
01/14/2020
Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 6,494
Warnings: Language, fluff, angst
A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter. It was such a struggle to write with all my styes these past two weeks, but I’m better now, hopefully for an extended period of time, please! Thank you, Universe! If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!
“Your Majesty, you must calm down. This isn’t good for the child.” Nat’s hand hasn’t stopped stroking your back, gentle circles to soothe your sorrow.
“He h-hasn’t opened his eyes in three days.” You sob, unable to stop crying. When you aren’t crying, you’re pacing. When you aren’t pacing, you’re sitting at his side, stroking his hand. Full of anxiety.
“He’ll be alright, Y/N. I promise you.” Nat says.
“She’s right.” Bucky interjects. “He’s come back from worse.”
You look at Bucky then look at Nat. Behind Bucky is Sam, who sits looking almost as forlorn as you do and definitely more worried about Steve than Nat and Bucky seem to be.
“I never get used to it either.” Sam tells you, holding your gaze as you watch him lean forward, elbows on his knees.
He’s left the tie at the neck of his white linen shirt undone. No tunic, untucked. He’s been just as stressed as you have.
Your lip trembles.
“He does get better.” Sam assures you, nodding. Solemn and honest. He means what he says.
“He lost so much blood.” You whisper, voice weak and tired.
Sam blinks slowly. Knowing that there isn’t much that will calm you.
“Peter got him help in time. You stitching him up was a good idea.” He nods, impressed with you again as he had been when Peter had recounted your instincts for him.
“You should have seen her. By the time I got here, she was already cleaning his wound and when I came back with the doctor, she’d already stitched up one side of his injury. His back the doctor did.”
Why anyone would be impressed with such terrible work…Your hands had been covered in his blood. He’d been so pale.
You turn to look at Steve, shunning their praise because the only thing that matters is that he isn’t awake. His breathing is so unsteady. He’s so…how can someone so strong look so frail?
You take hold of his left hand with your own two, clutching him tightly before pressing it to your brow as you shut your eyes and try to take a breath.
“Please…Please, wake up for me, my love.” You kiss it then rest your cheek against it. You lay your head there, feeling him beneath you. He’s warm now at least. Wrapped in blankets and the fire burning bright.
You’re sweating but you don’t care. Bucky looks just as uncomfortable with the heat as Sam but he’s not sweating like you, Nat, and Sam.
Suddenly you realize that something is different about these two childhood friends. Steve and Bucky…there’s something more to them.
The wound below Steve’s breast would have killed any other man. You’re sure. You’ve seen wounds like it before. A sword. All the way through. In one side, out through the other.
He should be dead.
You sob.
Nat's soothing increases in pace. Bucky sighs heavily.
“Have you eaten?” Bucky asks, and you scoff, almost angry.
“I can’t eat right now.” You force yourself to focus the irritation inwardly.
He’s only worried for you. It’s kind.
“You should eat something.” Bucky insists. “When Steve wakes up, he won’t be happy that you did not take better care of yourself.”
He’s right of course…and…you appreciate very much that he said when Steve wakes up and not if.
Nat seems to know when you relent as she quickly sweeps to the cord by the hearth and pulls it. In the distance you imagine there’s probably a bell being rung. As you wait, Nat moves back to stand beside you, stroking your shoulder gently.
“How about a bath after you’ve lunched?” She probes.
You want to say no, but Bucky’s word ring in your ears still.
You nod.
“I know you’re worried, Y/N. But you can’t stop taking care of yourself. With Steve like this, the Kingdom turns to you for its strength.” She caresses the back of your head, smiling down at you softly when you meet her gaze with a furrowed brow.
You hadn’t even thought of that. If something should happen—it won’t!—then you will be Queen of Broklin, alone. No King. You will be expected to take control.
“Me?” You gasp, squeaking the word as untold pressures begin to settle on your shoulders.
Terrified, you get up, still clutching Steve’s hand when a sharp pain in your stomach has you hissing and doubling over.
“Your Majesty!” Bucky exclaims.
“Y/N!” Sam and Nat cry.
All three of them hurry to your side. Nat wraps one arm around your waist to support you.
“Alright. That is enough. You are taking a break from his bedside.” Nat chastises.
“No.” You gasp, holding your lower belly with one hand, fingers stroking the thick pale gray linen of your dress that surrounds your stomach.
“You’re sweating.” Nat observes. “You’re overstressing yourself.”
“Natasha is right.” Sam agrees. “A break is just what you need.”
“No!” You say more firmly.
It’s the first time you dare use your authority as Queen with them, but you mean it and it rings stern in your voice. It does what you need it to. They quiet and listen.
“I won’t leave his side.” You insist. “I’m sweating because this dress is too hot.”
You look at the caped sleeves, lined with snowy white weasel fur. The purfelle around the square neckline, the slits on its side. It’s a lot of warmth in addition to the fire still blazing that you refuse to put out. Steve's usual temperature is still not right.
“Shall I fetch you a new one?” Nat asks, eager to help.
You sigh, so tired of the fussing but also simply frustrated with Steve’s condition. You’re so…
As you look at her, you sway, hand still clutching your tummy.
“Your Majesty?” Bucky checks, reaching out for you too now.
“Nat…” You manage to whisper as the heat overcomes you and you slump backwards into her arms.
Bucky is there too, helping her support you.
You can still hear them and you’re not unconscious. Just dizzy and so exhausted. You’ve slept two hours today and maybe another two the night before.
Suddenly, you’re weightless.
“Put her on the bed beside him.” You can hear Nat saying.
Gently you’re lowered, soft mattress embraces you.
“I’m fine.” You say, weak but strong enough that your assurance helps temper their worry. “Just…I need to eat.”
Being off your feet helps and you begin to feel normal again. Just sleepy.
“Your food is on its way.” Nat nods. “And we’ll get you out of this dress.”
“Have you got her?” Bucky checks.
“Yes. But send for Grandmother. Just in case.”
Bucky nods. “I’ll send one of the squires. Oh, and the doctor will be here in two days. The council has settled on one and-”
Nat shakes her head. Frowning a little at her intended. “Not now. She has enough to worry about.”
“What?” You ask confused. “Wait, what doctor? I told you, I’m fine.”
“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’ll discuss it when you’ve had some rest. Let me get the back of your dress.” Nat promises and helps you sit up.
Sam and Bucky leave, a young maid brings you a tray of meat pies and tarts, leaving them on the small table you and Steve had been eating on the past two weeks when the two of you refused to leave it.
As soon as the dress is removed, you breathe in deeply, your skin pimpling from the rush of fresh air.
“Better?” Nat asks, helping you strip.
You nod.
“Good. I’ll get your nightdress. You’re not leaving this bed until tomorrow.” She frowns, looking at your hand still somehow clutching at your bare belly now that she’s taken your dress and undergarments.
“Does it still hurt?” She asks, eyeing your hand as she pulls out a long cotton gown with a ruffled neckline that will fit loosely around your shoulders and cinched sleeves at the wrist, more ruffles laced with pale blue ribbons.
“No.” You rub your tummy, hoping the pain was really only induced by stress. “We’re alright.”
“You’re lucky Steve isn’t awake. He would be going mad with worry at any sign of distress in your pregnancy.” Nat sighs.
“I know.” You nod, holding out your arms as Nat comes with your gown ready for wearing.
Outside the wind whistles, thrashing the cottage’s stone walls violently. A cold breeze seeps through the cracks that you cannot see, and the room drops in temperature for a moment.
Nat quickly pulls down your gown then hurries to stoke the fire as it shifts with the burst of wind.
“If it goes out, ring for a servant to come and remake your fire. You cannot be in here without one. This cottage is old and can get very cold very fast.” She explains.
“He’s still so cold.” You worry, reaching over to take Steve’s right hand. “For how he normally feels.”
“Y/N…” Nat begins, sitting on your bedside as she reaches to remove your hand from his so that she can hold both of yours in her own. “I promise you-”
She ducks her head, trying to grab your attention and when you finally meet her eyes, she smiles.
“-I swear, he will pull through this. You were very smart to think on your feet, but Bucky is right. Steve has come back from much worse.”
You frown. “Why didn’t he tell me he was the Freedom Knight?”
“The Captain, actually.” Nat corrects you. “I know that the common folk have taken to calling him the Freedom Knight, but he prefers the Captain.”
Your mind is suddenly in a frenzy as you connect countless stories that you’d heard in your village about The Captain and the Freedom Knight. Both thought to be separate entities all rolled into one. He’s saved so many people, so many villages. Done amazing things and at times taken excruciating beating all in the name of those he protects.
“All of that was Steve?” You gasp, turning your eyes back on your husband.
“It’s unusual for a king to be so modest.” Nat nods. “Your father is more like what Steve would be expected to be.”
Your father, the Iron Man as he too prefers to be called instead of the Iron Knight as many you’d known had called him, is indeed the very type of King that is unabashedly brazen of his accomplishments.
“I didn’t know.” You whisper, reaching over to take his hand again.
“And he wanted it that way. But he was going to tell you. He wanted a little more time with you where he was only Steven Rogers, King of Broklin.” Nat explains.
“Did he think I would be angry? Disappointed? Impressed?” You ask, feeling hurt that he’d kept it from you after you’d exposed your true identity right away after you began to grow close.
“I think he was worried that you might see him differently. There is more to his story that he will have to tell you himself.” Nat moves to grab you a plate of food, serving a small amount first to see if you’ll be able to keep it down.
She knows you so well.
When she sits back down, you’re clinging to Steve’s hand harder.
“It only makes me love him more. And worry more.” You sigh.
“As I told him you would. Perhaps that’s also why he hesitated?”
She holds out a fork, fancy with a twisted handle, and you take it. Eating is slow. You’re wary too, in case your sickness should come back and you can’t keep the food down, but you find yourself devouring it instead.
You finish everything, including the crumbs left from your tarts.
Nat watches you proudly. Happy to see you eat so well.
The food makes you feel better and with that need met, you can focus on Steve more easily.
“I will let you rest. If you need me, I will be nearby.” Nat assures you, taking your plate back to its tray and taking the tray with her as she leaves. “Might I ask a favor, your Majesty?”
She turns to look at you from the door as you lay yourself back down beside Steve, eyes glue to his face which as slowly regained a bit of color.
“Of course, Nat. Anything.” You look for her, resting on your elbow as you rub your belly with your other hand, fearful of the pain you’d felt before.
“Will you let him tell you? About being the Captain and why he didn’t tell you? I’d hate to rob him of that when he’s been desperate to tell you but fearful as well.” She genuinely looks worried to have stepped on his toes.
You nod. “Of course. I want to hear it from him anyway.”
Nat smiles and gives you a quick curtsy, then leaves you alone with Steve.
Settling under the thinner blanket you’d left for yourself in favor of wrapping up Steve in the thicker ones to keep him warm, you edge yourself closer to him. Carefully you lift his right arm over your shoulders and settle it over you, nestling into the space beneath his arm. With one hand on your tummy and the other clinging to his blanket, you shut your eyes and listen for the steady beat of his heart.
It sounds strong again and that gives you hope that soon you’ll have your husband back and he can yell at you for neglecting yourself because you’d rather he be angry with you than to have him like this, unmoving, unspeaking, and unconscious.
~~~~~~~~~~
Hot. It’s hot.
Steve is hot. He’s sweating. And he rarely sweats.
He shifts, and a dull pain just beneath his left breast freezes his movement. He groans.
As he makes noise, to his right there is a tremble.
Startled he tries to sit up, pushing through the pain and lifting his right arm as his mind simultaneously catches up with where he is and why he’s hurting. On his right, the trembling thing is you.
You’re curled up, tucked into his side, your body shivering. The fire has gone out and although he is hot, wrapped up in what feels like several thick winter blankets, you are barely covered by one singular much thinner sheet.
Suddenly frenzied, he hurries to extricate himself, kicking and shifting with disregard to his wound.
The movement startles you and Steve stops moving as you spring up and push him down by his shoulders. You can’t overpower him, but he lays still for you.
“Stop. No.” You order him groggily.
Then you shiver.
“You’re cold.” Steve says, his voice surprisingly smooth. He feels as if he’s been sleeping for a while.
“Please desist. You’ll injure yourself.”
“But-“
“Hush!” You nearly yell at him, a look of slight annoyance on your face for a moment.
He goes still, watching as you tuck him back in.
“I’m sweating.” Steve fights, frowning as your skin pimples.
You look up at him and reach out to touch his cheek with the back of your hand.
Steve leans into it on instinct, missing your touch after being away from you for nearly two days.
Your beautiful lips part in a sigh and you loosen his blankets before yanking them back completely. After you gather them at the foot of the bed, you hurry off the bed and race to the fire. Stoking it, Steve hears a hiss and crackle.
You’re visibly shaking, and he hates it.
“Come back to bed. I will stoke the fire.” Steve reasons.
“Steven Rogers, if you get off that bed, I swear…” You threaten, leaving it open for him to interpret.
The worst thing he can think of is that you’ll leave him to sleep alone again. He doesn’t want that. So, he settles back in and watches you struggle with wood and pile it on. It takes you a few minutes of gentle grunts before the fire is filling the room with heat once more.
He smiles as you place the poker back then his heart nearly stops as you gasp with pain. You fall forward slightly, your hand placed on the stone mantel.
Your threats be damned. His wife is in pain?!
Silently he’s beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist as his other takes hold of your hand to support you as he takes you back to bed.
“Why are you out of bed?” You gasp, glaring up at him with an unyielding anxiety.
Steve is sure you see the same expression on his face.
“Are you in pain?” He asks, turning you around to sit you down. “Lay back, here.”
He quickly helps you get your legs up and then pulls one of the larger blankets from his side over to you to wrap you up.
“Is that better?” He checks, tucking your legs in.
“Steve…” You sigh. “Please, please get back in bed. You’re not healed yet. You lost so much blood.”
Steve hates to see that grief in your eyes. He sits beside your hip, reaching up to caress your cheek.
“I’m alright, my love.” He smiles at you, stroking your chin before he leans in towards you.
You pull back, and the gesture is so unfamiliar after two weeks of constant affection, relished touches, tempting kisses…you pull away from him and his heart stutters.
“You cut was deep.” You shake your head. “You can’t be alright.”
Steve’s expression firms, a look of serious contemplation before he reaches down to pull up at the bottom of his shirt. He lifts it until he exposes what is now just a bright red scar. The skin still looks a little thin, but it cannot be reopened.
He watches you reach forward, gentle fingers stroking the shape of the harsh line.
“It will fade by the morning.” He says, and watches as your eyes dance up to meet his.
“How?” You wonder, sounding more curious than terrified which gives him hope that you might still see him as he is.
Steve takes your hand but then thinks better of it and scoots closer, placing his hands on your stomach.
“You’re in pain?” He worries, looking up at you as you lean back against the padded headboard.
He likes that. He likes you relaxed.
“No.” You shake your head.
Frowning at you, he sees a sparkle of that ease that he’s grown used to in the past two weeks. A small curve at the corners of your lips. He’s missed you so much. He wants to kiss you.
He won’t just yet.
“I’m not.” You assure him. “At the moment.”
“Then when?” Steve probes.
“I…Earlier this morning. And just now. I’ve been fine otherwise.” Your sincerity is true, but it also rings with your urging to calm him.
Steve’s frown deepens. He looks down at your belly and shakes his head. “Is this my fault?”
“No!” You deny it, though he knows it’s true.
“I shouldn’t have gone.” He sighs. “I should have sent Bucky and Sam. I’m hurting you.”
“Steve, no.” You assert, stern. “You’re not hurting me. Don’t say that.”
“Well, I’m sending for the old woman.” Steve moves to get up but you quickly grab hold of his sleeves and you pull him back down onto the bed.
He doesn’t dare pull away from your gentle grip.
“She’s already been sent for.” You promise him and he can see that you’re not lying.
“Tell me what you need.” He renews one hand to your tummy while the other reaches for your bicep to caress your arm.
You seem to consider your options for a bit before you reach down to your left to untuck your legs. You flip the blanket over them exposing the mattress beside you.
“Come keep me warm.” You tell him, and then visibly shiver as the heat from being wrapped up escapes.
Steve springs up and moves around to his side of the bed. He slides in, and you’re already in his arms by the time he settles in.
He wraps you both up with the blanket and feels you nestle into the heat of his chest. Your hands are freezing he notices, and he places his own over them as you settle them against his shoulder and then tuck your head into the crook of his neck.
That cold hand wanders down towards his scarred wound, feeling the puckered skin, still soft from healing. He doesn’t pull away because as cold as your touch is, it’s home.
“I was scared.” You admit, and Steve can hear the fear.
Is it stress? Is that why your stomach hurt? What if he’s hurt the baby by leaving you and coming back to you as he did?
“I’m sorry, my flower.” He sighs. “I did not think about what my turning up as I did would do to your condition. Forgive me.”
You’re so quiet, but you’re still stroking the remnants of his wound. He can feel you press yourself closer.
“Do you really feel better?” You ask him, tilting your head back to look up at him.
“Much.” He nods. “I promise.”
You search his eyes, seeking truth and you find it. You smile up at him, filling his heart with light and he leans down to kiss your lips because you’re his and you’re in his arms again. He’d fought hard to get back home to you.
Both of you.
His hand finds its way back to your stomach as you pull back and rest your head against his chest again.
“Your heart sounds stronger.” You observe, and Steve feels worse.
“How long was I unconscious?” He wonders, worried about the amount of stress he’s had you under for it to bring you pain.
You don’t answer at first and Steve can sense your hesitation.
“Y/N?” He urges you.
“Three days.” You swallow hard.
“Shit.” He doesn’t mean to swear in front of you, but whereas Maggie might have chastised him for his cursing, you look up at him again, just watching.
“I stitched you up and when the doctor arrived, he cleansed your wounds and finished sealing them. Then I washed you and Peter helped me lay you in bed. I kept you warm and the fire hot. I fed you soup…when you were awake enough to take it, which wasn’t often. I laid with you and cleansed your wound and…I couldn’t sleep.” You shake your head, ashamed of yourself it looks like to Steve.
You place your hand over his and he frowns at the way you caress it but also the upset on your expression.
“I’m sorry.” You whisper. “To both you and our little one. I should have taken better care of myself while I nursed you, but I was so terrified for you. You were so pale, and you lost so much blood. And we only just grew close. To lose you now-?”
“You won’t lose me.” Steve cuts you off, deterring those thoughts as soon as they begin to form.
“Bucky said I should not worry. He assured me that you have recovered from worse…but Sam and I were worried.” Steve laments the sigh that parts your lips, the relief that’s flooding your person that he can hear in the tone of your voice, it makes him regret leaving you laying here.
You’d been a vision. Naked, perfect, with silk sheets wrapped around your sticky body. And he’d left you voluntarily only to return to you to sleep for three days as his body healed.
The fear you must have felt…
“I’m so sorry, my flower.” His arms feel right with you in them. He squeezes you lightly, enjoying the feel of you cuddled against his chest.
Every curve of your body is magnificent, and his hands explore it with agony at the thought of you in distress.
You smell so good, peonies with a hint of that sweat smell he’d grown to love as he’d ravished your body the past two weeks.
Your still frozen fingers tracing the shape of his scar, etching luscious patterns against his heated skin.
It begins to slow, but your touch is invigorating, and he’s missed you…and your body. He wants to see you and hold you, kiss you.
“Y/N…” He whispers, pressing his lips to the top of your head before turning to look down and meet your eyes as your hand stops moving against his side.
The world seems to stop, all of time means nothing as he watches the tension leave your face, your lips part, your eyes are completely shut, and sleep takes you.
Your breathing grows heavy and as your body grows slack in his arms, he tightens his hold even more to hold you up against him. You whimper but then you nuzzle his chest and lay still.
With his heart soaring, Steve lays himself back down. He supports you until both of you are settled against your mess of pillows then lets your body’s weight fall on him and the mattress itself.
You relax. You sleep. Steve cherishes this moment and watches you until sleep takes him once more.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Where are we going?” Your heart is in a frantic pitter patter.
When you woke up this morning, Steve was gone.
You’d scrambled up from your bed, frantically throwing your luxurious woolen robe on, and bolted for the door.
It had opened as you reached it to find Steve holding a tray of delicious breads and jams. Specifically made for you to suit your most recent cravings.
He’d smiled down at you, amused by the look of your hair and the shock in your eyes as you tumbled against his chest.
He’d wrapped his arm around your waist to catch you and chuckled beautifully as you gasped in surprise.
The two of you had spent the morning sitting in front of the fire, on the floor among a poof of large pillows and a thick bear skin rug.
It was a dream of course, as every day with Steve has been since the moment he decided to accept you as his wife. To love you as you’d always hoped he would.
It was all the more precious after the scared he’d given you, coming home all bloody.
You’d refused to make love to him despite his wandering hands.
“You need to rest.” You’d said.
And Steve had rolled you onto your back and settled over you as your hand traced the shape of his scar, already faded to the same shade of peach as the rest of his skin. Completely healed.
He’d kissed you until your lungs ached and then laid his head on your chest and fell asleep for a few hours more when you didn’t cave to his desire for you.
Now he’s got you by the hand, dragging you from the chilly halls of the cottage out into the expansive frozen gardens behind it.
The ground is covered in a thick blanket of snow, and you’re struggling to walk through it, tugging your red cloak up out of the ice diamond mulch.
“Shall I carry you?” Steve teases you, and you look up to find him grinning at you fondly.
“No.” You frown at him. “Keep your hands to yourself, your Majesty, or I will move into my own room.”
Why won’t he just rest?!
“You should be in bed.” You continue to chastise him. Irked by the amusement on his face.
“I’m all better. I promise. Here, give me your other hand.” He offers it to you and waits until you take hold of them before he pulls you to him swiftly.
He chuckles at the surprise in your expression, but lifts you easily, holding you around your waist until he’s moved to a trodden path and sets you down.
There’s the sound of cobble beneath your feet as you regain your balance.
Steve takes your right arm and wraps it around his left elbow to help support you as he pulls you along down the path.
You’re frowning at him however, staring at him with subdued fury.
He meets your gaze, then throws his head back in laughter.
“I’m alright, my flower. I promise.” He unwraps your arm only to wrap his own around your shoulders and pull you into his side to cuddle you closer. A squeeze of reassurance given. “I’m all better.”
Your mind is struggling to wrap itself around that speedy recovery. The scar already looks months old. Faded, with the skin hardly raised, like the others on his chest. How many of those had been stab wounds?
Pouting, you look forward but don’t pull out of his embrace. He’s still running at a hotter temperature than you are, and in this freeze, it is appreciated.
All of the blooms that you pass, the shrubs, and topiary are covered in a thin layer of ice. The fountain’s water frozen, and the small pavilion that has been set up at the back right corner of the large garden is piled in white from the storm.
The sky is gray, overcast, as more snow threatens to fall. It’s almost assured to come. The cottage will be absolutely buried once again and there will be no leaving for several weeks.
“Where are we going?” You grumble, still a little worried.
“Y/N…” Steve says, his voice so soft that you search for his face instinctively. “Please believe me when I say that I am alright. I understand your concern, but it depresses me to have you upset with me.”
Your mind fogs over. Steve sad?
That’s not what you want.
“I’m sorry, I just…I don’t understand.” You admit, giving in and settle under his arm in a more relaxed gait.
“I know.” Steve nods. “And that’s where I’m taking you. To explain.”
“Explain?” You keep your gaze on him.
“It’s not much further. Are you cold? Should I give you my cloak?” He worries.
“I’m alright.” You assure him.
He moves a little faster, eager to get you out of the cold, probably.
When he begins to slow as the garden splits into a grove of tall frosty pines, you see that he’s been bringing you to what looks like a small shed. The stone is crumbling, and the wood looks rotten.
Steve frowns as he stares at it, stopping only a few feet away from the blackened and splintering door.
“What’s the matter?” You ask, looking from his look of disapproval back to the shed.
“The shack, it’s falling apart.” Steve says. “They should have restored it long ago. We’ll have to tear it down and build a new one.”
You’re still not sure what he disapproves of.
“I was going to take you in, but not in this state. I won’t risk you and our little one. Wait here for me. I’ll only be a moment.” He tells you, then strides towards the shed.
As he swings the door open, the top half comes off the hinge and Steve catches it before it can completely topple.
He grabs the door from the sides and looks back at you, uncertain for bit, until he seems to make up his mind and with minimal effort, he yanks the door away.
There’s a clatter as the hinge falls onto the small cobble step. Steve sets the door to the side of the doorway, and with flushed cheeks, he looks at you once more and the shocked expression you must be wearing.
You knew that Steve was strong but…tearing doors off their hinges?
Perhaps it’s just that old?
He disappears into the dark mouth of the shed and every moment you stand there without him feels colder than the last.
You’re not sure it’s really getting colder or if you just miss his heat or just him in general, but then the wind picks up and whips your cloak around the black and blue velvet gown beneath. The storm must be coming sooner than expected.
“Steve?” You call out, drawing the cloak around yourself tighter.
In response, you hear a strange rumble and a creak. The sound moves closer and closer to the doorway until through it breaks what looks to be a wooden seat sat upon two large wheels at the front and a slightly smaller one at the back.
The seat looks like any other. Older, with navy cushions torn and moth eaten, but just like the chairs that sit around the cottage dining table. The wood of the chair is sturdier than that of the shed because it looks much newer, although, it has been kept in doors so that could only have helped.
You look up at Steve as he stops pushing it a few feet away from you. He stands beside it, one hand on the back, then meets your eyes to read your reaction.
“What’s this?” You ask him, unsure how to behave.
“This is…my past.” Steve explains. “As a boy, I was confined to this chair until around the age of eight. My spine was twisted. My lungs were underdeveloped. My skin had a constant rash. I had the sweating sickness about four times. I couldn’t run or overexert myself, as my heart would beat so fast that it began to hurt. More often than not, I was ill. I think I can remember only a handful of days where I was fine to be out on my own, with Bucky playing games. This chair…was my life.”
You stare at the seat, trying to picture your husband—strong, tall, capable, no sign of ailments at all—as the sick child who rode around this chair. It’s almost impossible.
“What happened?” You ask him, turning to meet his hesitant gaze.
“Just as I turned eight, I caught the sweating sickness again. This time, it came for me. I was almost dead when my mother, in her desperation, sought help from a warlock. A doctor, or so he called himself.
“He gave my mother the truths, that he might be able to save me and make me invulnerable to all future sickness, give me accelerated healing, strength that she could not possibly imagine…but that there was also a chance that I could very well die as my body underwent the process.
“Weak as I was, he assured her that the likelihood of my death was high.” Steve lapses into silence, thinking. About his mother?
“She took the chance.” You tell him, because here he is, standing before you a specimen of perfection.
Steve snaps out of his thought and nods. “Yes. She figured that I could either die of my illness or the next or die anyway but have the chance to rid my body of its weaknesses and live. Clearly it worked.”
“So, when he cured you…?” You begin.
“I became a whole new person. I could run and play. I was able to truly live. As I grew older and I realized that there were things I could do with this gift bestowed upon me, I created the Captain and set out to do what I could to rid my father of the threats to his kingdom. Mainly that meant Hydra.
“Bucky, Margaret, Sharon…they were all within my circle and my closest of friends. Naturally they gravitated towards the same agenda. And through this endeavor of mine, I met others like me. Some were gifted their abilities. Some stumbled upon them. Some were forced into it. But all of us wanted the same thing.
“To fight for those who could not fight for themselves. There were six of us to start with. Your father, the Iron Man.” Steve pauses, thinking this through quickly, calculating the look of intense concentration on your face. “Myself. Bruce, or rather, Doctor Banner, who you met briefly back home.”
“What can Doctor Banner do?” You wonder, remembering the handsome but somewhat reserved man who’d emerged from the council room after your encounter with Sharon.
“Bruce was one of those who accidentally came upon his gift. He was in a foreign country assisting in the research of an abandoned village. There was a flash of green light, and from what he says happened, it appears he stumbled upon a few old traps laid by a witch and he was cursed.
“Whenever he grows angry, he loses control and transforms into what he calls the Hulk. Some who have sighted him in this form have referred to him as the Green Monster.” Steve explains.
“That is Doctor Banner?!” You reply, shocked by this revelation.
Steve only nods. “Then there’s Thor, the God of Thunder.”
“Wait…God of Thunder?!” You gasp.
“Did he not tell you?” Steve’s brow puckers in confusion.
You’d known that Thor was a King but a God? You shake your head.
“Typical.” Steve gripes. “Then there’s Lord Barton, who was a spy before he joined us, and a master archer. Though, he has retired and is living in peace with his wife and children.
“And lastly, there was Natasha.” This seems to be the name that Steve was worried about telling you because he tenses, hand gripping the back of the seat.
“My Nat?!” You clarify. Steve nods. “What-?”
“She was also a spy. Trained from childhood. Conditioned to be a certain way…I don’t feel it’s right for me to tell you her story, but she’s been working hard for many years to pay a debt she feels obligated to pay. She’s a master warrior. I don’t know any other human woman who can fight the way she can.” Steve sounds proud. Protective of Nat.
Does he think you’ll be angry at her or see her differently?
Well, you can’t see her the exact same way. But you see nothing wrong. Just a little shocking.
“S-so the six of you formed a team?” You ask, remembering the word floating around somewhere though you can’t quite remember where you got it.
“The Avengers.” Steve nods. “Sharon and Maggie were not part of that particular group, but they were heavily involved.”
As the wind picks up again, you drift into thought, trying to see these people, these friends as saviors of the world.
Nat…you’ll need to talk to Nat. But first…
“Y/N?” Steve checks, visibly nervous as he shifts from foot to foot, gripping the back of his old chair so tight it’s beginning to crack under his weight.
You meet his storm blue eyes as he searches your own.
Only one thing could matter more than Nat or anything that Steve just told you.
“What does this mean for our baby?” You ask him, reaching down to place your hand over the small hidden bump. “Will he be like you before you were cured…or after?”
Slowly, fear begins to take root in Steve’s eyes. Will your baby be strong? Or will you suffer the same fate as his mother and be forced to choose between the chance of death and certain death for you little one?
#king!steve x reader#king!steve x you#steve rogers x reader#king!steve rogers x reader#medieval au#royalty au#arranged marriage au#marvel fanfiction#mcu fanfiction#avengers x reader#captain america x reader#medieval fantasy au#pseudo princess#pseudo princess pt23
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Diavolo - Empty
Pro tip: go on youtube. Search "creepy ambiance music". Click on "NECROMANCY" by Horror Music World.
You are now in anxiety mode. Survive.
TW: Mentions of suicide, self harm and you know... Toxic relationships. It's Yandere, you know what to expect.
"I have to go get some food and water, okay? I'll be gone for about an hour." He leaned down and pressed his lips against your forehead in a gentle kiss. "I'll hurry, so behave."
You didn't say anything and watched him as he hesitated to move his gaze away from you. He slowly turned around and opened the door, taking his sweet time.
'Just leave already.'
You weren't at peace even when he closed the door, locking every single one of the seven locks he installed on the door. A tight security system to prevent you from fleeing.
The apartment was so dead silent you could hear his footsteps from outside hitting the stairs as he walked down.
So silent. Deafening. So lonely. Even the sheer sounds of your breathing and heartbeat were loud and infuriating to you.
God, so damn infuriating.
You clenched your fists, barely feeling anything from it, rage and anxiety building inside you.
'No detail escaped him, huh?', You thought to yourself. He even cut your nails so short, you couldn't inflict the slightest damage from trying to dig them into your skin.
What a smart man.
What a smart bastard.
Everything was so miserable. You stood in the middle of the living room, staring daggers, not even sharp ones, into the void. You rathered not look at anything, for the sake of your own sanity.
Anything in this place could trigger a mental breakdown from you. Who knew what you could do if your eyes fell on those picture frames of you and him? Or those unwithering flowers on the table? Or even just the books he loved so much resting on the shelves?
Everything here reminded you of him. Of what he did to you. How he had stripped you of your freedom, your dignity...
Your will to live.
Yes. Today you would take your freedom back. Today, you would spread your wings and fly. Away from him. Away from this.
The thought itself brought a smile to yourself. Oh you couldn't wait. You chuckled a, what in other circumstances, would be a cute bubbly laugh, but here, seemed more crazed and unnerved than anything.
Oh you couldn't wait to end this.
Your head twitched towards the kitchen, hope sparkling weakly again inside you. Gone for an hour? That should be enough.
You walked towards the kitchen and looked around. Knives, knives... Where did he keep the knives? It's not like you knew the kitchen all that much, he barely let you roam the house much.
The counter and cupboards were all empty. Everything was empty. Even the fridge contained so little, you even wondered how the hell did he even manage to cook meals for the two of you. Did he even cook for the two of you? Where did the food come from? Did he send one of his numerous pawns or that weird Doppio guy do that dirty work as well?
You dug up frantically through every drawer, and cabinet, hell you even checked inside the oven!
Empty.
There was nothing. No forks, no cups, no nothing. It was like the kitchen had barely just been furnished. Your breathing became labored and your chest tightened painfully.
What was the meaning of this? It didn't make any sense. He made you eat together, you were positive you had used silverware and dishes before.
Did he hide them too? Did he really mistrust you so much he hid any bit of potential danger? Did he think you'd try that hard and would not take the risk?
That damn fucker.
The only thing preventing you from screaming bloody murder currently were your wheezy breaths.
It was scary. So scary. That he would think like that. That he would know how much he killed your sanity. That he would know how far you were willing to go. He knew he knew he knew he knew he knew-
"He thought..." You wheezed and held yourself over the counter, your other hand clutching your painful chest. Your voice was leaving you and you were drenched in sweat, panick and anxiety arising from within. "He thought I would cut myself with the shards..."
You didn't know if you were laughing or sobbing at that point. Not that he was wrong about it at all, in fact, he had guessed perfectly right. But the fact that the idea even crossed his mind and that he acted upon it just added to your dive into madness.
He just knew he destroyed you so bad he couldn't trust you with even a single blunt object, because he knew you'd find a way to harm yourself on it. That's how low he thought of you and he was right.
What else were there to do? He always kept a careful watch over you, even when he worked, his back turned to you, he'd whip his head towards you at the meerest noise you made. If he wasn't home, he'd have someone to keep an eye on you.
He would sleep with you, shower with you, dress you up. Every occasion he had to take control over you, he took.
It was a miracle that he ended up unshackling you from his bed, trusting you enough to let you roam pointlessly around the house, but visibly not trusting you enough to let you be around even a porcelain plate.
You wanted to give up. The windows could be opened but the metallic blinds were steel shut. Just like prison bars. He could sacrifice a little sunlight if it meant you wouldn't try to jump.
You dragged your feet towards your couch and sobbed. Loud. Desperate. Letting warm tears stream down your face. It was over. You couldn't do anything.
You plopped yourself on the couch and buried your face in your arms to muffle your wails. That was it. That was the only liberty you had. You could only cry, cry, and cry, until the tears ran out.
You couldn't cut, you couldn't jump, you couldn't poison yourself with cleaning chemicals, hell, he made sure there wasn't even enough water to give you water poisoning. Even tap water was limited. He calculated everything.
It was over. There was nothing you could do. He won again. Diavolo wins again...
You let yourself break down, almost comforted by your own cries, the only thing that made you feel alive. The only emotion remaining. The last healthy bit within you.
You knew you had to stop, though. Because one hour flies by fast, and Diavolo could cut his time short whenever he felt, and if he came home to you crying, he'd shower you with questions and try to console you. And that was the last thing you wanted. In fact, he didn't even deserve to see or hear you crying.
You hated to be confronted by him, and to be held by those bloody hands of his, and to be talked with that fake, manipulative concern in his voice, deepening softly just for you.
Oh he could have been such a good man if he wasn't such a disgusting fucking monster.
You couldn't bear closing your eyes that were stinging and burning as you kept them open, drying them out. Every time you closed your eyes, you were haunted by the visions.
The visions of blood, from your loved ones. The picture of his brain splattering out of his skull. The sight of her guts spilled out, still pulsing out of her stomach. How they crawled vainly on the floor with their limbs torn off messily barely kept connected to their bodies by gooey strings of flesh, bones scraped against the ground. The ones dearest to you.
"Why... Even my poor animal..." Your voice cracked painfully through labored sobs, your heart skipping with every scene you recalled.
Everything about the memories was so wrong. Everything about Diavolo was so wrong. Killing every one you deemed dear to you was one thing, but why did he have to make it so gruesome? Why did they have to die in such agony? Why? Just why?!
If he truly loved you he would have at least let them go fast and painless. He would have at least spared you the trauma. He couldn't even let you have the bliss of knowing they passed on quick and peacefully. You were stuck with the knowledge of their suffering, the screams, the gurgles, the pleads for mercy, the gore.
The pain was to much, the burden so heavy. Why did he not let you kill yourself? It's be so easier if you could just die. He claimed he loved you, but he made you suffer every minute.
Without realizing it, and very slowly, you calmed down. Not because you were finally at peace, or because you were unwinded, but because you were at your limit.
You were so tired, your eyes were swollen and begging to rest, your voice was gone, your throat dry and your mind so shattered, you couldn't even think about all that made you so unhappy anymore, or the painful memories. Your thoughts were empty. Your soul was empty. Everything was empty.
Slowly but surely, your drifted off to a dreamless sleep.
Diavolo walked back home earlier than anticipated. He did hurry, and he somewhat knew he wouldn't actually take a full hour to do his errands. He hated to go outside and he especially hated to leave you to yourself.
He unlocked all his locks on the door with great patience. He was proud of this work, very secure, so that nobody, not even yourself, could ever take you away from him.
He walked in slowly to the scent and warmth of home. He wasn't sure what he was expecting you'd be doing, but he didn't expect you being passed out on the couch.
Oh Diavolo wasn't scared. He was confident he skipped any danger from the house. He was sure you never even discovered that this place was actually not an appartment, like you believed, but a villa. He had locked the other floors so carefully.
But he also knew you were one clever little cat and maybe, just maybe, you may have found an issue to hurt yourself, even a little bruise.
He did not appreciate that thought.
He clenched his teeth, grinding them out of stress. The reason you were passed out on the couch better not be his worst case scenario. Or else...
Like a bipolar disordered man, his tone switched under a second. There was nothing to worry about. Surely his little gattina was just taking a nap, he thought to himself. Of course, you didn't get much sleep last night, that would make sense.
There was nothing to worry about because Diavolo was absolute, and he planned everything and he was confident. Nothing escaped him.
Like the lover that he pretended and believed to be, he quickly put his bags away and approached you on the couch, not wanting to be away from you any longer.
He stared longingly at you. You looked so pretty, so adorable, all vulnerable like this. Unaware of his looming form shadowing you, so innocent.
He noticed how wet your arms and cheeks were and how blemished your face was. Certainly, you had cried. It was fine by him, though. He'd allow you to cry to yourself when he wasn't there. Because it was harmless.
He leaned over, getting closer very carefully. Gosh you were so lovely to his crazy green eyes. He could hardly contain himself around you. No one has ever had that effect on him. Your skin, your hair, your scent, your lips, everything about you was soft and gentle and sweet. It was even cute when you thrashed around and kicked and insulted him.
He looked over your small form, studying you. Your wrists were so thin, scarred, often shaky. He noted you dropped a lot of weight since he took you here, but it didn't matter. You were beautiful regardless, and he would protect you, because you were so fragile, and it was his duty as a husband.
As if to confirm his thoughts, he grabbed one of your wrists, wrists that he had grabbed so many times before. It was so light, like a little twig, his entire fist closed on it. It was a crime to be so deliciously weak. It was like asking to be taken, held, snatched, manhandled.
Good thing Diavolo was the one to have you and not anyone else. Who knows what kind of crazy fuckers had bad intentions out there? Especially in these dangerous parts of Italy.
He moved you with no effort whatsoever and the lack of response or reaction from your poor body just made his twisted heart clench even more. It was so desperately easy to just use you to his will, it was almost scary.
He let himself plop down comfortably on the couch and laid you back down to rest your head upon his thighs, so that he could watch your angelic face and touch your hair as you rested, nested close to him.
Like two empty lovers.
I mean... I did say I'd never write yandere again, but I've been back to playing Mystic Messenger and Saeran inspired me. (Don't worry, there are no spoilers here!)
Also, the fic was so long, I decided to cut in in half and make the other half into another character. Recycling is always good for the planet. So expect another domestic Yandere story some day.
#JoJo's Bizarre Adventure#jojo#jjba#Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken#Vento Aureo#Golden Wind#part 5#Jojo Part 5#x reader#reader insert#diavolo#diavolo x reader#yandere#yandere diavolo#writing#suicide tw#self-harm tw
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Sour Cherry, Chapter 8
Here it is folks!! That sweet domestic bliss so many of y’all craved 💜 It was very interesting writing this but I still had a blast — it’s quite different from chapter 7 so brace yourselves. I will also note this one is distinct in that it’s more of a modern!AU setting so no bending or LoK elements at all, really. It was fun doing something so different! Lastly, make sure you have these songs queued up in case you want to play them as you reach those parts of the chapter 😉 And lastly, quick content warning for folks reading on here: there’s mention of cooking, food, but not eating! Feel free to check this out on AO3 too okay this is long: ENJOY!!
There was a time in your life when you believed you would never have this: the comforting rustle of warm bed sheets against your toes, the muffled song of birds just outside your window, and the solid presence of Kuvira’s slumbering body beside your own.
As you gradually blink into consciousness, you come to the pleasant realization that it’s Saturday. For the first time in weeks, you have nowhere to be and neither does Kuvira so you allow yourself to savor the rare and welcome contentment of a lazy morning in bed.
You feel a faint tickle graze the nape of your neck and you realize that Kuvira is fast asleep, her arm strung loosely across your waist. Shifting carefully so as not to wake her, you move until your back is against the mattress and you can tilt your face to the side. Kuvira’s fingers twitch for a moment but she remains unperturbed by the slight motion, her jaw still slack.
Given the bustling nature of her schedule, and her own no-nonsense disposition, there is always an element of tension present in Kuvira’s features. She’s still too young to have any significant wrinkles but during the day you never fail to notice the thin grooves around her mouth and along her forehead. Even when she’s not totally ensnared in the commotion of her job, she is rarely one to exude a sense of calm around others. It isn’t quite stress either but it’s certainly imposing.
When Kuvira sleeps, she is in her most vulnerable state. Every ounce of strain she carries in her body vanishes entirely, replaced with the weight of loosened limbs and heavy eyelids. Her brow relaxes completely, sometimes her mouth parts open and air will whistle through, her hair falls over her face in a curtain of vibrant black, and her shoulders sink freely into the downy comfort of your mattress.
Sometime in the distant past, you had believed a moment like this to be too out of reach. Too idealistic or picturesque. But as you gaze upon the beauty of this simple sight, understanding the depth of Kuvira’s trust that has allowed you to witness this side of her, you are overtaken by just how much your life has changed since you met Kuvira and how intensely you have grown to love her.
The sun has fully emerged outside and the rays start filtering through your gossamer curtains, casting a lovely golden glow across Kuvira’s face. You know she’ll start to stir within moments as the light starts to fall across her eyes so you treasure each remaining moment you have left like this. Gently, you lift your arm from beneath the bedsheets and let your hand cover hers.
It doesn’t take long for her to awaken after that — a handful of minutes pass before she makes a soft sound and her eyelids start to flicker open. Her gaze roams across the adjacent wall, slightly disoriented, before finally turning to focus on you. She blinks once and a muted smile tugs at the edges of her mouth.
“Good morning,” she murmurs. This time, you twist around so you’re on your side and you can twine your legs with hers. “Good morning to you,” you respond with a grin, cupping her cheek with your palm. “Looks like someone slept well.” Kuvira hums contentedly, stretching her arms high above her head.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been able to,” she says. “Yeah well, ridiculous work hours will really do that to a woman,” you tease. She gives you a withering glance which makes you burst into giggles, pulling her face towards yours so you can press a kiss against her forehead. “I’m not actually gonna kiss you until I can brush my teeth,” you inform her when you notice the expectant look on her face. “Then I suggest we do so immediately,” she replies promptly.
However, she proceeds to wrap an arm over your shoulder and tuck you against her chest, sinking her fingers into your hair as you brush your lips over her throat. For a moment you are tempted to point out the contradiction but you are far too delighted to actually do it. Though you cherish every morning you have with Kuvira, ones like these feel particularly special because of their rarity. Between her professional engagements and your own commitments, your mornings together are often hurried and fleeting.
So right now, with Kuvira’s arms encircling your body and your senses saturated by her scent and warmth, you want to hold onto this for as long as you can.
But of course, her arm starts falling asleep and your face gets too hot so you reluctantly pull away and fall into your habitual morning activities. You take a moment to stretch and crack away the stiffness of your joints while Kuvira messily clips her hair behind her neck before entering the bathroom where you’ll eventually join her.
The next few minutes pass in a rush of running water, toothpaste, and soap bubbles. You head back into the room to make your bed while Kuvira slides the glass pane open and a gust of brisk wind rushes through. As you slide into one of Kuvira’s old sweaters, you join her by the window. “I’ll go get our tea started, okay?” you say, touching your hand to her shoulder.
She nods once before responding, “Before you go.” Kuvira slips her fingers between yours before gently tugging you forward and bringing your lips together in a sleepy kiss. You let your arms wrap around her shoulders and you smile against the touch, feeling the tips of your ears grow red and your belly tingle with excitement. When you break apart, Kuvira watches you silently with a tender expression that heightens the emotion already rushing through your veins.
The longer you stay by her side, the more you find yourself feeling less inclined to leave so you quickly peck her on the mouth before scuttling out while she chuckles behind you.
Once you’re in the kitchen you quickly get to work on brewing your tea, relishing the sensation of sunlight falling across your back. As the water begins to boil on the stove, you push the window open and sigh at the burst of crisp air that follows. You detect the unmistakable scent of morning dew and realize it drizzled overnight. Getting on your tiptoes, you notice the plants outside are glossed over with a fine layer of moisture. It’s nearly a scene directly out of a film.
Finally your water is ready and you begin steeping Kuvira’s favorite oolong leaves, flicking on the radio and humming along to the entrancing melodies of the jazz station you have both grown so fond of. You’re pouring into your respective cups when a familiar set of arms curl around you from behind. Grinning, you place the pot down and lean back into Kuvira’s embrace. “I’ve missed this,” you sigh, suddenly forgetting about the steaming beverages as you feel a tickle swell inside your chest and your ribs.
“I have too,” she responds quietly, tightening her hold infinitesimally as she leans down to brush her lips against your cheekbone. “I know it’s been some time since we’ve been able to do this and...it’s nice. I didn’t realize how much I missed it myself.” You succumb to the enticement of that magical silence you only experience with Kuvira, allowing your body to press deeper against her chest until you can feel the heavy thrum of her heart.
Eventually, you have to step away when your stomach growls and you offer her the piping cup of tea. “Drink some of this and please be careful this time. Last time you burned your tongue you whined about it for a week.” Kuvira glares at you, unimpressed, which naturally makes you laugh. “Once you’re through with that, you can get started on chopping these up.” You push the bag of potatoes on the counter towards her and she inspects it apprehensively.
“Are you sure you trust me with that?” Kuvira asks over the rim of her teacup. “You know for someone who manages to scare almost everyone at her job, you’d think you could handle cutting some potatoes…” you sigh, earning a delightfully petty snort from Kuvira. You grin while smoothing her hair down against her head and press a chaste kiss to her nose. “You just have to get them into little cubes. Leave the actual cooking to me,” you chuckle. Kuvira still doesn’t look entirely convinced but she eventually picks up a knife from a drawer and carefully begins slicing the vegetables.
After sipping through about half your tea and admiring the stern look of concentration on Kuvira’s face, you join her and the music emanating from your small radio is soon accompanied by the clicking of knives and robust scent of onion, peppers, and garlic. There is a pleasant, unspoken dynamic between you and Kuvira that you’ve come to cherish, where you can merely exist together without the expectation of filling the space with frivolous conversation. If anything, you actually talk quite a bit on most days as a way to decompress from the exigencies of your respective work lives.
When you finally have the time to luxuriate in the freedom of an empty schedule, you allow yourselves to fully bask in that simple yet compelling joy of being in the other person’s presence.
Once your ingredients are properly diced and washed, you begin assembling everything which really just entails Kuvira tossing the cubes into the skillet while you sprinkle a variety of spices for good measure. Your fingers occasionally brush together as you lean over the stove and each time you see the apples of Kuvira’s face lift from the corner of your eye.
“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this,” she notes. You snort and lovingly squeeze her hand before you start mixing everything together. “C’mon Kuvira, it’s been what? Over a year? I feel like I make this every other week so I wouldn’t get too confident about that. Give it a few more months and you’ll probably be gagging at the sight of sautéed vegetables.”
She moves towards your back and slides her hand down your arm until it rests over yours, temporarily pausing the stirring motion. “While I’m certainly not complaining about your exceptional breakfast-making skills, that’s not quite what I’m referring to. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.” The words sweep along your ear and you feel a wave of goosebumps appear all across your flesh.
“Just being here, with you. I will never, ever tire of this,” she whispers against your neck. The words evoke a low hum in your ears as your blood rushes harder until the ringing feels like it’s sinking into your bones. You feel as though you have lost all coordination of your limbs, instead feeling them thrum with the wondrous glow of infatuation and only tethered down by the reassuring weight of Kuvira’s touch.
It still surprises you how these seemingly innocuous statements can unleash such an intense surge of emotion. Perhaps it’s because Kuvira isn’t the most eloquent when it comes to voicing her affections so when she does it’s particularly moving. Or perhaps it’s the shock of knowing another human being can love you as deeply as Kuvira does when you once found it impossible to conceive of such an idea.
Perhaps it’s a combination of the two and a million other things but you don’t dwell on that too long. At this moment in time, it doesn’t matter. Instead, you ground yourself in the steady and soothing warmth of Kuvira’s body and wiggle around until you can face her.
Kuvira lifts her hands to nestle your face between them, as if you might shatter into pieces with just the slightest movement, and presses her lips reverently against your forehead. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but our breakfast is about one minute away from burning to a crisp,” she states.
Your attention returns to the skillet in a flurry of flailing arms and nonsensical shouting while Kuvira merely observes in silent amusement. Luckily, you manage to save your meal and remove it from the heat at just the right moment. A hearty aroma of crisp potatoes and caramelized onions wafts through the air and you feel your stomach rumble again.
Just as you are sliding the food onto your platters, an all-too familiar melody chimes from the radio that brings your movements to a sudden halt. Faraway memories hit you all at once and very quickly. You only see glimpses of the images as they flash through your mind in bursts of vivid colors and fuzzy sounds.
Old timey photographs framed against paisley walls. Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, Wes Montgomery.
Hazy shadows twirling beneath dim golden lights. The carefree ripple of a skirt lifting in the air and jewelry glistening against a perspiring body.
The shuffle and snap of shoes sliding against a red-tiled floor. The clink of a heel tapping to the beat of a muted drum.
Kuvira’s hand resting confidently on your lower back, patiently guiding you through the movements, while another presses against your palm.
A distinctive voice croons, “The very thought of you/ And I forget to do/ Those little ordinary things/ That everyone ought to do…”
You are dragged out of your trance by the same touch you felt all those months ago. Kuvira pulls you away from the counter, the plates of steaming food now completely forgotten, and her eyes glitter with quiet mirth.
“Do you remember this song?” she asks quietly while she brings you close against her. Your muscles freeze and you chuckle nervously. “I do but, uh, you and I both know I’m not the ex-professional dancer here,” you remind her.
Kuvira merely shrugs, leaning down to press her forehead against yours. “Just follow my lead,” she murmurs. She moves her hands from your waist to gently take your wrists and wrap your fingers around the back of her neck. She snakes her palms along your arms and down your sides until they return to their original position, resting against the small patch at the base of your spine.
The ensuing steps are so simple it barely constitutes a dance at all but you still can’t hinder the raging blush that seems to radiate across every inch of your skin. Kuvira is rarely one to initiate exchanges of this nature so when she does your body reacts accordingly.
It’s not so much a dance as it is simply swaying back and forth, occasionally stepping backwards but never once splitting away from Kuvira. Your eyes flutter closed again and you burrow your face in the crook of her neck.
“I see your face in every flower
Your eyes in stars above
It's just the thought of you
The very thought of you, my love”
You feel as though you have fallen into a field of flowers yourself. This moment...it’s the exhilarating rush of being pulled to the ground and the blissful recognition of falling into a perfumed refuge of velvety petals. As you rest your head against Kuvira, you inhale her fresh, earthy scent that is so reminiscent of the misty air outside. In your mind, the kitchen disappears entirely and your home dissipates into a rosy mist.
Instead, you find yourself in your own dimension where everything is concentrated in this very moment. Gravity is the touch of Kuvira’s hands against your hips and air is her breath mingling with yours. In this juncture of time and space, you are the only two beings in the universe. In this little cluster of minutes far away from the rest of the world, your only thoughts are on the simple movements of your feet, the graceful way Kuvira floats you across the ground, and the overpowering truth of how profoundly you love her.
The song eventually fades away into another tune, slowly bringing you back to the present moment. Kuvira’s hands haven’t left your body and you don’t make any move to break the embrace. Breakfast lays utterly forgotten and you imagine it’s gone cold. But it doesn’t matter. Not right now.
Within moments you find yourselves calmly rocking along to the soothing vocals and eventually a drizzle starts up outside. You pay no mind and smile when Kuvira brings her mouth to yours — that simple brush of lips seems to capture every ounce of emotion brimming in your body.
She whispers something that’s drowned out by the music but somehow, somewhere in the deepest crevices of your heart, the words still make sense.
---
“This is my first affair, please be kind
Handle my heart with care, please be kind
This is all so grand, my dreams are on parade
If you'll just understand, they'll never, never fade”
#kuvira#kuvira x reader#kuvira/reader#kuvira headcanons#kuvira legend of korra#avatar lok#x reader#modern au#fluff#sour cherry#dang I really thought the engagement chapter was fluffy this is something else ENTIRELY thank u for the request anon!!!
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Not a Good Look: Chapter 1
Summary: In which Marinette, Adrien, and their friends accidentally stumble on secret identities galore through the implications of a grown man making a deal with a teenage girl.
Aka Gabriel's deal with Lila comes back to bite him where it hurts.
Pairings: Adrigaminette, DJWiFi
Chapter 2 | AO3 link
Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.
“I swear to god, I can’t take another minute of her!” Adrien runs his fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to yank because his father will most certainly know if he’s missing so much as one hair on his head. ““Oh, Adrien and I work so well together! I’m his father’s new muse!” She doesn’t have a lick of talent for modelling!”
“That’s it,” Marinette says soothingly, for once not stammering like she usually does when he’s within ten feet of her. “Let it all out now, while you can.”
“Why do you even put up with her?” Kagami adds, depositing her fencing bag on the floor of the boys’ locker room so that she can sit next to Adrien on the bench. Marinette sits cross-legged on his other side, face flushing pink when their arms brush together. “Yes, she may be your father’s new “muse”, but you don’t have to tolerate her outside photoshoots.”
“I kind of do,” Adrien says. “Father told me that she’s the only friend he approves of and that he’ll restrict my freedoms if I don’t play nice with her. You know, that’s why I’m having this conversation in a locker room and only because fencing finished early. But it’s not just that; if I don’t put up with her, she’ll go after Marinette again. And after she got Marinette expelled, I’ll be damned if I let anything happen again.”
“What?” Marinette’s eyes bulge. “Adrien, no, this is my fight, you shouldn’t have to let her hang off you and make you uncomfortable for me!”
“Yeah. I do.” Adrien turns to grab her hands, wondering why this causes her to squeak and turn the colour of a ripe tomato. “You’re one of my best friends, Marinette. I couldn’t just stand by and let Lila ruin you like that when there was something I could do.”
“But see you don’t?” Marinette shakes her head and tries again. “Don’t you see? You’re rewarding her for it!”
“Marinette’s right,” Kagami says. “She still gets to lie to everyone, but so long as she doesn’t openly twist Marinette into the villain, she gets everything she wants.”
“Well, what else can I do?” Adrien throws his hands in the air. “If I tell her to shove off, she’ll go tattling! She must have, like, some kind of deal going on with my father, because he didn’t even know she existed before the Oni-Chan thing! Sorry,” he hurries to add. Kagami just shrugs, not visibly hurt by his reminder of her second akumatisation.
“Actually…that makes sense,” Marinette says slowly. When Adrien looks around at her, her brow is furrowed and she’s idly stroking her chin with her thumb, and for a split second, she resembles Ladybug so much that the breath is punched out of Adrien’s lungs. Then he blinks and she’s back to full-of-nervous-energy Marinette. “Something must have happened. She has no skill as a model – and I’m not saying that because I hate her – she just doesn’t have the stance and her face is all off and she’s so…robotic about it –”
“I’m definitely not disagreeing with you there,” Adrien chuckles despite himself. How does Marinette always manage to get a smile out of him even when he’s in the foulest of moods?
“Not to mention that there’s clearly no chemistry between you and her,” Marinette adds. “And everyone knows that you have to have chemistry between the models, or the shoot falls flat. Plus, there’s no reason for your father to approve of her but not everyone else. She’s a good liar, yeah, but your father doesn’t seem like someone who takes people at face value, and he must be able to recognise shifty people who are just lying to get ahead and use connections. It makes sense that she could’ve made a deal with him…but what?”
“Probably to spy on me,” Adrien mutters. Then he freezes, and on either side of him, Marinette and Kagami also stiffen.
“Of course,” Kagami says with a derisive snort. “That’s exactly the sort of thing your father would do.”
“But what can we do about it?” Marinette says. “That’s not right! And it doesn’t look right either! A grown man making a deal with a teenage girl for favours?” She wrinkles her nose. “Not a good look.”
“Maybe we can do something about it!” Adrien leaps to his feet and snaps his fingers, addressing his captive audience. “Evidence! We can find evidence that they’ve made a deal!”
“And what do you propose we do with that evidence?” Kagami says. Adrien jabs a finger at her.
“Prove that she’s a shifty snake!” he says. Kagami raises an eyebrow at that. “I know I told Marinette to take the high road, but that was when I thought she was just an attention seeker. You know, typical teenage, ‘ignore her and she’ll go away or realise that she needs to shape up’ brat. But this…she’s dangerous, you two. She got Nathalie and my bodyguard in trouble. She got Marinette expelled. And, uh…I was hiding nearby when you were Oni-Chan, Kagami. She deliberately distracted Chat Noir so that Oni-Chan could defeat Ladybug.”
“Well, what’s the plan?” Marinette says, while a dark storm crosses Kagami’s face. Adrien blinks at her.
“Sorry? The plan?”
“You don’t really think we’re going to let you charge off with a half-baked idea by yourself, do you?” Kagami says with a raised eyebrow, still scowling. It makes her look both adorable and terrifying at the same time…but is Adrien even allowed to think that when they’re having a temporary break from their relationship? “Marinette and I are with you, Adrien. What’s the plan to figure out if Lila and your father have made a deal?”
“I…actually didn’t think that far ahead,” Adrien admits. “I don’t know how we could get that evidence. Father would find out for sure if we were sneaking around, and there’s no way I could lead the conversation in that direction. I don’t even see him long enough to ask him how his day was.”
“Hmm.” Marinette chews her bottom lip. For some reason, the sight warms Adrien from the inside out, and he doesn’t realise that he’s physically leaning closer to drink in Marinette until Kagami tilts her head at him and he takes a step back with flushing cheeks. “I think I might have an idea. Leave it with me, okay?”
“Okay. I trust you, Marinette,” Adrien says, and he’s surprised to find just how firmly he believes those words.
.
The next day, once the final bell rings, Marinette catches up to Adrien with the single-minded focus of a heat-seeking missile before he can get out the school gates and she loses him. He jerks when she catches his arm, so she lets go with a mumbled apology, but he shakes his head and grabs her hand.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I thought you were Lila.”
“I still shouldn’t have touched you without asking,” Marinette says. Adrien shoots her a sunny smile that nearly makes her faceplant as her knees wobble under its force.
“You never touch me like other girls do,” he says. “You’re never…you know, rough and possessive about it. I like it when you touch me.”
“I like it when you touch me.” Oh. Oh dear. If Marinette hadn’t been about to fall two seconds ago, she’s definitely ready to keel over and die right now.
“Managed Ladybug!” she blurts out, then groans and ducks her head. “I managed. To catch Ladybug. God, I’m a mess.”
Adrien looks around, then mutters, “No Lila. Thank god,” and steers Marinette towards his waiting car. Thankfully, she manages to keep it together as he holds the back door open for her and then slides in after her with an explanation to his bodyguard about a study date with a friend – a date, a study date, but a date! – thanks to his cancelled fencing class. Not that his father needs to know that the friend he’s studying with isn’t Kagami or Lila, even if Marinette knows that he uses that term in the loosest possible way regarding the latter.
When Adrien turns to her with a small, hesitant smile that makes her stomach flutter with ladybugs, she opens her mouth to bring up the plan, but her one semi-functioning brain cell realises that it’s probably not a good idea to be spouting ideas of espionage against Gabriel Agreste in front of one of his employees, even if said employee is going behind his employer’s back right now, so she takes a deep breath to both swallow her words and calm herself down.
“Can I ask you something, Marinette?” Adrien says.
“Yure! Shes!” Marinette nods rapidly, then groans. “Sure! Yes!”
Adrien indicates her. “That. The stammering. The nerves. Do I…unsettle or intimidate you?”
“What? No! Of course not!” Well, he does unsettle her, but not for the reasons he thinks!
“Are you sure?” Adrien’s brow furrows. “Did I do something? I know I messed up on my first day and then with the wax museum thing, so if you still have hard feelings or something –”
“Nononono!” Marinette shakes her head so rapidly that her pigtails smack her in the face. “Trust me, I forgave you!”
“Then why are you so nervous around me?” Adrien says. “Is it because I’m Adrien Agreste? I know you want to be a fashion designer, but I swear, being friends with me won’t look like you’re using me or affect your chances –”
“It’s not that either.” Marinette slumps in her seat and closes her eyes, her heart racing so fast that it’s two seconds from beating out of her chest. After all her stress, all her frantic planning and failed attempts, is this how she finally confesses? “I…I l-lo – I can’t do this!” She tries to hide her face in her hands, but Adrien catches her wrists and gives her that sweet smile of his that melts her insides and is so not helping right now!
“Is it anything bad?” he says. Marinette wordlessly shakes her head. “Then it’s okay if you can’t tell me. As long as I know you don’t secretly hate me or something…”
“IloveyouAdrien!”
#miraculous ladybug#ml fic#aotq fic#aotq: nagl#adrienette#love confession#marinette dupain-cheng#adrien agreste#kagami tsurugi#anti lila#anti lila rossi#marinette and her convoluted plans#post season 3#guardian marinette
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hello! smiling anon here :) i had a random idea pop into my head: what about a friends to lovers! chanyeol x reader inspired by his song ssfw? cant wait to see how you’ll do this one :) thank you :)
friends to lovers is a concept that i love :”) i hope you enjoy !
SSFW - Chanyeol
Warnings: some angst/mentions of crying and food
Summary: SSFW by Chanyeol where as the seasons pass, college!Chanyeol realizes he’s falling for his best friend.
Lyrics appear like this throughout the fic
You’re so natural
Like the seasons
And I’m standing here taking it all in
Like a spring blossom, you’re
Deep inside my heart yeah
Spreading and taking over babe
You remember the exact moment you met Chanyeol because it was in quite an unconventional way.
On a spring day, you were passing through the park on your way to your classes. The trees were starting to blossom, their green leaves beginning to take form. The pavement was filled with colourful petals, and as you took a second to admire them, watching them crumple beneath your shoes, something flew by you.
Looking up, you watched as a boy hurried through the park on his skateboard, weaving skillfully in-between the many students who were on their way to class. He wore a baseball cap backwards and his backpack hung on one shoulder.
He looked down to check his phone for a moment and ended up heading straight towards the trash can. You shut your eyes tightly, willing for him to look up before he fell.
A loud crashing sound.
The poor boy was sprawled out on the ground. You were getting closer to him, and noticing that no one had stopped to help him despite everyone staring at him, you walked faster.
Maybe I’ll help him out just this once.
“Are you okay?” you asked him as you stood above him.
He sat up quickly and brushed himself off.
“Of course I’m okay. I was going too fast for my own good,” he chuckled, standing up. He tried to walk, but he was noticeably limping.
“I think you should go to the infirmary,” you told him.
He continued to refuse and resist, but eventually you managed to convince him. The infirmary was far, and the boy who’s name you learned was Chanyeol couldn’t walk at all. So, you had to get him to sit on his skateboard while you pushed it towards campus. It earned the both of you many looks from everyone else, but it turned out to be a funny memory.
Most importantly, that was the day your friendship began.
Well, it was mostly just Chanyeol pestering you at first.
He’d find you on campus and wouldn’t leave your side until one of you had class.
“My hero!” he yelled from across the hallway. That had become his way of greeting you.
He wrapped his arm around your shoulders as soon as you turned around.
“Are you going to eat now? Can I join you?” he asked, a smug look on his face.
“You’ll probably still join me even if I say no, but sure,” you said, walking towards the food hall.
When the two of you sat down to eat your food, Chanyeol asked you if you would be free that weekend.
“Yeah, I’m not doing anything. Why?”
“Remember that band you said you liked? They’re having a show nearby this weekend!”
“What? And I didn’t know?” you said, dropping your fork onto your food.
“You’ve been studying so hard, you probably didn’t see their social media posts. We can go together!”
It was at that concert that he felt something for the first time. On the drive to the venue, watching you laugh as you sang along to the stereo, watching the wind hit you through the open window, he felt some sort of... adrenaline? His heart was racing and he felt incredibly happy.
Even at the venue, he couldn’t focus on the performance properly. His eyes kept coming back to you, and he watched as you danced along to the rhythm of the music.
The two of us are
Like spring and summer
Blossoming and deepening
Eventually, you and Chanyeol became close. You grew to appreciate his clinginess and his presence. There were many nights where you both pulled all-nighters, stressing over your work. The only comforting thing that you had during those times was each other.
Chanyeol became someone who you would go to if you were feeling sad or happy. You could share anything, and he felt the same with you.
It didn’t even take that long. All it took was the changing from spring to summer. The weather got warmer, the days longer and the two of you learned to appreciate one another more.
Perhaps the exact moment the two of you felt a shift in your friendship was when you had many personal issues on your plate yet still pulled an all-nighter to study for an exam. You didn’t do well and buckling under the pressure, you broke into tears in the back of the lecture hall.
No one stopped to ask if you were okay. Everyone left and you were still there.
But somehow, Chanyeol found you. He sat beside you and with his warm hands, gently moved your head onto his shoulder. You cried for a whole hour in that position without saying anything. Although Chanyeol’s shirt was stained with your tears, he didn’t say a word.
“Wanna go out for coffee?” he asked, a smile smile on his face.
At that moment, you realized that Chanyeol was truly your friend. Without even having to know why you were crying, he let you cry. You felt incredibly thankful for him.
We don’t change our minds
When the leaves fall
I want to hold you closer to chase away the cold
This season is already half gone
Growing closer to you
Even through the rain the two of us
Kept dry because our love
After spending the summer together working the same summer job, the leaves began to fall from the trees and you found yourself pulling your coat around you more tightly.
Chanyeol’s heart ached.
When he saw you on that first day of classes resuming, running towards him so you could greet him, his heart ached in the best way possible. The world slowed and all he could see was you. His heart was beating quickly and... he really wanted to wrap his arms around you and hold you close.
He shrugged it off, but any time he saw anyone acting a little too friendly or flirty with you, he would feel sad. He would check his phone throughout the day to see if you had messaged him.
Yes, he was in love.
It was a fact that slowly grew on him throughout the colder season.
Somewhere between fall and winter, he confessed to you in the middle of the park where you first met. The snow started to fall and he held your cold hands in his.
Looking right into your eyes, he smiled softly and said, “[y/n], this is kind of random, but I know now that I really like you.”
His heart was pounding and somehow in the cold, he was sweating beneath his three layers. To you though, he looked incredibly confident, and his out of the blue confession made your heart stop.
From that day on, the two of you became one, withstanding the difficulties of university through your love for one another. When the two of you weren’t busy, or even when you were, you would make time to go on little dates. Coffee shops, small restaurants, malls, whatever it was, spending time in each other’s presence was like a healing experience.
On the few nights that you spent together, Chanyeol felt most at peace when he was holding you in his strong arms. Your head pressed right against his chest with the covers wrapped loosely around you both - that was his home. He’d look down so he could press his lips to your forehead, and the kiss would linger for long, but there was no such thing as too long.
When we turn a page on the calendar
Our love more and more
Flourishes
You mean the world to me
When all four seasons
Pass by one by one
Our love continues to grow
I’m fallin’ in love with you
Your relationship with Chanyeol was one where you had your freedom and independence, but you were also tightly interlocked with him. The two of you lead career-driven lives but also had one another.
Sometimes, it was hard to not see one another when things got busy, but this only made the two of you love one another even more. Looking forward to seeing each other again after longer periods of not being able to gave you a lot of hope.
You never needed to do anything special when you were together. Just seeing Chanyeol and holding his hand was more than enough. So when he’d kiss you, your heart would burst into a million butterflies because his lips would always meet yours so lovingly.
The seasons passing felt repetitive, but your love was growing exponentially.
On a spring day, you were passing through the park on your way to campus. You had finished your studies a long time ago, but there were some errands that you had to run there.
“Meet me at the park by the campus at 1!” you had told Chanyeol on the phone. He had asked you if you were free today, and you had gladly agreed to see him.
When you were walking back, there he was, baseball cap on backwards, sitting on his scratched up skateboard and flashing a wonky smile your way.
“What are you doing, you silly thing,” you said, lightly punching his shoulder.
“Just waiting for you under these pretty trees,” he said, looking up.
“Okay, but why are you wearing those clothes?” you asked him, suppressing your laughter.
“Actually,” he said, pulling something out of the pocket of his zip up sweater. “I’ve got something here.”
A sleek, blue box appeared in his hand. Chanyeol was slightly blushing. You could only guess what was going on.
He opened it, revealing a ring inside.
“Do you want to marry me?” he asked, still sitting on his skateboard.
The sight of him proposing while dressed and sitting like that made you laugh. You ruffled his hair and bent down to kiss his cheek, which made him blush even more.
“I’d gladly do so,” you replied, helping him up. He slipped the ring on your finger and then held your hand.
“So... wanna grab coffee or something?”
#chanyeol#park chanyeol#chanyeol imagine#chanyeol scenario#chanyeol fluff#park chanyeol imagine#park chanyeol fluff#park chanyeol x reader#college!chanyeol#college!chanyeol x reader#chanyeol friends to lovers au#park chanyeol scenario#exo scenarios#exo imagines#exo fluff#exo au#exo college au#kpop#kpop fanfic#kpop fanfiction
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31/12/2020
Usually I would make a post like that right before I am out of the door,in a hurry to get somewhere for New Years celebrations but obviously not today and we all know why as all of us globally are in a same boat.Only a few hours left now and 2020 will be over and I am sure I am not the only one who is relieved and ready to leave it behind and also hopeful for next year to be better.This year was horrible in so many many ways. Personally it wasn’t the worst year in my life,a few years in my late 20s forever hold the ‘worst’ title - but it was honestly the weirdest,most useless and insanely stressful. We all know that 2021 won’t magically fix everything that went wrong but I have hope that it won’t be as bad as 2020.One of the strangest things that happened imo is that the entire world went through exactly the same awful thing and all of us no matter where we live know exactly much everything sucked. And I still can’t believe this is what I am talking about in my last post of the year sigh.
Anyways 2021 is almost here and I want to wish every single one of you a much better,nicer and healthier next year! Let hope in 2021 we all will regain some sense of normalcy again,move on from words like ‘lockdown’ and ‘quarantine’ and will be able to hang out with friends and family without thinking about social distancing or wearing a mask everywhere we go.I hope we will start travelling again,because personally not being able to travel was the a huge blow to me-I am a travel junkie and I just miss it like crazy.And I hope all of us will gain our freedom to do anything we want and go anywhere we want back,because honestly losing that was hard. So lets hope that 2021 will be kinder to all of us and here be a lot of love and hugs to all of you!
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ❤️🍾🥂🥰🎉
#🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆🎆#i know there is a lot of 'hope'in his post#but thats what matter imo#thats what we need#❤️❤️❤️❤️
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