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ateezreactionsandscenarios · 1 year

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Behind Closed Doors - Chapter 6

Pairing: CEO! Jung Wooyoung x Reader

Genre: Slice of Life, Smut

CW: Mentions of alcohol, office sex, both Wooyoung and y/n are not drunk just a little buzzed, oral (F and M receiving), brief fingering, slight hair pulling, wall sex.

Word Count: 4725

Summary: A late night session with Wooyoung takes a turn when tensions start to get high.

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Prompt List Series Masterlist Master List Buy me a Coffee

Wooyoung’s office was quiet, so quiet that if it wasn’t for the rustling of papers you’d be able to hear a pin drop. You’d both been working on your joint project for the last 6 hours, you started with your usual chatter back and forth but the conversation soon fizzled out to nothing, the two of you sucked into your own little worlds of deep concentration.

You were now at the point you didn’t even know what you were reading, all the words seemed to blur into one and no matter how many times you closed your eyes or shook your head it didn’t help. Wooyoung had noticed this too. For the last 20 minutes every time he glanced in your direction he could see you were still reading over the same page, and probably the same sentence too.

“Come on.” He said quietly, pulling the paper from your hand and setting to the side.

“What?” You looked up at him confused and quite frankly a bit startled as it took your eyes a moment to adjust so you could see him clearly.

“We’ve been at this for a long time, I think we both need a break, especially you, so come on.” He turned on his heels and headed for the door, holding it open as he waited for you to walk out.

Walking out of Wooyoung’s office you notice it seems the whole floor is empty except for the two of you. You take a quick glance at the clock and realise its already 7:30pm.

“It’s that time already?” You ask with a sigh as you stretch your arms above your head.

“I thought it was a bit quiet, everyone must have gone home.” Wooyoung shrugged glancing over at you, his eyes quick to notice how your shirt rode up a little as you stretched, exposing the smallest amount of skin to him. Swallowing hard he continues his walk over to the break room.

Wooyoung is quick to fix up the coffee for the both of you, sliding the hot mug over to you when it was ready. Neither of you decided to sit down, you both thought it was best to stand up for a bit to stretch your legs since you’d been sat down for 6 hours already.

“So how are you feeling now?” Wooyoung asks you taking a sip of his coffee, glancing at you over the rim of the mug.

��Hmm?”

“You know, after yesterday, are you okay now?” Being caught up in all your work you’d forgotten about Amber for a bit but now it’s all come back to you.

“A little bit yes, I guess I needed that time to clear my head so thank you for that, at least now I’m okay with giving her the cold shoulder instead of wanting to rip her head off her shoulders.” Wooyoung tries to stifle a laugh at your comment, almost spitting his coffee back into the mug.

“One thing has been playing on me though.” You say, mirroring his actions in taking a sip while he looks at you curiously.

“What did you mean when you said you should have learnt from last time?”

“Ah, it’s nothing you need to worry about, really, it was all in the past anyway.” He shrugs you off quickly, it wasn’t a conversation he was willing to have with you yet, if ever really. You thought it was odd and it was like he was keeping something from you but you knew better than to pry knowing it was a lost battle before you even started.

The rest of the time in the break room was spent talking about University, Wooyoung seemed to be interested in your course and how you were doing and from the way he was asking you questions and really listening you don’t think he was just making stupid small talk. With the coffees finished Wooyoung takes your empty mug from you and places it in the sink.

“I’ll wash those you go on and head back.” You say moving towards the sink and grabbing the small sponge from the side.

“No, no, I made the coffee so I’ll do them, don’t worry about it.” Wooyoung argued back taking the sponge from you.

“No, it’s the least I can...”

“Y/n.” He cut you off, giving you the warning look you grew to know, the exact look that told you you’d already lost the argument.

“Okay, thank you for the coffee.” You smile, placing your hand on his arm gently as a kind gesture before walking off. Little did you know the small touch drove him insane. What happened between the two of you the last time you worked together was still crystal clear in his mind and he’d hate to admit how often he thought about it. He was so close to finally having what he’s been after since that night at the bar, if only Amber didn’t go and fuck it up he wouldn’t be having sleepless nights finishing the scenario in his head as he lay in bed.

Getting back to the office you felt more awake and more with it now that you had some caffeine in your system. Wooyoung soon steps into the office behind you. While you go back to your seat and pick up another pile of paper your eyes fix themselves on Wooyoung who was now making his way to a cabinet along the back wall. You try to shift your attention back to your work, wanting to get it done as soon as possible so you could go home, but the sound of glasses clinking caught your attention again.

“Drink?” Wooyoung asks, holding up a whiskey decanter.

“Should we be drinking in work?” You tease, raising an eyebrow at him before getting to your feet to join him at his desk.

“Well we’re the only ones here, it’s after hours and, oh wait, I’m the boss.” He quips back with a playful smile, pouring himself a glass and once again holds up the empty one. “So drink?”

“Go on then.” A proud smile crept onto his face as he poured your glass and carefully slid it over to you just like he did with your coffee. He held up his glass to you in a cheers before you both took a sip, your face contorting slightly from the slight burn of the alcohol doing down your throat and Wooyoung starts to chuckle.

“What?”

“Funny this...It’s like we’re back at the club again the day we met, me getting you a drink and all.” You can’t help but chuckle along with him as you remember the night.

“Yeah just this time you’re not hitting on me.” You joke to which he doesn’t give a reply, just a smirk and a raise of an eyebrow.

You never thought you’d be so thankful to have a glass of whiskey, while you sat on the couch getting work done you kept feeling the slight chill that was filling the office, the cold night air causing a chilly draft that made goose bumps erupt all over your body, but the occasional sip of your drink helped you to warm back up a little and there seemed to be a steady flow of it as every time Wooyoung noticed you had a mouth full left he’d top it up for you and then his own while he was at it.

After a while the alcohol started to set in, you weren’t to the point you were drunk but you could feel a slight buzz and you could tell Wooyoung was the same. The atmosphere was a lot more relaxed and it didn’t feel like you were in work anymore especially now with how comfortable the both of you were getting on the couch. Both your shoes were kicked off and put to the side of the couch, you’d pulled your hair out from it’s tight ponytail and raked your fingers through it to make it look a little less wild, which didn’t go amiss by Wooyoung who’d watched you intently from the corner of his eye. He didn’t know if you were intentionally teasing him or not, you seemed oblivious but the way you fluffed up your hair a bit more than usual and the way you pulled all your hair to one side showcasing your neck to him he couldn’t help but get a little hot under the collar, so he got back at you.

Your attention shifts to Wooyoung who stood from his spot next to you and you watched as he shrugged off his jacket and rolled his sleeves up to the elbow, the veins in his arms were so prominent making you swallow hard as your eyes raked over every inch of them. Wooyoung did well in hiding his smirk, he noticed the way you were looking at him and he felt like he had you right int he palm of his hand, so he went further, hooking one finger into his tie to slowly loosen it before pulling it from his neck completely and tossing it onto his desk along with his jacket.

The warmth that hit you was now more than what the alcohol had provided you and the majority of the warmth seemed to be pooling at your core all while the memories of the day Amber caught you came flooding back. As Wooyoung sat next to you again you realised he’d undone the first two buttons of his shirt, giving you the smallest glimpse of his chest, you knew what he was playing at and like hell were you giving him what he wanted without having a little fun yourself. You stretch in your seat, holding your hands above your head and arching your back while one leg straightens out in front of you and you succeed in catching his attention, his eyes trying not to look at how your shirt had rode up and desperately trying not to look at your stocking clad legs. The look you gave him was innocent but he could see the underlining of it, and it was far from innocent. Sitting back up straight you lifted one leg to cross over the other, intentionally ignoring how your skirt rode up with the movement, revealing to Wooyoung the lace top to your stockings. That was his breaking point.

Throwing his papers onto the coffee table Wooyoung turns to face you fully, watching how your wide eyes look at him a little confused by his sudden actions.

“Are you trying to drive me insane?” He asks in a low whisper, his face inching closer to yours. You could feel a small blush rush to your cheeks but you did well to conceal it, playing along with him.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You answer with a coy smile and an innocent tone, turning to face him, bringing your legs up onto the couch with you as you watch how his eyes fixate on how your skirt rides up even more.

“You’re doing it again.”

“What?” You ask leaning forward, your hands brushing down your calves to settle at your ankles and your chest pushed into your knees.

“Driving me insane.”

There's a shining in his eyes as they struggle to steer away from the perfect view that you're giving him. His lip gets caught between his teeth and a low growl leaves his lips.

"What's the matter? What's distracting you from your work?" You continue to play on the innocence, fluttering your eyelashes at him, accentuating the doe eyes.

Without answering you, a hand cups your face, thumb on your bottom lip as he drags it down, watching it bounce back into place. This makes you stiffen up, but what else did you expect? You're the one teasing him in the first place but nothing could prepare you for what he's going to do next.

His lips replace where his thumb was, leading on a passion filled kiss which you melt into in an instant, hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt whilst his hands are busy grabbing at your sides until they reach your ass. He gives it firm grab before pulling you a bit closer to him to the point you were almost laying flat.

Laying you down onto your back on the couch, he hovers over you with the widest smirk on his lips. That smirk that's probably the pin point of all of your troubles. When you met him at the bar, you'd never thought you'd be under him like this, his lips gently pressing against your neck, planting soft kisses, occasional bites and kitten licks to soothe it, your quiet whines egging him on even more.

Slowly, he moves down your torso, hands under your shirt on your warm skin. His hands cold, enough to make the hairs on your arms stand up as your breath hitches. The more he kisses down your torso, the more your heart is racing out of your chest.

"Wooyoung-" Your breath hitches, the sensation of his lips making contact to the bare skin of your stomach sending butterflies flying mad inside.

"What's the matter, doll?" A fake coo comes from him, looking up with a fake apologetic look.

Making eye contact with him, you lose all morals, you need him and need him here and now. A free hand makes it's way onto the back of his head, fingers tangling in his beautiful locks as you're rendered speechless.

"Can I continue?" He smirks, scoffing lightly when you nod in desperation and his fingers trail down the skin of your stomach to the waist band of your skirt, down the seams and to the hem, pulling it up to expose your black lace panties.

Grunting in lustful admiration at the sight, he kisses the flesh on the inside of your thigh on both sides, alternating after each peck he places. Eventually, his hot breath could be felt through your underwear, making you squirm at the feeling.

Licking up the front of your covered core, you whimper at the slightly contact, his tongue pressing hard against it until it flicks up and off, just to see your reaction. That's when he can barely hold back himself.

"Let's get rid of these, shall we?" He asks, but more as a direction of what he's going to do, slowly pulling down the fabric down your legs, letting you kick them off to the floor.

His eyes didn’t leave your core for a second, a low groan leaving him as he sees the slight sheen from your arousal. His hands massage along the side of your thighs as he lowers himself back down, his warm breath ghosting across your core sending a chill up your spine. He wants to tease you, have you begging for him but the sight of you sprawled out on the couch like this, all for him, has driven him past the point of insanity.

The insanity gets the better of him, looking up at your pleading eyes once more and finally makes the move. His tongue slips up your core again, earning a much more vocal whimper from you, flicking at your clit, Wooyoung repeating it, just to get a taste at first but nothing can hold him back now.

With your fingers going back to being tangled in his hair, you start to tighten your grip with every move his tongue makes, losing all bodily function when his lips purse around your clit and sucks on it lightly, making your back arch.

"Fuck-" You cry out with a high pitched moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head, even more so when he introduces a finger, toying at your entrance, covering it in your slick before inserting it. He curls it upwards just where you needed to be, thumb replacing his lips and rubs your clit to catch a breath, taking a moment to capture the picture of your perfect face as you moan over his fingers. He seizes this opportunity to capture your lips with his once again, letting his tongue slip into your mouth letting you taste yourself eliciting a muffled moan from you again.

“So sweet.” He breathes out looking over your already fucked out face before going back to eating you out like he was a starved man. Replacing his thumb with his mouth, Wooyoung alternates between harsh sucks to small kitten licks on your clit making your walls clench slightly around his finger. Your breathless moans soon turned into a gasp when you felt him slide another finger inside you, scissoring you open and hitting all the right spots, sending shocks of electricity through your nerves. You could feel him smirk against you as your hips started to move on their own and your moans got increasingly louder the closer to the edge you got.

“Fuck...Wooyoung...I...” It took everything in you to try and string together even a basic sentence, your mind rendered to mush and the only thing going on up there was the pure pleasure Wooyoung was giving you with just his hands and mouth.

“Go on doll, cum for me, show me how good I’m making you feel.” He punctuated his sentence with a harsh thrust of his fingers straight to your sweet spot followed by a small nip to your clit. If there was any breath left in your lungs you’d have screamed from how good it all felt and the knot in your stomach was ready to snap at any moment. It didn’t take much longer for you to break, his name spilling from your mouth slowly turning into a moan as you came on his fingers and tongue. Wooyoung lapped up every last drop of you, helping you ride out your orgasm, his fingers slowing down before coming to a full stop and pulling out from you.

“Taste.” He said with a smirk, slipping his fingers into your mouth so you can taste yourself again. The sight of you sucking on his fingers and the feeling of your tongue wrapping around them made his cock twitch in his now unbelievably tight trousers. You moaned around his fingers as you sucked them clean, the need for more quickly taking over you.

After your senses fully came back around you managed to lift yourself to sit up, pushing Wooyoung against the back of the couch before straddling his lap. Your lips find purchase on his neck, the way he drops his head back gave you more access and the temptation to cover his neck with marks was crushing you. You lightly nip at the sensitive skin, feeling how he tenses underneath you. You pull away for a second sensing you might have crossed a line.

“I didn’t tell you to stop. Mark me all you want.” Wooyoung whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as you attached your lips to his neck again, biting and sucking it leaving behind a pretty purple blotch. With a slight roll of your hips you could feel how worked up he’d gotten and you only felt it fair to return the favour.

“Where are you going?” He asked wide eyed watching as you got to your feet. You didn’t answer his question, only giving him a knowing smirk before dropping to your knees between his legs. Your hands slowly teasing their way up his thighs until they reach the top of his trousers. Looking up your met with the sight of his chest rising and falling as he pants, his eyes burning into your own as you maintain eye contact with him while popping open the button of his trousers.

Your pace was too slow for his liking, desperation was starting to set in and he needed to be touched, he didn’t care how all he knew was he needed you on him now. Lifting his hips he helped you lower his trousers and boxers, his cock springing free already leaking precum making your mouth water just from the sight. You could feel him twitch from the sensitivity despite your fingertips merely ghosting along his shaft, you couldn’t help but wonder how he’d react when you wrap your lips around him if he’s already so responsive.

Taking his cock in your hand properly you give him a few pumps before leaning down, sticking your tongue out to lap at the beads of precum. Wooyoung’s breath became shaky, his brows furrowed and his hand gripped the back of the couch tightly needing something to ground himself. His reactions spurred you on, you were getting to him in all the ways you wanted to.

You lick a long stripe along the prominent vein and feel how his whole body shudders. You don’t take your eyes of him when you slowly start to take him in your mouth, a smirk growing as best it could on your face when you watch how his head fell back against the couch and a breathy groan flowed from his lips. You work him slowly, bobbing your head sinking a little further each time and your tongue swirling along his tip every time you came back up.

“Ah shit.” Wooyoung hisses through his teeth and managing to lift his head back up to be able to look at how you’re taking him. The sight alone was enough to almost send him over the edge, your dishevelled hair hanging in your face ruined his view though. Reaching his hand out Wooyoung swept your hair to one side before gripping it in his hand holding it out of your face to reveal just what he wanted to see, your doe eyes looking up at him as you take him all in, drool slightly running down your chin while you bob your head faster. Sloppy...just how he liked it.

“Fuck...Wait.” His fingers wrap tightly around your hair before pulling you off him, the slight sting in your scalp making you whimper.

“I’m not done with you yet.” Wooyoung pants out getting to his feet and bringing you with him by your hair. He’s quick to fully remove the clothing on his lower half while your fingers fumble at the buttons on his shirt and he quickly makes work of tugging your skirt and panties down to join his clothes in a pile on the floor. He pulls you in close to him by your hips before leaning down a little, gripping the back of your thighs sweeping your legs up to wrap around his waist.

You let out a small “oomph” when your back makes contact with a wall. Your lips find their place at Wooyoung’s neck again and your hands weave their way through his black hair, tugging at the strands making him groan. You were so lost in making your mark on him that you didn’t notice the small movements he made as he lined himself up with your core until he finally thrust into you.

“Fuck!” You moan, the sudden feeling of being filled taking your breath away. Wooyoung’s hands held the back of your thighs in a vice grip sure to leave finger marks behind, perfect for you to look at and remember this moment. His thrusts were fast and somehow he found your sweet spot with ease, like he already knew your body like the back of his hand. The searing pleasure you were feeling was so good it made your toes curl and your nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Feels so good...You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.” Wooyoung groans in your ear, nibbling at the lobe. Your mind is too hazed to form a response, all that came out of your mouth were lough shaky moans. You could feel the knot building in your stomach again and with this position and his pace you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. Wooyoung can’t help but smirk against your neck as he feels you tighten around him, freeing one of his hands to rub small circles on your clit.

“Are you close for me? Are you going to cum for me again?” He whispers in a teasing tone. You can only nod as your grip on his hair tightens pulling him away from your neck to mould your lips together again, his kiss swallowing every moan you give him. The combination of Wooyoung’s fingers on your clit and hit cock hitting your sweet spot had you crumbling in moments, your whole body tensing and pulling him closer to you as he rode out your orgasm. Your walls clenching around his already sensitive cock had him hurtling closer to his own orgasm.

“Since you got here...fuck...all I’ve wanted to do is bend you over my desk.”

“Do it then.” You finally manage to say, earning you a smirk from Wooyoung. Your back leaves the wall and you’re being carried over to his desk and you whine when he slips himself out from you to set you on the floor.

“Don’t be like that doll, now bend over the desk for me.” You do as you’re told in an instant, wiggling your ass a little as you wait for him. You’re pleased to hear low sigh he gives out as his hands smooth over the plush skin of your ass, his fingers digging in as he gips it. You lurch forward on the desk as he starts to thrust into you again, his speed piking up more than earlier as he tried to chase his own high. It doesn’t take him long, the sight of your ass bouncing with every thrust and your moans filling the room has him teetering on the edge.

“Ah fuck!” He growls, pulling out from you to spill his cum onto your ass. His low moans are music to your ears making you clench around nothing as you fee his hot ropes of cum coat your skin. Getting his breath back, Wooyoung takes a moment to admire the sight of you bent over his desk covered in his cum.

“I could get used to this.” He thinks to himself before walking over to grab his boxers, sliding them back on.

“Stay there for a second.” He tells you, running a hand along your back before going over to a draw in his desk, pulling out a handful of tissues to help clean you up. once you were cleaned up Wooyoung gathers your clothes and hands them over to you, letting you get yourself dressed as he fixes himself back up.

“So, do you do this to all new female staff or am I just lucky?” You joke with a small giggle.

“Do you fuck all your bosses or am I just lucky?” He quips back casually avoiding your question making you laugh again as you gathered how this must look to him.

“Well I guess now Amber really does have a bit of truth to her bullshit.” Wooyoung laughs at you with a slight roll of his eyes at your comment but he can’t deny the fact that you’re right.

“Well I guess it’s safe to say we’re not going to get anymore work done tonight after that.” He states as you both look over to the scattered pile of abandoned papers.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I’ll call us a cab, I would drive you home but we’ve both had a drink.” You nod at his offer and thank him.

After a while the cab turns up and you look over to Wooyoung confused as to where there was only one.

“Come on, lets get you home first.”

“But you live in the opposite direction to me, you don't need to come with me I’ll grab my own cab it’s okay.” You argue slightly waving your hands at him.

“I only called one for a reason, I’ll make sure you get home safe and then I’ll be on my way so get in.” You nod thanking him again and slide into the back seat first. You try to hide the small smile that’s taking over your face. First you get fucked by your hot boss in his office and now he’s being a gentleman and taking you home, it filled your gut with butterflies but you knew you were thinking too much into it.

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shadyteacup · 2 years

Note

Hi! I had read some of your BSD fics (kinda wishing you would write more Chuuya x fem!reader) and I really like them! I came across your account again today when I saw the little thing you were doing with jessbeinme15 hehe

Have a good day! (I'm guessing it is evening for you but I'm not sure)You seem to be a really fun person (I scrolled all the way to March) <3

Hi! I love that u love my interactions with my love(platonic, ofc♡) XD see what I did there? *smirks a like a nerd*

Anyway, here's some chu content for u, you cute lil soul♡

Chuuya glanced out the window at the baby blue sky. Judging by the lack of orange and yellow, it must be well after 9 in the morning. He sighed, knowing that today would be yet another failed plan. He had planned so many things for today. But then again, chuuya was never too good at planning ahead. Who decides to do something till 3 in the morning, only to schedule something else at 7 the next day?

The ginger haired beauty rolled his eyes at his own foolishness. In his defense, the activity he had planned last night shouldn't have lasted that long. Yet, he should've known this would happen.

Glancing down, he smiled softly at your sleeping face. Your mouth was slightly agape, and some drool had made its way onto your smushed cheek. Your hair was a little messy- more like very disheveled- and your dark circles were on full display. To Chuuya, you looked like the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

He smirked when he remembered why you were such a hot mess. Last night was... feisty.

Almost sensing his gaze, you stirred awake. Your tiny palms came up to rub your eyes as you yawned into Chuuyas bicep, where your face had managed to cut off the blood supply all night long.

Chuuya chuckled at how cute you looked early in the morning.

"Good morning sleepy head."

Your tired eyes finally found his, and a big smile made its way onto your face.

"Chuuu!", you exclaimed gleefully, nuzzling your face into his bare chest.

Chuuya immediately cuddled you, and began planting small kisses in the crook of your neck.

You whined and pushed him away a little.

"Please, have mercy. I want to be able to walk."

"Darling, I think I disabled those settings last night already."

You snickered before climbing on top of his torso, straddling him.

"Then, how about I decide the pace today, hmm?"

Chuuya took a moment to take in the sight, before flipping you on your back, hovering close to your face.

"I can't possibly let the birthday girl do all the work on her special day, no?"

You blushed as you remembered what day it was. A warmth filled your heart when you realised that he remembered.

Sudden realization struck as you realised just why last night had been so... special.

Chuuya placed a kiss on your forehead before getting off the bed, leaving you confused.

"We've got many things planned, love.", he said, gently pulling you up and off the comfort of the pillows.

"Can't have some of this," he said, inhaling deeply in your hair, and grabbing your ass, making you squeak, "ruin the plan for the day."

He pulled away, leaving you pouting.

"Aww, baby, don't worry! We'll continue this later today." Chhuya winked, making you blush.

"Promise?", you asked, smirking.

"Of course, my lady."

Chuuya pecked the back of your hand, before sending you off to the bathroom. This same hand would later be adorned with a diamond ring of the finest quality, that he picked out months ago. Today, he would finally make you his.

#shady☕#shadyteacup #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs dazai #kunikida doppo #☕ says #chhuya #bsd chuuya #chuuya fluff #happy birthday chuuya #chuuya x y/n #chuuya angst #chuya nakahara

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amberthefantasy · 1 month

Text

Starlight

Chapter 6: Not Alone

“12th century?” I gaped at her.

Roxie smiled and hummed at her. “I believe it was Iris… yes Iris, I do wonder how she is…” Roxie’s eyes were distant as she stared into space, lost in thoughts of the past. She blinked a few times, bringing herself back to the present. “Anyway, I’m here to help you train,” she explained.

“You said that Tanya called you?” I asked.

“Oh yes, we’ve known each other for a long time,” Roxie waved her hand.

“How long?”

“Hmm, since she was quite a young vampire. We’ve kept in touch over the centuries. When your young Edward told her that a siren had transformed in Forks she called me for help.”

“And you came,” I said softly, stepping closer.

“Of course I did,” Roxie smiled at me. She walked towards me and placed a soft hand on my cheek. I looked up at her with slightly widened eyes, trying to blink away the tears that threatened to spill as the realisation that there was another person like me who had come from however far away just to help me. “Shh shh little one,” Roxie said quietly, placing her arms around me in a soft hug.

I stayed wrapped in her arms for a minute, finally letting myself relax, before pulling back. “Thank you, for coming,” I said softly.

“It is my pleasure,” Roxie ran her hand along my cheek. “I was very happy when Tanya called me.”

“How did you meet her?” Esme’s voice almost made me jump. I had almost forgotten the Cullens were still here.

“Oh I met her when she was around a hundred, still a youngling.” Roxie began to explain, pulling back from me. “I stayed with their family for a short while before moving on. I met Tanya a few centuries later and since cellular phones have become a common device we keep in touch more than we used to.” She said as she took a seat on the empty sofa.

“How old are you?” Emmett asked, leaning towards Roxie.

“Emmett!” Esme admonished her.

Roxie laughed. “Did your mother never tell you not to ask a woman her age?” She teased. Emmett leant back, I guessed that if he could still blush he would be. “But I take no offence,” Roxie waved her hand. “I was born in Illyricum, during the Republic of Rome.” I stared at her. I had guessed that Roxie must be quite old but Ancient Rome old?

“Roman Republic?” Rosalie’s eyes were as wide as mine must be.

“Hmm,” Roxie hummed. “Old, am I not?” She smiled and let out a soft laugh.

“You must have seen so much of the world,” I said. Jasper placed his hand on my shoulder and led me over to sit beside Roxie.

“I have travelled much of the world,” Roxie nodded. “I mostly stayed in Europe, close to my home. But I have travelled as far east as Japan and as south as Chile.” She smiled. “Most of the time when I travel it is to find other sirens.”

“I thought all the sirens were in hiding?” Carlisle’s voice was questioning.

“We are,” Roxie confirmed. “But some of us have managed to stay in touch over the years. I saw Theo just a few years ago, fifty or so.” I blinked, fifty years was a few to her?

“Theo,” Carlisle repeated.

“Theodora of Thebes?” Roxie said, cocking her head in question. “Princess Theodora.”

“Oh of course,” Carlisle nodded.

“Of course?” I cut in, raising my hand slightly to draw attention to me. “I’m sorry but who is Princess Theodora?”

Roxie blinked at me. “You really are brand new aren’t you?” she said softly. “Princess Theodora is the daughter of the guardian queen, Thessamara of Thebes, she’s a kind girl.”

I nodded, processing the fact that there was apparently a guardian queen. That was probably something I should ask more about but there was another question in the front of my mind that I needed an answer to first.

“You have a question,” Roxie said with a smile.

I smiled and let out an awkward huff. “Umm… I was just wondering… well I’ve been wondering how you work out what your special ability is?”

Roxie smiled softly. “It may take a while my dear,” she sighed. “It took me years to discover mine.”

“What is yours?” Alice asked. I almost jumped, having forgotten she was behind me.

“Shall I show you?” Roxie asked with a smirk. Alice clapped her hands. Carlisle nodded with a smile and Emmett called a loud yes. Roxie laughed and stood. “Mayhaps you will want to distance yourselves my new friends, my gift can be harmful to vampires. Jasper stepped back from behind me and the other vampires leant away. Roxie held her hands out in front of her. I stared intently at her, waiting.

Suddenly, two bright red flames burst from her hands and flickered over her skin. I gasped. “Pyrokinesis,” I whispered.

“Hmm,” Roxie nodded. The flames ran over her hands and down her wrists. “It is quite a useful talent. Good for food and fighting.” She looked at me. “I imagine they may not have told you about vampires' weakness to fire?”

I shook my head, looking at Carlisle, who shrugged. “It was not important information. You are in no danger from vampires here.”

“You are here,” Roxie commented. The flames that were flickering on her hands died.

“We are no danger to Lizzie,” Esme insisted in a slightly offended tone of voice.

“Perhaps not,” Roxie inclined her head. “If Tanya trusts you, I do as well. But you must have friends who may visit, friends who may not be inclined to risk their lives for a siren.”

“We visit our friends, they do not visit us,” Carlisle said.

Roxie hummed. “I’m sorry, risking their lives?” I blinked. “Carlisle you never said-”

“-I did tell you that the Volturi hunt down all the guardians they can, didn’t I?” Carlisle cocked his head.

“I mean.. yeah” I could feel my heart rate increasing. The implication had been that they would be under threat from my being here but to hear it said to casually was still jarring.

“It is very unlikely the Volturi will ever find out you are,” Carlisle waved off my concern. I just let out a gasp. Struggling to find the words to express the stress and fear that was coursing through my body right now.

“Roxie,” Alice spoke before I could. “Lizzie here has been practising her telekinesis abilities, maybe you could give a demonstration of that too?”

Seeming to realise that Alice was trying to change the subject before I could have a panic attack, Roxie nodded. She waved for Emmett and Rosalie to stand up. They did, stepping away from the couch they had been sitting along to allow Roxie access. Slightly annoyed at Alice’s topic change, I still wanted to see how easy it would be for Roxie to lift the couch that I had struggled with the day before.

Roxie took a breath. Then a soft barely visible silver mist began to coalesce around the couch and it lifted slowly into the air. I looked between it and Roxie, her face was smooth, the only thing giving away that it was her lifting the couch was the slight twitching of her hands and the glowing silver of her eyes. She held the couch in the air for a few moments before softly placing it back on the ground.

“You didn’t move your arms,” was the first thing I said after the couch stilled on the wooden floor.

“For such small things as a two-seater couch it is unnecessary,” Roxie explained, when she looked at me I noticed that her eyes had returned to their soft brown. “When moving multiple things or heavier objects I do find it easier to control them by guiding them with my hands.”

“I have to use them for everything,” I confessed softly.

“I used to as well,” Roxie said. “After a few years of practice you will find it easier to use your telekinesis without moving your entire arm, eventually just your fingers will be needed for things such as that.” I nodded. It made sense that after practising for a while it would become easier, just like any skill.

“Can you help me practise?” I asked, standing up and walking over to stand by her.

“That is what I’m here for isn’t it?” Roxie smiled. “Show me what you can do.”

---

I managed to convince Dad to let me go to the Cullens again the next day. Though he insisted I only stay for two hours at the most, he wanted a proper Sunday dinner on Bella and I’s first Sunday in Forks.

Roxie was an obsolete treasure to have around. She was not only helpful in practising my abilities but she was funny as hell and had some great stories to tell. Every now and then while we were training she’d tell some funny story about her own struggles with learning to use her powers.

“Of course, Mater was very helpful but she could be a bit too… how would you say? Strict.” Roxie was saying as we walked down the stairs into the Cullen's backyard. “She just wanted to help me grow but she was intense and sometimes pushed too hard.”

I hummed. My mother was nothing like that but some of my old friends' parents had been like that in California. “But anyway, that’s not important. I bet you’re wondering why we are outside today,” Roxie paused to look at me.

“Yeah… are we lifting rocks or something?” I asked.

“Not today,” Roxie smirked. “How do you like running?”

I stared at her. “You’re joking?”

“Not at all,” Roxie fixed the loose sleeve of her shirt. It was the first time I’d seen her in anything but a dress, instead wearing a simple pale green top and dark shorts. “You’re faster than regular humans now and you need to practise running like that.”

I let out a loud sigh, but the tone of her voice told me it would be foolish to try and argue with her. “Right, lead on.” Roxie laughed at my tone and took off running, forcing me to try and catch up with her.

We raced through the trees. Roxie avoided every obstacle like she had been through this forest a million times, but the new unusual speed made me have to keep adjusting course and dodging, I even tripped a few times. Which I could swear I heard Roxie laughing at.

She led me along a path that she seemed to have planned before. Through the trees and around the Cullens house before we finally stopped once again in the back garden. “Well done,” Roxie praised after we came to a stop. “You did well for a first timer.”

“Tha-” I paused, a new scent reached my nose. It was a scent I recognized but couldn’t quite place. Then the sound of footsteps reached me, and a few seconds later a person came into the yard. “Edward!” I called. Edward paused and looked at me. His bronze coloured hair was slightly messy from the run through the forest, but the rest of his appearance was as put together as the rest of his family always were.

“Lizzie,” Edward nodded to me. “It’s nice to see you again.” Then he glanced at Roxie, who had stepped up beside, hands tensed when he entered the backyard, but relaxed when I spoke.

“This is Roxie,” I answered his unasked question. “She’s a siren too, and a friend of Tanya’s.”

Edward’s butterscotch eyes flashed with recognition, “yes, Tanya mentioned her. A pleasure to meet you Roxie.”

Roxie walked around me to offer her hand to shake. “The pleasure is mine, Edward.” They shook hands firmly.

Then there was a small person racing past me and Alice flung herself into Edward’s arms. “Welcome back Ed!” she chirped.

“Thanks Alice,” Edward smiled at his sister

“That was a quick decision, I barely got a warning,” Alice complained, slapping his arm.

Edward shrugged. “Well, I think I can handle it now.”

“Handle it?” Roxie asked.

“Edward had come trouble controlling himself around my sister, her blood is apparently quite tempting,” I explained.

Roxie nodded and hummed. “She is your cantor then, a rare thing. It was wise to leave before you lost control.”

“Cantor?” I asked.

“Blood singer,” Roxie translated. “There are many terms for it in many languages but in my native latin we called them cantor. A human who’s blood is almost irresistible to a specific vampire.”

Edward huffed. “That certainly describes Isabella. But I think the week away helped.” He nodded. “I can last a few hours in biology with her.”

“And if you can’t?” I asked.

“Then I’ll leave,” Edward said firmly.

��Good,” I nodded once. “Because I may be young, but hurt my sister and I might just discover what that unique ability is.” I stared him down. Edward gave a single resolute nod.

---

Sophie flicked my forehead. “Focus!” She snapped.

I jumped. “Sorry, uhh what did you say?” I winced slightly. I had been so distracted all day by thoughts of training my abilities that I had gotten lost in thought so much Sophie was beginning to just ignore it. Now though I was worrying about something else, it was fifth period, Bella and Edward’s biology class. So my thoughts were solely focused on my sister. Would Edward be able to control himself? Would she be safe? What could I do to make sure?

“Lizzie!” Sophie’s exasperated voice called. “We get one study lesson to share and you're distracted by something else, what is it?”

I grimaced slightly. “Uhh, my sister. It’s nothing really, I just haven’t seen her since this morning.” That wasn’t a lie, I had gone outside again at lunch today so I’d missed seeing Bella then.

Sophie smiled sympathetically. “I guess I understand, I only have a brother so it’s probably different to a sister.”

“Probably,” I muttered.

The bell rang a few minutes later and Sophie and I walked to Spanish in silence. I glanced up and down the hallway, trying to spot Bella or Edward but neither of them were in view. Sophie seemed not to want to pull me out of my thoughts for the entire lesson, even Mrs. Goff didn’t call out my obvious distraction. Sophie muttered a goodbye as we left the class. I responded with one of my own, but didn’t really look at her as I sped walking into the parking lot.

I let out a long breath when I saw Bella walking towards her car from the other side of the lot. I almost ran over to her and smiled widely. “Hey Bells!” I leant against her car. “Good day?”

Bella blinked at me. Her eyes were somewhat distant as she blinked at me. “Oh yes, uhh… did you know that Edward Cullen was back in town?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, there was no point to lie about it. “He came back while I was at their house yesterday.”

Bella nodded, distractedly as she climbed into the car. I furrowed my brows. I looked back to where I knew the Cullens were parked. Edward was leaning against his Volvo, three cars down, staring intently at the drivers side of the car. I narrowed my eyes. Something was wrong. Something had happened between them in class. If Bella was too distracted to tell me, that would be Edwards' job the next time I saw him. Seeming to sense my eyes, Edward broke contact with the car and looked at me. I gave a small questioning twitch of my head, but Edward made no move to respond.

“Liz?” Bella called from the car.

“Sorry,” I slipped into the car and gave her a small smile. She had turned on the heater in the car, and though the cold temperature of Forks didn’t bother my toughened body as much as it would a human, it was still nice to be out of the cool misty rain.

Bella glanced around to make sure the way was clear. I saw her jerk when she noticed Edward’s eyes on her, but she looked away from him and threw the truck into reverse before I could ask any questions about her odd behaviour. The car jerked when Bella stomped on the brake. I let out a shocked gasp and Bella apologised to me quietly. She took a breath. The car began to move more slowly out of the spot. Bella began to drive out of the lot, but as we passed him, I spotted Edward laughing quietly beside his car.

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#fanfic #twilightsaga #the twilight saga #oc

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ruershrimo · 3 months

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take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 3: motion

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chapter synopsis:

'You may forget this in the future, but you swear you’ll try your very best to remember it and be like Tsumiki. Because she’s going places; she’s got a promising future and good ideals she seems she’ll stick to until she reaches the grave, because she’s the type to change the trajectory of others’ lives even now at the tender, juvenile age of nine.'

---

Fushiguro Tsumiki is amazing and she's changed the trajectory of your life. You decide to hope you can do the same for others.

Fushiguro Megumi is someone you meet again after six years, only for the two of you to have become so very different since then.

Itadori Yuji is, well, a fun guy to hang out with. That's all you know for now.

word count: ~10k (this chapter was hell to edit on tumblr); tws: mild “gore” again? (a fight scene)

30-11-2010

“When’s Megumi’s birthday, actually?” you ask one day after finishing the last of your homework off at their place.

“Oh! December 22nd,” Tsumiki states. Megumi’s scrubbing a plate in the kitchen. “Are you planning to give him anything?”

“I’ll see what I can,” you reply, “But I just wanted to know. What do you usually do for your birthdays, though?”

“Hmm,” Tsumiki pauses, “We usually only have Mr Gojo and some of his friends over— oh, hi, Megumi!”

“Yay, you’re back!”

“We were just talking about your birthday,” you inform him. “…you know, I’ve been meaning to ask something, actually. I never really see you guys’ parents, so, um… are they busy? Are they out of the country for work, or something?”

“Oh— no, our parents left.”

Left? Like, abandoned?

“Oh— oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I thought they just had work or something and could never come back earlier— I never even thought—!”

“—They’re probably having fun or dying in a ditch somewhere, though,” Megumi interrupts, “It’s not a problem to either of us. It’s not like we knew them that well either. I can’t even remember them,” he explains.

“Oh…” you trail off, turning to face the table. If they’d really gone away when the two were so young, Tsumiki, the older sister, must have tried to be the ‘adult’, right? That sounds difficult. And you’ve heard that children are like plants, and plants need to have enough space to grow— you can recall that fact from your science classes. So if they’d grown so close to each other with no one else save that weird benefactor guy, would they have been able to grow properly? It must have felt suffocating for both of them, right? Maybe they didn’t realise it if they’d been so comfortable with and used to what they’d been having their whole lives— only each other?

Or maybe you’re thinking ahead of yourself and in reality they were okay. It’s not like they wouldn’t be either way, but maybe the benefactor spent more time with them growing up, and they had more friends before you than you think— you know that Tsumiki does, even if Megumi doesn’t.

“Megumi, you shouldn’t curse people by talking about them dying like that.”

“So what? It’s the truth.”

“Hey, don’t argue…” you start.

“Hm—? Sorry, [Name]! It’s our own issue— don’t worry about it,” she says, her smile a little forced, the remnants of her frown still left on her face, “Right, Megumi?” Oh, she’s angry. Oh no.

“I’ll never understand why you’re like this,” he says, heading to his room.

“Hey— why’re you leaving?” He walks out anyway.

“Tsumiki, why’s he leaving?” She frowns again.

“I’m sorry, [Name],” she says, “Megumi just thinks that you shouldn’t be nice to people.”

“Huh? Nice in what way?”

“No, it’s just… when people do bad things, I think we should forgive them. We shouldn’t punish them instead. We have to be kind because everyone has a reason for what they do, so we should just be kind to whoever we see.”

“…uh-huh. I guess. But my mummy says that sometimes if you do that too much life gets harder.”

“It gets harder if you think it does. Megumi thinks like that too, calling me a hypocrite when I tell him to forgive people and things like that,” she says, “…you know what I think, [Name]?”

“I think that you’re a kind person. I think that everyone and anyone can be kind in any way. It’s just that we have to think we’re kind and everything comes easy. I think that kind of life is the best. So…” she grins, and it’s light and happy again, but you see the sagacity in her eyes, and maybe how tired yet satisfied she may be on her lower eyelids. “Don’t give up on trying to be a good person, [Name]. Or maybe just being a kind one, because I think you’d be amazing at that.”

“Oh…” you say. If your eyes could, they would have stars in them. Nobody’s told you you could be amazing at something, much less good. You’re quiet and nobody listens to you. Every parent-teacher-meeting always ends with the conclusion that you’re quite an alright student, but even more so a reticent girl. For years your parents have been telling you to speak up or to be more confident and the only people you’ve been able to speak easily to are Tsumiki and Megumi. The two of them are the only ones who have ever said much beyond your timid demeanour.

You may forget this in the future, but you swear you’ll try your very best to remember it and be like Tsumiki. Because she’s going places; she’s got a promising future and good ideals she seems she’ll stick to until she reaches the grave, because she’s the type to change the trajectory of others’ lives even now at the tender, juvenile age of nine. It’s strange how she doesn’t know that, how she must think that she and Megumi are close friends and that the impact she’s had on you is far less than that; it’s strange how you can meet other people at any time and if it’s the right person, no matter what, your life will be affected. It’s strange that there is such a thing as fate.

It’s 2010 and you think this year is one you want to keep lasting forever.

27-6-2016

It happens on one summer evening.

Everything seems like it’s empty; from the streets and their dusty white concrete turning grey as they’re drenched with water, to the rain that news outlets report to be more saturated with acid as the years go by, to the houses and trees that around this time are either deafeningly loud with either the quiet, the sound of cicadas or the temporarily never-ending downpour.

But for a while, on that morning, the place where you’re settled in— for now— is the rain’s dominion, and you’re just a feeble, powerless human at the hands of nature’s relentlessness.

So you stay under the convenience store awning, hiding in the shade from the rain after running an errand. The last time you’d got drenched in this type of weather— about two weeks ago— you’d got ill, and it only caused your parents more problems, as your mother chided you. Being sick in the summer wasn’t that bearable for you either— no, it was something hellish. Sometimes you could handle being sick in the winter with a runny nose or getting mild colds in the spring, but being sick during summer time was the worst. You’d be struggling to breathe through mucus-filled lungs and you wouldn’t be able to swallow anything without triggering a terrible ache in your phlegm-filled throat due to post-nasal drip. You’d be feeling like ridding yourself of anything resting in your insides, from toxins to food; you wouldn’t be eating or ingesting anything except water and the constant sensation of feeling faint weighing you down would seem like it were about to kill you prematurely as the sweat from a high fever made you feel immeasurably weak, like a helpless child trapped in the confines of your own body.

“Are you okay?” the cashier by the counter— not the one who’s usually there, though, so you presume that this one’s a replacement— asks as you’re lost in your own thoughts, “I can give you an umbrella. For free.”

You’d insist on paying if you had any cash, but your now empty wallet reminds you of the fact that you’re all out. You have a tiny quibble with the kind lady before she finally gives in, and you’re off on your way back home.

Even upon further inspection as you exit the store, she still seems like a run-off-the-mill cashier. She seems to be in her early 20s, some college student back for the summer part-timing at the local convenience store for extra cash, maybe— with a sort of wistful yet coltish smile and a mole by the side of her right eye.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be so insistent on not doing things if those things’ll do you good,” she tells you, “I mean— I know that sounds kinda mean, and that in asian cultures like ours we naturally say stuff that deprecates ourselves, but I really do think that you should, um… how do I say it?” she ponders aloud, “Aha! —Yes, you should just look out for yourself and let people help you. It does everybody a little better. And, you know, you’ll be able to live life without regrets, because there won’t really be an opportunity cost for letting people help you, and they’ll like helping you too. I mean, who doesn’t like helping others? Wait, you get what I mean, right?”

“...it sounded like you were rambling,” you tell her, then step back, “Um. Sorry.”

“No, no! It’s fine! Like, um, you and I are kinda similar in that regard, I guess? We’re both awkward and we’re strangers but I just thought that the advice would do you some good, you know?”

“Ah— I get it, sorry,” you repeat, “It’s just that… I’m not used to that, maybe? I don’t want to be a burden on others.” Not anymore.

She purses her pink-glossed lips. “It’ll be hard to live like that, you know. If you live like that you won’t know who you are.”

It’s strange to hear that from a literal stranger. What’s even stranger is how deep the conversation is. Wasn’t this the time to make small talk? You didn’t talk to strangers very often, especially those in stores and all. At least not for this long.

“I… uh. I’ll see— I guess…” you mutter. The conversation dies there. You really aren’t suited for things like that. You can only find it easy to communicate and speak in that way when it’s with Tsumiki or your parents. Otherwise, you’d be stuttering and muttering your way through valleys of words that you don’t know if you should use, people demanding you speak up, or people commenting on how awkward you are, even if they mean so endearingly. You don’t know the source of the problem, really— maybe it was puberty and the onslaught of new, different people you had to talk to every time you moved? Maybe it is that. But this is your predicament: you used to be able to talk to people and over the years that just went away.

And it’s especially bad with people your age— the last time you’d been able to talk to someone your age in a normal, non-cloddish manner, was probably when you were eight.

Oh.

When you exit the shop, the sky’s been dipped in the sunset and it looks like a mix of purple and pink hues have been laid onto it like watercolour paint on fresh paper. The cashier waves you goodbye anyway, claiming that she hopes you’ll come back soon— you hope she doesn’t hate you now, else you’d avoid this convenience store like the plague for the next few months. The plastic bag rustles and crinkles as its contents bump against your knees.

The air is still thick with petrichor and the breaths you take feel light and fresh, brushing against the inner walls of your lungs as you breathe in and out. There are water residuals left on the sidewalk in patches.

Suddenly it changes— and you don’t notice this until after it happens. The air grows heavy and everything around you feels volatile, like their constituents will be separated from each other at any moment, turned into a mangled mass of jostling particles; your ears feel as if they’re so intensely covered to the point that you find it difficult to catch a breath; you can’t bring your lungs to continue moving after that hitched breath you made once you felt it. There’s something in the air, something disgusting and thick and suffocating. It fills you with ominousness. It fills you with a feeling of sickness, of suffering, of shame and fear and sadness, and it’s lurking somewhere, somewhere in the dark.

Cursed energy.

You remember your father talking about it, mentioning how it felt in passing.

Oh no.

“Help!” a voice erupts— it’s the same voice from the cashier, except this time it isn’t pleasant, it’s frantic, no— downright terrified.

If there is anything you’d consider yourself it isn’t someone who saved others.

Beyond the geographical sense of the word, you were the embodiment of stasis; something that didn’t touch others at all and made no effort to do so. You’d have no effect on any others’ life and for a long time you’d accepted you’d live a life amounting to nothing. You knew that and walked into life thinking you’d just keep doing nothing until you died for some nondescript reason.

So you didn’t really care about your future, and you abstained from thinking of the morality behind your actions because what was there to judge, anyway? You just had to follow what everyone else did, and none of your actions were so monumental to change anything. Being guilty over doing too little or doing nothing at all wouldn’t change anything; you didn’t have the power to change it and you didn’t see the point of a Sisyphean life like such. Even if humanity would have tugged at your shoulder to do something and be removed from that state of stasis, you were sure everyone felt the same and the amalgamation of this was society’s indifference— after all, what was humanity, kindness, against society’s apathy, its enemy; what was humanity when placed against what it had built itself into?

Thus for all your fourteen years of life you did nothing at all to change the trajectory of anything. It would be no use doing and no use trying. Nothing would come out of it in the end.

As long as you could be useful to your parents, or at least the people around you, you didn’t have to care about being good or bad or kind or evil.

You’d lived like that for a long time. You’re not the type to save people, not the type to help those you know nothing of.

You look down at your clenched fists, at her hair tie and its cherry-red hue.

She did say you’d be good at it.

It’s strange to think of your best friend now, but damn it, you really want to be like her now. You need to.

Else you wouldn’t be able to live; you have the power to help people, right? And you’re probably one of the only people on this island with the ability to do so. At the very least you’ve got some cursed energy, and you’ve always been able to heal from injuries really quickly. You’ve seen enough, from simple shikigami to veils and simple domains cast by your father.

So there may be a chance, a one in a million chance. And you’re willing to take it. If you don’t take it now and find that in the future you could have helped someone who would have gotten injured or worse— it’s now of all times that you think you wouldn’t be able to ever forgive yourself for such a thing.

You can’t change the directions of others’ lives. At least not if you keep thinking like that.

You grind your teeth and turn back, leaving the bags on the sidewalk. You’ll get them later. This is a ridiculous idea and you’re doing it anyway and your mind is screaming at your frozen legs to move and keep running, idiot, keep fucking moving because you’ve got to save someone you may just be able to save. Someone you don’t know, who may just be able to help. She said that you shouldn’t deny things that can help you, after all. And she has to be helped, right? So you’re going to jump in and you won’t deny yourself from saving yourself from a life of guilt. And you’re going to be useful, too. You’re going to help.

You really have to do this and all of a sudden you think you may be crying. But you run forward anyway. You’re going to move away from that state of stasis; you’re going to change and shift and move; finally, it’s liberating and frightening and feels like living as you step into the store.

Your lungs are burning.

The curse looms over, a deformed, monstrous thing with its eyes and hands drowning in the mud-like substance it consists of.

You’re going to make this work. You’ve seen your own cells once or twice before in science classes and all, you remember how your father had the old microscope he used to use for work, and brought it out for you to look at what made you. You’re your father’s daughter so you’ll make this work, your promise yourself— and you think of those cells, you conjure that image of them in your head and focus on them shifting, changing to make something new. You force them to multiply by the millions in a tenth of a minute, then you cut them off from your body. You make a tiny blister and goodness you can’t imagine you can actually do it but you’ve got to digress from that and worry about the college student cashier first, and how she’s trembling at the sight before her.

There’s a bruise on her arm, and so you’ve got to examine the situation: she’s holding it to her chest so you can imagine she’s only been wounded on the skin and hasn’t been scratched or anything. You imagine her cells— they mustn’t look too different from yours— and heal them back up, the blotch of a bruise disappearing as if wiped over by a stain remover. “Calm down!” you shout at her, and you really don’t mean to, but adrenaline and anxiety and the whole situation are getting your heart pounding unlike ever before.

“Wait— don’t touch that thing!” she shouts, “You’ll end up getting bruised by the hands!”

So what next? —Cursed energy alone can kill other curses if there’s enough of it, right? And your mother told you about how some people imbue things with cursed energy.

Then you run to the curse slapping it with as much force as you can muster, and it’s arms outstretch to snatch you and force you all around, hitting you abrasives against the shelves of the buns you bought earlier, scraping your skin against the surface of the counter’s edge or nearly smashing your shoulder against the wall, but you keep your hand on any part of it no matter what. You surge your cursed energy, splitting part of it to heal your wounds and the other part of it to overload it with cursed energy. The more intense you get, the harder it hits. But you can’t give up— you’re going to commit to it and stick to something; you’re going to do something that’ll amount to another thing for once. The sight of the cashier hiding under the counter, hunched and praying is enough for you to keep going. She doesn’t deserve that.

You load it with all the cursed energy you can manage as a rookie— you don’t think this is as much as a rookie has, though, so you probably have a lot and you promise you’re coming out of this thing alive. For once you’re going to swear you’ll keep living this intensely.

Eventually it fizzles out, its energy, and you just keep overloading it with cursed energy. You’ve still got a lot left. That’s good. Extremely so.

It bursts all over the convenience store, the ways it was made of. It’s going to be hassle to clean. You fall on the ground face flat and heal yourself. There’s a nosebleed, you think, from such a large amount of cursed energy. You’re panting heavier than you’ve ever done in your from any race or PE class.

But you’ve discovered that you are the type to help others. You’ve discovered that you can change others’ lives if you want to.

And it’s really frightening, but you’re happy. You don’t have to be a jujutsu sorcerer— you know too little of curses’ organic matter to be able to do this without making it alive yourself— but you’re going to devote your life to helping others.

Who knows? Maybe you’ll be a doctor in that world, a nurse, or something. You won’t have to be too involved in its inner workings; you won’t be on the front lines. Still, you’ll help and you’ll be useful. You’ll help and your life will be a good one to live, hopefully.

Shakily, she moves up. You’re shaking too, gooseflesh and cold sweat and temperatures going wild in and on your body.

“A-are you okay?” she asks.

“Oh— uhm, yeah!” you say, rubbing the blood off your philtrum. You’ll have to have a really long shower once you get back. Maybe you’ll draw a bath or something. “Sorry, I… uh— I should have asked you to go outside or something. Could you not tell anyone about this? If you’re injured anywhere I’ll try my best to patch you up as long as you don’t tell anyone about this.”

“I— okay… god, you’re just a kid,” she goes, “What happened back there, actually?”

“Have you ever seen stuff like that before? Like that monster?”

“…no.”

“Oh, I see. Well, don’t worry about it, because there are people who take care of stuff like that. You seeing it was just a one-time thing. It probably won’t ever happen again!” you say, holding your thumb up. “Promise not to tell anyone, okay?”

“Alright. Just… you okay? Want me to help you with anything? I mean, it’s pretty late now.”

“I’ll be okay. But I think I’ve got to go home now. Could you let me see any injuries you had got just now, first?”

28-6-2016

You only arrive back at midnight. The weather’s fully put a stop to its torrents and your parents are worried sick. You’re so tired you could faint— fighting the curse took more out of your mental energy than you thought it would, and you have a splitting headache as the result of it.

When they see you and sense the cursed energy, you explain whatever happened. Once you’re done your father shudders, and your mother stands up.

“Whatever it is, I’m not letting you be a jujutsu sorcerer,” she states resolutely, “I’m never going to let you be one.”

27-12-2016

The date you and Megumi have agreed on (with the help of Tsumiki as a sort of middleman) is about a week after his fourteenth birthday.

Your parents told you to be careful— it’s a long trip to and from Tokyo, and you’re going all alone.

This is the travel plan: fly from Kagoshima to Tokyo, stay at Megumi and Tsumiki’s for a while, and ultimately find the courage to hand him the letter before you leave. Maybe you’ll see if he still cares for you while you’re at it.

To be honest you don’t completely feel like going there anymore— you’ll always love Tokyo, it’s just that things will be painfully awkward between you and Megumi. So you remind yourself of Tsumiki, and that you’re mostly doing this for her. Any of the three of you can be the glue holding the other two together at any given moment, and now it’s Tsumiki playing that role.

Friends will always be above boys, anyway. So you’re doing this for Tsumiki and not him or yourself.

When you’re finally at the airport, Tsumiki greets you with a hug and Megumi in tow. You’ve her old hair tie on your wrist— it’s come in handy multiple times since then. They both look so different now: Tsumiki’s still tall, but her hair has grown longer, more luscious and she looks so pretty you understand why she had received so many anonymous confession letters on Valentine’s Day this year. Megumi’s taller too, and though it’s slightly embarrassing the first thing you think of when you see him is how handsome he looks, at least as far as boys your age go. The viridian of his eyes is a lush summer day in a capsule, a contrast to his jet black hair spiking in all directions and his eyelashes— and those, too, those eyelashes, goodness— they look like they were woven by silk or taken off a doll: they’re so unbelievably long and curly and pretty. Your face is as hot as an oven that’s about to bake up a whole cake and let it expand and rise. They’re the kind of people you see on television, each so beautiful like the other and you almost feel as if you’re intruding; you can’t imagine how out of place you must look with them from the eyes and viewpoints of other people.

“Tsumiki!” you grin as you’re still kept in her arms, “Long time no see!”

“[Name]! Finally! Oh, you look so pretty now!”

“Haha, really? I was thinking the same about you, though. I’m so happy to see you, seriously!”

“Me too!”

You step back and pull away.

“Hi, Megumi,” you say. You’re nervous, but you can’t deny you’re happy. You smile as you look at him— the two of you are no longer the same height anymore. You tug at the straps of your bag, feeling the weight of you pulling the straps down on your shoulder. “…it’s nice to see you again.”

“…nice to see you again, too.”

Why’d he have to stop talking to you? Why’d he have to avoid you? “How’s… um, how’s everything?”

A glimpse from your peripheral vision shows Tsumiki with sparks in her eyes. She really was so excited— and maybe a little too hopeful, because you don’t think anything will happen at all. The incident from June makes you feel like you should try to hope for something, though. But you probably won’t be completing this trip with a new boyfriend kissing your neck or something.

“It’s been okay,” he answers.

“…it’s the same for me.”

“That’s good to know.”

You take the train back with them, breathing in how crowded Tokyo is once again. When you’d first arrived six years ago you felt like a country bumpkin, the masses of people turned into one giant entity never once fathomed by your eight year old mind. Now you’re fourteen, and the lights with their neon sparks, the dark concrete bathed in streetlights when the sun sets, the moon hanging overhead over a multifaceted maze of buildings— it feels a bit like coming home, even if you only called it home for a little less than twelve months of a life spanning some number roughly around five thousand, one hundred and ten days.

You really love Tokyo. But more than that you love the people you met in it during what feels like a lifetime ago.

The cold air that you breathe in as the three of you walk and take the turn to their house fills your lungs, settling into them like they never left.

“—And you remember that old maths teacher?” Tsumiki laughs, “‘You children have to harness your mental prowess!’” she quotes, holding two fingers on each hand up in the air.

“Oh my god,” you say, playfully rolling your eyes, “I was so sick of him last time— bet he’d feel old as hell now if he saw us all grown up like this.”

“We saw him last week,” Megumi adds, “That old geezer expected college-level intelligence from bunches of feral eight and nine year old kids.”

“I mean, you were a smart kid, Megumi,” you recall, “Tsumiki too. But that guy, seriously…”

“Hey! You were a smart kid too, [Name]! But was there anyone who didn’t hate him last time?”

“Never, probably,” you agree, “He was so infuriating. Ugh— Oh! We’re here! I haven’t been here in so long, oh my goodness…”

Megumi works the key in and opens the door. You inhale the scent of their house, a mosaic of memories and old book pages. Places like these deserve to remain treasured forever.

The three of you step in. Smiley Tsumiki, frowny Megumi and you. This is the home that will never leave you no matter what. This is what you’d call home even if you’re not in Tokyo, or away from them, because it felt like a constant for a year and that was enough to feel like you went to it at least five times a week for less than a full year.

It feels good to be home. It feels better to call it that after years of not feeling as if you really ever had one at all.

28-12-2016

You can’t sleep.

They’ve helped you unpack all your things, you’re clad in pyjamas and have had a thorough shower, and the white blanket on the futon is warm on the inside and cold on the outside— perfect for sleeping comfortably. But you can’t get a wink of sleep.

Since you’d first discovered that you could, in fact, use cell manipulation, your nights had always been like this.

To use it properly with your own organic matter, cell manipulation requires cooperation with your brain and your stomach— the source of cursed energy. Imagining the cells enough and applying cursed energy to them required your brain to overload itself with both cursed energy and information, and adding commands to that, making yourself do even the slightest bit of actions with your cells— felt like leaving your brain in the microwave. The fact that your gut— for your cursed energy— and your brain— for command and control— had to work together added more of a headache on top of that. Headaches and nosebleeds and your brain being unable to shut down became what you were used to.

Did you keep doing it anyway? Yes— you still had the intention of helping people with it, after all. You held on to the hope that you could be a doctor or a nurse for jujutsu sorcerers or something, not an actual sorcerer in that world itself. You assumed your mother would be fine with that at least. You’d be satisfied with something like that as well, even at the cost of your sleep and health. You were still young, and the only two people who could do anything like this were you and your over fifty year old father. And you didn’t want him doing that at all for any longer.

Clang–!

The water bottle on the bedside table falls to the carpeted floor with a bang against the wood under it— you rush to pick it up with as little sound as you can manage.

Stealthily, you step out of bed. If your memory serves you right, the kettle should be on top of the drawer next to the oven.

You’ll drink some hot water or tea and lull yourself to a peaceful night eventually, you decide.

Then there’s a knock on the door. It’s light— so light that it would be inaudible had you stayed on the bed instead of moving nearer to the door, and so soft even the lightest of sleepers wouldn’t hear it. So whoever this is, they must know that you’re awake. You’re sure you wouldn’t have caught it at all and for a second you wonder whether there really was someone knocking the door after all. Tsumiki seems to be fast asleep, though— you can hear her muffled snoring from the other side of the wall. Thank goodness she’s a heavy sleeper. You’re not too sure about how Megumi fares in that sense.

You turn the cold metal knob and open the door.

In the dim light the front of his body’s barely visible, its glow only tracing the outline of his left shoulder from the back.

“Can’t sleep?” you ask, keeping your voice as soft as you can to prevent cracking your voice once you’ve started speaking.

“I heard something,” Megumi answers, “Did you fall?”

“It was just my water bottle. Did I wake you up? Sorry.”

“No, don’t worry about that.”

“Why’re you still awake?”

He places his hand on the door frame, voice lower than earlier that night. “Why are you? It’s way past midnight,” he adds, “...I couldn’t fall asleep either, to be honest…”

“Insomnia, huh?” you go, “This happens to me all the time, too.”

“No, it only happens once in a while,” he remarks, “Usually I sleep pretty well.”

“Oh. You wanna come inside? We can, like, talk, or something. We can catch up.”

“Sure.”

You guide him over to the edge of the bed, and he shuts the door before he sits down beside you. There is no way you can think to describe this other than saying that it’s strange, really: the boy you had a crush on six years ago, who was one of your closest friends, has grown more than thirty centimetres, and the aura surrounding the two of you is more awkward than any conversation you’ve ever had in your life. Neither of you question why the light isn’t turned on, and neither of you head to the bedside table to flip the light switch anyway, so the scene in their guest room is of two fourteen year old— about to be fifteen year olds in a little over three days, though— kids in the dark either reminiscing over memories or trying to catch up despite having changed so much.

“So how’s life?” you start.

“Nothing much happens at all, honestly. Wait, [Name]—” When he says your name it’s like your chest makes one full leap. “—I think I should let you know, six years ago, the dog you saw—”

“I already know about all that,” you tell him, “My parents told me. …hey, wanna see something I can show you with my own cursed technique?”

“...okay.”

You hold your hand out.

“It may be hard to see it in the dark, but…”

He turns the light on for you before you finish and you thank him. It must have been silly to try and show it to him when everything was engulfed in the night despite the fact that you were closer to the switch. You lean back as he outstretches his arm to do it.

“See?” You hold your hand up, palm displayed and facing him, before closing your eyes and imagine your heaps of skin cells and red blood cells. You’re bound to have a headache by tomorrow, but it’ll be worth it. At least there’s something you can show him, something new you can let him know of. This was ‘catching up’, anyway.

“[Name]!” He whispers, but the urgency in his voice is clear. You close the wound up immediately, speeding through a healing process that would have taken days to be completed in the span of a few seconds. Tomorrow you’re going to end up having a nosebleed, too.

“Are you alright?” he goes, “Your nose is bleeding.”

“Is it?” you reply, smiling, “Don’t worry. It’s just that I’m not that used to it yet. I guess if I trained my body even more, it would be able to handle it better.”

His hand strays to yours, most likely out of worry. You pull it back.

“Sorry,” he says.

“Sorry if I made you worry.”

“...I don’t think you should strain yourself,” he begins. It’s like how you and your father speak to each other— how funny. “If your own cursed technique does that to your body, it’s better if you don’t use it at all.”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, “I’m not going to use it in fights or anything, either.”

“You won’t become a jujutsu sorcerer?”

“No,” you explain, “I mean, my dad was one and he quit a while ago, but I know it’ll be hard to hold on and do so much with this during fights. I may just be like, backup, or a doctor or nurse, or something. You?”

“I think it’s pointless to save others.”

Wow, cringey much. Reminds you of yourself six months ago.

You don’t press it any further.

“But… about doctors and all, there are people like that. Only one, to be more specific.”

“Oh, well then— what's her name? I’d love to meet her.”

“Ieiri Shoko. Want me to introduce her to you?”

29-12-2016

He does try to take you to visit her the next day. You think the reason why he’s doing this is to avoid catching up, or at least actually talking about something beyond a superficial level. You think that if that’s the truth behind this then you must be at fault too because you let him take you there with no hesitation whatsoever. Like adding opaque white tape over a fully painted canvas.

But he fails because of the man over the phone. It’s probably that Gojo guy, that benefactor. Now that you know how strong he is in terms of sorcery, you guess that since he’s taking care of Megumi, Megumi’s probably a massive deal too.

“No, I’m just asking if she can visit right now— no, get your head out of the gutter, damn it!”

He hangs up. “I’m seriously going to punch him,” he states, frowning. So it’s definitely Gojo, then. You remember him being really insufferable by Megumi’s standards. “She’s busy, by the way. …sorry about that.”

“Calm down, it’ll be alright,” you say, “We didn’t have to. Let’s just go around the city like tourists or something. I think that’s better anyway.”

Tsumiki says she can come along with you, but she’ll have to leave at the stop right before Ueno for something important— a sudden appointment with someone, she says— before heading back and reconvening with you and Megumi. The three of you ride the Yamanote Line, but at the stop right before Ueno—your first chosen destination for this trip— Tsumiki has to leave, as she’d said. She apologises profusely. You know she isn’t slick.

You take your phone, texting her.

[Name]

Tsumiki

You ain’t slick

Why

Seriously omfg

[Tsumiki]

Sorry, I would have joined, just wanted to test the waters hehehehe… (>‿◠)✌

I mean you two seem ok

But let me know if anything bad happens okayyy???

You two seem pretty happy with each other though… also, what happened last night?

If you’re up to any hanky panky, don’t do it under our roof (ㆆ_ㆆ)!!

[Name]

Literally so done with you right now -_-

But thanks I guess, I’ll see if we can catch up

AAAAAAHHHHH it’s gonna end up being so awkward I swear

[Tsumiki]

Good luck!! Love you bestieeee

Ttyl okay?? Gimme all the details

“Who’re you texting?” he whispers.

“Just a friend,” you say, as they announce that the train is in Ueno.

The day in Ueno Park goes quite smoothly, really— but there’s still little progress made and the letter seems to be having its screams more drowned out the more you tug on your bag.

“It’s pretty cold,” you comment as the two of you walk around, witnessing everyone else walking around with their huddled-up bundles of clothes and coats on, “Next time, if it’s not too crowded, we should, um… we should visit during autumn or spring. Together.”

“Tsumiki and I can come here anytime. It just depends on you,” he says, a little rougher than you think he intends, “Wait— no, I mean, your timing—”

You giggle slightly. So you’re not the only one who’s gotten more awkward since last time. Now he doesn’t seem the type to be, though— he seems more like those ‘cool’ guys in shoujo mangas; those bad boys who the girls end up changing, or something. Kinda cringey. But the fact that he’s avoiding eye contact and turning his head away evasively so that you don’t see him because of such a little slip-up in his phrasing is really, really cute. At least that’s what you think. It’s not like any other people would think the same, probably because of that frown or the fact that his voice doesn’t seem any flustered at all. But you think that’s okay. That makes it so that there’s more for you to appreciate, maybe. “It’s fine,” you reassure him.

“...I brought a camera, by the way,” he says, digging for it in his pocket. The camera itself seems like one from the 2000s— it’s the small type with the wrist strap, and the buttons on the side and all. “It’s… old, though.”

“Oh! That looks nice!” you comment. It really does. Your bag’s strap— the damn thing— slips off your shoulder again and you’ve got to put it back securely in place. Your shoulder hurts and you regret bringing so much with you.

“Want me to hold your bag for you…?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you say, “It’s just that it goes off my shoulder sometimes and it can be pretty heavy. I packed too much stuff in it, heh.”

“Then I’ll carry it. Give it here.”

You end up handing him the bag. At least he doesn’t mind how heavy it is, nor does he complain about what you must be packing, or anything. It’s better than being forced to give your parents your things only for them to tell you to pack lighter ones.

“It’s good that we avoided the crowd, but now there aren’t any leaves or flowers…” you start. You hope it doesn’t sound like complaining— that would be awfully rude. “Normally, people would be having picnics here, right?”

“We can still take pictures, though. Wait, can you— can you stand in front of me, here?” he asks, his steps coming to a halt next to a small garden.

“Okay.”

He brings the camera to his eye. “Smile,” he says.

You’ve quite an awkward-looking smile, you think. It’s always bothered you slightly whenever your parents wanted to take pictures of you, but you smile anyway in the picture— you give him your brightest grin. It’s not like either of you will keep it anyway, and you are happy: gratingly awkward or not, you’re still with an old friend.

“Ah, delete that,” you tell him when he shows the picture to you. The backdrop is pretty, though. “You should take a picture of the background. I look so bad in it.”

“It’s a nice picture,” he argues, “You look… nice.”

You shift your line of sight to look at him, unsure if it’s out of incredulousness, or the fact that the whole situation seems to be a little silly, or the fact that he’s looking down at the picture with a gaze that warms your heart a bit. Those eyelids and lashes and green green pupils will be the death of you, you’re sure. You feel you could drown in them at any second. “…thanks.”

He looks back at you.

“I think you look nice too, Megumi.”

It’s really, really cold, but you feel your face heating up. For once in your life it doesn’t feel like something you should be shy of.

30-12-2016

“Could you show me the dog again?” you ask him. He’s on the bed again. Different day, same situation. “Why did it suddenly pop out all those years ago anyway?”

“It was an accident,” he explains, “You know how my Ten Shadows technique comes from the shadows, right? Wait, I should rephrase that—”

“Oh… I mean, don’t worry, you don’t sound rude or anything. I just wanted to see the dog. I mean, I like dogs! I still read books or articles about them every now and then.”

“There are actually two.”

“Two?” you go, wide-eyed and excited.

He summons them out of the ground, one dark with the same red markings, and the other the exact same dog as the one you saw six years ago. He does it effortlessly— there’s no pain involved, no trade-off for getting to show someone his abilities. It’s not like you and your father’s, with your headaches and nosebleeds and vertigo every time you use it even if it’s for something simple like opening up a wound and closing it, or creating tiny blisters. How terribly inconvenient it was for you, and how easy it was for Megumi to use it so quickly and painlessly. You were slightly jealous of him for it.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” you say, petting the white one. It cuddles up to you. The one with dark, fluffy fur does the same and you’ve got each palm on each dog’s head.

You turn your head back to face him. “Thank you, Megumi.”

“...it’s nothing.”

What a classic Megumi-like thing to say.

15-4-2017

Freshly fifteen years old, you know one thing. The friends you meet at this age are probably the best you’ll ever have.

You’re still training your cursed technique from time to time if only for leisure or any emergencies since your mother’s absolutely determined to keep you from being one. But you’re in a new place again— your parents have chosen to move back to Sendai— where they lived and got married before you came along, and everything considered things aren’t as bad as when you had to leave to and from Tokyo.

It all started with the class’s seating arrangement. You sat down after one of the classes, preparing yourself for a year where you had to search through the whole school for friends or spend it alone as you watched everyone else fall into their groups from the previous year like dozens of tiny puzzle pieces clicking into place again.

The clique in front of you is all looking at this one guy with unkempt hair as pink as cherry blossoms, or MyMelody’s pink ribbon. He’s got a boyish grin on his face that honestly makes him out to be a pretty nice guy.

“Hey!” a guy greets, his hand up as he’s smiling at you, “My name’s Itadori Yuuji. What’s yours?”

He’s kind of tall, is a really smiley guy, and seems like he’d be pretty popular. He reminds you of a friendly puppy. Or one of those really, really cute seals people make videos of in aquariums.

You tell him your name. “You… uh, you seem pretty popular, Itadori.”

He pauses and turns his head up like he’s thinking. “Well… now that you mention it, I guess so,” he states, hand scratching the back of his neck, “They’re pretty cool, though. Don’t worry!”

“Oh…”

“Anyway, where ya from?”

“I–uh. I mean, my parents move a lot,” you say, “So I guess you could say I don’t know where I’m from, myself? Sendai’s my parents’ hometown, though. And they wanted to be back for a while. So I transferred here.”

“Cool! So you’ve got to see a lot of stuff?”

“Uh. Kind of?”

He drags a seat from behind him before facing you. The way he sits is comfortable; it’s almost funny— you’re so awkward, so rigid like a frozen statue, and he’s actively trying to melt it, but the ice is still cold and barely broken. Poor Itadori, you think, He’s talking to someone who doesn’t know who to talk properly. He’s going to get bored any minute but he’s still going to talk.

“Like, um…” you think, “Oh! I went to the Tanegashima space centre a while back.”

“Woah!” he goes, with excitement in his eyes like fireworks sparkles, “Wish I could go to space one day. Maybe it’ll be like something in Passengers.”

It’s only the space centre, though? Not space itself, you think. But you guess that’s okay— something, something, men are perfect when they’re a little dumb. You don’t know that much about idols. “I haven’t seen it yet, but uh, sounds nice, I guess? And you don’t look like the type to watch sci-fi movies… but maybe I’ll watch it one of these days. I don’t watch a lot of movies, though.”

“I mean, it’s got Jennifer Lawrence in it,” he says, “She’s my favourite actress!”

That makes a lot of sense. “…really? I’ve only seen her in clips from the Hunger Games a few times. I mean, I heard she’s had other pretty good movies, though, like… what was it called… Silver Linings something? I don’t know, uhm.”

“Oh, Silver Linings Playbook?” he says, excitement dazzling in his eyes again, “Man, you haven’t lived if you haven’t seen them. I’ll drag you along with me sometime to watch it!”

“Ah,” you go, unsure of what to say, “Um… nice! Thanks!”

Over the course of the next few months you learn a few things about Itadori Yuuji. He loves horror movies and Jennifer Lawrence with a passion, is a sterling athlete and freakishly good at sports, and has a smile that makes people turn to face him like sunflowers to bright summer sunlight. And he knows you too— knows that you mildly loathe all genres of nonfiction save for books about animals (especially dogs), that you prefer when things are busy even if you may enjoy the quiet, and that the two of you are people who really, really ought to just take a train to Tokyo and have kaiten sushi together one day.

Also, you can admit that you have some degree of a crush on him— him and that damned smile. Seriously, how could anyone not? You watch him sometimes during PE, eyeing the way he moves, and that guy can move, alright: he swerves so naturally it makes you swoon, jumps up and down with might and energy, can carry people around like they’re boxes of tissues. He’s swift but his movements aren’t frenetic; they’re controlled and he demonstrates such mastery over his body that no one who sees him wouldn’t be amazed. And he’s a nice guy— your parents have met him at least twice by chance, and they love him. Your father talks about how he’s a nice, handsome boy, and your mother mentions how he’d be an ideal son-in-law.

Poor Itadori, you think to yourself whenever they say it, giggling, Maybe they’ll let up soon enough, and they’ll realise that you’re just a really good friend.

You’re still not going to act on your feelings, though. You never will; you’re never going to act on anything. So you’ll fade away like a spectator, only trying to talk to him because guess what? You like it, you like talking to him and spending time with him even if you know he doesn’t like you back and sees you as just a friend. He’s still a fun guy and he always will be.

In a way it feels almost liberating, like a breath of fresh air from what happened a year ago: lighthearted crushes like these are a quintessential element of the teenage girl experience, and even if you’d always fit the bill for an ordinary teenage girl, another part of that would probably be not feeling like a normal teenage girl at all. So having this and not being hurt, having this and having fun— is great. Maybe if you get over him and start crushing on someone else, you’ll get to try having a boyfriend by the end of your last year in junior high. Sounds pretty neat if you do say so yourself. Having a partner sounds interesting.

“Itadori. Um… they’re going to release a new Jennifer Lawrence movie,” you say, standing behind him as the other friends around him stare at you. You aren’t too close to them, but hey— he was right. Some of them were pretty okay, cool people.

“Ah, yeah! I’m watching that too!”

“Oh, great! I mean, it’s right up your alley, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, “Wanna watch it together?” You blush and he continues, “I can bring the other guys too.” He gestures to the boys behind him with his thumb. You don’t know them very well— hell, they probably don’t know your name much less like you— but that’s okay. Itadori is a great guy to spend time with and whether it’s scream-singing karaoke in a language you can’t speak at his house, joking and horsing around while his grandfather frowns on the dining table, or learning how to cook meatballs he says are easy to make— you’re guaranteed to have fun with him no matter what.

“Sure.”

So: now you have a new guy you’re crushing on, because the last one took so long for you to get over, and you’re not sure if you’re completely over the last one, but you know you’re not going to talk to him that much anymore. And this new guy’s sweet, a hundred times better, and even if this all-in-one perfect guy doesn’t like you back, you’ll say it again: you think Itadori is awfully fun and nothing can change that.

Life is going pretty okay, you think. Life is becoming something you’re getting the hang of. Maybe, just maybe.

2-1-2017

“Guess I’m going back, now…” you sigh, zipping your luggage bag up. It’s a cold day outside— each time you press your fingers against a window, or even touch a door knob or any cold metal, it freezes you up. It’s just inconvenient, for now— if you could, you could even use cell manipulation to keep yourself warm, but that would just be too much effort wasted on too little of a cold winter day in early January.

New Year’s had just been a trip to the local shrine with them— this time Tsumiki had to come too, so she didn’t sabotage you and leave the two of you alone— and the days have gone by relatively peacefully. When your parents call you up they’re always relieved to just see you sitting on the bed or seated on their dining table eating meals with the two of them.

“You’ve still a few hours left here, don’t worry,” Tsumiki says, “Let’s make the most of it!”

Despite how awkward things were, you’d say you enjoyed being with Megumi and Tsumiki the past few days— mainly Megumi, though, because Tsumiki’s been conveniently leaving anytime you and Megumi are about to go anywhere together.

“Has anything interesting happened lately? Any action?” she asks.

“Pft— no, not really. Haven’t even given him the letter…”

“Aw…” she starts, “It’s alright if you don’t want to force yourself or anything, but I really think it would do him good to read it and that it’d do you even better if you passed it to him. He cares about you more than you think.”

“Uh-huh, that’s good to know,” you say, “At the very least, we’re friends, still. I’ll get over him eventually— I mean, I think I already have, since I’m not praying for him to be my boyfriend or something.”

“Oh…” she goes, “Well, whatever it is, I’m supporting you!” she smiles, patting you lightly on the head.

“Thanks.”

She leaves for something quick before Megumi arrives back, which you think does him good because he comes back with enough bruises and patches on his face to completely drive Tsumiki up the wall.

“Woah— you okay?” You rush to him. “What happened?”

He groans. He reminds you of a stray dog sometimes, really. Even more so now than before.

“S-sit down,” you say. He follows your instructions. “I’ll try to heal you, don’t worry.”

Since you discovered you had your cursed technique, you’ve only used it to heal others besides yourself once when you helped rid the cashier from the store of her bruises. It’s been half a year since then, and you’re still getting used to using it on yourself. Still, you let him sit on the sofa anyway.

“You probably shouldn’t. I can handle this on my own. If you do this to yourself then you’ll be over-exerting your body.”

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me,” you chuckle, “Let me take care of you. And if I get a nosebleed or a headache, you can take care of me too. Heheh. That’s how things like this work, right? We take care of each other. So I can heal your wounds for you and you can take care of me if I get any of my cursed technique’s side-effects.”

You place your hand on his face for your cursed energy to get to him— you’d be able to do it without touching him, but the more the better— and you feel how his breath hitches when you do so. His skin is cold, and so very smooth, like the soft cotton blankets they have in their house. Slowly, you visualise his cells changing, shifting, until his skin looks pristine and good as new.

“…and…there.”

Then your nose bleeds. “Ah— hate it when this happens, honestly.”

“See? I told you not to strain yourself.” He gets up and places a tissue to your nose. “Lean your head back. Please.”

You follow his instructions as he did yours. “So what happened?” you ask, only able to view either his face or the ceiling. “How’d you get injured?”

“Nothing, just… I… got into a fight.”

“Wh— a fight? That’s dangerous!” you frown, “What happened in the first place? Someone picked on you?”

“No, they were just picking on someone else. People like that shouldn’t be able to trample on others.”

“So what are you, the police?” you argue, “You shouldn’t hurt people, nor should you let them hurt you. It’s bad for you, you know?”

“The basis of all kinds of human interaction isn’t being kind,” he claims, “It’s avoiding violating someone’s dignity, and I despise the people who ignore this rule just to make themselves feel powerful.”

And that pisses you off a little. Because for all his sister’s kindness and forgiving spirit, her brother cares less for being able to forgive others than for reading books until one AM in the morning or something along those lines.

The weather becomes that little bit colder and you go against him.

“Well, yeah— I hate bullies too. It’s just… ugh, why’d you have to get yourself hurt over this? It really isn’t good to have injuries. Who’s to say anything life-threatening won’t happen? It’s not like you’re invincible.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, seriously,” you retort, “Do you fight often or something? You know, no matter how many times you come out unscathed, it’s not like you’ll even be alive the next. What if these bullies aren’t the worst and there are some gangsters or something who kill you one day?”

“In my school?” he goes.

“Uh-huh— and you seriously sound kinda self-righteous, too. I mean, who gives you the right to judge? Just don’t be an asshole and you’ll be fine, and it’s not like being an asshole to the assholes is gonna do anything.”

“No, I just can’t handle people who step all over others.”

“Me neither, but why can’t you just be nice?” you go, “I don’t know, what do boys do? Talk to each other, make friends or something. Forgive each other. Just be nice. That’s what I think the basis of human interaction is. It’s helping people when you can, and stuff. That’s what the basis of life is, even.”

“You sound like Tsumiki.”

“Oh, well. I’d rather take that as a compliment even if it wasn’t intended to be by her own brother. I seriously used to think you were better than that, honestly. That sounds so emo— ‘Oh, the world isn’t inherently kind and so we should be tolerable to each other at best and horrible to the ones who aren’t tolerable at worst.’ What a joke.”

“Seriously?” he frowns, not raising his voice, but definitely angered, “You’re worse, really. You and Tsumiki and that hypocritical sense of forgiveness. It’s probably because you read too many fiction books last time.”

“I can’t believe I’m taking that from an antisocial guy who reads boring-ass non-fiction all the time and beats middle school bullies up to act high and mighty over them. You’re giving me secondhand embarrassment. You should be out with people our age buying sodas from vending machines or something— jeez, you’re just a fucking kid. Just be nice and save people if you have the power to— especially if you can do it without having to do things at your own expense. That’s the easiest way to do things in life. And who says you aren’t a hypocrite too? You think you’re some kind of judge in court or something—?”

“—You have cell manipulation, right? So use your brain! I’ve already told you that it’s pointless to save people. Good people who are too merciful to bad people are just as disgusting as bad people too prideful over themselves.”

“Ew— good and bad? What happened to just living life? Just live it, seriously, it’s not like everything can be split into two categories like that. You just sound so— ugh— stop being so immature—!”

“Megumi!” Tsumiki says when she opens the door. “[Name]! What happened? Did the two of you fight? Why were you fighting? What—!”

“No, no! Just bickering over something small,” you tell her, “I had a nose bleed all of a sudden.”

“Tch. Something small?” Megumi scoffs.

“Stop fighting, the two of you,” Tsumiki orders, her voice firm yet still soft and sweet.

The next few hours move painfully quietly.

3-1-2017

“I’m really sorry it had to be at midnight like this,” you say.

“No, no, it’s fine!” Tsumiki grins, “We wanted to come, anyway. We still have to give you a proper send-off.”

You breathe in. “…okay. I’ll visit again, I promise. Maybe next year, but at a better time, okay?”

“Alright, alright. Well— you’ve got to go now,” Tsumiki says, hugging you. You hear her sniffling even though you can’t see her face.

“Okay. Bye, Megumi. Bye, Tsumiki.”

“Bye, [Name]! Take care of your health, okay? We should stick together no matter what, the three of us.”

You’re still a little angry at Megumi. You haven’t passed him the letter.

You’ll live. You hope you can, at least. You’re better off not ending up with or confessing to a guy who thinks like he does.

It’s for Tsumiki, you tell yourself. And it grounds you.

“…I will.”

“…bye,” Megumi says, avoiding eye contact.

And as you get on the train and they’re waving you off, you should have taken a picture, or a video, or something. Something to keep that moment in place. There’s Tsumiki— smiley Tsumiki— with her signature warm grin and the faintest of tears in her eyes, with her hand raised up to wave at you. Then Megumi— frowny Megumi— older and taller and angry at you.

You really should have kept things there, or apologised to her again for anything and everything, apologised to both of them for any trouble you’ve caused them, or thanked them a trillion times over, but you didn’t.

And you regret this forever. Because this is the last time you see Fushiguro Tsumiki, the girl who changed the trajectory of your life.

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

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casspurrjoybell-29 · 6 months

Text

Healing Ties - Chapter 51 - Part 3

*Warning Adult Content*

"Um, Hamish?"

"Yeah?"

Fanner twisted his hand in the sleeve of Yore's shirt.

"Maybe this isn't my place to say anything but I think Duran felt like you were doing that to him a bit. Only seeing him as an ex-Companion. Of course you don't have to have sex with anyone you don't want to and maybe it wouldn't even be the right thing for him regardless but... I don't know. He's never been much like other Companions."

"I mean, you know him better than I do so you're probably right but here's the thing," Hamish said. "If I'm nice to him, it's only going to encourage him. Maybe being a dick isn't the best way to deal with things but I've been running a bullying campaign against a pre-teen for a year to keep Kin at bay, so at this point it's all I know."

"Oh," Fanner said. "Sorry, yes, that makes sense."

"Duran's an adult, so it is a bit different but still. I stay out of trouble by knowing my own limits and not getting involved with anyone who ties their emotions up in sex. Fucking that up is a terrible feeling."

"It's a difficult situation," Yore said. "He seems almost addicted to sex with humans. To the energy he gets from it."

"It's not that great," Lucas said. "Makes me feel a little buzzed after, but nothing major."

"The first few times Danya and I had sex, it hit him so hard it worried me," Simon contributed. "He loses all awareness for a few moments and it can look almost like he's having a seizure. He can feel energy in ways most other mages can't, so maybe that has something to do with it but we've talked about it before and he said the things Duran told him about sex when they were still at Milaine House weren't too far off from that."

"Am I the weird one?" Lucas looked around until he spotted Cailan, then stood and waved to him.

"Cailan. Come tell us about your sex life." "

We're trying to figure out what Companions experience with the whole humans and sex and energy thing," Lucas explained.

"What does it feel like for you?"

"Hmm..." Cailan said as he sat down next to Lucas. "If I'm honest, I didn't notice it the first few times Liam and I had sex. At least, not consciously. I knew I felt good in many ways but it took me a while to realise that part of that feeling came from things involving energy and his release."

"See, that's how it is for me," Lucas said. "Danya's damn near getting knocked out by it and it sounds like the hit Duran gets from it is so intense that he's practically addicted."

Cailan inclined his head.

"We're not quite as identical as we were taught to believe."

"And thank fuck for that," Lucas said.

"Every time I find out some Companion doesn't perfectly match what we're meant to be, I'm like, fucking fantastic because, you know..."

"It is nice to feel like an individual once you get past the idea that you shouldn't be one," Cailan said.

"Sure, I guess there's that but what I meant was I'm just glad maybe we're slightly less fucking in-bred than I've started to realise we must be. We're, what, ten generations atabsolute maximum out from being just a bunch of mages with different traits and they've managed to create these distinct categories for us? And don't even get me started on the golden hair. That was a random mutation that showed up at some point and it's recessive. Do you know how much in-breeding it takes to get an entire population to have a recessive trait?"

Cailan laughed.

"You know, you're quite well educated for a bandit."

"I'm a bandit who makes his money passing for a classy Companion. A lot of bandits aren't the most educated, and I'm friends with all sorts, but the ones who raised me are. Have to be if you're gonna bluff your way into fancy parties to rob rich people."

"If Duran is experiencing something like an addiction, does that mean he shouldn't be having sex with humans at all?" Simon asked.

"Well, I'm not sure about that," Cailan said. "It's not a drug. It's part of how his body works."

"Even so," Yore said. "He's said some things that made me worry he might sacrifice his own wellbeing to get it."

"If a man is addicted to the rush given to him by exercise or adrenaline, should he be denied those things?" Cailan asked.

"I've seen men do some very unwise things in pursuit of natural chemical highs supplied to them by their own bodies. Should he be denied that feeling entirely or is it okay as long as he does it safely? Is it even, perhaps, better if he has safe outlets?"

"This is far too complicated for me," Hamish said.

Cailan offered him a smile.

"And that's fair. You have no obligation to be the one to give him that. Nobody does. I suppose it just rubs me the wrong way when people decide for someone else what's best for them. Not everyone has looked kindly on my relationship with Liam."

"Hmm..." Simon said, dropping his gaze.

"I understand why, believe me and I hold no grudges over it but it can be very hard to truly grasp what someone else is going through. Duran is the greatest expert on himself, and though I don't know him very well yet myself, he seems like a smart and pragmatic man. I would hope that he receives the respect he deserves."

"If not the dick he desires," Lucas added.

"Well," Fanner said and then seemed startled when everyone turned their attention to him.

"Um. Even if nobody wants to, you know. I think he'll be less upset by that if it's just because they don't want to and not because they think he can't make his own decisions. He's always been strong."

Slone gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, before changing the subject...

"You ever swim in the ocean before?"

"Buddy, I've never seen the ocean until today," Hamish said.

"C'mon," Slone said as he dragged him up by his arm.

"I should go and find Danya," Simon said.

"He went to put Jas to bed but he should be done by now."

"And I should go back to Liam," Cailan said as he stood.

"Most people have been surprisingly nice but he is human." Lucas watched them all leave and then stretched as he stood.

"I'm going to go find out who I have to sleep with to get a proper bed for the night."

"Anyone who lives here should have one," Yore said.

"If you want to get really ambitious, anyone who has rooms in The Spire will have a very nice bed but that's my level and above in terms of status."

"Hmm. I like a challenge," Lucas said, shooting Yore a grin before he wandered off.

Yore let out a long sigh and shut his eyes as he leant in against Fanner, who hadn't stopped clinging to his side.

"You're getting bolder about speaking your mind. I'm glad."

"It still feels wrong," Fanner admitted.

"I'm not really as brave as Danya or Duran. I might seem to be because I do things I'm not supposed to,but I don't really choose to most of the time. I just... can't help it. I wish I had Danya's fire or Duran's shrewdness."

"Are you sure you don't just imagine that if you had those things, you'd feel less insecure? I don't know Duran very well but I know Danya has struggled a lot with his appearance and with accepting that the very things you admire in him could even be good things at all."

"Hmm..."

Yore pressed a kiss to the side of Fanner's face.

"Be kind to yourself. You deserve it."

"So the rumours are true," Yore heard a familiar voice say and he turned his head to see his grandmother.

Yore stood as she approached and Fanner ended up standing behind him.

"What gossip have you been listening to?"

Yore's grandmother watched them, the hint of a smile set on her face.

"When you told me about this young man a few days ago, it sounded like he was just a friend."

"He was. We live in fast times."

Yore stepped aside so that Fanner was no longer behind him and held a hand out towards his grandmother.

"Fanner, this is my grandmother, Adara."

"Oh," Fanner said.

"It's nice to meet you, um... I'm sorry. I don't know how to address you."

Yore's grandmother studied Fanner with curious eyes.

"By my name, please."

"Sorry, yes, of course," Fanner said.

"I should have known. Yore's told me that's how werewolves do things many times."

"Humans like that sort of thing, don't they?" Yore's grandmother asked.

"I imagine you're still adjusting."

Fanner nodded.

"Thank you for your understanding."

She dismissed his thanks with a wave of her hand.

"You know, I considered being upset about the controversy this relationship will cause for my grandson but what would be the point? I can't stop him and I don't think I even want to. Yore... you deserve to have something that's just for you and love is the best thing that could be. Good for you."

"Thank you," Yore said.

"Though I hope, for Fanner's sake, it won't be too controversial."

"Typically it might be but these aren't typical times and he's not a typical person," Yore's grandmother said.

"After the things I've heard about him, I imagine anyone giving him a hard time will find they're a lot less popular than he is."

"I wish my feelings for him were enough to earn their acceptance but he has more than proven himself on his own."

"Well, people will always have their opinions. You can't cater everything to what others would prefer. Not everyone likes that I chose not to marry but I won't take a husband I don't need just to make others happy."

Yore's grandmother walked over and sat on a log in front of the bonfire.

"Anyway, I've heard about the plan Libby is working on but I don't have much faith in it. We're fighters and that's what we need to think about. Sit down and let's discuss tactics."

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bobattef · 1 year

Text

Run-Away Part II

POV: you’re a run-away slave, you’ve been caught up with a bounty hunter that’s taken a slightly different approach to the others you’ve encountered. But will it work?

Mentions of injury.

Smut.

Fluff.

Over 18’s only please :)

PT II

You’re perched on the end of a bed cot, it’s where your bounty hunter placed you before locking you both inside his ships hull.

You’re just watching him potter about. Grabbing bits and bobs from different boxes dotted around.

*this place is a mess* you think to yourself but it could be worse, you could be be binded and locked up at the back somewhere or worse, in one of those Carbonite tombs you’ve heard horror stories about!

*you shudder*

“You cold?” he asks you as he sets the different things he foraged from his own shelves beside you.

You shake your head and glance down.

“What’s this?” you say as you grab an interesting looking tube and eye it up closer.

“A Bacta shot” he mutters, grabbing it from you like you’re some sort of child and putting it back in the box.

You’re sure he rolled his eyes too, not that you can see!

You stay silent whilst he rummages through the boxes, sorting different sizes of bandages and cleaning wipes.

He pulls out some scissors and holds them towards the top of your combats.

“May I?” he’s looking at your face as you stare at the patch of blood that’s seeped out of your wound there.

“I guess” you reply as he wastes no time slicing through the fabric with ease.

The cut isn’t large, just a bit on the deeper side than you would have liked.

Stars, what you would have liked is not being injured at all but you’ve proven to him that you weren’t a bounty that was going to come quietly.

He grabs the back of your thigh, pulling it upwards to get a closer look at the wound.

Your leg naturally comes to rest in between his crotch and you feel the blood rising to your cheeks again.

“Hmm” he breaks the almost awkward silence that has come between both of you. “Do you want a pain killer?” he asks you.

Your head is pounding, your ribs are aching, your thigh is stinging due to being pulled about by him and your bottom lip is throbbing but you shake your head and decline the offer.

If the pain killer is in the shape or form as that big ass needle you asked about earlier, you definitely don’t want it!

You take a large intake of breath as he presses some gauze to the cut and he asks again about the pain killer.

“No!” you say it out loud this time, squeezing your eyes shut.

“You know…” he begins to tell you “I can tell you’re lying” he says quietly.

“Why?” you answer in gritted teeth as he presses a sticky pad over the gauze. “You got a lie detector inside that helmet of yours?”

“Ha! Something like that” he chuckles to himself as he wraps a bandage round your thigh.

You watch his movements closely as he patches up the graze on your arm and places a sticky over the small cut on your temple.

*you wince*

“Sorry” he almost whispers. “I didn’t mean to mark you up as bad as this”

“It’s fine” you finally speak, “I’ve been through a lot more” you exhale a huge breath you didn’t realise you were holding in.

“You are…” you tilt your head up to meet his gaze in curiosity. “You’re something else Kid” he says as you raise your eyebrows.

“What’s with these ‘kid’ and ‘little one’ remarks from you huh?” you don’t mean to snap at him but you’re 22 years old for makers sake! Far from a child!

He holds his hands up in apology, “not going to blast me again are you?” he jokes.

*your blaster!*

You frantically pat both sids of your now ruined combats, searching for it!

“Damn!” you grunt!

“I must of dropped my gun out in the woods!” you say out loud.

The bounty hunter reaches his arm around his back and pulls out a weapon.

Your blaster!

“I disarmed you in the woods you mean?” he says, smiling under his helmet at the look of annoyance on your face.

You go to grab it out of his hands but he moves quicker than you.

“Na-uh. I’m holding onto this for now” he states sliding the gun into his back holster.

You huff in protest but know better than to fight him here, you’re locked inside of this ship, cornered by his towering body, you’re battered, bruised and tired. Pick your battles they say.

He discards the used bandages in a can next to your feet, walking over to a tiny sink in the corner and turns on the tap.

*ah…water* you haven’t heard the sound of running water in a very long while, being on the run means time for bathing is far and few, disgustingly, but you gotta do what you can to survive. Moisture showers are what’s stopped you from stinking your way through the different towns you’ve traveled through. But they don’t quite hit the muscles in the way a nice, steaming bath does.

The bounty hunter has made his way back over to you as you’re lost in your thoughts, he uses his gloved hand to cup your face, this move pulls you out from your daydream.

“Wha..what are you doing?” you ask but don’t pull away.

He holds up the piece of clothe he had ran under the water “for your lip” he states as if it’s obvious.

Your eyes shut as he presses the damp rag onto the cut on your mouth, it stings but just for a little while.

You’re not sure how long you’re sat there, eyes closed with his hands on your face but he doesn’t remove them for a while.

All you can hear is his breathing through his modulator and you feel hypnotised almost by the sound of it.

“Mmm, feels nice” you barely speak above a whisper.

“Mmm” he simply grunts.

You open your eyes to see why the short reply and are met with his helmet almost pressed up to your face. You didn’t even realise he was so close to you, stood in between your legs that were now swung over the edge of the cot bed.

You stare straight into his visor as you wrap your hand around his that’s holding the cloth, and using the other to cup the side of his helmet.

He tilts it towards your touch as you part your lips *i so wish I could see his face, his lips* you think to yourself.

You can hear his breathing hitch slightly behind his mask.

“Do you er,” you clear your throat “do you ever take this off?” you ask him, lightly stroking his helmet.

He pushes the top of it up against your forehead, it’s heavier than you would have thought and shakes it in answer to you.

“It’s my creed” now it’s his turn to clear his throat “I can’t remove it in front of others” he finishes.

You’re in awe.

Yes, you’ve met a few mandalorians back at the palace and have always admired the way they looked being covered head to toe in Beskar but you didn’t realise they keep the helmets on all the time!

“Not even when…you…are….” you can’t finish the sentence, you already feel like you’re pushing your boundaries with the bounty hunter.

“Not unless we’re married” he answers you. Guessing your question rightly.

“Wow…I” you start to say but he pulls away from you, stuttering his apology.

“I didn’t mean if WE were married. I meant if YOU ARE married…I mean…not you obviously, like…er…two Mandalorian’s were you know…married to each other” he splutters as he starts awkwardly tidying away the things surrounding you.

Why does he sound suddenly so sweet being all flustered like this, you think to yourself.

“Mando…”

You get his attention back right away by saying his name like that.

“I know that’s what you meant” you smirk at him now, the pain in your leg subsiding enough so you can use it to hook him behind his knees, pulling him closer to you once again.

“You do?” he says tilting his helmet to the side as if he’s making sure.

“Mmm-hmm” you answer him.

Your hand reaches out to his neck, just at the bottom to where his helmet stops masking his face. You can see a gap in his armour from this angle you’re in, his actual skin is slightly exposed there.

You run your fingers over it, drawing a shaky breath from the Mandalorian underneath it.

“So the helmet is a no go” you state to him, “what about the rest of this… armour?” you enquire as you place your other hand to the same, exposed spot of skin on the other side of his neck.

“The rest…” he swallows hard and you can see his Adam’s apple move up and down his slightly exposed throat “can go” he whispers the last part.

His voice giving you the go ahead from behind that mask of his sends signals straight to your core.

Your hands now make their way down to the top of his combats and as you slip your fingers inside the fabric, they brush the top of the hair there.

He groans ever so slightly as the warm touch of your hands on his skin makes him lean closer against you.

You tug at his armour and he helps you take it off of him, each plate clangs to the floor in a hurry, his under layer shirt soon joins the pile.

You admire his naked top half, his chest isn’t much smaller without the Beskar clinging to it, you realise.

You start to pull on his waist band as he chuckles “so needy” against your ear.

Your eyes flicker up towards his visor at his words and you think to yourself about stopping but instead he hooks an arm under your knees pulling, them upwards with ease. At the same time he slips your half cut up combats off, past your arse along with your undershorts and drops them on the ground beside his armour.

You’re completely naked to him waist down and his helmet drops to your exposed centre.

“Maker” he groans out, causing you to want to clamp your thighs shut to hide your arousal.

He scoots you closer to the edge of the bed, pulling your, now slick, centre up towards his and you wrap your legs instinctively round his waist.

You lean back on your arms, the slight stretch of your spine makes your ribs throb but you don’t care.

All you’re focused on is him, his visor is focused on your face, waiting for you to change your mind at any giving moment but also wanting to watch your facial expressions.

The mandalorian can’t wait to see it contort in pleasure.

Contort in pleasure from him!

You bite your lip in anticipation, forgetting about the cut on the side of it.

What a great pain killer this bounty hunter is being to you!

He’s breathing is quickening, his want to be inside you is made even more desperate seeing you waiting for him to pull his cock out.

Your eyes are practically begging him.

He was just about to push his combats down, freeing his hardened cock that is now straining against the fabric.

It’s already leaking at the tip, his cock begging to to be buried deep inside you. But you’re both suddenly startled by…

*BEEP, BEEP, BEEP*

the noise brings you crashing back down to your senses.

*DANK FERRIK!* he shouts almost as loud as the noise coming out the communication fob inside his back pocket.

It’s painful for him to stop what he was about to do as the grip he has on your flesh gets a lot tighter.

He physically pulls himself out of whatever trance he was in with you as he drops your thighs to the bed as he grabs the fob.

He clicks it off and looks up at you as if he’s waiting for you to say something.

You stay quiet, unsure what is it you’re meant to do, I mean, are we doing this or?

*DANK FERRIK* he shouts again. Squeezing, almost crushing the fob inside his hand.

“I have to take this…” his voice trials off still looking at you for an answer.

“Ok” is all you can reply as he stomps over to the step ladder at the rear of the hull you’re in.

“I’ll be right back” he’s returned to his ‘matter-of-factly’ voice again.

‘Stay there!” He tells you and for once, you don’t want to go against his orders.

He climbs up the ladder and into the cock pit of the ship, you presume.

Space ships aren’t in your expertise and the fact that you didn’t even see the outside of this one, due to hiding from embarrassment, you can’t quite work out its layout.

As the door clicks shut behind him you’re brought back to reality all a sudden.

You should be using this time alone to figure out your surroundings, maybe try to work out how to unlock the door so you can escape or something.

*what is wrong with me* you ask yourself, you jump down from the cot, finding your discarded undershorts and step back into them.

*This guy is bad news* your thoughts start to get back into gear again.

*he’s a bounty hunter, YOURE the bounty that he is hunting right now! You should be fighting, fleeing, doing everything you can to get away but you don’t want to.

Why?? Instead you want to switch it up from fighting to f…??

You go to put on your combats, they’re literally a mess, you’re going to need new pants for sure.

You start to look around for a change of clothes but hear the cock pit door reopen above you and the bounty hunter steps back down into the hull with you.

“I thought I told you to stay on the…” he’s surprised that you’ve started to get dressed again.

“I need a new pair of pants” you cut him off guiltily.

You really did want to stay on the bed, waiting for him.

You really did want to continue the thing you were about to do before you were so rudely interrupted but it’s like your head is clearing the lustful fog that the mandalorian had placed on your brain.

He stalks back over to where you’re standing, the same way he did the first time you laid eyes on him earlier in the bar.

Who knew then what you would be doing, or rather not be doing, now.

“Everything ok?” He asks you.

You just nod and look to the ground, away from the sight of his flexing muscles.

“You sure you’re ok?” he asks, using his thumb to lightly brush next to the cut on your lip he tried to nurse a few moments before.

“Why, your inside lie detecter going off again is it?” your sarcasm is returning along with your senses.

“…Heat signature” you can hear the grin on his face through his voice.

“It’s a heat signature radar, it shows me how…er…heated you are” he explains shyly, like some sort of secret has been revealed.

You close your eyes in realisation to his words.

“Like now…” he continues “it’s signalling” he sounds amused and his voice trails off…

*great!* you think to yourself.

Theres no guessing to what feelings were going through your mind in the many interactions you’ve had with this bounty hunter today but to now know he’s seen it in all in black and white, or shall I say red and yellow displayed on his damn helmet!

He uses a hand to cup your chin, pulling it to to meet his gaze on you.

Your insecurities melt away.

You really wish you could see his face, see his lips, feel them on you…

*you start getting lost in your thoughts again*

Arguing with your sub conscious self about what is happening here.

We just going to carry on from a few moments ago?

“We don’t have much time” he says quietly.

*wow, he’s made his choice as to what he wants to happen a lot quicker than you have*

He sighs at you catching your breath again, he watches your chest move up and down, cursing at not removing that part of clothing before.

“Your” he takes a big gulp. “Your masters guards are on their way…” he starts to explain “we don’t have much ti…”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks!

“WHA?? YOU CALLED ME IN!!” You shout at him, pushing him in his chest. He doesn’t move an inch, he’s so strong!

“Calm down” he says trying to grab at your wrists to stop another shove from you.

“I…I had…”

“YOU HAD TO?! REALLY!!” you’re in a panic now. What do you do!!

Oh my stars, was this a distraction move?? Something to stall you before you were collected by the guards?!

You stupidly thought you were going to be getting into this bounty hunters pants?! Argh! He’s a bounty hunter for makers sake!

He wants money not sex!

You feel so embarrassed.

No!

You haven’t got time to be embarrassed!

You need to get out of here but he’s holding onto you, your arms are trying to break free but he’s way too strong for you.

“Let go of me!!” you’re almost crying now.

*no, don’t cry, don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you defeated!*

The sheer panic in your voice makes him shout at you “LISTEN TO ME!” he starts.

“NO!” you break him off. “LET GO OF ME! I need…I need to go! PLEASE! Please!” you switch from shouting to begging now, you’re desperate!

“Please just let me go! I can’t go back there! I can’t! Please!” just don’t cry for makers sake!

“Listen to me!” he says a lot quieter, trying to calm you down perhaps?

“The hunting fob was signalled to them when we were in the woods…i…i was just doing my job” he starts to explain but you don’t care!

The guards are on their way and you’re still cornered inside this ship! You’re still hurting from your injuries and you’re still so very tired.

Is this worth it??

You eventually stop resisting the restraints of the bounty hunter and drop your head to his chest.

“I’m sorry” he starts “but if you listen to me we can…”

You hold your hands up to shush him.

“Stop, it’s…ergh…I give up” You state to him. Now it’s your turn to sound matter-of-factly.

“No! No you don’t” he replies.

But you’re nodding. Your body agreeing with your mind now.

There’s no point in running anymore.

You’ve made it 86 days on this side of the palace gates, almost 3 months of freedom. You’ve done things you never thought you could, ride land speeders at max, you’ve fought off two previous bounty hunters, you’ve tried and tasted some unusual but yummie food and beverages, been able to wear different clothes on your back, watched some beautiful sunsets and sunrises.

Maybe it is time to go back.

You slump further into the mandalorians grasp on you now, your shoulders starting to feel the heavy thwacks from the whips you know are coming your way for disobeying, hell! This is more than disobedience, they’re probably straight up execute you on arrival.

*I hope the bounty hunter is paid greatly for this*

“How much?” is the only words that come from your mouth.

“Huh?” he’s confused.

“How many credits?”

“Credits??”

“Dank ferrik!” you’re shouting again. “How much are you getting paid for my capture?”

He just looks at you, not saying a word.

“Well??” you push your question.

“We don’t have much time, if you listen to me, we can…” he starts the conversation again from earlier.

“Haha!” You start laughing. You’re so overwhelmed with emotion that your brain has chosen this one to display??

Now you’re starting to think you may of hit your head a little too hard earlier.

“Well Mandalorian” you step out of his embrace you didn’t realise he was giving you “it was nice meeting you, I hope your next hunt isn’t quite the handful I am aye” you smirk at him.

You may as well choose humour cause you feel yourself wanting to cry.

You try to walk past him but he grabs your arm.

“I’m not running” you say looking upwards towards his visor.

*I guess you’ll never see what his face is like*

You can’t believe that’s the thought that goes through your head in a time like this!

“I know, but you should be” he replies staring down at you.

“I told you, I’m don…” you’re cut off by him swinging you round and dragging you to the ladder to his cockpit.

“What are you doing??” you say, rather annoyed.

“Get up there…now!” he orders and for some reason you do as you’re told.

You climb the ladder into the open cockpit

*wow, look at this* you stare in wonder, completely forgetting about the danger you’re in right now.

All these dials, these buttons, keypads, things! There’s so many of them, how does he ever…

“Sit” he pulls you out from your distracting thoughts and pushes you down onto the co pilots seat as he takes his.

“You might want to strap in” he says as he starts pushing and pulling all different kind of bobbles and switches.

You hear the jet engines whirl to life, and as you look out the tiny window by your side to watch one start up, you spot some very familiar armoured guards marching towards the ship.

“Er,,,Mando” he looks your way, wanting to ask you why you’re saying his name like that. Like before in the hull “we got company” you finish.

“I told you to strap in!” he growls back and you do as you’re told.

You feel the lurch of the ships movement in your stomach as you click your harness into place and quickly look back out to where you spotted your masters guard.

They’re running towards you now, realising the bounty hunters about to make a get away.

2 of them drop to their knees and draw out their rifles…

“Mando!!” You shout this time, like it’ll make a difference.

“I know!!” he shouts back “hold on” and he pulls back on a lever, causing the ships metal to groan in protest as it’s launched upwards at speed.

You can barely hear the faint noises of the guardsmen bullets ricocheting off the floor pan of the ship as it roars its engine to climb faster.

You close your eyes!

It’s been a very long time since you’ve flown, since you were young in fact.

Your organs don’t quite know where to place themselves inside you but you feel as though they are rearranging.

You feel the change from climbing to flying forward and then it gets dark behind your eyelids.

You open them once you hear the bounty hunters voice “we made it” is all he says and you sink back into your chair you didn’t realise you were on the edge of.

Part III -

#the mandalorian #18+#injuries #din darjin #warnings

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ibijau · 4 years

Note

Asdsks your Worst Engagement AU is the best!!! Especially with how nhs's superpower is Making Good Friends. I can't stop thinking about lxc making nhs cry tears of frustration at some point, maybe even during sunshot, and wwx + jc being almost as ready to throw down as with the yanli/zixuan soup debacle. This is my give-nhs-ride-or-die-friends agenda.

Worst engagement AU // on AO3

Not quite what you asked, and oops, it’s jc and jzx instead of jc and wwx, but... nhs having protective friends who love him! here we go!

not fully sure where it stands in the timeline. Either nhs and jzx are still in their short friends-with-benefits phase, or it takes place shortly after. Either way, wwx isn’t around because he’s been sent back to Lotus Piers already :D

warning for mentions of animal death

However much Nie Huaisang has decided that he gets to do as he pleases this year, it is the first time that he appears to have simply missed a lecture. When Lan Qiren mentions it to his nephew at lunch, Nie Huaisang is still noticeably absent. Lan Xichen gets the message: his fiancé, his problem to solve.

His first idea, of course, is to check with the other two Nie disciples. After some probing, they reluctantly reveal that their young master received a letter from home. He seemed unhappy about the content and sent them ahead, saying he'd join them in class. He obviously lied but they don't think too disturbed by that. Just like Lan Xichen, they have gotten used to Nie Huaisang being somewhat unpredictable this year. To them, this is just another new oddity.

To Lan Xichen, it is concerning. Whatever else has changed, Nie Huaisang is still careful not to make Lan Qiren too angry at him, which means he wouldn't skip lessons without a good reason.

More alarmed than he would care to admit, Lan Xichen decides to look for his fiancé and figure this out. He goes first to the Nie disciples' cabin, but isn't surprised to find it empty. No traces of Nie Huaisang at the Jiang cabin either, nor the Jin one, but since Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan were both in class that was to be expected. Having eliminated the obvious, Lan Xichen starts looking everywhere he can think of, asking anyone he meets if they have seen Nie Huaisang. The answer is always negative.

It is already mid-afternoon when Lan Xichen, just as he was about to give up, finally finds the other boy.

Lan Xichen cannot say what attracted him to this particular garden, but as he walks around trees, he ends up noticing a muffled noise that grabs his attention. In a place with so many children, Lan Xichen knows what it sounds like when someone is trying to cry without being noticed. He doesn't even need to think about it and just goes straight for the source of that noise. Lan Xichen expects to find a child, or some young junior who perhaps got scolded.

Instead, sitting on a bench, curled up so tight that his head touches his knees, he finds Nie Huaisang sobbing.

“Nie gongzi?”

The instant he hears his voice, Nie Huaisang jolts and sits straighter, trying in vain to wipe away the tears that won't stop spilling.

“Nie gongzi, what's wrong?” Lan Xichen asks, striding toward his fiancé. “Did someone hurt you?”

Nie Huaisang furiously shakes his head. “I'm f-f-fi... I'm fine. I'm. D-don't bother.”

“You don't look fine. Is something wrong?” There was a letter from home, the other Nie boys said. “Did something happen in the Unclean Realm?”

That appears to be both the right and the wrong question to ask, because Nie Huaisang starts crying harder until it seems like he might choke if he doesn't calm down a little. Lan Xichen has seen people cry before, but never quite like that, because Gusu Lan disciples learn early on that they must learn to control their emotions rather than be controlled by them. Seeing Nie Huaisang so upset is distressing, and Lan Xichen just doesn't know what to do about it.

When Lan Wangji was little, he liked to have his back rubbed if he was upset. Lan Xichen isn't sure it will work in this case, but he has to try something.

The instant his hand touches Nie Huaisang's back, the other boy screeches.

“Don't!”

Lan Xichen removes his hand instantly. Before he can try to think of some other way to help, an angry voice rises behind him.

“What's going on here?”

Lan Xichen startles and turns around, only to be pushed aside by Jiang Cheng who sits on the bench, far closer than probably necessary. Just a few steps behind is Jin Zixuan, and isn't that an unexpected duo. They weren't far when Lan Xichen spoke with the Nie disciples, maybe they became intrigued by this and their friend's absence and decided to follow him. If so, Lan Xichen really must have been distracted to not have noticed them. His uncle would be disappointed in him.

“What did he say to make you cry this time?” Jiang Cheng asks, scowling at Lan Xichen who feels slapped.

This time?

Lan Xichen won't deny that things have been less than perfect between Nie Huaisang and him, but anything that might have caused his fiancé to cry happened before Jiang Cheng became friend with him. Did Nie Huaisang complain to his friends about being left behind by his mean fiancé and his big brother every time they've had to spend time together? If so, it brings new meaning to the way Jiang Cheng so often ends up putting himself in front of Nie Huaisang when Lan Xichen approached them. He had just assumed it was Jiang Cheng trying to take responsibility for whatever mess they were that time, the same he did with Wei Wuxian, but it might have been more than that.

And it's not just Jiang Cheng, Lan Xichen realises. Jin Zixuan, who came to sit on the other side of Nie Huaisang, is calmer but still throws Lan Xichen dirty looks.

“Tell us what happened,” Jin Zixuan orders.

“It's, it's my birds,” Nie Huaisang sobs. “T-they, at home, they had c-captured a beast for the juniors to, to fight against, but it...” he pauses, a few heavier sobs escaping him. “It escaped, and it, it got to the place I k-keep my birds and it, it killed them, almost all, and those it didn't kill are wounded, and, and...”

The tears become once more too strong for Nie Huaisang to speak through them, and he hide his face in his hands. Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng exchange a cautious but equally worried look, while Lan Xichen carefully kneels before his fiancé and brushes his fingers against his hand.

“Nie gongzi, I'm so sorry.”

Nie Huaisang tears his hand away and glares at him.

“D-don't lie! I know you think it's stupid that I have pets!” he hisses. “I know, I, I know I couldn't have kept them anyway, not after the m-marriage, I know, I know! But they're dead, and I loved them and... even my nightingale, sh-she was the best bird ever, she was so sweet, and sh-she's dead now!”

Jiang Cheng wrap an arm around Nie Huaisang's shoulders to comfort him, while Jin Zixuan awkwardly pat his knee.

“You can visit me in Lanling,” Jin Zixuan offers. “We have peacocks in the gardens, and my mother keeps some songbirds. I'm sure she would be happy to let you see them.”

“You think?” Nie Huaisang sniffles miserably.

“At worse, you can come to Yunmeng,” Jiang Cheng intervenes, glaring at Jin Zixuan. “We can steal some eggs from a wild duck and hatch them. Wei Wuxian has done it before, it drove my mother mad that the ducks followed him everywhere for weeks.”

Through his tears, Nie Huaisang manages a weak laugh.

“He must have loved the attention,” he chuckles, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “I'd love to see that. I hope I can come, both to Lanling and Yunmeng. It'd be fun.”

“I can even ask my mother if she'd take in the birds that you have left, after your wedding,” Jin Zixuan suggests. “That way, you'll still get to see them often. Lanling is closer to Gusu than Qinghe.”

Nie Huaisang nods, and even smiles. Next to him, Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“Jin-gongzi, who knew that you could be so considerate.”

“Ah, no arguing!” Nie Huaisang pouts. “I'm still sad for now! You can argue when I'm better, for now you have to take care of me.”

Jiang Cheng frowns and removes his arm. “You! Next time, I'll let Lan Xichen console you!”

Even Jin Zixuan can't help laughing at that threat, as if all three have forgotten that Lan Xichen is right there, kneeling in front of them. He is becoming used to being unwelcome among Nie Huaisang's friends and does not mind it too much anymore, but this time it still stings. He was the first to have found Nie Huaisang, the first to have tried to comfort him, and yet... but he probably deserves that. And it doesn't matter who comforts Nie Huaisang, so long as he is comforted.

“I see Nie gongzi is in good hands,” he sighs, startling the other boys. So they really had forgotten he was there. “I really am sorry for your loss, Nie gongzi. I know how important those birds are to you.”

He turns around, already preparing himself to explain to his uncle that these three won't return to class today, and wondering how to do it so Lan Qiren won't demand a reason. This really is important to Nie Huaisang and he deserves time to grieve and friends to help him, but Lan Qiren won't understand that. He barely understood when he nephews grieved their mother, after all.

Before Lan Xichen has taken two steps, he feels a pull on his robes. Glancing behind, he sees that Nie Huaisang has grabbed the fabric and is looking up at him with an unreadable expression. It is almost painful to see him like this, his eyes reddened by tears, his face splotchy, his hair a little messy from trying to wipe his face clean. He looks more like the boy he was last year, and that's an unpleasant thought. How much pain was Nie Huaisang in back then, if he only looks that way again at the height of sadness?

“Thanks,” Nie Huaisang mumbles sullenly. “For trying.”

“I wish I could do more,” Lan Xichen replies. “Since I cannot, I will leave you with those who can, and do my best to ensure you are not disturbed today. You will have to return to class tomorrow, though. I doubt I can get you more than a day of respite.”

“Thanks,” Nie Huaisang repeats, a little more sincerely this time. “I'll have this under control by then.”

He probably will, knowing him. Lan Xichen suspects that if he hadn't found him like this, he would never have even known that some of his birds have died. It's likely that Nie Huaisang would have preferred it that way too. In fact, since he went to hide like this and didn't tell anyone, Lan Xichen wonders if Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan too wouldn't have been kept in the dark.

Lan Xichen really is glad that these two apparently followed him.

Maybe he can't help, but he's glad somebody can.

#xisang #worst engagement au #jau writes #look it's lxc developping self awareness about the situation #hmm then I guess this must take place a little before he realises he's in love #the timeline is a mess and has changed a few times oops #marsdiogenes

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elias-code · 3 years

Text

The Swine’s Scribe

Characters: c!Technoblade x gn!reader, an appearance by Philza

Background: You're in Techno's cabin after getting the rest of his wolves from L’Manburg after the second war. You were originally rescued by Techno from a blizzard after running from the first L'Manburg explosion (your house was among those destroyed.)

Summary: When Techno gets back from the second L'Manburg war, he lets go of a lot of emotions by ranting to you. You, being concerned about his mental wellbeing, ask if you can do anything for him, and eventually, he kisses you, which leads to some close-calls with Phil and a whole lot of smut and fluff.

Wordcount: 3291 (according to google docs lmao)

Warnings: NSFW, swearing, blood/wounds, biting, getting caught

I REPEAT NSFW, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

-------------------------------- Enjoy :) ----------------------------------

Ever since Techno brought you in from the cold months ago, you've been doing little chores for him in a way to repay his kindness. Even though he was the one who summoned the withers after the initial explosions, you felt safe around him. It had been hard to get used to at first, but now you felt comforted by his presence.

For the past week, you've been writing his journal for him after he broke his hand sparring with Phil. His hand has since healed, but you insisted that you do it for him, and he put up little protest.

"It was stressful, seeing your friends leave like that, in the blink of an eye. I don't trust anyone anymore, not after Tommy betrayed me. I gave him a roof over his head, hid him from Dream, one of the most powerful people on the server, AND I trusted him with my Axe of Peace." Technoblade's tone was strained and he let out a huff.

"Techno," you empathised, "are you sure you're okay after today?"

"I'm fine, please keep writing." He only ever said please when he was really serious, clearly, he was not interested in talking.

"Now, I refuse to bow to the voices. They want blood and I won't let them. Too many allies have died for me or have disappeared onto the other side, only to reemerge when they need ME, never when I need THEM."

Again, you piped in, "Techno, you're clearly not ok," his pale skin was flushed red and his eyebrows knit together into a grimace, "If there's anything I can do to help, please tell me."

He went silent.

"You don't have to talk about it if it's really getting to you... Or you could let it out. Either way, I'm here to help," You said.

"I'll think about it. For now, keep writing,"

For another half hour, he ranted about the destruction of L'Manburg and his dramatic reenactment was accented by occasional yelling and hand gestures. Suddenly, he stops speaking and gets a puzzled look on his face, "Um, what- what's the correct phrasing for - I guess - 'horny for violence'?" The tips of his ears were bright red, matching the blush now forming on his cheeks.

You chuckle, "I think it's hungry for violence..."

"Ah, that's it," Techno states, and then he completed his recounting of events. There's a bubble of silence in the air and he bursts it by asking, "Do you have any thoughts?"

"You know my thoughts, Techno..."

"I think I know, but give me words, I can't read minds."

"You're not healthy, you need help. You need better friends and a proper support system. Right now you really only have Phil, and I guess me if I even count."

"You count."

Now it was your turn to blush, but you continue, "Either way, that's not enough! You deserve more than you're getting. I can tell that even without the things you've had me write down. You're carrying so much weight, Tech."

"I didn't know you cared," he seems touched by your words, "I suppose I don't know a whole lot about you."

"And yet, you trust me with your deepest, darkest secrets, Technoblade."

"One thing I can trust you to do is help me with my armour."

He was still wearing the enchanted netherite chestplate and pants, both of which you started fumbling with. The leather straps were clasped tightly, as to not come off in battle, but you managed to manoeuvre them enough to get them to let go.

As the chestplate was lifted off of him, he hissed and then grunted. You look at the spot his hand flew to on his back, where his shirt had torn to reveal a big gash in his shoulder. It ran from his shoulder blade to his left pec, one of the only places where he was unarmoured.

"Holy shit Tech, why didn't you tell me this was here?!"

"I didn't want to worry you," He chuckled and then hissed again, "I guess that plan failed."

You did not find it funny. You immediately went to get the supplies Phil kept in his house, knowing that Techno didn't keep anything but healing potions in his chests. Phil was eager to help and he handed some bandages and rubbing alcohol to you so you could clean the wound. You also grabbed a spare scrap of leather for him to bite down on.

When you returned, Techno had moved to sit on his bed where he had already removed the greaves and discarded them beside him. You came to his side, putting down the alcohol, rag, and bandage.

"This is probably going to hurt, so I need you to bite down on this," you said, handing him the leather scrap.

"Ok," he said, watching you grab the alcohol and rag from the floor, "Just- just tell me when,"

"Alright," He put the leather in between his teeth, biting lightly, "you ready?"

He nodded, you put the alcohol rag onto the blood-crusted gash. He let out a sharp, low hiss, tightening his jaw on the leather to release some of the pain. You cleaned up quickly to minimise the pain and then wrapped it in the bandage, leaving some so you could clean and replace it later.

"All done, you ok?" You looked at him, one of his eyes was watering.

"Yeah, the pain's much worse when you're not pumped full of adrenaline."

"You better not be hiding any more gashes under all of those clothes,"

"Wanna find out?" He flashed you a smirk, amused by his own confidence.

"I'll take your word for it, but you're going to need to change that shirt, it's covered in blood."

"At least it's not my blood," you shivered a bit at that remark and helped him take his shirt off, careful not to remove the fresh bandages along with it.

For the first time, you saw him without a shirt off. He seemed surprisingly slender for being as strong as he is. There were numerous scars that etched every battle and lesson learned into his skin. Lots of them looked older than you expected and you suddenly realised that he must have been fighting for a long time before coming to the server.

"Like what you see?" he asked, and you rushed to put the shirt down and find an excuse.

"Um, I- I was just looking at your scars, I'll bring this downstairs,"

You rushed away, turning bright red, embarrassed that he had noticed your stares. You absent-mindedly tossed the shirt into the 'wash pile' and then you remembered, in your rush, you had forgotten his greaves. With a huff, you climbed the ladder back to his room.

Techno sat in front of the fireplace, now roaring with renewed vigour from the log he'd tossed in. His pink hair had been undone from the messy braid he had put in that morning. It was almost dyed red and black by the blood and soot in it. He was playing with it, picking out debris and running his fingers through the more knotted bits.

“Tech?”

“Hmm?” he looked up at you, still fiddling with the hair in his hands.

You sat down next to him and he relaxed into a cross-legged position, with one knee tucked under his chin. His free hand is right next to yours and he doesn’t look at you. His face is red, probably from the fire.

“You looked like you were in a trance? Are you ok?”

Silence filled the room again,"

“You don’t have to tell me but just know I’m here if you need to talk. Obviously, I haven’t tattled about anything yet or Tommy and the Butchers would be knocking your door down by now.”

“The voices are quieter than normal. I can hear myself think.”

You try to be encouraging “So? What are you thinking about?”

He looks you in the eyes, they’re deep, his pupils adjusting makes you feel like he’s looking into your soul.

“Um, I’m not sure you’d want to know.”

You frown and protest since you’re now more curious than ever but still a bit freaked out. "C'mon now you've got me curious,"

Techno looked away, solemnly gazing at the fire “I meant what I said about you being a trusted friend. I don't get many of those so, thanks. As for why this is coming up now, well, I guess I’m lonely.”

You hesitated, “Me too, Tech. You're kind of the only one I trust, and I guess Phil, too, but I'd trust you with my life.”

He blushes, looks away, and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear before turning back to you and putting his hand on yours.

You immediately flush and you see a grin seep onto his face.

"I'm not really talking about friends anymore. I want... someone..." he almost whispers

"You mean?" he nods, "I guess I've never had anyone before. I think it'd be nice to see what it'd be like."

“I think we can kill two birds with one stone here, don’t you?”

Now you're both bright red, nervous, schoolkids who gingerly lean into each other's faces, gaze fixed on the other's lips. Your hearts beat hard while your brains rush to make sure you feel insecure, the voices in Techno's mind screaming excitedly.

“You good up there Techno? Your light is still on, it's far past midnight, mate!” Phil shouts from the bottom of the ladder.

“I’m fine, just," He pulls away from you, "reading. Goodnight Phil,”

Techno's ears perk up to listen to the receding footsteps. You’re both standing now, he's standing over the trapdoor, making sure Phil had gone. Once he was sure, he comes over and kisses you hard.

“Tech-"

“Is this ok? I’m not doing anything wrong am I?”

You think He’s clearly never done this before, as you respond "Yeah, I like it..." you continue, stumbling towards his bed where you’re initially just kissing like two teenagers as if it were your first time, desperate, but awkward.

Your hand was pressing against his chest as you laid next to him, tasting each other's spit, learning the ropes since neither of you had ever done this before.

The light from the fire made your shadows dance across the wall, arms moving to hold each other closer, legs wrapping around Techno's, bodies shifting so he's on top of you. Only the roar and crackle of the fire and the occasional grunt or gasp from you or Techno could be heard.

--- Smut begins here ---

As you both part to take a breath, he pulls your shirt over his head. When he leans into the crook of your neck, you notice the tent in his pants pressing against your inner thigh. In between your own legs, there was a pool of slick forming.

You moan, loud, fully knowing that would send Techno wild. He pushes further towards you and holds your arms above your head so he could press his mouth against your neck, leaving red, hot, sticky marks leading from your collarbone to your abdomen.

You're both panting as he lets go of your arms and you wrap them around his neck, pulling his head in for a long, deep kiss. His hot breath warms your cheeks as he repositions himself.

"Hey, is this still ok?" He asks between breaths.

"Abso-fucking-lutely,"

He fully loses himself, taking his hand from your cheek and moving it to your pants, never losing eye contact. You nod and he pushes his hand into the spot between your legs which was now drenched in slick. He found his way to your hole and pushed his index finger into it, creating a sensation you'd never felt before.

Instinctually, you gasp and then moan, harder than before. You rock your hips to his rhythm while he continues to press bruises into your torso. Eventually, he brings his face back to yours and kisses you. You let out another moan into his mouth. He grunts and then chuckles, kissing your cheek before pulling his finger out and then going back in with two.

Now, you're whining, pulling on his long, pink hair. You notice everything in those moments, his rhythmic breaths into your neck and pumping of his finger in and out of your sex, his other hand holding your waist, pushing upwards to caress you, his soft hair in your hand.

"Is it my turn now?" He gruffs.

You hum in affirmation as he pulls away and you kick off your pants as he undoes his own. You immediately notice his size. Compared to his fingers, which were pretty long and thick, to begin with, due to his big hands, his member was a giant. His hand that had previously been half inside of you was now working his dick, its head coated in pre-cum.

While you had seen other penises before, mostly in study, you had never seen one up close, and you'd only seen ones on humans. The hybrid piglin-shapeshifter was sporting a human-like head and shaft, 9 inches (at least) all the way down to a knot... he had a knot...

He notices you gaping at his dick and grins, leaning into you again. "Wanna help me with this, or... should I help m'self?"

Eager to please, you lightly push him forward so you're both sitting up while your hand inspects the new acquaintance. You look up at Techno for guidance. He nods and pushes your hand down with his own. He guides your hand up and down the shaft until he’s no longer guiding you and you’re doing it all yourself.

He does the same with you. The space between your legs was now, simply put, slippery. He did his best to please you, eventually managing three fingers easily.

The pants and gasps were syncing, the knot in your stomach growing stronger while you danced your mouth on the head of his member. He lets out a particularly loud grunt and removes his fingers from your sex. You suddenly feel empty, and he pushes you over onto your stomach.

He puts himself under you, his dick under your mouth. You lick the ever-present pre-cum off of the head of his dick once again and then begin to bob your head up and down, managing to fit him halfway before choking on him. His groans were now louder than yours, becoming more frequent.

"Ughh- fuck," he moans.

Now he holds your head and gently begins to fuck your mouth. Your bobbing was no longer enough, he wanted more. He thrust his hips into you, managing to get a third of the way into you and then it turns into deepthroating after every thrust.

You gag, unable to take him all the way, and so he decides enough is enough and you both rush to get him inside of you. He gets up, moving to position himself above you. You continue to stay in the position he left you in, on your hands and knees.

"Turn around," Techno says.

And so you do, you lay on your back, full of anticipation and covered in juices. He puts his hand on your stomach, leaning in to kiss you lightly, pressing more red marks into your sides, slowly turning you so you face the wall.

He pulls away and holds your leg away from the other, practically putting you into the splits.

"Techno..." You whisper.

"Hmm?"

"Is this gonna hurt?"

"Dunno, darlin'," He leans in again, "let me know if it gets too hard, ok? I'll stop if you say so."

You nod and kiss for confirmation, reaching to hold your own leg up to give him full access.

He inserts the head and you can already feel the stretch, slightly painful but you push on, your fingers grasping the sheets to keep yourself grounded. He’s pushing into you slowly, making sure you're not getting in over your head. You hold the sheet tighter, groaning from the stretch.

He pulls out slightly and the pressure releases. You moan hard, making sure Techno knows that you like what you feel. He pushes in again and begins to thrust into you. Techno is getting further and further with every thrust, and you moan between every breath. He's three-fifths of the way in and he's only getting harder.

Techno's hand replaces yours, keeping your leg raised as you move your hand to work yourself along with him. Your heart beats faster and he picks up the pace. He can get all the way to the knot before pulling out and thrusting in again.

"Tech... Fuck, it's so gooood..."

Now he's becoming sparattic and his face goes into your neck, biting softly, barely enough for blood to form. The knot in your stomach tightens and you scream into the pillow as he pushes all the way in, his skin hitting yours as his knot slips into you.

He moans and thrusts lightly into you, coming inside of you. You feel the pressure inside of you release as you come with him. You're being filled with his sperm, eventually spilling out along with your own come onto the sheet.

He continues to work you with his hand, breathing heavily into your neck. Your heartbeats are in sync and his juices continue to spill out of you, soaking everything below you. You try to look him in the eye as he shakes slightly, somehow still coming.

"Tech? You're still..." you gasp. "I know, sorry... it might be a while..." He grunts out.

Techno's ears perk up and he shoves you under the blanket, still stuck inside of you with the knot.

"What-"

He puts a hand over your mouth as you quiver underneath him, overstimulated by the pressure and his hand which still rested in between your thighs. What the hell is he doing?! The non-stop cum is weird enough, what-

Soon enough, your questions were answered when you heard the footsteps downstairs.

“Do you have my hat?” Phil's voice yells from the base of the ladder.

“Can't you-" he breathes, "you get it in the morning?”

“No, I'm going out super early tomorrow to scout out and make sure we haven’t been followed back.”

“Uh," fuck "it’s on the chair next to my desk up here? I’m in bed…”

Phil comes up the ladder and opens the hatch, eventually finding his hat while techno covers your mouth and lays belly to belly with you, he’s still dribbling a bit, so are you. You’re whimpering slightly.

Phil stops at the trapdoor. “Did you mean to leave the fire on mate?”

“Uh, yeah I was gonna let it burn… I was cold”

“Where’s your friend, loverboy?”

You feel Techno blush above you, his warmth suddenly radiating out from him.

“Um. They went to trade with some piglins since we’re almost out of spectral arrows.”

“Alright let me know when they get back, I just want to make sure they’re ok. Ever since you found them in the snow you’ve been doing better, it seems. Almost like you two are a... thing?”

The question lingered momentarily and you could almost hear Phil's eyebrow raise before Techno answered.

“Hmm, thank you, Phil. Close the trapdoor when you leave, I don’t want the warmth to leave.”

“Alright.”

Finally, the footsteps were gone. He pulls the blanket off of them and he takes his hand off of your mouth. You gasp for dramatic effect, laughing quietly to yourselves at the close call.

"Can I tell you something?" Techno whispers into your ear.

"Yes, you're literally deep inside of me, I'm guaranteed to be interested in what you have to say,"

"I love you"

"I love you, too..."

#technoblade #dsmp x reader #techno x reader #mcyt smut #dreamsmp #c!technoblade x reader #c!techno #first fic sorry lmao #c!techno x reader #eli scribe #Elias original

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darkdevasofdestruction · 3 years

Text

Smile For Me, Sweetcheeks ~ Ghostface x Fem!Reader

I've thought of this for a while, and it's gonna be

F U N

---

Y/N opened her eyes groggily, finding herself on the grassy ground - As she lifted her head to scan her surroundings, she realised she was in some strange, dark place that resembled some weird park with tall trees, yet had random small buildings here and there...It almost seemed like a place to play hide and seek, was her first thought.

Next to her, 3 other people were getting up, looking extremely frightened, as they bolted the hell out of that spot, going in different directions.

But Y/N didn't, and instead, she walked around aimlessly, until she spotted someone dressed in all black, with a weird ghost-like mask, peeking from behind an old car, almost timidly, only to see him wave at her.

Grinning at him, thinking she finally met someone friendly around this place, she extended her arm up in the sky, waving excitedly, which made the man make his way to her.

"Hi! I'm Y/N! It's great finally seeing someone nice around here. The 3 other guys just yelled in my face and ran away. How rude, right?!" she sighed, crossing her arms with a pout, before going back to her friendly smile, extending her hand to shake his. "Woaw, those guys are jerks. Call me Ghostface, darling." he said in an amused, yet somehow hoarse voice. "Uhhh, Ghostface, how cool! You must be a horror movie fan, then? So am I! ...Hmm...Actually, do you have any idea how we got here? I think I need some lecithin, my memory is failing me." she scratched the back of her head sheepishly, only for him to chuckle. "Welp, there's 4 survivors and a killer. All you gotta do is either repair 5 generators and find the exit...Or find the hatch and escape. Basically, don't die, I guess. Fun, huh?" the guy explained, putting his arm around her shoulder, guiding her to who knows where. "...What the hell is this, the Hunger Games?" she looked up at him with a weird look on her face. "Haha, that would be fun! Alas, nothing like that. Ah, look at this, a gen! Here I'll show you how to repair it. You have to tinker with these parts, and then merge these together...You get the cables in the respective coloured sockets...Et voila! Haha, look at it! Fireworks! What a reward!" Ghostface clapped and cheered at the fireworks the generator made, laughing at the startled look on the girl's face, as she clearly didn't expect something like that to happen. "Uh...Honestly, this is insane. Can't we just, like...Go home? I don't think I'm up for dying, even if someone paid me to go through with this silly game." she sighed, crouching down to the next generator, awkwardly trying to repair it, but she was much slower and clumsier compared to him, and it even exploded in her face, making her yelp and fall down. "Dude! Not cool! This gen is working against me!" "Shoulda seen the face you made, toots! Haha, so funny! You're very entertaining, girl. Here, lemme help ya out." he said as he got on the other side of the of the gen and helped repaired it. "You're a real pro at this, man. Have you been playing this for long? Did they at least give you a worthy amount of money for the trouble you're going through? I mean, I'm sure you won very often...Or maybe you're like...The tutorial teacher or something? Is that why you look eccentric compared to those lame-os?" she was asking so many question, but boy, was she so off that it amused the killer so much! He now perfectly understood the wolf who dressed as a sheep, it was too much fun! She was so blindingly trusting, he could mess with her, and more, with the survivors at his heart's content! "Yeah, I win quite often, but they don't pay me! The guy is kinda blackmailing us to play his game, but it's fun when you get used to it." he explained, only to have two other survivors go past them - Her and Ghostface waved at them merrily, but they just shrieked and ran the hell away from there. "...Do I look that scary?" she muttered, looking at the man next to her with a confused expression. "Nahhh, you're a cutiepie. Those guys are just jerks." he petted her hair, beginning to walk again, only to find some really nasty, rusty hooks. "U-Uhm...Gh-Ghostface...? What are these for...?" she stuttered, frowning as she clinged on his arm instinctively. "I think you already know, toots. Careful with those, killers LOVE to impale their victims on these things. It's like a sacrifice for the big guy who's keeping us here." he chuckled as he watched the girl tremble like a little lamb seeing the knife approaching her neck. "...Can we go away from here, please? M-Maybe we can look for the...Uhm...Hatch, you called it?" she muttered, pulling him away from there. "Yeah. It's like a trap in the ground that leads to safety. It only appears when there's only 2 gens left. Felt that shockwave? It meant that the Hatch just appeared. Ah, sorry baby-cakes, I gotta run, but I'll see you around before the match ends, okay?" he was grinning under his mask, knowing that he has to kill the other 3 to make sure the Entity doesn't punish

either of them for some annoying reason...And oh, the shock and horror on her face will be fun~. "N-No...! Please don't go! This place is huge and scary, I'll get lost without you! And who knows what would happen if the Killer finds me? I don't wanna end up...Th-There...!" awww, that cute, little, frightened pout on her face, how lovely~! If only she knew... "Don't worry, cutie, is'yo' first game, the Killer ain't gonna mess with ya, I promise. And if he does, Imma make sure he regrets it. I'm sort of a boss here, you see." he put cupped both his gloved hands on her face, pinching them a bit too hard, just to hear her yelp one more time - And clearly, she didn't disappoint, as her eyes even watered a tiny bit. What a cute little lamb... "...If you're sure, then...Okay. I trust you." she muttered, turning away as she started walking away, only for her to look back at him and yell "Make sure you stay safe too, okay?! We have to escape this place together!" He raised his arm and waved dismissively, barely able to keep himself from laughing, as he started running and stalking the annoying survivors who actually thought they'd have such an easy game!

No, no, clearly not with him!

First, he slashed one of the survivors and put him on a hook, then mori'ed another and took a really cool selfie with their bloody face, and the last one he just messed around with, before repeatedly stabbing his back and throwing him in a corner, just where the Hatch was.

Those idiots thought they could escape him.

Think again.

He wasn't that idiot 'Legion', or that lame ass Amanda. Four lame thugs who can't do a simple job properly, or Jigsaw's useless lackey. Keh.

And at least he was fun, unlike Boring Michael! I mean, look at this masterpiece he made, it's a perfect piece of art! He even wrote Y/N's name on the wall in front of the hatch, so she could see and appreciate his work!

A loud noise that resounded through the place made him realise that, as he was having his fun playing with the obsolete Survivors, his cute little Y/N had her fun repairing generators, meaning that the exits could be activated, if he wasn't careful.

He had to find her quick.

Not that it was difficult for the Master of Stalking, especially since she was so clueless that she didn't even crouch to hide, or at least try to hide in lockers.

There she was...! Look at her, watching everything like a frightened meerkat! Aww, how he wanted to boop that cute nose of hers~! Maybe he could even let some blood paint her nose, and make fun of her, calling her Rudolph!

Ahh, Ghostface, you're so funny!

Yeah, Ghostface, I KNOW, right?!

"Yo, Y/N, over here! I found the hatch! Come on!" he waved his arms up in the air, yelling for her, and the look of sparkling glee on her face as soon as she saw him...Wasn't she such an adorable dummy~? "Ghostface, you're okay! I got so worried when I didn't see you in so long! I heard screams, and I thought something happened to you! I got so scared that I ran away and tried to do the last generators...And then a loud noise almost deafened me, and I had no idea what to do." she gesticulated rapidly, making him chuckle in amusement. Of course, he was worried for nothing. She wouldn't realise what she'd have to do, even if it bit her leg. Hmm, actually...~ "Nahhhh, I'm cool, haven't see the killer. Here, take the key, it will unlock the hatch. Less'goooo~!" he put his arm around her shoulder, guiding her casually where the hatch was, making sure she didn't see his work of art yet. "Oh, so this is the Hatch, huh? It looks scary. Are you sure this isn't some ladder that leads straight to hell or something? It looks...Shady." she muttered, looking at the dark abyss down below. "Don't worry, chickadee, ain't that long of a ride down. It's like a bunker filled with survivors, you'll be okay. They'll tell you what to do from then on. If you're scared, take this flashlight. See? You can see the bottom of the ladder. You'll be okay." he chuckled, weaving the flashlight around. "Wait...You're not coming down with me?" she gasped, her eyes carefully searching for the truth in his...Covered face. "I'd go down on you any day, sugar, but maybe next time we get to play around." he laughed crudely watching her frowning, flustering face. "H-Hey, don't be a jerk! I'm just worried about you!" she muttered, looking away, hoping her hair would cover her blushing face. "Hahaha, you're so fun to tease, Y/N. Only one person can go through the hatch. But s'all cool, I just gotta open up the door, since you did a great job with the gens. We'll see each other later, I can promise you that. Can't get rid of me that easily." he sniggered under his mask, waiting in anticipation until the girl realises his true nature. "Mhh...Alright...If you're so sure..." she muttered, shakily stepping down a few steps, only to be stopped by the man who took out a camera. "Wanna take a selfie before we finish this? Y'know, your first game, and a victory nonetheless...Come on, Smile for me, Sweetcheeks~!" he got on his knees, raising his mask a bit, before gluing himself to her body, one of his arms extending with the camera, while with the other he grabbed her face, kissing her cheek, making sure he guides her eyesight to his masterpiece, and as soon as he heard her gasp, he took the photo.

It was worth more than all the money in the world.

"Y-You...? You were the killer...?!" awww, look at her tremble! Her eyes were glistering with tears, and her plump, rosy bottom lip was quivering in betrayal. "You're too cute for this world, Y/N." he harshly put his mask down, before showing the girl the selfie he took as he mori'ed one of the survivors, and waved her goodbye with his knife, as she quickly descended down the ladder, soft whimpers echoing through the place.

"Till we see each other again, sweet cheeks~." the Killer rose to his feet, slamming down the hatch with his boot and wiping the blood from his knife with his latex glove, before laughing loudly at the endearing experience he just had.

If THAT was the reaction she had when seeing his little gift for her, imagine her cute faces when he'd actually go down on her, as he promised~.

#dbd #dead by daylight #dbd x reader #dbd imagine #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagine #ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface imagine #ghostface dbd #dbd ghostface #dbd ghostface x reader #danny johnson #danny johnson imagine #danny johnson x reader #jed olsen #jed olsen x reader #jed olsen imagine

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bakubub · 3 years

Text

In which racer!kuroo is your roommate, and seems to only like it when you treat his wounds... (word count: 1.9k)

Ngl quite proud of this one!!

Warnings: 18+, a whole lot of swearing, a whole lot of blood, innuendos and implied nsfw, reader almost vomits (NOT from pregnancy chill, I know we're all scarred but its going to be just fine) and if you're squeamish perhaps skip the scene where reader stitches his wound?

Also bit of a disclaimer: I am in NO WAY a med student and literally all of my knowledge is from movies and other fics... so if you acc know what to do in this situation this may be a torturous for you :D

All due credits go to @aikk00 for this AMAZING fanart!!!!

I watch as my roommate enters the penthouse, once again scratched up and bleeding, covered in so much blood there is no possible way that it was all his- if it was he would not be standing.

I launch myself off the couch- where I was sitting for the past hour nervously waiting for his return- and slip my arm under his, supporting him as we inched towards the bathroom.

"I can do this by myself you know," he grumbles, his grimace revealing just how much pain he was actually in.

"Mhm, I'm sure you can. Just like you boiled that poor egg by yourself last week, hmm?" I say sarcastically, trying to keep my mind calm and clear, because oh my god it looks really bad this time...

"Oi, its not my fault it fuckin' exploded," he mutters, voice laden with pain.

"You put it in the microwave because 'the shitty water wasn't doing its job.' Of course it would explode," I say, gently seating him on the closed toilet seat and taking out my supplies that I unfortunately have become rather accustomed to using. He's made it a habit to get himself injured.

"Where's the injury?" I ask, setting down my half-empty bottle of antiseptic and box of bandages. He peels off his shirt, cringing at the pain it brought him as the fabric was stuck to the gash that went from his left pectoral down to the middle of his chest.

"Pissed off a bidder after winning a race, fucker took out a knife once he realised he couldn't beat me up," he huffs out, arrogance still lacing his tone even with sweat dripping down his brow as he leans the back of his head onto the tile wall behind him. His Adam's apple bobs down his bloodstained neck as he speaks, and I quickly look away, focusing on the injury at hand.

Not his blood soaked, but nevertheless well defined pectoral muscles, nor the abs that my hands occasionally brush up against and know how hard they really are, and definitely not the trail of black hairs that lead down, down, down...

"What's wrong, the view too hot to focus on the work at hand?" He asks suggestively, raising his pierced brow, even in this state.

I'm quick to reply, having gotten used to his flirtatious remarks from the second I moved into his penthouse, "nope can't even see the view from that massive head of yours. Not to mention your permanent bed head."

He huffs out a laugh, then proceeds to flinch from the pain it must have caused.

"Stop moving, idiot. You're going to exacerbate the cut!" I say, quickly grabbing a damp towel and beginning to clean up his abdomen, whilst simultaneously pressing another rag to his wound to stop the bleeding.

“At least you admit that there is a hot view,” he says in his low voice, gazing at me from his position.

I simply roll my eyes.

No falling in love. That was the deal we had made on the day he offered me a place to stay in exchange for my services as a maid and apparently, a nurse. I cook, clean and basically keep the house running while this moron goes out and acts like the idiot he is. In my defense, dorms are expensive as hell, and his penthouse is nearby. Plus, I don't have to pay rent. It's a win-win situation.

But the feelings stirring up inside my heart might just ruin the dynamic we have going on and simultaneously take out a whole lot of cash out of my pocket.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Once his skin isn't completely saturated in blood, and the wound has (thankfully) stopped bleeding, I add some antiseptic onto a make-up pad and begin to dab at his wound, earning winces and slight grunts from the massive man.

"The cut looks deep, Kuroo. You need to go to the hospital," I say, worry lacing my tone as my eyebrows crease and earn yet another huffing laugh.

"Do you want me to rot in prison for the rest of my life?"

I roll my eyes at his response, deliberately dabbing just a little harder which earns me a yelp and an attempted glare in my direction.

"First off, illegal street racing won't send you to prison for your entire life, just for like, half a year. Second, this wound needs stitches, and believe it or not, I'm not a fucking licensed medic. In fact, the only experience I have is with you!" I say, immediately regretting my choice of words as I wait for his remark.

"That's what she said," He says, chuckling at his own innuendo.

I sigh in frustration, pouring more antiseptic to make sure there was no chance of infection from whatever grimy ass knife stabbed him, and beginning to gently scrub the wound with a soft towel, so as to make sure there was no debris left in there.

"You're gonna have ta do it," he mutters, his hazel eyes boring into mine.

"I- I can't Kuroo, you can't possibly think-"

"Fine. I'll do it. Go get me a needle and thread," he states, struggling but nevertheless, sitting upright on the red stained toilet.

I stare at Kuroo in disbelief as he utters these words. Was he dumber than I thought? Does he have some sort of head injury too?

I examine his face and all I come up with is unnerving determination. I exhale out of my nose sharply, "fine, dammit. I'll sew your fucking wound shut."

I am extremely handy with a sewing needle and thread, used to really be into embroidery back when I had the time so...it should be fine.

He just shrugs, leaning his head back against the tiles and closing his eyes.

"Fucking asshole. Can't believe I'm saving your damn life," I mutter, leaving the bathroom to dig through my wardrobe for my sewing box and taking out a gold silk thread that I was saving for a special project.

Well, I guess that will never happen.

"Hey, I found some silk thread. It's literally known for its strength and durability in high temperatures, so it should work like a charm!" I say, walking back into the blood stained bathroom and trying to psych myself up.

He grunts in response. I sigh as I begin with mopping up the excess blood and sanitising the needle and thread before chucking on gloves.

I wipe the antiseptic over the wound once more, and examine it carefully.

Well, if his condition worsens, I can always knock him out and call an ambulance...

I decide, screw it, and thread the needle, pretending it was just another embroidery project.

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, I chant as I puncture his skin with the thin needle.

Kuroo gasps in pain, and I place a hand on his knee, telling him to suck it up and deal with it, half talking to him but also to myself.

To my surprise, he listens, stretching his head back once more and gritting his teeth.

"Don't do that, here put this in-between your teeth," I say, grabbing yet another towel and shoving it into his mouth.

He obeys as I continue to stitch. I feel my gag reflex kicking in as I think about how stitching skin feels as though I am stitching leather, it feels hard and tough while pushing the thin needle through.

Must hurt like a bitch.

Once I've completed my neat stitches down the wound, without vomiting, I tie it off as I would with any embroidery, and clean the area free of any remaining blood. After rubbing some antibacterial ointment over the gold stitches, I stick on a particularly large bandage over the wound and start tidying up.

"Thank you," Kuroo mutters, still seated on the toilet seat and practically panting for breath.

"Ah, the criminal knows his damn manners!! Now get up and get in the damn shower. You ruined my pristine bathroom!" I complain, putting the last of the materials away before walking to the door.

"Wait, I- I can't get up." I turn around and look at him incredulously as he utters his next few words, "will you... shower me?"

My eyes just about pop out of their sockets at his request. "Are you insane?! I'm not your mother, nor your wife! Call your pudding haired friend and tell him to come shower you!"

He shakes his head, a rare pleading look taking the place of his usual arrogant smirk, "Kenma's too lazy to shower himself, Y/n, please!"

I contemplated it for a moment. Sure, I've seen him naked before, accidentally of course, and so what if I have to scrub him clean. God knows he can't do it himself with that damn injury.

Fuck this shit.

"Fine, get up right now." I bark at him, leaving to change out of my blood soaked pjs into a pair of shorts and a tank.

"...I just said I can't."

---

"Ow, y/n, you're scrubbing too hard!" He complains, his exfoliating glove around my hand as I rub his toned back clean of any dead skin-cells and blood remains.

"But look how much stuff is coming off!" I say gleefully, enjoying this a little too much.

Kuroo, seated on the built-in bench in the open shower with his red boxers on, looks back to see the satisfaction dripping from my features.

"Are you secretly a sadist?" he whispers. In response, I begin to rinse off his raw back with hot water, causing him to screech like a cat.

"It burns, it burns-”

“Shut the fuck up, moron! It's 4 in the morning, you’re going to annoy our neighbours. I tried very hard to get in their good graces, and Mrs. Suzuki still doesn’t like me! She definitely thinks I’m some kind of hooker…” Kuroo laughs at this, and I can’t help but watch as his whole face brightens up from his usual emotionless expression. I find myself smiling in response.

I grab his expensive shampoo and pour some into my hands, beginning to massage it into his scalp. With wet hair, his raven strands are for once flat on his head and reach down to his defined jawline. Kuroo groans under my touch, leaning into my fingers. I snatch my hands back and pour hot water over his head.

"ARGH! Y/N!" He screams, hastily getting up and wetting me in the process.

"Ah- what are you-" I don't get to finish my question as he grabs my arm and yanks me next to him under the hot water, soaking my clothes and my hair.

"You asshole!" I screech as I reach up to pull his hair in defiance, but he only grabs my arm and hooks it around his neck, leaning down to look directly into my eyes.

Our noses brushing against one another, he mutters, "You look pretty with your hair wet and your shirt see through."

It takes me a moment to get past the compliment and to hear the perverted comment that he just uttered.

He sees my look of confusion and laughs, bends over, clutches his stomach and laughs, before bellowing in pain because of his injury.

Smiling smugly down at him as he grimaces, I force him to sit back down and continue massaging the shampoo into his hair, warning him that if he so much as moaned I would leave him in here, dripping wet and in pain.

"That's what he said," is his reply.

I smack his head in response.

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

#kuroo x reader #haikyuu drabbles #racer!kuroo #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #haikyu fics #haikyuu!!#kuroo x y/n #kuroo x gender neutral reader #kuroo x gn!reader #kuroo x you

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seijorhi · 4 years

Note

This isn't a request or anything but I had a soulmate AU idea that I think you'd like.... And reminded me of Oikawa. Imagine you find ur soulmate from their name written on your skin on ur 16/18 bday, but.... You're blind. And dating Oikawa. And he /swears/ your name is on his skin... But when your birthday rolls around, he insists you don't show anyone else.... And starts buying you clothes to cover the mark.... And you hear him whispering about his mark to Iwa.... And you begin to worry. 👀

I know it wasn’t specifically meant as a request, but I took the idea and ran with it - I hope it’s okay!! 💕

Oikawa Tooru x Female Reader

TW gaslighting, manipulation, dub con nsfw, blind reader

Part II

Always

“You promise me it’s there?”

Are you sure it’s me?

Rich, warm laughter fills the air around you, and despite the tension gnawing away in your stomach, the corners of your lips twitch into a soft smile.

“You don’t believe me!”

He’s happy. Even gasping in mock indignation Tooru can’t quite manage to keep it from his voice.

He has every reason to be; you’re both home for the first time in a year and a half, settled in the well worn couch at his parents house, your friends sprawled out either side of you. He’s twenty one today and as of five minutes ago the proud owner of his very own soulmate mark.

Or so he tells you.

“Well it’s not like I can see it,” you tease, nudging yourself closer so that you can rest your head against his shoulder and sighing loudly. “It could be Issei’s name for all I know, and you’re all just too nice to break the news to me.”

The choked snort from your left side makes you giggle, but not as much as the sound of your boyfriend fake gagging.

“Please, he fucking wishes!”

“Iwa tell her!” Oikawa demands, and you can just imagine the way that Iwaizumi’s eyes must roll before he ultimately gives in.

He always does.

“It’s yours,” he sighs. “Unfortunately you’re stuck with him, Y/N. My condolences.”

Yours.

It’s hard, even as raucous laughter fills the air around you and Oikawa turns to shout at his best friend, to deny the warm fluttering in your chest. The arm around you eases you closer, a thumb absentmindedly stroking at your side and you allow yourself to relax against him.

It’s your name on his skin. You’re his soulmate.

For the first time in weeks, it feels like you can breathe easy. You wonder if Oikawa knew, if he noticed the way you held onto him just that little bit tighter - like you were scared to let go.

You’ve loved Oikawa for as long as you can remember, but you only get one soulmate. Was it really so outlandish to wonder whether his first love would be his last? Whether you could ever be good enough to be his?

The little blind girl, always following at his heels.

For all your faults, you’ve never been naive. You know how amazing he is - Tooru has always been destined for great things and you were just his highschool sweetheart.

A hindrance, one of his very dedicated fans had once taken the time to inform you, clinging desperately to whatever scraps of pity he felt charitable enough to throw your way.

Neither one of you had realised that Oikawa had heard every damn word.

—

“Can you just…”

Oikawa pauses, the hand he has wrapped around yours squeezes lightly. “Hmm?”

Breathe deep. Just say it.

Tell him.

You’re almost at the gate, your flight’s leaving in twenty minutes (and you would have been there sooner if he hadn’t insisted on dragging you through every overpriced store in the damn airport) and in a few hours, you’ll be home again.

But it isn’t the thought of being back in Japan that worries you. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth, your heart thumping unsteadily in your chest. His birthday is in two days, and that’s when he’ll find out who his soulmate is supposed to be. And you trust him, you love him. Even if the name on his forearm isn't yours, it’s not like he’s just going to suddenly toss you aside like yesterday’s trash, but… things’ll change, you know they will. And you couldn’t even blame him for that, because how much effort can you really be expected to put into a relationship if you know they’re not the one you’re supposed to end up with?

The doubts you have, the ones that fester and play on your every insecurity, keeping you up at night long after Tooru has drifted off - you’ve tried to shut them out and ignore them as best you can, but you just can’t get on that plane without having some kind of reassurance.

What if it’s not you?

“Just promise me that if…” your breath catches in your throat, and you try to force a smile on your face even though you know that it wobbles. “If it’s not- if I’m not-”

Soft lips press against yours, cutting you off. It’s only for a heartbeat, enough to get you to stop the panicked tumble of words you couldn’t quite get out, but for you it feels like it lasts a lifetime. You could lose yourself in Oikawa’s kisses, you think. Lose yourself and be happy for it.

A warm palm cups your face. “I love you,” he says, and it isn’t the murmured declaration first thing in the morning, his voice still thick with sleep as he rolls over to kiss you good morning, and it isn’t the cheesy, throwaway line he gives whenever you save him the last bite of the milk bread that he specifically bought for you (because god knows his coach would kill him if he found out he ate the entire thing himself).

It’s a promise.

“You are my soulmate,” his thumb strokes along your cheekbone, and you can’t help but lean into the touch. “You’re the only one I’m ever going to want.”

Standing on the outskirts of your gate, moments away from boarding the plane that’ll take you both home, you’re not entirely sure if he’s trying to tell you that he’s certain that the name on his arm is going to be yours, or that he doesn’t care if it isn’t.

Either way, it’s enough.

“You’re mine,” he breathes, and captures your lips in another kiss - this one brimming with ardent devotion, a love too deep for either one of you to speak.

—

Hours later, Iwa, Makki and Mattsun are all asleep downstairs and it’s just Tooru and you curled up in his bed. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised that being back in his childhood bedroom did little in the way of curbing his appetite, but between giggles and breathy moans, Oikawa’s hand clamped over your mouth and his lips at your ear-

‘Shhh, you have to keep it down, cutie. Unless you want the whole house to hear all the pretty sounds you make when you’re about to cum for me?’

- he manages to wring four orgasms out of you before the two of you collapse back against the mattress, all sweaty and panting.

And you think he’s fallen asleep now, an arm slung around your waist, his face buried against the nape of your neck despite the warmth of the balmy summer night. With his chest flush against your back, you can feel the steady rhythm of his heart, lulling you gently to sleep with every beat.

Soulmate.

This, here, in Oikawa’s arms, this is where you belong, where you’ve always belonged. And yet even with happiness and relief and an overwhelming love singing through your veins - keeping you wide awake - you can’t deny that it feels… strange almost, knowing that out of seven and a half billion people, you’re the one he’s marked for.

He’d sounded so sure back at the airport, like there wasn’t even the possibility of doubt in his mind that you were the one for him. And maybe he was just saying it to calm you down and get your ass on the plane, but if the situations were reversed and it was your birthday first… could you really say with one hundred percent certainty that you knew it would be his name that’d show up on your arm?

You love him more than you’ve ever loved anybody else (more than you ever probably will love anybody else), it’s just that you’ve always known that the two of you were on wildly different paths. Tooru’s the starting setter for a pro volleyball team, and there’s already whispers of that national squad, Olympic selection.

He’s talented and driven and sometimes you wonder whether you ever would have left Miyagi let alone Japan at all if it hadn’t been for him dragging you along with him.

You’ve always been so content in your own little bubble. You cling to what’s comfortable, what you know - all your life, you’ve been told that you’re not defined by your disability, but you’ve never tried to push yourself beyond it.

With Tooru, you’ve never had to.

That girl, years ago - she wasn’t wrong. You do cling to him, like you’d clung to your friends and your family. And maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world, but when you compare what Oikawa has to offer his soulmate compared to what you bring to the table, and-

“I can hear you thinking from here,” your apparently not-so-asleep-after-all boyfriend murmurs in your ear. “Tell me what’s bothering my pretty girl.”

You sigh, rolling over to face him. It’s pointless to lie to Tooru - he can read you better than anyone else - but admitting the whole truth, even here under this little refuge of soft intimacy between the two of you, feels harder than it should be.

“You’re not… disappointed, are you?”

The harrumph that escapes his lips sounds almost offended, but the brush of his lips against the tip of your nose is sweet. “How long have I known you?” he asks.

Your forehead wrinkles at the question. “Fifteen or so years, I guess?”

You’d only been six or so when your family had moved in the house next door to his, across the street from Iwaizumi’s, and you can still vividly remember the first time you met him - crying in your front yard with a scraped up knee - always too eager for your own good.

“Hmm,” he acknowledges, “and how long have we been dating?”

“Seven-ish years?”

He chuckles, kissing you again, this time on your cheek. “And how long do you think I’ve been in love with you?”

Your whole face warms, and you fight the urge to bury it in his bare chest, especially when he reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair that had fallen out of place back behind your ear. “Tooru-”

He sighs again, the sound tinged with just a hint of fond exasperation. “Give me your hand.”

You oblige, and you feel his long fingers curl around yours, tucking all of your fingers but your index away and drawing your hand closer towards him. It’s only when your pointer brushes against skin that you realise what he’s trying to do. Still, you don’t offer a word as Tooru slowly traces your finger along the dark letters on his skin - his soulmate mark.

Your name.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, Y/N. You’re mine, you’ve always been mine, just as I’m yours,” he vows, and you almost shiver with the intensity that burns in every word. “Any other name would have been nothing more than a filthy lie.”

Any further protests are swallowed up by another kiss, and your boyfriend takes it upon himself to show you exactly how much he adores you, over and over again, until sheer, utter exhaustion drags you to sleep in his arms.

—

Your own twenty-first birthday is a vastly different kind of affair. For one, the two of you decide to stay in Argentina - Oikawa’s mid season and can’t afford the time off training to traipse back home again.

Which means that it is just the two of you alone in your villa when you feel an odd burning sensation start to creep through your left arm. It doesn’t hurt exactly, more like a warm tingling sensation that flows along your skin as one by one the letters of your soulmate’s name come to light.

The sharp little gasp that slips from your lips must have alerted Tooru - hovering as he had been for the better part of the day - because his hands are on your arm within a moment, flipping it over and eagerly dragging it closer for him to inspect. His own breath hitches in his throat, his fingers tightening on your soft skin and a tentative smile works its way across your face.

People have told you before that your boyfriend is handsome - stupidly beautiful, you’d once overheard one of your old high school classmates bemoan. His voice certainly is, soft and pretty and lilting, warm like the first rays of the sun on a cool winter’s morning, though not without its sharpness. Oikawa always has had a wicked tongue. In your head, you picture a face to match, delicate, angular features, warm eyes and a grin that’s just a little impish. Trouble, but the irresistible kind.

You wish you could see it now, watch your soulmate’s eyes widen with delight, or maybe soften with quiet awe. You want to see him happy, deliriously so, you want to look into those lovely eyes of his and see all the love that’s coursing through your veins right now reflected right back at you.

He still hasn’t spoken a word.

The slow drag of a breath, shaky and too sharp, had your bright smile freezing on your face. His grip hasn’t relented, fingers calloused from years of playing volleyball digging into your arm almost painfully. The air between you two is still, he hasn’t moved, not so much as a twitch.

Unease creeps its way into your stomach.

Why hasn’t he said anything?

He’s never exactly been the strong, silent type, and you love him for that. Iwa often complains that his best friend likes the sound of his own voice too damn much (half heartedly at best), and maybe that’s true, but he never realised that it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

It’s different for you, not being able to see.

You don’t exactly blame them for not understanding - how could they, really? Without your sight to help you, your other senses have to work in overdrive just to make sense of things. Tooru’s voice builds the world around you, imbues it with a spark, guides you like a hand stretching out through the darkness. It’s a gap in the void, a reassurance you cling to - because without it there’s nothing. You’re alone with only your thoughts to keep you company.

So when he goes quiet like this, it’s never a good sign.

A lump lodges its way in your throat. Without your sight, his silence is almost impossible to read, but you can sense the sudden heaviness in the air, the tension hanging thick between the two of you.

You expected dramatics. Tears, maybe, or a burst of affectionate cuddles and kisses. Gushing over your mark just as he had when his own had come through. Hell, you thought he’d grab his phone and take a thousand and one pictures just to prove to the world that you were his as much as he was yours - because you loved each other. Because you were soulmates.

Is there something wrong with your mark?

“Tooru?” you murmur, the edges of your smile starting to slip as your panic rises. “I-is everything-”

“You’re mine.”

The clipped words are little more than a whisper, hoarse and choked. It takes you by surprise, making your heart skip a beat, the knot in your stomach tighten, yet just as that paralysing apprehension starts to take root, he clears his throat, and a laugh bubbles to the surface.

Slowly, like ice thawing, his fingers relax on your forearm, gliding up over your shoulder to curl around your neck. “You love me, right?”

Your eyebrows knit together, but you nod anyway. “Always.”

There’s another shaky breath, and suddenly his arms are wrapping around you, drawing you into a tight embrace. You don’t fight it, still bewildered by the sudden whiplash of his tone.

His own heart is racing, you can feel it as he holds you against him. The question burns deep inside of your chest, a thought you don’t want to give voice to, but you can’t seem to stop yourself - it slips out before you even realise you’ve opened your mouth.

“It is your name, Tooru, isn’t it? You’re my soulmate?”

There’s a beat of silence, and Oikawa hums, resting his chin against the top of your head. “Of course it is, cutie,” he chuckles. “Who else’s name would it be?”

He takes you out for dinner to celebrate. You’d originally picked one of his favourite dresses to wear, a strapless white number with a pretty, flowing skirt that fell to your mid thigh, but Oikawa stops you before you can leave, passing you over an old denim jacket of yours.

“It’s cool out tonight,” he says as he eases it over your shoulders before you can protest.

You don’t question it.

—

He fucks you that night, hard, fast and unrelenting, holding onto you so tight that you swear you’ll have bruises come morning.

—

Oikawa likes doing little things for you.

He likes it when you hold onto his arm and let him guide you around when you go out together (you do have a cane - it sits in the back of your closet for ‘emergency uses’ only). He likes to buy you pretty things, jewellery, clothes, little trinkets that remind him of you - spoiling you with every opportunity he can, doubly so now that he has a salary that affords him that luxury.

It’s not uncommon for him to pick out your outfits. For one, you can’t see so you kind of have to rely on somebody else’s help so you don’t end up a mismatched disaster, and Tooru seems to enjoy doing it. He likes seeing you wear the things he buys for you - lacy, soft and demure.

He also likes it when people know that you’re his.

So it doesn’t strike you as odd when Tooru insists on you wearing his club hoodie over your dress the next time you go to one of his games. You might not be able to see him fly across the court, but you can hear the cheers, the roar of the crowd as they stamp their feet and chant like a battle cry when San Juan scores. You can taste the excitement in the air, and whenever your soulmate steps up to the plate to serve, you feel the rabid excitement of the crowd thrumming in your veins.

It’s warm in the stadium with so many people crammed close together, you push the sleeves up without even thinking. It’s not an issue - it shouldn’t be - but when your boyfriend slips his arms around you, fresh from the locker room post match, it’s the first thing he notices. He’s tugging them back down before you can so much as offer a hello, tersely muttering something about you getting a cold when you frown.

There’s a tiny flicker of unease at the odd behaviour, but he’s kissing you before you can linger on it for too much longer.

And if that’s all it was, maybe it would be easier for you to shove that niggling worry aside.

But once you start noticing things - little, inconsequential things you would have just shrugged off before - you can’t seem to stop, and that tiny seed of doubt starts to take root, to sprout and grow.

Your friends stop calling by. Back home your social circle was pretty much limited to Tooru, Iwa and their friends - not that you minded at all, you love them all dearly, it’s just that you didn’t really have any friends of your own outside of that little group. When you moved across to Argentina and Oikawa started training for longer hours, dedicating himself wholeheartedly to his new team, you got lonely, sitting in your new home just waiting around for him to come back to you.

And it took a while, but eventually you started to venture outside of your comfort zone and lo and behold - even with your stumbling Spanish, you managed to make a few friends! Though you can tell that your beloved boyfriend wasn’t exactly thrilled by the burgeoning new friendships you gushed to him about, he’s never begrudged you them. If it made you happy, then he was happy.

Lately though, they’ve been kind of distant. And by distant, you mean… well, nonexistent. They don’t come visit you anymore, when you call their numbers, it just rings out.

You can’t even leave voicemails - there’s just an automated voice telling you their message banks are full. Regardless, not one of them has made the effort to call you back, and it’s not like you can text them to ask why they’re avoiding you. Life gets in the way, you know that, and sometimes people just drift apart but it’s like all of a sudden they’ve just dropped off the face of the planet.

But when you mention venturing out into town one day without them while Tooru’s at practice, he seems strangely resistant to the idea.

“I just don’t like the idea of you wandering around by yourself. It’s not safe out there for you, cutie,” he tells you.

The words are saccharine, as sweet as the kisses he presses against your lips when he coaxes your chin upwards. You love him, you do. And you understand that he worries - even away from the hustle and bustle of the big cities, San Juan isn’t exactly a crime free neighbourhood, but for the first time the strong, muscular arms that wrap around your waist don’t bring comfort.

It’s like they’re a cage, locked around you and dragging you slowly down to the depths, and it’s driving you mad because you can’t figure out why it feels like that.

Biting back your annoyance, you sigh, forcing yourself to relax against him. You love him - this is normal, couples disagree all the time. “I’m not an invalid, babe. I’ve done it before - I can’t just sit around the villa all day moping all alone or I’ll go crazy.”

He hums noncommittally, his fingers trailing idly across your skin as he draws you closer still, and the conversation is dropped.

Two days later, you find your cane snapped in two in the back of the closet. Oikawa has some weights stuffed in an old gym bag for when he can’t be bothered leaving home to work out - the bag must have fallen on your cane and cracked it when he put it back after his session yesterday afternoon.

An accident, it has to be. He’d never deliberately do something so petty, right?

And there are moments where you can forget the doubts that gnaw away at your insides. Tooru has always been a caring, attentive lover - the perfect boyfriend. He seems more determined that ever to shower you in love, whether that’s by waking you up with his tongue eagerly lapping at your cunt, bringing you home bouquets of fragrant flowers and cooking the two of you dinner, or just with the tiny gestures of affection - tucking your hair back away from your face, linking his hands with yours, the little kisses and compliments he lavishes you with on a daily basis.

When it’s just the two of you, lounging around on the couch, his head resting on your lap and your fingers carding through his hair, it’s easy to pretend that everything’s fine. The two of you love each other. You’ve been his rock, his biggest supporter right from the early days, and Tooru’s the one who drew you out of your shell, who makes you feel like you’re actually worth something.

That you’re beautiful, and loved.

It’s not until you come home one afternoon from an impromptu trip to the local bakery just down the road that all the little pieces fall into place, and you realise why.

The craving for something sweet was what drew you out. Truthfully, you hadn’t really thought twice about it. It was a short trip, one you’d made a thousand times before, and it wasn’t like the locals didn’t know you, wouldn’t watch out for you if they saw you about to unknowingly hurt yourself or trip over something.

The alfajores in your hand were supposed to be a surprise, Tooru had been wound up from practice lately, more stressed than he usually was this late in the season, and you knew you weren’t the only one with a wicked sweet tooth. You’d just wanted to cheer him up.

You hadn’t expected to come home to find Tooru pacing in your bedroom, muttering to himself, and you certainly hadn’t expected him to whirl around at the sound of your approach, snatching at your wrist and all but hauling you inside.

You certainly aren’t prepared for the snarling, bitter words he hurls at you.

And yet even as tears fill your eyes, a choked sob bursting free as he berates you for leaving the villa without telling him, Tooru clutches at you so tightly it feels like your arm’s going to snap.

“You can’t leave me! You can’t - you’re mine!”

He doesn’t stop, barely pauses for breath, but those eight words hit you like a freight train, and everything else fades out into white noise. You can’t for the life of you explain how or why, but in that moment, you know with absolute certainty that the name on your arm can’t be his.

Tooru lied to you.

He’s not your soulmate.

It’s all you can do to stand there numbly while your boyfriend falls to pieces in front of you. The angry yells and screams turn into wretched sobs, and suddenly it’s Tooru collapsing in your arms, clinging to your neck like it’s a lifeline as he sniffles against your chest, and when desperate apologies turn into desperate kisses and he starts to lead you backwards towards the bed, you don’t fight him.

He treats you like you’re made of glass, worshipping every inch of your skin, fervent declarations of love spilling out between kisses like prayers of the devout at an altar. He fucks you slowly, lovingly, moaning your name so sweetly as he searches for absolution within the plush walls of your sex.

And with his fingers coaxing at your clit, his lips dancing against yours you fall off that precipice with him.

You have no idea long the two of you lie there in silence, limbs entangled with one other, but eventually you register the warmth of his hand on your cheek, caressing it with a gentle kind of tenderness that makes something deep inside of you ache.

“You still love me, don’t you?” Tooru’s voice is quiet. Hesitant. It reminds you of the little boy you knew, the one who confided all his fears of never being good enough to you, desperately seeking the validation you always gave so freely.

Your eyes flutter shut, another stray tear spilling down your cheek, and your heart breaks anew.

“Always.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #yandere oikawa #tw gaslighting #tw manipulation #tw dub con

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Fully Completely 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), violence, mutual irritation, harassment

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: On to part three. Sorry for being a human disaster.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 3: Or it will move right through me

💀💀💀

Jerome annoyed you as he picked through your tool box and clicked the ratchet noisily. He was excited but impatient and complained that you were taking so long. You told him if he wanted to pay out of pocket for labour, you could finish faster.

You sat by his bike, parts strewn at your feet, and bent your head to look under the tank. You still had a lot to go and hadn’t yet added anymore of the gross chrome to the frame.

“Do you realise how filthy this is gonna get?” you huffed as you sat up and leaned your elbows on your legs, “not to mention how ridiculous it looks.”

“I like it. It’s just my style,” your brother grinned, “I don’t remember you spending this much time on Bucky’s ride and you and him--”

“He had me replace the tailpipe, you want nothing short of a rebuild,” you scoffed, “and you’re not the boss.”

“Don’t remind me,” he rolled his eyes, “guess it could be worse though. It could be Steve.”

“Thank god it’s not,” you chuckled, “I don’t know how many women had to toss beer in his face before he latched onto that mousy one at the bakery.”

“She’s nice,” Jerome shrugged, “far as I know. She doesn’t talk to anyone but Steve.”

“I wonder why,” you tisked, “he has insecurity written across his forehead.”

The tinny bell rang and the door whooshed open as the wind caught it. Jerome glanced over and dropped the ratchet noisily into the drawer of the tool box. You growled in warning as you spent much of your spare cash on those. He apologised quietly as he squared his shoulders at the man who appeared.

“Hey,” Bucky wiped the flakes from his hair and blew out a shiver.

“Bucky,” Jerome said rigidly.

The other man nodded and stepped further inside the garage. He shoved his hands in his pockets and paced aimlessly around the concrete floor. You watched him as you fiddled with the bolt in your hand.

“You wanna head down to the bar?” It wasn’t a question as Bucky came to face you, “I gotta talk to your sister.”

“Sure,” Jerome replied sharply, “you got it, boss.”

Bucky grumbled and waited for him to leave. He sniffed and kicked his toe into the floor.

“So… what’re you doing here? Been a while so must be urgent,” you sat up on the rolling stool and stretched your back.

“The whole town’s talking about it. You fighting him,” his brows drew together, “I told you I’d take care of him.”

“You didn’t,” you said evenly, “so I did.”

“I talked to him--”

“And said what?” you snorted.

“Look, you don’t understand. You said it yourself, you don’t care about my business. You don’t get what’s going on but what I need from him is bigger than your temper.”

“Excuse me? This is my fault? He broke into my shop, he followed me from that diner and he put his hands on me,” you stood and tossed the bolt away, “what do you want me to do, Buck?”

“First, I want you to remind yourself who I am. We’re not fucking anymore so that mouth isn’t as cute,” he warned, “and I want you to play nice.”

“All you have to do is keep him away from me. How hard is that for a man like you, huh? You’re the big dog.”

“Watch it,” he pointed at you, “I won’t tell you again.”

“He’s here to deal with you, not me,” you insisted, “he grabbed me, I defended myself, and I’ll do it again.”

“This isn’t grade school anymore, you can’t fight the boys,” he sighed.

“What are you saying?”

He was silent as his jaw ticked and his blue eyes strayed to the ceiling. You stepped closer and gripped your hips as you stared him down.

“There’s nothing else I can do for you. Nothing else I will do. He’s your problem.”

He met your glare and you scoffed in disgust, “you’re fucking serious? What do these idiots have on you?”

“It’s not what they have on me, it’s what I want from them. I’m planning for something bigger than Birch, that means there’s gonna be some sacrifices,” he shrugged.

“Sacrifices? Is that what you call it? Well, here’s one for you, the next time you get a little scuff on your tank or your headlight starts to flicker, you can head down to Carl’s,” you scowled.

“Don’t do this,” he gritted through his teeth.

“I can get business without you. I do better work than Carl, you know that. So go, I’ll deal with that asshole on my own, how I see fit.”

He inhaled and lifted his chin. He closed his eyes and thought.

“Damn it,” he swore, “you can’t make anything fucking easy. What is it with you women and your god damn--” he lifted his hand and stopped himself, “you get in the way of my business, and you won’t be so worried about Loki.”

“Oh yeah? That’s what he said about you,” you mocked, “what’s with you men and your egos?”

His lip curled and he breathed through his teeth. His eyes lit up and he punched his palm as he turned away quickly.

“I hope he has his fun with you. Maybe he can fuck some sense into you,” Bucky growled, “God knows I tried.”

“You weren’t that good,” you snipped.

He kicked the shelf of wipers hung near the front of the shop and grunted. He stormed to the doorway and stopped to look back at you.

“You’ll be wishing it was me…” he hissed.

He waved you off and continued through the front door, slamming it behind him loudly. You stared at the scattered packages of wipers and bit down on your tongue. You wanted to run out and strangle that idiot but you knew how he could be. It was the reason you broke off your little fling; he was too much like you. Hard-headed and volatile.

💀

You weren’t going to change just because the town was overrun by asshole men. You were standing your ground and that meant you were going to finish your club sandwich and enjoy one lunch without interruption.

The café was busier that day as the snowfall dwindled and the streets were mostly cleared as the plows made their regular rounds. You looked through the window as the school kids stopped by the bakery for hot drinks on their lunch and circled the rim of your mug with your fingertip. You sensed it was only the lull before the storm.

Further down you could see the corner of The Asp and heard a rumbling engine. Your shop remained empty except for Jerome’s bike. Since Bucky’s visit, you were too worked up to concentrate anyway. You wanted to take your wrench and knock every man in town in the head with it.

Nora brought your sandwich as Kimmie didn’t work on the weekends and your side of soup. You would eat both and leave satisfied. You wouldn’t let anyone ruin your day off. Well, not that you had very much to do aside from that.

You dipped your crusts in the tomato soup and stared at the seat across from you. Empty. Perfect.

You scooped the last of the bowl into your mouth and wiped your lips with the napkin. You stood and gulped up your coffee. You left money on the table and headed out. A peaceful, solitary lunch all to yourself.

You skipped the shop and continued down the street. You pushed into the hobby shop you rarely ventured into, more a bookshop if you were honest. You greeted the man at the counter with a smile. When you were a girl, you remembered he ordered you a special set of paints as the ones in his store were all dried up. Lu, you recalled his name.

You went to the shelves of models and looked over the new arrivals. You took the Smokey and the Bandit Trans Am off the shelf and smirked. Your father had one just like it when you were a kid. It wasn’t exactly new. You grabbed a bottle of black paint with it, always running low on the stuff, and headed for the counter.

Lu punched the buttons on his till and you heard a creak. Light footsteps emerged from the basement of used books as you opened your wallet.

“I didn’t take you as bookish,” Loki’s voice made you cringe.

You didn’t answer and counted out the bills for your purchase, “actually, you got any glue? I didn’t see any on the shelf.”

“Hmm, oh,” Lu turned and bent to reach into a box, “haven’t stocked up but these came in just before the storm.”

He added the orange and white tube to your bag and you added another bill. He counted out your change and handed it to you.

“Quite interesting what small towns can hide,” Loki didn’t wait to step up to counter and stood close, his sleeve against yours, “An antique edition of Whitman. One of the only Americans I read.”

You looked down at the worn tome, the edges fraying and the letters faded. It was marked up to a couple hundred. You could appreciate a love for reading but you weren’t entirely sure some old paper was worth all that.

“I’ll need the reading material as my visit has been prolonged,” he mused as you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, “my brother is due to return so I will stay in his place… get to know the town of Birch more intimately.”

You hid your disgust at his words and continued out the door. His exaggerated tones stuck in your head as you passed the window and absently swung your bag. You hated him. You really did. You should have bashed him over the head with that dumb book.

You thought of that day in the snow and smiled. You knew that shame lingered in him. You would have no problem repeating that scene.

You came up to your shop and stopped short. The burly redhead who arrived with the pestilent man stood at your door, peering in through the window, angling his head as he tried to see around the blinds. You cleared your throat as you neared.

“Something I can help you with?” you asked dully.

“Oh, ah,” he turned and laughed at himself, “I thought… Loki, I thought he’d be here.”

“No. He wouldn’t be,” you said, “he’s down at the book shop.”

“Thanks. He apologise?” He prodded.

“You seem to know him well. You think he did?” you challenged.

“Ah, nah,” he smiled awkwardly, “s’pose he didn’t.”

“S’pose he didn’t,” you echoed, “it would be smart if you kept him away from here.”

“Yeah, uh, should do,” he sidled past you and you listened to his heavy boots clump along the beaten snow.

You took out your key and unlocked the door. You closed it quickly behind you, that man’s presence set you on edge. He hadn’t shown any of the venom of his associate but he was loyal to him. You double checked the locks on all the doors and made certain all windows were closed.

You went up stairs into your apartment and stripped off your coat and boots. You sat at the small table where you ate those dinners you didn’t forget and unpacked your new model. You sorted the pieces and spread out the instructions. The image of the car on the box brought back nostalgic memories. You wouldn’t know all you did about bikes if it wasn’t for your dad. You missed him every day for the last… too many years.

You lost yourself in the tiny parts. You hunched over the table and carefully dabbed glue onto the plastic. Your eyes began to itch as the windows dimmed and you got up to turn on the lamp. You kept building well after dark and finally left the half-finished car on the table.

You stretched out your limbs as you stripped down to only your loose tee and yawned. You fell into bed and turned on the old tube television. You hit play on the VCR and the loud previews blared from the boxy speakers. You rolled yourself in your comforter and sat through the same movie trailers you’d watched a dozen times.

You were never a romantic but you the movie was another shadow of your childhood. Your grandma used to watch Kathleen Turner whenever you went to her place. She would serve you yogurt and berries and turn on the cheesy action flick and if you slept over, she would put in the sequel right after.

Your rituals kept you sane. You found it was easier to know what to expect and given your temper, it was better not to be surprised. You were always the trouble child and you regretted all those times your dad had to come talk to the principal or walk you home from school. You promised him you would be better.

Still you didn’t regret what you did. He always told you to stand up for yourself. Hell, he taught you how to throw a punch and all your best insults were inherited from him. You smiled as you thought of him and hugged your pillow as the intro played and the credits flicked up one name at a time.

You drifted off in the glow of the television and the sound effects sank into your dreams. You were still in Birch but thick vines had grown around all the buildings and billowing leaves shrouded the skies. The town had turned to jungle and you could hear the growls and grunts of beasts unseen.

You spun as a twig snapped and a snake uncoiled from a branch and fell into the brush at your feet. You stepped back and it slithered towards you. You stumbled and ran away as you could hear its skin smoothly glide through the grass at your feet. You tripped as its long body wrapped around your ankles and you crashed to the ground.

You struggled as the snake constricted your body and wound its neck around to face you. Its green eyes shone as its black scales gleamed. Its tongue flicked against your cheek and you felt its hot breath as it opened its mouth and revealed long, frightening fangs. You screamed as its bite loomed and you woke with a start.

The visions of the wild jungle faded but the heat did not. You blinked as an amber haze took over the room and you fought through your messy blankets and tumbled onto the floor. Your curtains were alight along with much of the wall. You bachelor was blazing with orange flames and you could barely see the door through the smoke.

You coughed and scrambled to your feet. Your eyes streamed and you blindly ran for the door and flew down the stairs. The shop was almost entirely engulfed as you reached the lower landing and you fumbled with the front door as flames licked closer and closer.

You burst out into the frozen night and your feet were numbed by the ice and snow. You retreated from the burning building, your life set aflame, and turned back as you reached the sidewalk. Sirens screamed and made you wince as you crossed your arms and chattered against the cold.

“Pity,” the slither made your skin crawl, “though I suppose it is a blessing you at least saved yourself.”

You glanced at Loki as your vision blurred with the tears of realisation. Everything you had was turning to ash before you. You blinked away the droplet and sneered at him. He smirked and you knew. He smirked and he knew. It wasn’t an accident.

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