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reidslovely · 8 months

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When My Time Comes

Content Warnings: Graphic depictions of:gun violence, murder, blood, throwing up, and panic attacks. Suicidal ideation, and a few swear words. Reader goes by the name 'Angel' throughout the story. Slightly supernatural/horror I'm not sure how to take it. Very different than anything I've written before please just hang in there lol. It's also unedited because I wrote it in a one day and wanted to get it out as fast as possible before the inspiration left me.

Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader/OC

Word Count: 5k

Genre: Angst with happy ending

I told y'all Mob!Peter was making a comeback..this is his rebirth. Thanks to Hozier's Work Song.

Please reblog and/or leave a comment instead of liking or hearting this post! Thank you.

There’s an uncomfortable frigid feeling in the room. It’s like that moment when giving a class presentation and everyone is looking dead at the person. Waiting for them to drop because they can tell the speaker doesn’t want to be here, and that they’re waiting for the worst to happen and the other shoe to drop.

“Angel-”

Felicia’s voice carried throughout the room. The legs she stood on grew wobbly, her vision narrowing. A mix of bitter bile and anger grew in her throat as she shot the platinum haired girl a heated look.

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me-” She shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her. “This is your fault!”

It wasn’t. But it was easier to blame her, the person delivering the blow than it is to blame others.

Harry’s hands grabbed the distraught girl from under her armpits, to keep her from falling and approaching Felicia any closer than she already was. Harry tucked her into his arm, hand flattening out against her back, trying to soothe the heart he knew was breaking. The smell of the iron on his shirt flooded her nostrils, and only provoked more tears. She fought against Harry, who only held tighter.

“I wanna see him. Let me see him. I-”

“Angel, that’s not a good i-”

“Let her, Harry. Let her.” Felicia’s words were soft yet firm. Her lip was tucked in between her teeth as she wiped at her face. Harry looked between the two women, and at Miles who was standing in front of the door. He was fighting his own losing battle, and denying her would put him in his own grave. Once he released the girl, she ran as fast as she could and wobbled up the stairs to the bedroom all the way at the end of the hall. Vision so blurry from anxiety, and tears that she couldn’t even make out May, who'd just left the room shutting the door behind her.

“Angel, you can’t go in there. You shouldn’t. Pete, he wouldn’t want you to see him like this. Just stay out here for a li-”

Usually she’d respect May’s wishes, and listen to her wise words. Angel knew deep in her heart of hearts that she was right. That this was an event that would stick with her for life and couldn’t be treated so loosely. But, her husband, Peter, was sitting on the other side of that door and you needed to see him.

Pushing May aside, nothing, absolutely nothing, could prepare her for what laid on the other side of that door.

“Pete.” Her words faltered seeing his entire torso bandaged, a deep red of blood already seeping through the clean white color of the bandages. Angel carried herself as far as she could before dropping to her knees, crawling across the floor to the bed.

“A..Angel.”

Peter’s eyes wouldn’t open, but his voice was somewhat there. Tired and strained, her hands grasped his, as she bowed her head against the memory foam of the death bed. He wasn’t dead. Not yet.

“Shhh, I’m right here.” There was a sense of dread crawling into the bed with him. It’s the same bed they’d shared for years, but it’s different now as he lays dying. Out of pure reflex her hand reaches out, resting on his torso. He’s too weak to even flinch, her hand soaking with his blood. They’d been trying for hours to stop the damage the attack did to his insides.

“It happened all too fast and there were..too many. His body isn’t healing as fast as it usually does.” Felicia’s explanation came back to her. So much for being superhuman. Angel’s head pressed against his temple, as tears trickled down her cheeks hitting his bare collarbone.

“Oh Angel..” Peter whispered, pressing his head back against hers. “Don’t cry over me.”

She shook her head. “‘M not crying Pete, cause you’ll be fine. May gave you more of your blood, and your body is gonna speed up its process. And..and you’re gonna be okay.”

“I’m dying, Angel.”

‘Shut up.”

“No listen okay.” He used what strength he had to open his eyes, looking at her through half lidded eyes. “I am going to die. I know it and you..”

He coughed, blood splattering out of his mouth. “You kn-kno-know it.” She wiped the blood off his mouth letting tears fall.

“I love you…so much. You have been..the best part of my life.” She opened her mouth to respond. He closed his eyes again. Bringing his hand to hold her side close to him. “Just..just lay here with me okay?”

His chest rattled with a shaky breath, she hiccuped choking on her sobs. Laying her head against his cold one. She'd always pictured dying in this bed with him. But she thought she’d be older, thought she’d at least have had some kids- some grandkids. Thought it would be both of them on a quiet, average night. One where she’d go to sleep and just never wake up.

Never did she think Peter would be lying here dying at only 31 one years old. Angel knew what Peter did for work was dangerous, deadly even. It killed her father, it killed his uncle. Both knew these actions had consequences. Yet, Peter wasn’t human like everyone else. He had altered DNA from being studied as a kid, from being bit by a spider at seventeen that gave him powers that he used to climb his way up the ladder of organized crime. Yet, those same powers and abilities were what had him lying here fighting to keep going.

“Peter..” She whispered against his cold skin. “Peter.” Nothing. She put her hand over his heart and felt nothing. No warmth, no movement, nothing. Her hands shook, looking around in panic for anything..anyone.

“Peter!”

The yell was louder this time. One that burns the lungs. She shakes him, and shakes him trying to get him back. Starting to attempt her own CPR screaming for him to come back, to not leave like this. Being so engrossed with her own grief and anger, she doesn't even process everyone rushing in. Harry and Felicia pull her off of him kicking and screaming, as May calmly pulls the sheet over his head, before kissing his forehead.

Angel hated her. She raised him and she’s not even fighting for his life right now.

Not her, not Harry, not Felicia. None of them.

“He’s gone.” Harry spoke sitting on the floor with her, holding her as she screamed through the sobs. His legs pinned hers down rocking up back and forth. The smell of the iron from the blood on Harry’s shirt and her body wafted through her nostrils. Between the smell of her dead husband's blood and the pure panic seeping through the body she couldn’t hold back any longer. Angel’s body hunched forward on reflex as vomit spewed out of her mouth and onto Harry and the floor.

The blonde man didn’t even flinch, rubbing her back as you slumped forward and cried. A part of her laid dead on that bed with her husband's cold body.

The days lingered, in a still limbo. None of it felt in order. Felicia fed her some cocktails of sedatives, to keep her sane as they both helped May plan the funeral. “He didn’t want a shiva.” Angel spoke from the couch, biting down around the cuticle of her nail.

“I know we aren’t giving him one, just a wake and funeral and a remembrance party.” Felicia spoke, her hand reaching out to hold the woman's leg. Her free hand pulled her fingers out of her mouth.

“A fucking party?” She spat. “Is that what his death means to you? Some fucking excuse to get shit faced, so you can live with yourself for walking him into that fucking warehouse.”

Felicia bit down on her cheek, and took a deep breath. She could almost feel Peter’s hand on her shoulder and his stern yet soft demand for an apology to Felicia.

“I’m sorry. I should-”

“It's fine.” Felicia says, pulling the widow into a hug, letting her head rest on her shoulder. Angel thanked Felicia for her patience, because at this point she had none left. May’s shaky hand covered her own mouth holding back a sob, Angel pulling her into the hug, the three of them taking a moment to cry.

Harry and Miles had dealt with the dirty part. Harry had come home with a bag of medical supplies the night Peter died. He and May injected him with more of his blood that Harry had altered at Oscorp, both hoping for some last resort. Angel sat on the chair in the corner watching them. She had volunteered to wash and dress him before the coroner took him away. The man, Mr. Weekes had dealt in Peter’s dealing before, and he was listed specifically as who Peter wanted to treat him post mortem.

“Your death wishes list in your will is super morbid.”

She spoke in a low monotone voice, washing the blood off his arms. It was weird to see him like this: cold and still. Not bantering back and forth with her. “I appreciate it though, I just wish you’d told me about all this sooner. You’re demanding even in death.”

She washed his face next, and stitched up some of the wounds on his chest before dressing him in some of his more comfortable casual clothes.

“If only you’d tell me what suit you wanted to be fucking burried in. Planned everything else out..”

Shuffling through his suits, she started fighting back the tears as she came across his wedding suit. Again, feeling his hand on her back, trying to talk her through it. He always knew this was happening before she did. Angel pressed the palm of her hands into her eyes as she started to cry. Heartbeat racing, it felt like it was crawling up her throat and getting stuck. It felt like choking on nothing, causing her to gasp for breath. She dropped herself down into the soft green chair in the back of the closet, crying and gasping for air as she progressed. She started walking herself through it the best one could. Putting a hand on her chest following the breathing techniques, she tried to alter her breathing as much as she could. Once she started coming down, her vision settled back into normal. She looked up at the racks of clothing and let out a shaky, yet normally paced breath. She had settled on the grayish green suit he’d worn only a couple days before. Slamming the closet door to the closet behind her, she shoved the suit into the bag wanting to be done with it all.

“I shouldn’t hate you..” She started, sitting on the bed with him. Putting his watch on him and staring at him. “And I don’t..I don’t think I do. I’m just so..fucking angry. At everyone, at myself, at you. I shouldn’t have let you go, I should have gone with you.”

Angel laid next to him, his body cold and their sheets still slightly stained in blood. Maybe it was gross and fucked up. However, next to him, was the only place she felt peace. There was a brief staring contest with the syringe filled with some liquid that laid on a night stand. One stab to the heart would make everything go away, she could be with him again. Maybe the cocktail of sedatives everyone kept feeding her would do it for her at some point.

“Mrs. Parker.” Mr. Weekes says walking in, rolling the gurney in with him. Harry and Miles in tow behind him. “I have to take him now. Is that okay?”

“Angel..” Harry’s voice sounded pitiful, she felt her heart squeeze as she sat up.

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed, scurrying out of the bed. Flattening out her clothes, watching Harry help Mr. Weekes transfer Peter to the gurney. Miles comforted her, his arms wrapping around her rubbing her back. Harry nodded his head towards the door, telling him to walk Angel out of the room. He followed directions sitting her in Peter’s office downstairs, both sat in their grief.

“Why does everyone call you Angel?” Miles asks, wanting to take her mind off Peter. Funny enough, Peter was the reason why she even had the nickname.

“When Peter and I started dating he brought me home and everyone was there with him at the time. They were ready to meet me if they didn’t know me already. Him, May, Gwen, Felicia, pretty much all of us…he walks me in and he goes "everyone this is Angel, Angel this is everyone.”

Shr laughs, and Miles smiles. “Everyone just kept calling me Angel till he realized about 30 minutes later that he’s called me Angel instead of my real name. So it was just a pet name that became a nickname. So everyone, including my own mother, calls me it now.” She watched Miles walk around Peter’s office taking in every piece of him.

“I’m really gonna miss him. He taught me so much, he helped me and my mom. I just..he was like a brother to me.”

“He thought a lot of you too. He cried on your 21st birthday, talking about how much you grew up and how proud he was of you.” She looked at Peter’s will open on the table, her and Harry had gone over it earlier. “You should head home Miles.”

“Are you gonna be okay? I can stay here.”

“Yeah, I have Felicia and May..and Harry.”

Miles nods, engulfing her in a hug. Angel smiled sadly, hugging him back, sliding an envelope from Peter’s desk into his pocket. “No questions. It’s what Pete wanted you to have. There's a note in there you should read it.”

Miles nodded and patted his pocket, taking the keys off the desk and headed out the office doors.

Grief was a funny thing, it’s a terrible gutting feeling one minute that had her laying in the bloodied bedsheets with your dead husband one minute, and sitting in the bathroom with her high school best friend laughing at memories another. Gwen had flown in from London the moment she heard, she helped get Angel out of bed and bathe her for Peter’s funeral seeing as she could barely bring herself out of the guest room.

“He really loved you.” Angel whispered, her head resting on her knees as Gwen sat by the tub with her. Gwen tilted her head to the side laughing, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder.

“He loved you more.” Gwen says. “I remember when we broke up and I told him if he didn’t ask you out I was going to do it for him. And I think that terrified him more.” They both laughed. “I knew he was going to marry you before he knew, before you knew even”

“Yeah?” Angel asked, smiling at her, tears rolling from her eyes.

“You two were made for each other. And I was lucky enough to love both of you.” Gwen whispered, taking her hand. “Let’s wash your hair, yeah?”

“Okay.” Angel nodded leaning back in the tub.

Standing by his coffin was awkward; she felt like a little girl at her daddy’s funeral again. Not knowing how to stand next to the body, not liking the way the pity filled stares felt, so she focused on his body. There was a rosy tint to Pete’s cheeks, and he almost looked alive. She rubbed his cheek looking at the gifts lining his coffin, stuff people wanted to lay to rest with him. “It’s only been five days, and I’m losing my mind.” Her voice whispered to him, her hand holding his.

“I don't know if I can do this without you.” She flattened out the white shirt under his tux and took a deep breath.

“Let's sit dear.”

May sniffles, holding her side reassuringly. Angel nodded, wrapping an arm around May, rubbing her shoulder. No one knew her pain like May Parker. She’d become her rock in the haze of grief. She had lost her husband and her nephew who was more her son than anything. She’d been staying at the house with Angel and everyone, she’d even climbed into bed with her most nights like a child seeking comfort from her mother. She was thankful for her and thankful Peter had brought May to her. They were the two most important women in his life and bonded like no other.

“Peter Benjamin Parker was the love of my life, and he was an amazing man.” Angel spoke into the mic standing before friends, family, and acquaintances. She looked down at him in the coffin, and smiled at him, already wiping away tears.

“I know to many of you he was frightening, and strong. He seemed unforgiving, cold, and inhumane on occasion but he was my best friend, and my soulmate. He was a complex human and that…is what brought his life to such a short stop. I’m no good at public speaking. I'm sorry, this was always his thing. He was so charming and knew how to talk to you all, and I stood behind him every step of the way. But in the last few days, I discovered he was actually the one standing behind me every step we took together, and he also stood behind many of you and helped you all in numerous ways. I think he left a part of him in all of us, and I hope we can all be half the person he was one day..I- I’m sorry. Harry..Har-.”

“I got you go, go.” Harry ushered Angel off the podium covering her crying frame from onlookers. She sniffled, wiping her eyes stepping off the podium into Gwen’s arms sitting back down between her and May. May kissed her head, assuring that it was all going to be okay. Her hands comforting and cradling her face as Angel tried to quietly bawl her eyes out. She stared at the casket in front of her during Harry’s speech, slowly turning everything around her out.

“Angel.” Eddie Brock smiled as she stood outside watching Peter be lowered into the ground. She smiled at him in return, letting him engulf her in a hug.

“Oh I’m so sorry, Peter was such a good guy. Kind of scary..but..good.”

Angel laughed sadly, squeezing his shoulders. “I know he meant a lot to you Ed.”

“He did, he really saved my ass more than once. I don’t know what I’ll do without him.”

She tilted her head, and tried her best to smile at him. “Hopefully stay out of trouble.”

Eddie shook his head back and forth, giving a smirk that said ‘We’ll see.’

They exchanged sad goodbyes and she watched him leave heading towards his car. She was thankful that Peter’s death was kept out of the headlines, it took some begging and bribing Betty Brant but it was worth it for such an intimate and private time.

She watched the grave diggers starting to fill in the dirt, and she contemplated staying the night on the bench. But May came, wrapping her arms around Angel, a jacket you immediately identified as Peter’s from smell alone.

“Why don’t you come home with me tonight?” May offered, pushing hair from the girls face.

“That’d be nice, yeah.” Angel whispered. “How have you not lost it yet? All I want to do is crawl in that hole with him.”

“I know you do. I was there once, it’s a terribly awful feeling Angel, I know.” May frowned, holding her arm with hers as they walked together to the car. “Peter, bless him. I love him, he was my son no matter what anyone said he was my boy. But because of that I saw every side of him and Peter had been ready to go since Ben died. And I find peace in thinking that they are together again, and that he is safe and protected..and- I’m sorry” May’s voice broke and she fanned her face. “And they are here in any way we want them to be.”

There was quiet for a moment before Angel let out a soft, yet grief riddled laugh.

“I need what you have.” You laughed sadly, both of you crying now.

May let a teary laugh burst from her chest. “We’ll go make some tea and talk about it.”

That's what they did. The two had a girls night with Gwen and spent it remembering Peter in their own way. About twenty minutes in She had wandered off into Peter’s old bedroom. Smiling as she stood in the doorway, and she knew grief was a funny thing because she could see the two of them about fifteen years younger dancing in his bedroom practicing for prom.

“Ouch that was my foot!” She yelled out. Peter dropped to his knees dramatically, grabbing her leg inspecting her foot playfully.

“Not broken.” He placed a kiss on the top of her foot before jumping to his feet. Watching her smile and scrunch her nose.

“I didn’t say it was.”

‘Well I had to make sure I didn’t hurt my girl.”

She shook her head in response, rolling her eyes. Hands rubbing his shoulders, placing his glasses on the top of his head. “Are you gonna do that at our wedding too?” She teased.

Peter pulled a face laughing, racking his head back and forth thinking. “Maybe! But since when are we getting married? What have you and Gwendy been planning, mhm?”

Angel looked over at his desk where she’d found her engagement ring tucked away only a couple years later.

“I couldn’t find the blue quilt but I found the gray one and everything is set up and ready when..”

They both froze looking at the green velvet box in her, now shaky, hand.

“Shit I knew I should’ve put it in the safe. My girlfriend is so nosey.” He laughed it off taking the green box from her hand. “You just couldn’t wait a couple weeks till your birthday mhm?” He laughs, kissing on her face. Angel could feel warmth wash over her face and body, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I was just looking for those pictures from our trip upstate you had processed.”

Peter smiled tugging up his gray sweatpants, dropping onto one knee.

“Angel, my sweet girl. I have loved you for years, for far longer than I remember. Ever since we were in middle school, and I got lucky enough several years ago to have you want me. Maybe we are a little young to get engaged, but I know I want to be with you forever. I’m not asking for a wedding anytime soon, I just want to know that eventually in-”

“Yes.” You cut him off excitedly, hands cupping over your mouth. “Sorry, sorry.”

Peter scrunched his nose, standing up as he slid the ring on your finger twirling you around.

“She said yes!” Peter yells throughout the house, the announcement bouncing off the walls and making a home in its fixtures.

May’s excited cheer could be heard all the way up the steps. You laughed, wrapping your arms around him as he spun you.

Walking towards the perfectly made bed, she mentally thanked May for never changing it. For keeping it the same all these years later. She took her shoes off, crawling into the bed closing her eyes waiting for sleep to wash over like a wave. For just a second she swore the other side of the bed dipped down, and in instinct made room for his tired frame to crash beside her.

“A distraught man was seen walking up around the streets of Harlem this morning, the man was described as looking dirty. Wearing a green suit, and was seemingly distraught and confused, mumbling to himself.” The anchorwoman spoke, reading off her cue cards shocked by the news herself. Angel scrolled on her phone wrapped in one of May’s quilts as she made breakfast.

“Witnesses say the man seemed distraught, and in a rush. Looking like he had climbed out of a hole, his suit askew and ran past anyone who offered help. Seemingly not wanting to be seen.”

She switched the channel before she cared to hear the other stories, not thinking she could handle the grief of another depressing story right now. Angel wrapped the blanket around herself, walking to the kitchen to talk to May. Her phone pinging, the front camera at the house notifying her that motion had been detected.

“I’ve gotta get to the hospital after I eat, are you gonna be okay getting home? I know it’s not that far of a wal- everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I actually should get a cap and head that way. I just got a weird notification I need to check out.”

“Okay yeah. Do you need me to go with you?” May asked.

“No, no. I, I don’t know what it is. Could be nothing or an error on my end.” Angel says, pulling herself out of the chair rushing towards the door. Quickly calling a cab she climbed into the back refreshing the ring app trying to get it to load. The dark screen freaking her out. She had called Harry, bouncing her leg in the back of the cab watching the houses fly by.

“I was just about to call you.” Harry’s panic was evident from his voice. “Someone dug up Peter’s grave. Kicked the headstone over and everything.”

“You don’t think it was Fisk’s guys do you?”

“Could be..could be anybody. I love Pete but he had a lot of enemies.”

“I got a notification that there's motion at the front door, but it’s not loading now. It's a network error.” She spoke as the cab pulled into the neighborhood, already unbuckling her seatbelt waiting for the sudden stop.

“Okay listen to me.” Harry says starting the car. “I’m thirty minutes away, there’s a gun hidden in a fake drawer in the table by your door. It’s loaded, and I know you know how to use it. Let’s just be prepared for the worst.”

“Yeah..” Angel nodded, rubbing her forehead wishing Peter was there to talk her through this. “Okay I’m heading in. I’ll let you know.”

Angel handed the driver a hundred that she had on her and hung up the phone, tucking it into the pocket of the pajama pants she’d been wearing at May’s. The front door was left ajar and slightly off its hinges. She looked down seeing a track of dirt leading from the front walk away all the way into the house.

Quietly she found the gun Harry was talking about, leaving the safety on till otherwise needed and slowly following the muddy footprints. The fridge was left ajar, food and drinks sitting on the counter. Whoever broke in was pretty hungry, having pulled out the pastrami and other gatherings for a sandwich. A soda poured into a glass and half gone. She checked Peter’s office, his file cabinets open and a couple files pulled out. As she went to open the files to see who it was research on, she heard the water upstairs turn on. Slowly and as quiet as possible she snuck up the steps, and through her bedroom. Her jewelry box was left open but nothing was taken out, everything in the closet was practically untouched except for a couple of Peter’s items thrown onto the floor. Taking a deep breath she pushed the door to the bathroom open, and nothing could prepare her for what stood on the other side of the door.

“Angel..”

The voice nearly caused her to drop to her knees. She knew grief was a funny thing, because Peter Parker was standing before. Dirty and clearly sore, his voice strained from not using it for a couple days. Her knees fell out from under her, Peter using his reflexes to catch the gun and her all in one go. Smearing mud and blood lightly on her as he caught her. He placed the gun on the counter away from them as he slid down onto the floor with her.

“Shh, shh I know. I know. It’s scary. It’s okay, Angel. Breathe okay. In and out.”

She couldn’t even find her voice to scream, she reached out hitting him trying to get him away from her. A ghost from her nightmare. The harder she hit though, the faster she realized he was real..this was all real.

“You’re dead.”

“I was..technically. Kind of yeah.”

“Not technically, legally.”

Peter laughed shakily holding her, tears starting to pour out of his own eyes. His lips pressed against her forehead letting out a gasp of air.

“Spiders..play dead when they sense danger. Meaning their bodies shut down completely out of their control, as a way to replenish and prepare to attack and prevent further damage.” She watched intently as he explained his mad man ramblings.

“I guess when I got bit that’s something my nervous system developed the ability to do. I read about it all those years ago after I got bit. It just never happened until I took so much damage. So, yes. I was..I did die. However, the amount of my own blood that Harry and May pumped into me. Helped me heal in that shut down state.” Peter laughs hearing himself. He sounded fucking crazy. Angel reached her hand out cradling his face, gasping at his warmth. His heat radiating off his body again. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she lunged forward holding him in a hug sobbing happily.

Harry’s feet pounded against the hardwood floor as he yelled for her.

“Oh fuck.”

“Hey Harry.” Peter laughed awkwardly. “Long story.”

Harry, in shock, stumbled out of the room immediately making phone calls. Letting out a scream of shock and awe.

“Angel..” Peter whispered. “I need to shower okay. You can stay with me though if you want.”

So she did, she washed his hair and body. Rubbing her fingers over the held wounds that once littered his chest now just scars in their place. So much for being superhuman.

“We’re never gonna have a normal life are we?”

Peter shook his head, kissing her head.

“No, no we won’t. But we’ll have each other, and no matter what happens. No grave will hold me down.” He laughs holding them together, making her look up at him. “I’m coming back here, back to you everytime.”

She shook her head holding him close listening to the beat of his heart, finally feeling that piece she lost crawl back home into her chest.

I know that was different...I hope you guys liked it. I really wanted to bring Mob!Peter back but I'm nothing if not dramatic..so :)

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sequinsmile-x · 8 months

Text

You're Gonna Go Far

It wasn't any easier even though they'd been through this once before with Jack.

AKA - the one where Aaron and Emily's eldest daughter goes to college.

-x-

Hi friends

Given the time of year, and the amount of TikTok videos I've seen of people decorating their dorm rooms (I can tell you...mine did NOT look like that haha) this idea wouldn't leave me alone.

So here it is, close to 5k words of domestic, soft Hotchniss and their family going through something most families do.

And if you've just moved away to college you're going to be great!!

I hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None!

Words: 4.8k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Everyone had always told her that it went quickly.

It was something she’d been told more times than she could count during her pregnancies, both by people she knew and strangers alike. Kind-looking older ladies in the grocery store who’d touch her belly without asking and tell her to enjoy it, that before she knew it her babies would be growing up, moving away and taking everything she taught them with them.

She’d seen it with Jack. Watched as the boy who was once her best friend's son became her son. Turning from the sweet little boy who couldn’t pronounce her name properly, to the kid that started to call her Mom just before he became a teenager, to the young man he was now. Forever making his parents proud, and the best big brother Emily’s other children could have hoped for.

There was part of her that had still struggled to believe it. Lost in the long nights with no sleep. Parenthood slowly, but also too fast now she looked back on it, moving from sleep deprivation and sore boobs, to pretending not to cry on their first days at school so she didn’t scare them, all the way to now. Nights spent patiently watching the clock as it ticked closer to her eldest daughter’s curfew, anxious until she heard the familiar scrape of her key in the lock. Hazel had never once been late, her diligence and sensibility that came from the half of her that was Aaron always taking precedence, but Emily always worried that one day the half of her that was her would win out. Memories of what she’d been like when she was Hazel’s age haunting her as the seconds ticked by, almost making her wish she could apologise to her own mother.

Standing on the football field of her kid's high school, the one Jack had gone to, the one Hazel was about to leave, the one where the twins still went, Emily couldn’t believe it had been 18 years. 18, long but all too short, years since she’d held her first daughter for the first time. Since Hazel was a tiny dot of a thing who had almost fit into one of Aaron’s hands. The girl who was now a young woman, taller than her mother and, as Aaron would always say, every bit as beautiful.

It had all happened so quickly, and whilst Emily was so proud of her family, of the people her children were and would no doubt be, she yearned for the days when they were small. And she knew she’d give just about anything to have one more interrupted night of sleep where one of them crawled into her bed.

“I found our seats.”

She looks up at Aaron and smiles, nodding as he leads them into the area that had been reserved for them. She guides the twins, in first, grateful when they sit next to each other without argument, a smile flitting across her face as she watches Violet brush something off of Lucas’s shoulder. They were each other's fiercest protector, but also their harshest critic. Arguments that would sometimes feel like they would shake the whole house reminding her of when she was pregnant with them, and how Aaron would place his hand on her belly and joke it seemed like they were fighting in there, elbows and tiny feet always shifting around inside of her.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” Aaron asks, his hand reaching out for hers as she pauses, she turns to him and nods, unsurprised to see the same fix of emotions she was feeling in his eyes shining right back at her.

“Yeah,” she replies, squeezing his hand in reassurance, “I’m fine, I promise.”

Emily smiles as she sits down, blowing out a steady breath as her eyes meet Hazel’s from her place on the stage, her daughter looking every part the 18-year-old she was. Grown up in a way that made Emily’s heart clench in her chest. Hazel smiles at her, and lifts her hand to wave ever so slightly, something anyone else who was looking at her would miss, the movement making her graduation gown shift, the dark green material complimenting her dark hair.

“$10 Mom cries first,” Violet says, drawing Emily’s attention away from the stage and back to the rest of her family sitting around her.

Emily turns to look at her youngest daughter and raises her eyebrow, “Vi, what have I said about gambling at school events?”

“That would be a terrible bet for me to take,” Lucas says, ignoring that his mother had spoken at all as he looks at his twin sister with the scowl all of the kids had inherited from Aaron, “Mom will obviously cry first. Then Dad will cry because he always does when he sees Mom crying.”

“Kids,” Aaron says, leaning in past Emily from her other side so he can talk to them without drawing too much attention, his arm around the back of his wife’s chair, “Give your mom a break.”

Violet shrugs and leans back in her chair, “I’m just saying, we all know Mom is tougher than you, but anything to do with us makes her cry.”

Aaron’s eyes flick to his wife’s, not missing how her eyes briefly sparkle with amusement. It makes relief crackle in his chest. She was just as excited for Hazel as he was, and just as sad too. The prospect of their daughter now only being a couple of months away from moving away for college hung over this event just like it did with everything these days.

He makes a show of looking annoyed, something he knows his whole family can see right through, and he furrows his brow, “You think Mom is tougher than me?”

“Definitely,” the twins reply in unison, their voices joined by a familiar third one that makes him turn around. He smiles and stands as soon as he sees Jack, pulling his eldest into a tight hug.

“Jack, she’ll be so pleased you made it,” he says, squeezing his son even tighter, the strength in the hug he gets back matching it.

Jack smiles as she pulls back, “I wouldn’t miss Hazelnut graduating for the world,” he says, smiling as uses the nickname they all know Hazel hates. He smiles at Emily, who also stands up to hug her son, “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi sweetie,” she says, kissing the side of his head as she pulls back, tilting her head towards the twins, “Your brother and sister were just placing bets on who will cry first.”

He smiles and squeezes past her, sitting on the end seat they’d saved for him, ruffling both of the twin's dark hair as he goes, “I’ll take that bet,” he says, making Emily groan as she sits back down, “But, I’m going to say Hazel will cry first, and that will make the rest of us break.”

Emily leans in towards her husband and speaks quietly so only he can hear her, “I’m seriously starting to regret all those times we left our precious children in the care of Dave.”

Aaron chuckles and stamps a kiss against her lips, ignoring that Violet and Lucas catch it, both of them grimacing in the background, “Is this better or worse than when he taught Violet to curse in Italian before she even started pre-school?”

She smiles, but any response is cut off as the commencement begins, everyone’s attention drawn to the stage in front of them. They all listen intently as the principal talks about the graduating class, making jokes and comments that draw out laughter from the sea of students wearing the dark green gowns, his smile wide as he talks about how proud the school is of them. How they’ll take everything they learnt from there wherever they go next.

Emily feels her heart stop in her chest as he moves on, declaring the next stage of the event.

“Before we move on, it’s time for our Valedictorian, Hazel Hotchner, to make her commencement speech.”

Aaron grabs her hand, linking their fingers together as Hazel walks up to the podium. She looks over at her family and smiles, a bit of tension in her shoulders easing as she makes eye contact with her father. His reassurance a balm to all of their kids, much like it always had been for Emily.

“Thank you, Principal Shepard,” she says, her voice shaking slightly from the nerves. She looks down at her notes, the ones she’d banned her parents and siblings from looking at for weeks, claiming she wanted her speech to be a surprise. She blows out a steady breath and looks back up, “Fellow students, faculty and friends and family, it’s hard to believe this day has come.”

Emily pays close attention as Hazel talks about her time at the school, about how she’d got lost on the first day, despite her older brother drawing her a map of the layout, only to find when she got home that she’d held it upside down all day. How she’d fallen in love with computer science there, the subject she planned to major in at college, and how she’d met friends she hopes she’ll know her whole life. Emily feels pride bubbling in her chest, threatening to completely overwhelm her. She blows out a shaky breath and feels Violet’s hand wrap around the one not being held by Aaron. She looks at her daughter and smiles, squeezing her hand when she sees the tears shining in her eyes, all of her previous bravado long gone as she watches the sister she’ll know she miss when she moves to college take this major step.

“Lastly, I’d like to take a moment to thank my family,” Hazel says, and Emily stops breathing for a second, well aware that this would be her undoing. Aaron tenses next to her, his shoulders tight from how he was holding himself together.

“Oh boy,” Lucas whispers, just loud enough for Emily to hear him, “Here we go.”

“I want to thank my brothers and my sister for teaching me how to share,” Hazel says, once again letting her gaze drift towards her family, “And for also teaching me that you can love someone and still be incredibly annoyed at them,” she smiles when the crowd laughs, and Emily notices some people, parents she knows from other events, looking back and smiling at them, “I’d like to thank my dad for always being there. Not just for looking scary enough, as well as having an actually having scary job before he retired, so no one dared bully me in case I called him, but for being the dad everyone wishes they could have. There was never any nail polish too bright when I asked to paint your nails, or tiny teacup too small when we’d all gang up on you and beg you to play with us.”

He feels his throat threaten to close up, a familiar burning in the back of it as he tries to push the feeling away. Not wanting tears to blur his vision so he missed a single second of this. Emily squeezes his hand and he looks at her and sees that she’s fighting the same battle, her eyes starting to shine.

“And lastly, I want to thank my mom,” Hazel says, clearing her throat when her voice cracks a little, “Not only is she the best mom anyone could ever ask for, she is, by far, the smartest person I know. I’m not sure many people know this, but my mom is a polyglot. She speaks so many languages she taught each of us a different one. She taught me French,” she looks at Emily in the crowd, and their dark eyes meet, and for a moment, Emily feels like she’s the only person Hazel is speaking to, “It was always one of my favourite things, it was as if we had a secret code between us. Stolen moments in the chaos of the home I feel lucky to have grown up in. So,” she says, clearing her throat again, a tear dropping onto her cheek, something she quickly wipes away as if it hadn’t happened, “Mom - Je vous aime. Tu es ma personne préférée. Quand je serai grand, je veux être comme toi,” Hazel looks back at the crowd as a whole and smiles, “Thank you.”

Emily is grateful for the applause that follows because it gives her a moment to recover. She doesn’t bother covering the fact that she’s crying, because she knows it’s pointless. Tears burning down her cheeks as she stands and joins in on the applause. She looks at Aaron and sees he’s crying too, his pride evident. Shining out of his face like the sun, bright and warm as he carries on clapping a few beats longer than everyone else. Something that, she knows in any other circumstances, would make their children claim they are embarrassing.

She hears a sniff from next to her and turns to look at her children, smiling softly when she sees they are all crying. Violet rests her head on Emily’s shoulder when they all sit back down and she wraps her arms both of her arms around Emily’s, her hands grasping at her tricep.

“Voglio bene alla tua mamma,” she says quietly, just loud enough for Emily to hear over the murmuring crowd whilst the next speaker gets their speech ready.

Emily smiles and rests her head on top of her daughters, “Ti amo anche io dolcezza.”

Jack leans in, making sure only his family can hear him, “I told you Hazel would cry first.”

Lucas frowns, turning to look at his brother, “Wait, Haze never cries. How did you know?”

Jack smirks, looking very proud of himself, “She emailed me her speech weeks ago.”

___

The summer goes by faster than it ever had before.

Days and weeks melting away, slipping through Emily’s fingers until it's the night before they drive Hazel to college. Their car was packed full of her things ready for them to leave in the morning, the teenager determined to get to New York as soon as possible.

She was only going to be a few hours away.

It was a mantra Emily had been telling herself, and one her daughter had said to her multiple times, ever since Hazel had been accepted into Columbia. It was closer than Jack had been during college, and she can’t help but hope that when it’s time the twins decide to stay nearby.

She shakes the thought off, sure it would tip her over the edge if she thinks about that too much, and she blows out a steady breath. She stares at the bedroom door and twists her wedding rings around her finger as she goes over the list of things they bought for Hazel’s dorm room, mentally checking off if they were already in the car or in the pile of things her daughter had asked to have overnight.

Aaron walks out of the ensuite and looks at his wife, stopping just short of the bed when he sees the faraway look in her eyes, how she’s twisting her rings around her finger, a habit he’s grateful replaced biting her cuticles long ago because he knows they’d be shredded by now if it hadn’t.

They were all struggling with the thought of Hazel leaving, even the twins, although they were trying to act unaffected. It wasn’t any easier just because it was the second time they were doing this, and he was sure it wouldn’t get any easier the next time they did. He smiles as he watches her, the look in her eyes the same as it had been the first night they’d moved Hazel from a bassinet next to Emily’s side of the bed to her nursery. Her gaze sparkling with love and concern, the same concoction that had got them both through being a parent all these years.

“Are you okay sweetheart?”

Emily looks up at him and smiles absentmindedly, nodding as he climbs into bed next to her, her eyes drifting back to the door, “Do you think she's okay?”

He sighs as he loops his arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his side. He kisses the side of her head, his soft smile pressed into her grey hair, “You asked the same thing the first night she slept in the nursery.”

She chuckles, the sound wet as it catches in her throat, “That doesn’t even feel that long ago,” she says, wiping her cheek with the heel of her hand as she leans into his side, more tears falling past her lash line, “How is she going to college tomorrow?” She asks rhetorically, shaking her head slightly before she sits up, her smile quivering as he wipes some tears away for her, “What if she needs me?”

He leans in to stamp a kiss against her lips before he pulls back, his hand on her cheek, “She’s only going to be a few hours away,” he says, stroking her skin with his thumb, “And she can call whenever she needs to.”

She nods, leaning into the warmth of his palm, “I know,” she says, blowing out a shaky breath, “I know,” she repeats as she clears her throat and laughs humourlessly, “I guess I’d better get used to them not needing us anymore.”

He opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by a gentle knock on the door. He turns to look at it and calls out, “Come in.”

The door opens slightly, just enough for Hazel to lean in a little, “You guys aren’t making out are you?”

Emily laughs as she shakes her head, wiping her cheeks, determined that Hazel wouldn’t see her upset, “No,” she says, furrowing her brow at her daughter as she opens the door the entire way and steps into the bedroom, “Why do you always ask that?”

Hazel hums and smiles, a half-hearted thing that makes concern spark in Emily’s chest, “I’ve been burned before.”

She stands near the doorway, her usual confidence, that she’d been exuding during this whole process, nowhere to be found. Her shoulders were a little slumped, her eyes fixed on the floor, and her teeth sinking into her lower teeth. Emily looks down and her heart catches in her chest when she spots what Hazel is holding. Her favourite childhood toy, a stuffed cat she’d inexplicably called Biscuits when she was three, hanging from her hand. Biscuits had seen better days. His once plush grey fur patchy, and his whiskers long gone. When Hazel turned 14 she’d declared she was too old for stuffed animals, asking that they be put in the attic, but Biscuits had survived the cut. His place on her bed never at risk. She liked to pretend it wasn’t because she needed him to sleep even now, as if her parents hadn’t recently caught her fast asleep with him in her arms when they checked in on her when she had the flu.

For a moment, an all too fleeting one, Hazel is five again. Standing in the doorway with her hair a mess and her pyjamas askew, tears on her cheeks as she cried about a nightmare. It makes Emily ache, her gut twisting with emotions she can’t name, and she sits up, removing herself from Aaron’s embrace.

“Are you okay, Haze?” Emily asks, “Do you need anything?”

The teenager shakes her head, shifting from foot to foot as she tries to figure out what to say, “No I…I don’t know,” she says, blowing out a breath as she shrugs, “I can’t sleep.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Aaron says, “It’s probably the excitement.”

Hazel nods, holding Biscuits to her chest as she hugs him so tightly, Emily is sure if his eyes were real, not sewn on, they’d be bulging out of his head, “Yeah…excitement,” she says, swallowing thickly. She sighs and walks over to sit on the edge of her parent's bed, “What if I’m not good enough?”

Emily reaches out and places her hand on her daughter’s leg, squeezing tightly, “Honey, you were top of your high school class, you got accepted to all of the colleges you applied to,” She smiles when she sees a flicker of a smile on Hazel’s face, “You’re more than good enough. You’re excellent.”

She nods again and clears her throat, “What if I don’t make any friends?”

Aaron exchanges a quick glance with his wife before smiling encouragingly at his daughter, “You make friends everywhere you go, Princess,” he says, using the nickname he hadn’t used since she was small, “Just like your mom.”

Hazel shrugs noncommittally, “But what if-”

“Baby,” Emily says, cutting her off, reaching out and tucking some of Hazel’s dark hair behind her ear, “Is it possible you’re just coming up with these things because you’re nervous and you don’t want to admit it?”

She chuckles and shakes her head, “Profilers,” she smiles at them, biting the inside of her cheek to try and stop it from growing, “You know, my friend's parents had normal jobs.”

Aaron chuckles, “So you’ve said before,” he says, watching as she holds the stuffed cat in her arms a little tighter, “Everything will be okay you know,” he adds, “It’s perfectly normal to be nervous.”

Hazel huffs out a breath and shifts closer to them, sitting between them on the bed, her back against the headboard as she looks back and forth between them.

“But what if I hate it,” she asks, her voice starting to sound thick, her lower lip shaking slightly as she starts to get overwhelmed, “It’s so far away and you guys won’t be there and-”

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Emily says, wrapping her arm around her. Hazel leans into her, resting her head on her shoulder and sighing. Emily looks at Aaron and they exchange a sad smile, “It’s not that far away,” she says, her fingers running through Hazel’s hair as she repeats what she’d been saying to them for weeks, “And if you ever need anything at all, you know we’ll drop everything.”

Hazel nods, sniffing as she shifts to look at her mother, tears spilling past her lashline, “Can I…can I sleep in here?” She asks, almost sounding embarrassed.

Emily looks over her head to Aaron and she sees the same joy in his eyes that she feels. The same small sense of wonder at a question they hadn’t heard in years.

“Of course you can,” Emily replies, kissing Hazel’s forehead and pulling her in for a hug, “You never have to ask.” Hazel turns to look at Aaron, as if looking for confirmation and he nods, making her smile widely at him, a brief memory of her doing the same when she was little, gaps in her teeth and braids in her hair, and it makes him breathless.

“Thanks,” Hazel says quietly, her cheeks flushing slightly as they all lay down and Aaron turns out the light. Hazel rests her head on Emily’s shoulder, tucking herself against her like she’d done when she was young. “I love you guys.”

Emily feels her breath catch in her chest, and she feels Aaron reach out for her hand, linking their fingers together and squeezing tightly. She looks at him in the dark of the room and smiles, clearing her throat before she replies.

“We love you too, sweetie.”

Dropping her off the next day is every part as difficult as they expect it to be. Their hearts in their throats as they help her set up her dorm room and inevitably say goodbye, their hugs lingering a little longer than usual, her grip on their shirts a little tighter.

Emily is proud of herself for holding it together until they get into their car, a sob escaping her the moment the door is closed. Aaron immediately wraps his arms around her, the embrace awkward over the centre console, and when they pull back, there are tears on his cheeks too. She wipes them away for him and tries to swallow down her sadness, desperately trying to feel the pride that was lingering underneath, aware that if she couldn’t find it soon she’d go back into the dorms and get her little girl.

“She’ll be okay,” Emily says, wiping another tear that escapes away for him.

“I know,” he replies, leaning in to kiss her, the taste of salt on both of their lips, “She’s half you, of course she’ll be okay.”

She smiles and stamps a kiss against his lips before pulling back, and putting on her seatbelt, “She’s half you too,” she replies, sinking into her seat as he turns on the engine, “She’ll be fine.”

She hears her phone chirp from her pocket and she pulls it out, smiling when she sees Hazel has sent her a text. She chuckles as she opens it, her vision going blurry as she turns the phone to show it to Aaron. He smiles too and reaches out, squeezing her hand before he takes the car out of park.

“Let’s go home. I’m sure we can convince Luke and Vi to hang out with us tonight if we bribe them with pizza,” he says, and she nods, looking back at the screen of her phone as the car moves away, her eyes lingering on a picture of Buscuits on Hazel’s dorm room bed and the accompanying message.

Miss you already <3

___

13 Years Previously

Emily wakes up with a groan, the relative darkness of the bedroom letting her know it was still the middle of the night. She’s just about to roll over, to snuggle into her husband’s embrace, his arm lying over her waist, when she hears a small, quiet voice.

“Mommy?”

She opens her eyes again and sees Hazel standing at the end of her bed, Biscuits cuddled up in her arms, and tears on her cheeks shining in the low light of the room.

“Hi sweet girl,” Emily says, sitting up just enough to see her a little better, “Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?”

Hazel sniffs and nods, “I had a bad dream.”

“Oh, baby, come here,” Emily says, throwing back the covers and smiling softly as Hazel immediately climbs under them, snuggling into Emily’s embrace, her face pressed against her chest, “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

“I tried to be brave,” Hazel says, “I’m not a baby anymore, but I was scared.”

Emily hides her smile into the top of Hazel’s hair, the little girl's insistence that she wasn’t a baby anymore something that had taken hold as soon as the twins had been born almost a year ago. She briefly looks at the baby monitor on her nightstand, reaching out to activate the screen for a moment so she can see the video feeds, smiling at the sight of Violet and Lucas fast asleep in their cribs.

“Well that’s what I’m here for,” she says, adjusting them so they were laying on their sides, Hazel safely cocooned between her and Aaron, “Anytime you don’t feel brave, I’m here.”

Hazel frowns, looking so much like Aaron that it makes Emily smile, “But I’m a big girl.”

“I know you are,” Emily replies, still running her fingers through Hazel’s hair, “But, I’m a big girl too right?” She asks, pausing to feel her daughter nod against her, “Well, I’m not brave all the time.”

“Really?” Hazel asks, tilting her head to look up at Emily, their eyes meeting in the low light.

“Really,” she confirms, “And then Daddy looks after me, and I do the same for him when he’s not feeling brave.”

Hazel looks curious for a moment, but nods, accepting Emily’s explanation, resting her head back against her chest, “Can I sleep here?”

Emily holds her closer, smiling as Hazel settles in, clearly already halfway to being asleep, and runs her hand up and down her back, “Of course, baby,” she says, kissing the top of her head, “Always.”

“Je t'aime maman,” Hazel mutters, her words slurring together, and Emily closes her eyes, pushing back tears only her children managed to bring out of her so easily.

“Je t'aime aussi mon coeur,” she whispers, aware that the little girl was likely already sleeping.

“Is she okay?”

Emily smiles at the sound of her husband's voice, thick with sleep and misuse, “Yeah, she’s okay,” she replies, yawning as Aaron wraps his arm around them both, “She’s fine now.”

“Of course, she is sweetheart,” Aaron says, his words slurring together in a way that makes her question if he would even remember having been awake in the morning, “She has you as a mom.”

The praise makes her beam, her heart as warm and full as their bed currently was, and she lets herself naively hope that everything stays like this forever.

-x-

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reanimatedandmedicated · 1 month

Text

I want to matter. To be seen, known, valued. There are people that do, but my fucking brain won't allow me. Screaming voices in my head critique everything I say and do, preaching that it is only a mask that they care for. That I am evil, useless, broken. A discarded tool, a blade too dull to ever be wielded. Shame, insecurity, loathing- I'll give my body, but only carefully, sheepishly, apologetically. I'll give my brain, nervous, confused, erratic, unstable.

I'll give it all, and beg for you to put me down before you end up cutting yourself on the jagged edges. Go to pick me up, and all I'll ever see is how far I now stand to fall again when I'm once again replaced. I'll always be the girl that wasn't good enough, that wasn't attractive enough, that wasn't wealthy enough, stable enough, confident enough. I'll always be the dodged bullet, the name that is either winced at or mocked upon mention, if I'm even mentioned at all. I'll always be the one that disappointed.

I go to therapy, and I can't bear to help this stupid girl. Shes caused all my problems, this bitch in the mirror, and i hate her so, so much. Why should I show her any mercy? I'll dole out money for friends, volunteer at shelters, give my bus passes away, but really, who am I fooling? My function is to serve, but never engage. Lurking in old chats and servers, keeping abreast of goings on, too afraid too say anything or even leave a little heart. I am not of the people, I am an observer. I will always be some stranger pantomiming the best attempt at humanity I can force.

Do I evoke smiles? My sincerest wish, for those close to me, is to be a source of comfort and happiness. But who can fondly recall the flight risk, punching orderlies and attempting to eat the nurses? Who can have warm recollections of the girl who cried and begged like some animal when she ought have shown grace? I will stay in the periphery, silhouette out the corner of everyone's eye. I'll keep myself where I belong. I tried to step out, gently coaxed for over half a decade only to be thrown aside and have the future I broke my body for awarded to someone else.

I secretly hate those that care sometimes. I hate them, when I want nothing more than to let go, and I am smothered by the assurances that numbing my pain will hurt their feelings. My salvation, my punishment, will be traumatizing and scary. So I pop the pills, pretend to be well enough to carry on, drown myself in cheap booze whenever I dance too close to the razor's edge. Hoping that the white of my smile can offset the fresh red on my limbs, but color theory was never something I learned.

I joke about villainy and lean into it for fun, but it's also. What else can I be? I'll always be the bad guy, the unstable shock story, the melancholy memory. I'll always be a fucking problem, at least I can aestheticize it. The guilt I feel looks best in leather and neon.

Another night sober, first sober night this week, and I'm already losing. I can't tell if the burning on my arms or the horrible thirst- I can't tell which of them is stronger.

A lit cigarette extinguished in my leg jolts me back to typing. With enough imagination, one could even pretend it to be the warmth of a finger brushing up against these lichtenberg relics.

I'll survive and live to regret another day spent.

There's a girl in my bed tonight. Her name is Brandy, and she's so tempting. Inviting. She whispers such sweet promises. I will be held, warmed, from the inside. Sweet bliss of emaciated and stunted thought, too brittle to hurt, too abstract to scare.

No, not another sober night. Not tonight. The walls are crawling, and they chitter among themselves in gossip not heard but felt, gazes not beheld but tasted. They hate me. I hate me too. I'll give them a show.

Bottom's up, and goodnight.

#goodnight #vent #hurt

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we-are--the-hearts · 2 years

Text

Snowfall and Black Ice

Note: this story takes place from the point where Kusaka and Hitsugaya meet in the warehouse right before Kusaka takes them to the Soul Society with the Oin/King’s Seal. Think of it as a divergent from the story line and enjoy. :)

KusakaxHitsugaya

“Seeing you again, after so many years, after crawling from the pit of my despair, I wished to take you into my arms, Toshiro,” Kusaka said, lifting his hand to caress the young captain's cheek and Toshiro wouldn't deny that it felt good, that he leaned into it. He told himself not to cry but...Kusaka, “I missed you, longed for you, for what felt like lifetimes, and now... here you are, and no one shall separate us again.”

Hitsugaya shuttered, his own hands lifting to clench into his dear friend's sleeves, and he was wounded, the deep stab wound Kusaka had inflicted still bleeding. He had been so focused on chasing Kusaka, on seeing him again, that he hadn't dressed his own wound. It had been foolish of him, horribly foolish, and he was feeling light headed now from lack of blood. He could hardly stand anymore but Kusaka, Kusaka... he had seen him die! Cut down by the secret defense squad and even the memory brought pile to his throat.

He had been screaming, begging, fighting against the arms that held him but he hadn't been strong enough back then.

'No, no! Please don't! Kusaka is my most important... Kusaka! KUSAKA!'

He felt himself pulled forward, resting against Kusaka's chest and he didn't fight him, he just closed his eyes, bathed in and devoured that warmth like the ice cold bastard that he was. He hated this, hated himself, hated that he was so weak. He should have been fighting, should have been trying to retrieve the King's Seal. He knew Kusaka had it but...

The taller man pressed a kiss to his brow, holding him close and snug in his arms and Toshiro was shaking. His body was going to start giving out against his will, his wound probably infected.

“Kusaka...why?” he breathed shakily, quiet, his breath frosting in the air and Kusaka bent and scooped him up bridal style to carry him off.

“Because... they will pay for what they did to us, I promise, love,” he whispered, a kiss pressed to the tears at the corner of Torshiro's eye, “To me, to you, to everyone. Don't be afraid, I'm going to protect you.”

“P-protect me, you stabbed me,” he protested, although his voice came weakly, his body attempting to curl to that warmth again, and Kusaka smiled sadly, his sight full of nothing but Toshiro and his need for vengeance.

He turned and moved, Toshiro cradled in his arms as he took him to a safe place, a hideout deeply hidden where it was warm and dry with a soft bed.

“I'm sorry, I had to impart my spiritual pressure to you,” he explained, carrying his young love into the room, “The King's Seal... changed it, so I had to place it inside you somehow so you'd be able to track me properly. Plus, you wouldn't have chased me if I hadn't, would you?”

“N-No,” he groaned, panted, because dear god it hurt and his skin was burning up with fever but all he felt was freezing cold. He needed, needed care and warmth and... Kusaka...

Hitsugaya felt himself lowered onto the warm, soft bed and his vision was swimming a little, his fingers gripping tightly in the other man's clothing, afraid that if he let go of Kusaka the man would vanish like a dream, or a nightmare. He still wasn't sure which one it was.

Kusaka's hand closed gently around Toshiro's, and lips descended, were pressed against his own, so soft and loving and a few tears slipped free despite the ice captain's efforts to hold them back. A sob broke free and this was it, he was really sick, and his mind remembered back to that day and he...

“It...it should have been me,” he choked, heaving, crying, an arm coming up to cover his eyes, “I should have been the one to die. Not you, Kusaka. You wanted it so bad and you tried so hard. I should have-....”

“Shh,” the older said, soothed, kissing him tenderly, touching him gently, his arms, his face, cupping his cheeks softly, brushing away those tears from his feverish skin with his warm thumbs, “It's not your fault, Toshiro, it was never your fault. I love you, don't cry.”

The Central 46 had been fools. Together with twin zanpakuto, he and Toshiro could have been the ultimate protectors of the Soul Society. They would have been so strong together, a destined pair, but those cowards had been short sighted and fearful. Well, now it was time for the twin dragons to take back what was theirs.

If the Central 46 didn't want protectors, then they would have kings of ice instead. He and Toshiro, ruling together, forever.

But first, he needed to make Hitsugaya well. He hadn't meant for the other to get so sick, but that was Toshiro for you. His drive was incredible.

“Just rest,” he said, smiling gently and brushing his lover's beautiful white hair back from his sweaty forehead, “It will take some time to heal you but my kido is as strong as ever, although I could never master it as well as you could, snowflake.”

“D-Don't call me that, Kusaka,” Hitsugaya complained weakly, panting and groaning, “You know that I h-hate that name.”

The older man chuckled and drew his hands away to retrieve the medical supplies to help with the healing process, Toshiro left on the bed to try and get comfortable. The young captain closed his eyes, focused on breathing and if Kusaka had been lying, if he really wanted to kill him, he would have done it by now.

So he waited, listening to his dearest friend's footfalls as Kusaka came back, and Toshiro felt his cloak pushed aside, his robe opened, spread down to his belly and he shivered, wanting to be buried under a heap of blankets. He was so cold.

Kusaka touched him, fingertips skimming down his hot skin, a kiss here and there, against his throat, over his heart, the place where his belly and chest met, and he whimpered, bit his lip, moaned. Oh, oh...

He opened his eyes, soft turquoise eyes watching Kusaka as the other tended to him, his wound. It had indeed become infected although he knew that already. It burned enough and made him feel ill, and he hissed as Kusaka applied disinfectant, the liquid stinging harshly.

The older dragon blew across the wound to ease the sting, cleaning it out with a soft cloth, and then he withdrew the King's Seal from his pocket and held it glimmering golden in the lamplight over Toshiro's wound. Bringing up his other hand, he began directing it's power with his kido, starting to heal his lover and murmuring quietly under his breath. Toshiro watched for as long as he could, his eyes slowly falling shut again due to his exhaustion, and then he slept, lulled by Kusaka's soft, deep voice.

I love you, please be here when I wake up. Don't disappear. Don't leave me again.

Please...Kusaka...

----

When he awoke, Toshiro was tucked under the covers and his wounds dressed. He felt weak, drained, but not as feverish, and as he came to he realized he wasn't alone in the bed. Kusaka was with him, the older man's arms around him, and he was seemingly asleep.

Hitsugaya looked up at him, and as a captain he should grab his zanpakuto and...

Kusaka...bleeding, terrified, crying as he was cut down with a scream by the... Soul Society.

The younger man shook his head to mentally banish the image, and he moved closer instead, rolling onto his side to face Kusaka. He reached up, brushed some of his lover's hair from his face, and Kusaka was still so handsome, so beautiful, and he was...

“You're still wearing your hair the same way?” Toshiro whispered, smiling a little despite himself and touching that soft messy long bun at the back of Kusaka's head, dark as a raven's wing, “Dork.”

He sighed, still tired, and cuddled up against Kusaka, tucked his head under the other man's chin. He stayed like that for a few moments, soft breathes of warm air puffed against Kusaka's throat and Toshiro blushed, thinking about it before he closed his eyes and pressed an open mouth kiss to the soft part of his lover's throat.

It was alright. Kusaka was asleep, he'd never know.

Toshiro didn't see the soft smirk that crossed the other's face, one violet eye opening.

So Hitsugaya settled back down again with a sigh, closing his eyes, his head still tucked under Kusaka's chin and he slept again, peacefully, a hand rising to close in Kusaka's clothing.

I won't let you go. I'll protect you this time. I promise.

Once Toshiro was fully asleep, Kusaka smiled gently, his own hand rising to stroke Hitsugaya's snow white hair. It was still soft, even with all the hair gel and stuff he put in it now. Toshiro had always wanted to be taken seriously, to earn respect for his skills and intelligence and not be underestimated because of his youth.

His hair resembled spikes of ice, hard and sharp, but Kusaka knew, that in the early morning hours as they slept or right after Toshiro came out of the bath, his hair was as soft and light as freshly fallen snow, and Kusaka loved those moments. Maybe, with the older man by his side once more, Hitsugaya wouldn't feel the need to make his hair an ice field any longer.

“Let me love you again, Toshiro, my beautiful snowfall,” he whispered, sighing softly as he pressed his lips and nose into the younger man's hair, took a breath. His lover smelt the same and it was so comforting, “With you by my side I can make the world right again. You and I will see to it.”

----

In the depths of his restful consciousness, Hitsugaya smelt something good, something hot and brothy and he opened his eyes. He was still in bed but they had moved again, light streaming in through the windows and outside there was a thick forest of pine trees. They were in a cabin in the woods but wait, hadn't they been underground in a bunker just a little while ago? How had they moved without him feeling the journey?

He sat up, slowly, and Kusaka was gone. Had it...been a dream? A hallucination caused by his fever? He'd been having a lot of those lately and... Toshiro's heart clenched down painfully before he could stop it, because...Kusaka...

He wouldn't cry, he wouldn't cry again, and so Hitsugaya clenched his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut tightly, knees pulling up to his chest, head lowering to his knees and...

“K-Kusaka,” he choked, because it had been so nice, seeing him again, seeing him alive and whole and good but it wasn't real. It was just his stupid brain unable to handle his body failing him. He repressed a sob with everything he was but he still shook, squeezing his knees tight with his arms wrapped around them.

He felt a hand at the back of his head, brushing his hair and in a panic Hitsugaya reverted to his training, grabbing up Hyorinmaru from his side and swinging it in an upward strike out of fear. His blade crashed into another sword, the metal sliding against each other like a caress, and it was... Hyorinmaru?

Kusaka stood there, defending himself, his sword in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other, his expression innocently confused and yet guarded at the same time.

“Well, good morning to you too, snowflake,” he said and Toshiro told himself that he was not going to climb out of this bed and hug the other man, but his body really hadn't been listening to his brain lately, and he was already half way up before he realized that he was.

His heart was beating so hard, his relief immeasurable, like an avalanche that drown him as he embraced Kusaka, hugging him tightly. He was here, he was here and he was real and warm and breathing.

“D-Don't call me t-that,” he said but he didn't care, Kusaka could call him whatever he wanted, even a bastard. He deserved it for what he let happen, for his sin.

Toshiro heard Kusaka put his sword away, and then the older man's arm was wrapped around his shoulders, hugging him back lovingly.

“Easy, I'm here,” he said soothingly, placing the soup on the end table so he could use both of his hands, his now free hand reaching to stroke Hitsugaya's hair, “I'm not going anywhere, Toshiro, I promise. You're my most important person, remember?”

My most important person, that was what they'd called each other back in school, as a sort of not really code. Back then it was frowned upon to become too close, especially for boys. Comrades, good friends, that was fine because they were training to become soldiers and bonds were important, but lovers? No, that had been to much. If your friend died in battle then you brought justice to their killer and carried on but with a lover, the loss was crippling.

Kusaka's death had crippled Hitsugaya but he had built a wall of ice around his heart where the others couldn't see his pain and carried on even though every day, every step was agony after that. Momo and Rangiku kept him from fleeing with their presence and he was placed under Isshin Shiba who kept his eye on the young man but all this time the pain was a frozen ball in his heart, freezing his blood, choking him.

The Central 46 had terrified them both and had murdered Kusaka in front of his eyes because the older student had failed their stupid test.

They had slain his lover in front of him!

So Toshiro grasped Kusaka tighter and nodded to his lover's question, hiccupped, because in some ways he was still a child, alone, desperate for comfort and Kusaka had come back to him when everyone else had gone.

He had come back even when it should have been impossible. It was a miracle.

“...Kusaka,” he whispered, lifting his face to look at his most important person, “Kiss me. Please.”

The older man's smile was so soft then, so beautiful and gentle and Hitsugaya felt Kusaka caress him along his jawline, grip him by his chin and then lips descended once more and they were kissing, softly but full and Toshiro's heart just swelled, softened, melted.

He was acting very unprofessional here. He needed to get the King's Seal but...why? To give it back to people who would kill without question? Who ripped Kusaka from him?

It wasn't right that Kusaka had taken the seal, who knew what he was going to do with it, but right now that didn't matter. Hitsugaya would deal with that later. Right now he just wanted to kiss Kusaka, his lover, and not be afraid of being caught, of being separated.

Sleeping next to each other in a warm bed, stealing sweet morning kisses, playing at making love in the baths when they probably shouldn't have, but they where both so young back then. He was older now, 150 years give a decade or two to his name. You stopped counting after a while because it didn't matter.

So he clung, giving a soft moan when Kusaka deepened their kiss, tongues brushing hotly and his heart raced for a different reason, his hand reaching up to hold onto that raven wing hair, that black ice.

Black ice, that was what Kusaka was. A man who came up under Toshiro's feet and tripped him, unseen until it was to late, only with his lover he didn't fall. Kusaka would catch him, hold him, keep him safe from all the things he still didn't understand and make him yearn.

Dear god, what had Kusaka done to him to make him want him, love him, so much?

They parted for breath, Toshiro panting lightly, gently flushed, because while his injury was healed and his fever lessened, he was still a bit weak. It wouldn't stop him from doing what he had to do, but for now he was following his heart and would stay with Kusaka, his most important person.

A hand caressed his shoulder, fingers taking gentle hold of the robe he was wearing. It was Kusaka's robe, from when they had met at the procession for the King's Seal. Hitsugaya had traded his captain's coat for it.

“Heh, have you denounced them then, my love?” Kusaka asked, his smile smooth and tone loving, and part of Toshiro wanted to say yes. The ball of ice that had surrounded his pain was melting and with it, that pain was bleeding into the rest of his heart. It hadn't been fair what the Central 46 had done, scaring them into attacking each other so they could kill one of them.

From Hitsugaya's perspective, Kusaka had reacted badly but having Hyoinmaru and being a true shinigami had been his dream. He had panicked when faced with losing it all, when faced with kill or being killed, and Toshiro didn't blame him. He'd be scared too, so scared, and you never knew what you would really do when that fear gripped your heart. You just reacted. It wasn't fair to blame Kusaka for that one mistake and the Central 46 hadn't seen it but... Kusaka's attack had been slowed, slower then normal. He had let Toshiro block him, begging him without words.

Stop me, stop me! Please don't let me hurt you, my snowfall!

Still, Hitsugaya couldn't say yes, not completely. There was Momo and Rangiku and Squad Ten. He couldn't denounce them. They were all he had... least until Kusaka returned.

“I...couldn't be a captain for what I had to do,” he said instead, looking away, averting his eyes, “...I need to pay for my sin.”

“Oh?” the other asked, cupping Toshiro's cheek, drawing him back to look at Kusaka, so smooth and strong and dark with beautiful violet eyes, “And what is your sin, Toshiro?”

And it hurt, it hurt in his brain, his heart, his soul ached with it, watching that past fear in his lover's eyes, the desperation, the heartbreaking realization that the other shinigami were killing him. Not just taking his sword, not just kicking him from the academy, but literally slaying him for a mistake he didn't want to make. Killing him in front of a screaming, panicked Toshiro.

His sin was...

“Letting you die,” Hitsugaya said, his voice breaking, and the words were poison, acid, embers in his mouth, on his tongue, and his ball of pain burst and consumed his heart and he shuttered, clung and Kusaka kissed him again before he drown, easing the spikes of agony.

I'm here, I'm here with you. It's not your fault. We're together now, snowfall, don't cry.

So Kusaka took his lover back to bed and the soup was cooling on the end table but it could wait. Right now he needed to weld Toshiro's heart back together, cleanse it and fill it once more with their love. He needed him, not just for their future but for his own heart. Kusaka refused to lose him to this.

So he lay Toshiro on his back, down on the soft bed, and he removed the other's cloak completely, kissing him as he spread Hitsugaya's clothing gently. There was no rush. They weren't children anymore, frightened of being discovered doing something forbidden and naughty.

No, they could savor this, and Toshiro kissed him back, moaning softly as he was undressed, his body exposed to the air. He whimpered, blushed as Kusaka paused to look at him, run his fingertips down that soft, pale skin, the other man's eyes so soft and loving.

“You're as beautiful and sweet as the first day I met you,” Kusaka purred, lowering his head to press kisses against Toshiro's neck, trailing down to kiss over his heart, and that was sort of a lie, because Toshiro had never been sweet in those early days; not until Kusaka had gotten him to open up and then only for him, and he had a few scars now from his battles up to and including the fight in Karakura Town against Aizen.

Hitsugaya was good at throwing away his captain status when it suited him.

“Ngh...No, I'm not,” he denied, squirming a bit because he was starting to feel hot and anxious in a good way and he wasn't a child anymore, though he couldn't figure out why he'd stopped growing after leaving the academy. Maybe losing Kusaka had hurt him down to the very structure of his soul.

Since the older man was back, did that mean he would grow again? Longer limbs and a supple body and the strength that Hyorinmaru needed? He hoped so. He was tired of being a squirt that had to be an ass to get respect.

He wanted to be able to match Kusaka in his allure, be what he deserved, the lover he deserved. So they kissed again, and Toshiro pushed at Kusaka's shoulder so they could change positions because he didn't want to be a lamb, he wanted to sit up.

So they flipped over, Kusaka resting his back against the headboard, holding Hitsugaya in his lap with his arms up his back, hands supporting the younger man's shoulders. Toshiro had his legs wrapped around Kusaka's waist, his arms resting on the others shoulders and he wanted him, so badly.

Please fix me, sooth my heart, help me love you again... Kusaka...

And Hitsugaya reached down, placed his hand on Hyorinmaru's naked blade and...

“...Please, Hyorinmaru,” he said, so softly, because this was so important to him and there was an answering flush of power through his system, of bankai but not bankai, pushing him to his limits and passed them, and everything grew. His chest, his back, arms and long legs and handsome face and hands and pretty fingers. He grew, temporarily, into the man he wanted to be, right there in Kusaka's arms, and the other man's eyes widened, awed.

“Toshiro,” he breathed, and Hitsugaya kissed him because this form wouldn't last for long and he wanted to make love before he was to exhausted to hold it. So they kissed again, hotter and more passionate then before, and Hitsugaya pulled Kusaka's robe off, finding his shinigami garb beneath and that shocked the younger man.

Kusaka still... he still loved being a shinigami, still wanted it and... Toshiro looked up questioningly into his lover's eyes, pausing for one second because Kusaka had said that they'd make the Soul Society pay but... the King's Seal, what was he planning on doing...with it...?

A hand lifted, warmly caressed Toshiro's cheek, and Kusaka's expression was so soft, so loving and true.

“We'll protect them all, Toshiro,” he said, “We'll make our dreams come true and you and I shall be kings. No one shall be hurt ever again with us there.”

In his brain Hitsugaya knew there was a problem with that but in his heart, his soul, it sounded so good. To live a life where he could protect, it was what they'd become shinigami for, and to not be under the thumb of people so cruel they would tear lovers apart or enforce stupid tasks just to save their own skins.

And maybe it was wrong, but Toshiro tilted his head and leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Kusaka's lips, and he said:

“Yes.”

Kusaka's arms tightened around his lover and Hitsugaya could feel something leave the other man. A tenseness, a fear, was released to shift away like a snowdrift, and he realized that Sojiro had been afraid he'd say no, that he would deny and denounce him, just like the Central 46 had.

But he wouldn't do that, not now, not ever, and so he undid Kusaka's sash, spread his shinigami robes to free his body, and they both needed this, so much.

They kissed passionately, touched as their hearts raced, moaning softly and Sojiro's fingertips trailed gentle lines of pleasure down Toshiro's skin, the younger man's hands gripping at his lover's shoulders, pressing kisses and nips against his neck.

He could feel himself hardening, his whole body hot in the most beautiful way and he saw Kusaka wet his own fingers, trail them down Hitsugaya's back to press at his entrance. The younger gasped because he knew he was so tight, but he wanted it in his core, his legs squeezing Sojiro's hips.

“Ah, ah, do it,” he coaxed, panting, “S-Spread me, please.”

“Of course,” Kusaka purred, his voice so sexy in Toshiro's ear, and he pressed his fingers up and in, causing his lover to moan. God he was tight, although he hadn't been with Sojiro for at least a hundred years and he never let anyone else touch him. Not that they would have but...

He arched his back, crying out as Kusaka curled and scissored his fingers inside of him, spreading him perfectly. Sweat was beginning to coat their skins, hot and slick and it helped, Sojiro gripping Hitsugaya's other leg and lifting it a bit, opening him more and it felt so good. Toshiro bit his lip, a blush on his handsome face.

“Mm, I can't wait to be inside you, my snowfall,” Kusaka whispered sexually, pressing a kiss to his lover's jawline, his exposed throat, “You're so tight and absolutely beautiful.”

“J-Just hurry,” he replied, trembled, because oh, oh, and his hands were gripping almost painfully into the others shoulders, “Hurry, Kusaka. I can't!”

“You sure it's alright?” he asked one last time, sliding his fingers out slowly, wanting to make sure Hitsugaya was ready, because only Toshiro could tell if he was spread enough.

“Yes, yes, please!” his lover cried, panting, clinging, because he was hot and hard and wanted it, needed Kusaka so badly, his Kusaka, his black ice, “Hurry!”

Sojiro growled sensually then, gripped Toshiro's hips and positioned him just right, the older man hard and ready and wanting, and then he pushed up as Hitsugaya came down and they both cried out, moaning as Kusaka slid inside so nicely.

Toshiro had wrapped his arms tight around Kusaka and in the burst of pleasure pain his eyes had widened and he bit down on his lover's neck, his teeth breaking the skin, drawing blood. He shuttered, shocked at himself, and he felt Sojiro stroking his hair, letting him know that it was alright.

A kiss, a nibble at the soft shell of Torshiro's ear, soothing and exciting him all at once, and Kusaka began to move, rocking inside Hitsugaya's beautifully grown body, reaching deep and hitting so many beautifully sensitive places.

Toshiro freed his mouth, moaned against his lover's shoulder because it felt so wonderful, and he was panting, needing more, more.

“Ah, ah, K-Kusaka,” he groaned, his hips rocking, bucking helplessly, and Kusaka chuckled, his own body dipped in pleasure.

“You're so prefect, Toshiro, my love,” he replied, his voice husky, “Hold on a little longer, I'm almost there.”

Especially with the way Hitsugaya was bucking like that, so nice, encouraging Kusaka's body to let go, pleasuring him to the tip of release. He panted himself, groaned between clenched teeth and almost, almost there. It felt absolutely blissful.

Reaching down between them, he found Hitsugaya's cock, gripped it and it had grown longer too, nice and full and the younger man gasped as he was grasped, moaning as Sojiro stroked and squeezed him. Up and down his sheath, over the sweet head, and oh he was going to cum!

He whimpered, panting, calling Kusaka's name and he felt the other swell inside him, both of them cumming at the same time, releasing hotly, their senses flooded with pleasure. Then they sagged, soft and tired upon the bed, the afterglow settling in nicely and Toshiro swallowed, resting his cheek against Sojiro's shoulder.

He felt drained but happy, laying still to catch his breath and Kusaka's hand was in his hair, his fingers carding gently through the strands, twisting a stray lock tenderly. His hair must be a sight, sweaty and messy, his whole countenance making him looked thoroughly made love too.

He closed his eyes, knowing that when he awoke he'd be back to his regular young appearance, but he had held out so he was contented.

Hitsugaya fell asleep, his head laying upon Kusaka's chest, listening to his lover's strong beating heart.

----

Water, warm and all around him. The sound of it, the wet steam filling his lungs, the cool ceramic against his back, and elegant fingers stroking along his skin, cleaning him with soft slippery soap in his hair and against his skin.

He opened his eyes, sleepy but no long exhausted, and Kusaka filled his sight, his lover's hair undone from its long bun and damp, those black tresses so long and beautiful. The other man was redressed, his sleeves pulled up and tied back as he helped Hitsugaya wash up.

Toshiro's wound was completely healed now, he could see his belly when he glanced at it, and he raised his hand from the water to tuck a lock of Kusaka's hair behind his ear tenderly. Then he saw his hand and froze.

It...wasn't how his hand normally looked. It was still grown, and so was his arm and his chest and... he reached both hands up to his face and cupped it and he was still an adult! But how? It was suppose to have worn off. He hadn't been able to hold it when he slept and even if he could he should have reverted after a certain amount of time.

“Surprised?” Sojiro smirked and Hitsugaya looked at him, almost to shocked to speak.

“...What did you do?” the younger demanded, his eyes narrowing, although he was still more shocked then angry. Kusaka smiled and rinsed his hands, resting his elbow on the side of the tub and his cheek on his fist, still smiling knowingly.

“Well, after I saw what Hyorinmaru did for you, I realized that you must have been unhappy with how young you still looked,” he explained calmly, “So after you fell asleep I used the King's Seal on you to speed up your growth a little. That is the power of the King's Seal, the power over time, space and dimensions. It's the same way I healed your wound, although in that case I had the time of your body revert to before you had it.”

Toshiro really hoped his mouth wasn't hanging open because that was just...amazing and also ridiculous at the same time but then again... it was the royal treasure. It was meant to be fantastic.

“Is that... how you survived?” he asked, softly, because he didn't want to think about it anymore but it was worth asking about. Kusaka nodded.

“Yes,” he said, no longer smiling, his hand lowering as he sat up straighter, “After they dumped my body in Hueco Mundo, I passed through the power of the King's Seal. It restored me the best it could and then I survived in the desert, taking in whatever reishi I could. I met the arrancar women; Yin and Yang there as well and we battled. After I bested them they were impressed with my strength and fortitude, so they came with me, became my seconds. It's taken me quiet a long time to grow strong enough to return to you, Toshiro, but I'm glad I kept fighting. I missed you, endlessly.”

Kusaka reached for him, and Hitsugaya leaned into his touch with a sigh. He was glad that Kusaka had fought so hard, had come back to him, and he reached up and placed his hand over Sojiro's, holding his warmth to him.

“...I love you,” he whispered and it was something that they had only said in the dark in the most secret places, but now...now they didn't need to hide anymore. Or at least... they wouldn't if Kusaka's plan worked. Still, even if it didn't, even if they were fugitives forever, he had his lover by his side now and this time he wasn't going to let him go.

“I love you too, snowfall,” Sojiro answered, leaning close to press a kiss to the crest of Toshiro's lips, “Always. Come on now, let's rinse all that gunk out of your hair.”

Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow, pouting.

“It's not gunk, its very expensive styling gel,” he protested softly, and Kusaka chuckled.

“Yes, I know, and you use it to look big and scary,” he answered teasingly, his hand going to the back of Toshiro's neck to cradle him as he lowered him into the warm water, “You don't need that anymore though, do you?”

The older man smiled knowingly and Hitsugaya scoffed, allowing himself to be lowered, Kusaka using his hand to rinse his lover's hair, make it all soft and fluffy again, just the way he liked it. He barely resisted smirking, because he was pretty sure once Toshiro's hair dried he'd look like a pekingese.

Once the younger man was fully rinsed off, Kusaka helped him from the tub and wrapped him in a warm, fluffy towel, holding him for a moment and just...smiling. Toshiro frowned. He was still a tiny bit shorter then Kusaka but not much, standing on even ground with him.

“You're going to get your clothes wet,” the ex-captain complained gently, “And you don't need to help me dry off, I'm not a child.”

He technically hadn't been a child for over a hundred years, although now he looked the part of an adult too. He wasn't sure how to feel about that really. Would Matsumoto and Momo even recognize him? Did he want them too?

“I know,” Sojiro replied, smiling, “I just... I feel so happy. You'll indulge me a little bit longer, won't you?”

And Toshiro blushed. He'd been indulging Kusaka for the last week, chasing his ass and all that, and... dear god, that sounded horrible. He scowled at Sojiro and the other laughed and kissed him gently again before letting him go.

“Come out when you get dressed, I'll have the soup ready,” he said with a secret smile before he left the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Hitsugaya sighed and dried himself off, frowning at his hair in the mirror because it was going to turn into a big puff ball without his gel, and then he realized something.

He was much taller then he had been, everything had elongated, legs, torso, arms, his chest and hips widened, and while he wasn't exactly super buff or anything... his clothes wouldn't fit him!

Kusaka! He wanted to scream, because maybe the smooth bastard had planned all this too and what was he suppose to do? Walk around in a towel?

He scowl again at his reflection, huffing, and he was about to wrap a towel around his waist and go make some demands of his lover when he saw something hanging from the hook on the door.

A men's kimono hung there, layered and warm looking, the design a pattern of freshly falling snow with the occasional delicate snowflake on a black background, the designs sewn in silver thread. It was beautiful and Toshiro let himself feel a little awe.

In the Soul Society, shinigami wore basically the same thing and while you could customize a little, the idea was that the clothing was to promote unity. Only problem was that you wore the same type of clothing, ever, single, day, and it did get monotonous after a while.

The kimono he was looking at though, it was so finely made, he was almost afraid to touch it. Did he even have the right? After all he'd done?

He wet his lips and reached for it, letting his fingers run down the fabric exceedingly gentle. It felt good too, silky against his fingertips, and so he bit his lip.

It wouldn't hurt to just... try it on for a minute...

So he pulled the outfit from the hook and began to dress himself, putting on his fundoshi and the pants, undershirt, shirt, under sash, socks, shoes and then he wrapped the kimono around him and tied the obi and the whole thing felt better then he'd even imagined. Fit perfectly too.

Hitsugaya was above giggling and smiling like an idiot, but he did appreciate the clothing in his own way, his expression soft as he looked down at the clothes. They sort of made him feel special in a good way.

There was a knock at the door and he almost jumped, surprised.

“Come on, Toshiro,” Kusaka's voice called, “Are you coming out or did you fall in?”

“I-I did not fall in!” he protested, sputtering for a moment, and he could imagine Sojiro smiling in that sly way of his, teasing and smug.

“Well then come out, snowfall, I want to see you,” the older man finished and Hitsugaya's face flushed pink again. So he knew. Well of course he did. Kusaka probably set this whole thing up.

Frowning and trying to get his face under control, Toshiro ran his hand through his hair and opened the door. Kusaka was standing on the other side and his smile was impressed as his lover came out in the kimono, Hitsugaya averting his eyes, shy and pouting.

It didn't take long for Sojiro to step closer, guide his lover's face back to his and press a kiss to those softly pouting lips.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, purred, holding Toshiro's chin, “Absolutely gorgeous.”

So much for his face, because Hitsugaya turned completely pink at that, his hands rising to grip into Kusaka's own robe gently. He wasn't wearing his shinigami robes now, although it looked close. It was more intricately layered, and the outer cloth was reflectively black, smooth and silky against his fingers. When the cloth shifted Toshiro saw a pattern of measured triangle like shapes shimmer into view, black except for their thin outline which was a reflective purple, the same color as Kusaka's eyes.

Black ice.

“Do you like it?” his lover whispered to Hitsugaya and the younger man blinked, realizing that Kusaka was talking about the outfit Sojiro had given him.

“Ah, yes, it's very nice,” he said, trying to think of what else to say. People didn't give him clothes very often and if he even received a gift at all he always had to act like he was grudgingly accepting it. He couldn't show weakness because people would talk but... it was just him and Kusaka now. “...Thank you, Kusaka.”

“You're welcome, Toshiro,” he replied, giving his lover, his most important person, another soft kiss before taking his hand. He led Hitsugaya into the kitchen and had him sit down at the table where a bowl of rice, some tea, and a bowl of soup sat in front of him. The soup smelled delicious but Toshiro wasn't entirely sure what type of soup it was. It had a creamy broth, cut vegetables and something that looked like pieces of softened white root in it.

His stomach decided to give a squeeze then and he hadn't been eating much while chasing after Kusaka, so he picked up the spoon and began to eat, watching Sojiro who was sitting across from him, eating as well.

The soup tasted as good as it smelt, and he focused on eating every bit of it, taking breaks to eat the rice and sip his tea. He tried very hard to pace himself, he didn't want to look desperate in front of Kusaka or for it all to come back up. Still, the second that first mouthful of food hit his belly he realized just how starving he was.

“Are you enjoying that?” Sojiro asked after a little while, his smile knowing and Hitsugaya nodded. He could feel his strength returning with every bite, especially when he ate one of the root pieces.

“It's really good,” he said after swallowing, “What type is it?”

Kusaka's smile turned smug and Hitsugaya felt his back tense, uneasy. What was that look for?

“...Sojiro,” he said firmly, and he never called Kusaka by his first name, never, a shift to show that he wasn't playing games here, “What's in this soup?”

And Kusaka smiled in that same way he had when he'd sneaked under Hitsugaya the first time and tripped his heart, closed eyes and a curve of his lips, his pretty self sitting on Toshiro's desk.

“You must be Toshiro Hitsugaya, the prodigy, right?”

Black ice.

“It's called reishi soup,” Kusaka said, and something in his tone caused the hairs on the back of Toshiro's neck to stand up. Something wasn't right here and...“It's made from the boiled branches of the reishi 'trees' in Hueco Mundo.”

Hitsugaya's eyes widened and he dropped his spoon. Hollow reishi? Wasn't that dangerous? So that meant... dear god, had Kusaka poisoned him?

On reflex he reached for his zanpakuto, but he'd left Hyorinmaru in the bedroom so his hand closed on nothing but air. He grit his teeth, scared. No, no, he was such an idiot! Kusaka was an enemy. Kusaka was...

“Ah-ha, there it is, just proves my point,” Sojiro said and Hitsugaya snapped.

“What does?! Don't play games, Sojiro!” he snarled, and if he had to use a kido he could, but after everything that happened he didn't want to think of Kusaka as an enemy. He'd just gotten him back. To hurt him with his own hand was...

“I scared you a bit and you went for your sword, just like I did back then,” Kusaka said, leaning back in his chair calmly, “In retrospect it could have been either of us back then. The Central 46 were just scared of us and our twin zanpakuto. You know, when I found that we both had Hyorinmaru, I was incredibly happy, Hitsugaya. It wasn't a coincidence. We were both chosen for a reason... and then those bastards got in the way.”

He sighed, crossed his arms and Toshiro stood, stalked around the table. He gripped the front of Kusaka's robe, his jaw clenched, and Kusaka looked up at him, at the beautiful sharp ice in his lover's eyes.

“Fine, I panicked, but what about the hollow reishi? Did you poison me!” he demanded, and the older man's hand came up, gently laying upon his lover's clenched fist.

“Normally, the tainted reishi probably would have made you feel ill,” he explained, calmly, “But you've been exposed to the power of the King's Seal, just like I have, and I eat this soup all the time now. The fact that you enjoyed the soup, gained power from it and didn't get sick just proves my second point. We are the same once more, as we were meant to be. So no, you aren't poisoned, Toshiro. You're alright. Don't cry.”

“I'm not...crying,” he said, but in truth he was starting to shake, to feel tears at the corner of his eyes again. Kusaka had scared him. He had thought...

His grip in Kusaka's robe lessened and he wasn't sure how to feel. Part of him was relieved that he'd be alright, but he was also mad at Kusaka and...hurt? No, he'd be hurt if he really had been poisoned, if he was dying or hollowifying. Right now he was emotionally falling, and he looked at Kusaka, his expression so fragile and vulnerable. He opened his mouth.

“...Sojiro... you better catch me,” he said, and then his legs just gave out from underneath him because this was to much, to fast and he was going to hit the floor, maybe pass out again. He wasn't sure.

He saw Kusaka move, surge forward, and the older man looked shocked, scared even. He reached for Toshiro and caught him, holding his lover in his arms and...oh no, had he been mistaken? Had the illness just been delayed? He had needed to check if enough of the King's Seal's power had been absorbed into Hitsugaya's body so he wouldn't be harmed when they cut the King's Seal and he hadn't made the soup to strong... even if Hitsugaya hadn't had enough exposure he shouldn't be fainting.

He lifted his lover bridal style, carried him to the couch in the living room nearby, and Kusaka's heart was hammering in his chest. He had been so sure and... no, no, please!

“Toshiro!”

The younger man opened one eye, saw the absolutely terrified look on Kusaka's face, felt the thumping of the others heart and he had been planning to say 'serves you right for scaring me, ass' but he didn't. Kusaka was giving him that same cornered look he had when the Central 46 had made them fight, and he didn't have the heart to tell Sojiro that he 'told him so'.

So he raised his hand, placed it against Kusaka's cheek and the other man grabbed his wrist desperately, and poor Sojiro. The Central 46 had cracked him back then, attempted to shatter him by taking his life, and between the King's Seal and everything else, Kusaka had glued himself back together. But there were cracks, fissures in the ice, and Toshiro knew he needed to be extra careful with his lover.

Sojiro was already teetering on the edge and Hitsugaya had promised to protect him.

So he leaned up, pressed a tender kiss to the older man's trembling lips, then caressed Kusaka's cheek with his thumb.

“I'm alright, Kusaka, just got a little light headed,” he explained gently, watching the fear beginning to twist in his lover's expression, and suddenly Kusaka was holding him tight to his chest, just trembling. He'd gone all tense again, his back, his arms, and Hitsugaya shifted so he could wrap one of his arms up around his lover's neck, the other around his back.

That look, he'd seen it before; the fear that Sojiro had felt back then shifting from fear of losing his own life to the fear of leaving Toshiro. He had stayed crumpled there, bleeding as his zanpakuto had disintegrated, looking at his screaming, panicked lover and...

Please, I don't want to leave you! Don't let me go, Toshiro!

He remembered being let go, running to Sojiro, screaming his name, but when he gotten to him his lover's life had already fled. Kusaka was dead and the ice had risen up and closed around the ball of pain and squeezed off his heart and he hadn't even cried. He had just sat in the dirt, his lover's blood on his hands.

Sin, his sin. I let you die.

So he squeezed his most important person because Kusaka was afraid that Toshiro was mad at him for his mistake, that he didn't love him anymore, as if his love was so fragile, but Hitsugaya would never not love this man.

“It's alright,” he murmured tenderly into his lover's ear, stroking his hand through Kusaka's hair, the strands black silk between his grown fingers, and Sojiro had been taking such good care of him. It was his turn to take care of Kusaka. “I'm not mad, I love you. I'll always love you.”

He'd forgive. Every mistake, every slip, every flinch. They were only human after all and he already thought the world of Kusaka, he always had.

He kissed him, under his ear, down his throat, and he loosen the top of Sojiro's clothing to glide it down, show the tops of his elegant shoulders so he could kiss there too, butterfly kisses and narrowed, possessive eyes. He could feel Kusaka starting to relax again in his arms, slowly, like a glacier easing, bit by bit, his heart and breathing starting to even out. He even angled his neck a little, giving Hitsugaya more room to kiss, beautiful eyes closed.

“I love you, so much; I won't let you go, my beautiful black ice,” Toshiro continued, vowing it, “They'll never take you away from me again. You're mine, all mine.”

He usually wasn't this possessive but Kusaka needed to hear it and Toshiro was done listening to stupid rules made by cowards. He was tired of watching the people he loved get hurt and taken from him, and if he had to fight the system then he would.

He had survived by making his heart ice but now... if anyone tried to hurt Kusaka he'd show them his fangs.

He nipped gently at the place between Sojiro's shoulder and neck, causing his lover to moan, and he eased the sting with a velvet rasp of his tongue. So beautiful and good and warm. He loved Kusaka, like part of his heart had come home.

“...I'm sorry, snowfall,” the older man breathed, still clinging, “I...exposed you to the King's Seal's power because I don't want you to get hurt when we use it but I... had to make sure it stuck, so I gave you the soup. I'm sorry, I should've...”

“You should have told me that before,” Hitsugaya finished, taking another bite, using his teeth and Kusaka gasped, moaned deeply, his toes curling in pleasure, “I forgive you, love, but you need to tell me these things. I don't like being kept in the dark, I'm not a child anymore.”

“Mm,” his lover hummed, his back arching a little, and Toshiro was sitting in Sojiro's lap and he could feel Kusaka harden beneath him. He smirked a little.

“Hm, so you like being bitten do you?” he asked, letting his dominant streak show, teasing gently, “That's new. Did you pick that up in Hueco Mundo too?”

“T-Toshiro,” he answered, blushing as a shiver of pleasure went up Sojiro's back, “Mm, please.”

“Please? Please what?” he purred, pressing an open mouth kiss to the side of Kusaka's throat and then biting down. It made his lover buck with a whimper of pleasure and this was the reason Sojiro hadn't been upset when Hitsugaya had bit him when they had made love before. He liked it.

He felt Kusaka's hands close in the robe at his back, fingers clutching drops of snowflakes, and Toshiro smiled gently and switched their positions. Sojiro now sat on the couch, flushed and so pretty, and Hitsugaya bent over him, pressing a full, hot kiss to his lips.

Sojiro kissed back, savoring his lover's touch and he didn't think he'd ever get enough of Toshiro, especially now that he was grown and at least a bit happier then he had been. Back at the academy there was always the sense that they were edging into dangerous territory, although by Shinigami law they had both managed to fit into the safe space, least until Kusaka's murder.

Still, he supposed it didn't matter anymore and he squirmed and cooed a bit as Toshiro kissed and nipped at his skin, spreading his clothing. He reached up, sliding his fingers into his lover's beautiful, white, fluffy hair and the feel of it, the softness, the scent, it lifted Kusaka's heart. He loved Toshiro Hitsugaya, loved him more then anything.

“Ah, Toshiro,” he breathed as the younger man kissed and nipped along his chest, his belly, and then Hitsugaya pulled down Sojiro's pants and fundoshi and Kusaka sucked in his breath. He was already fully hard and his eyes widened as he watched his snowfall's head lower, a velvet tongue reaching out to press over the head of him.

The pleasure shot from that exquisite touch all the way up his body and into his core, Sojiro's hands fisting in his lover's hair as he moaned. God, that felt good, and his heart was starting to speed up again, his breathes coming in pants, toes curled in ecstasy. Then he saw Hitsugaya smirk and he...

“You wouldn't,” Kusaka gasped, and those turquoise eyes looked up into his own and he knew, Toshiro by all means would. The younger man showed his teeth, a canine sharp and Kusaka swallowed, both wanting and dreading it at the same time.

“Ah, oh,... be gentle,” he whimpered, and Hitsugaya smiled and grazed his teeth ever so lightly against Kusaka's cock. A burst of pleasure pain took the older shinigami's breath away because he was so sensitive there but the sharpness felt divine and oh, he was going to cum already?

“Mm, snowfall, I'm...” he groaned, and he shuttered in pleasure as Hitsugaya engulfed him with his mouth, hot and wet and tight to suckle on him and it wasn't long before Kusaka caught his own breath, bucked helplessly a few times and cummed directly into his lover's sweet mouth.

Toshiro took him, drank him down, and Kusaka blushed, embarrassed at having come undone so easily but Hitsugaya, he was just so sexy and wonderful, beautiful snowfall. The older man swallowed, biting his lip and watching as his lover let him go with a soft pop, and he'd fallen hard all over again.

So he reached for Toshiro, kissing and tasting himself on the others tongue, and it was so nice, especially after so long. They shifted and lay together on the couch in each other's arms, savoring the closeness and heat trapped between them, and Hitsugaya had his head tucked under his lover's chin and it was just perfect.

They fell asleep like that for a time, Kusaka's pulse beating healthy and strong close to Toshiro's ear, and the younger clung to the soft folds of his black ice's clothing. He wouldn't let him go, wouldn't let him be harmed. Never again.

----

Hitsugaya dozed in the afternoon sun, his lover in his arms and he remembered, back those many years ago when they had fought in the chamber of the Central 46. He remembered Kusaka coming for him in what he had assumed was panic but... as he thought about it, maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe Sojiro hadn't panicked. He had looked scared, that was for certain, but there been something in his eyes, a desperate shifting, back and forth and he'd been... thinking, gauging, judging, but not on Hitsugaya. He hadn't been trying to find weak spots. In fact, every open spot Toshiro had had during that battle, every chance Kusaka had had to wound him, he didn't take, or missed on purpose...

Kusaka had...

“...You were trying to think of a way out for us, weren't you?” Toshiro murmured, shifting to look up at Sojiro's face, and the other was awake, eyes open and his expression softened into a wistful sadness.

“Yes,” he breathed, his hands clasped over his lover's lower back, “I didn't want you to get hurt, snowfall, so I tried to buy time but... I wasn't fast enough and those...those bastards saw what I was doing. That's why they interrupted and stabbed me. They didn't want us to both walk out alive. They were scared of us, Toshiro, scared of what we would become and they judged us despite our loyalty.”

He sighed, shifted a bit into a more comfortable position, holding his love warm and close.

“But, that doesn't matter anymore,” Kusaka continued, “We're together again and we'll set things right. You and me.”

He smiled, so hopeful but so fragile, and Toshiro eased forwards and kissed his lips to sooth Kusaka's heart, his beautiful black ice.

“How?” Hitsugaya asked when he pulled away, because he was not going to be in the dark about this. He was part of their union and he didn't need to be protected from the truth like a child, “Tell me, Kusaka.”

The other hesitated for a moment, his expression unsure, worried, and Toshiro kissed him again, softly to draw out the truth, sweet and gentle.

“You are my heart,” the ice captain told him, “My most important person, so you don't need to be afraid, my love. I'm yours.”

“... And I'm yours,” Kusaka replied, his arms squeezing Hitsugaya gently, hold him lovingly close. After a moment, the older man reached into his pocket and withdrew the Oin, holding it before his lover. It glowed with a gentle golden sheen and even though it wasn't currently active, Toshiro could feel the reiatsu from it; pure and clean.

“The Oin, the King's Seal, has the power over time and space,” Kusaka explained, “With it, you can alter space and time itself. In it's current form, the Oin's power is limited but once it is absorbed into a living soul, that person or people, will be as gods. They can create or destroy, bring life or death... but... it is a dangerous power. If the user isn't strong enough to wield it then it could all come undone. That is... one of the reasons I need you, Toshiro. You were always a bit stronger then myself, the top of our class, and you're still whole. If you were to cut the Oin and took the power, we could build our world as it should be. No Central 46, no unfair laws, no death, and we could be together, forever.”

Hitsugaya was quiet through all of this and it did sound like a dream come true, but he knew that beauty wasn't built on nothing. There was always a catch.

“...You're going to kill the Central 46, aren't you?” he said, his voice calm, matter of factly, because it was the only thing Kusaka could mean when he said that there would be no Central 46. As for the shinigami who would obviously oppose them...

“It is what they deserve,” was the answer, a cold venom slipping into Kusaka's voice. His touch that rose to caress through Hitsugaya's hair was as gentle as ever, but his tone... he really loathed the 46, as he probably should.

“...Kusaka,” Toshiro replied softly, not sure how his lover would react to what he was about to say, “Aizen... killed the Central 46. I saw it with my own eyes... All those that hurt us are gone.”

There was shock and he could feel Sojiro's body tightened beneath him, but it only lasted for a moment, the hand in his hair lowering for Kusaka to draw the pad of his index finger along the soft shell of Hitsugaya's ear, tender.

“...It doesn't matter,” he said, whispered as he eased Toshiro a bit closer, hugged him, “They were replaced by the same ilk, weren't they?”

And Hitsugaya thought about what the new Central 46 had wanted to do to Ichigo, after he'd lost his powers. How they had wanted to use the young man who saved them all as bait. Old Man Yama had refused but...

There had been other things.

“Yes,” he replied, sagging a little to tuck his face under Kusaka's chin, just breathe. Maybe he should have felt bad about allowing Kusaka to take his hatred out on the 'innocents' of Central 46, but in truth he didn't. Hitsugaya knew that the newer Central 46 wanted Kusaka killed, not just for stealing the Oin, but just because he existed.

They wanted to kill Toshiro too, for that matter. For going rogue, for knowing the truth, for all of it.

He felt Kusaka rubbing his back, soothingly, and Hitsugaya closed his eyes for a little while. As beautiful and peaceful as this little cabin in the woods was, he knew it wouldn't last. Even if he could change Kusaka's heart, they'd still be hunted throughout the five worlds; the Living world, Hell, Reiokyu, Seireitei and the Rukongai and Hueco Mundo.

There was no escape but they weren't trained to run. They were trained to fight and defend, and so that was what they were going to do.

“... When do we leave?” Toshiro asked, and he could almost feel Kusaka smile.

----

They left that evening, under the cover of darkness, wrapped in their cloaks with their zanpakuto by their sides. Kusaka wanted to appear on the hill but Hitsugaya shook his head. Appearing there would be like walking into a hornet's nest. If they really wanted to get this done, they needed to go to the source. Their “grand entrance” could come after, once they swept everyone off their feet and blinded them so they couldn't fight back.

Snowfall and Black Ice, and less casualties besides.

“I want to keep the deaths of shinigami to a minimum,” Toshiro said firmly, “They're good people, Kusaka. Like you and I.”

And his lover's hand caressed through his snowy soft hair, and Kusaka smiled gently and nodded.

“We will go with your plan, my love,” the older said, “See? This is why we should be at each other's sides; you're so smart.”

So they kissed, Kusaka's fingers tender under Hitsugaya's jaw, and then the older shinigami withdrew the Oin from his robe and placed Toshiro's hand upon it, his other hand holding and locking fingers with his young lover.

“Let's go make our dreams come true.”

#kusakaxhitsugaya #Drabble #Bleach #smut #Hitsugaya #Kusaka

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kaenoelani · 3 months

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The first time I got raped I stayed silent. after being grown in years of sexual mistrust and molestation, how was this much different. Our bodies do what we are told.

The first time I got raped wasn’t the last.

The last time I got raped still echoes in my ears of the cries screming “no, no, no, not like that.”

The second time I was raped is a blur because being raped helped me ensure I was always intoxicated enough to just lay there.

The third time I drove my older brother to college and it’s something I wish I could forget. Being taken by his best friend and not having the courage to admit it to me or him. Just getting on the flight back home and making a familiar home of razor blades pressed tightly to my wrist. He took my sleeping body there and made his way downstairs and all I know is by the third time I had learned exactly what to do.

You lay there while their eyes turn black, you pray to God and find the breath to convince them this is what you wanted too. You grab your things, leave the space, and when everyone else awakes you pretend we were both just asleep too.

The fourth time I remember, because I left the party and woke up in bed at the mansion in bed with his mom. She was screaming why I was there and I didn’t remember anything other than crawling to somewhere where he couldn’t find me.

Then I left with all my homies behind me, none of them knowing why we fled.

The next time is something I can’t speak to; I just know his eyes were blue and hands held tightly.

The last time left me stuck in bed, with all his rage in my head and the fingerprints that will always be burned inside my neck. A dark room and hatred I cannot forget.

And the lesson for this memory is that sometimes these thoughts are so stuck in the back of my membrane I stuff them back into the ground. It’s not easy to be vulnerable and admit that these things have happened.

But they happened and forgetting doesn’t heal.

I just have to remind myself to always remember please to give the truth of myself, because sometimes our pain helps others to recognize their target. it also can help others learn to fight even though it’s so much easier for us survivors to just forget.

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fanficbambiandy · 2 years

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Could you do a fanfic where reader and Viktor have a friends with benefits relationship and reader ends up pregnant please?

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎

𝐕𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 !𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐁!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Word count: 5.6k

Summary: Cheating comes at a cost and you are left with the questions of what you are to do: be true or let the lying veil engulf you fully.

Warnings: allusion to domestic/emotional abuse, infidelity and cheating, mentions of abortion, self-degrading language, mentions of pregnancy, alcohol. This is very angst-heavy and deals with a lot of inner-turmoil. Please, if there is any doubt that you can safely read this, prioritize your mental wellness.

A/N: I don't know, I really wanted to right a morally grey reader, but I fear that they came off unlikable:(

`.*:･🌣ﾟ✧:*🌣✧*:･ﾟ*.`

The morning sun drifted through the large window, the little spots of light were playing around the room, jumping from the bottom of it to the top. Tall ceilings that were being held up by columns, bounced the sunlight back to the room, illuminating the rich azure fabric of the drapery, embroidery swirling down to the floor, sweeping back and forth from the gentle breeze. The light danced over the floor towards a king-sized bed that hid two lovers inside it, your bodies clad in nothing but marks from the blooming of last night.

You held your forehead close to Viktor, your noses touching as you were drinking in the presence of each other, basking in it for as long as you could before he has to depart your bed. Your hands were running through his hair, trying to memorize the way the brown curls weaved and fell, how the slip of it tickled your fingertips and how empty it felt after. You tried to commit to memory how the sunlight reached his eyes and it created patterns of the cosmos in them, the amber colour just as rich as the streaming sun.

Viktor’s palm was holding onto your cheek, feeling the suppleness of it against the hardened skin of his hand, small cuts from working in the lab all day littering his arms, a beauty mark here and there, contrasting his pale skin. His eyes were intently observing the all too familiar parts of your face: the soft arch of your brow, the angle at which your lashes curled, the way your eyes crinkled with your lips turning up to a delicate smile. Viktor wished for time to stop, to let him enjoy this selfish moment when all he had to be thinking was of him and you.

To be fair it wasn’t only his selfish wish, it was yours too; how couldn’t it be when it was the first time in a while you genuinely felt loved by another pair of hands – their caresses and strokes, though cold, warming your cheeks, pressing down on your shoulders, stroking over the swirls of your skin…

…selfish…

“How much time do we have?” Viktor’s accent whispered, his lips barely moving, like a sacred moment would be interrupted by speaking too loudly.

“Three hours,” you mumbled, trying to keep the smile on your face, but the serene twinkling in your eyes from moments ago morphed into the all too familiar sunken expression of helplessness, or was it hopelessness?

Viktor remembered the first couple times he saw you: it was usually at some sort of gala or party thrown by councilor Medarda in hopes to secure more patrons for HexTech. Viktor had never seen such disparity, the socialites crawling around the richest members of the party, praising everything their god did, chortled at every single stupid remark – like parasites. Viktor was disgusted, they had everything anyone would ever want and yet they were scrambling around as if their life depended on it – the event was oozing of deceit and lies. The inventor’s first thought of you was yet another pawn of the elite’s game, giggling at your so-called friends, involving yourself in mindless gossip, enjoying the luxuriousness of your imported fabrics. But the more his look would wander to you, he started noticing one deviation from the rest of the crowd: your melancholic eyes. The smile that everyone was able to fake in their gazes didn’t reach your own. The moment Viktor noticed such an oddity, he started paying attention to you, learning quite a bit of your party patterns: you would show up fashionably late, creating a rumble about what clothing you would be wearing, who you would spend the evening with, what you would be indulging in; stay for half an hour and then disappear for most of the night, before repapering back to the venue, most of the guest already in a drunken haze, easily charmed by your smile and anecdotes.

“Why can’t we have this?” Your voice broke, a tear welling up in the corners of your eyes. You knew, of course, you knew perfectly well why. After all, you were the one to remind Viktor of the reason – every time you put on the cold silver band on your ring finger in the public eye he would be reminded.

At first, it had been a marriage of love, a love that was born out of young, passionate, and rebellious hearts. Over the years it faded, the people in it changing and refusing to work on the feeble residues of a relationship – turning into resentment and infidelity before it ultimately made both you and him numb, indifferent.

You and Viktor had begun at one of those parties; you went out to take a breather from the suffocating atmosphere in the room, trying to relax and not let your tears fall: it was that evening that you received your confirmation that this marriage was doomed – his moans from your bedroom accompanied by shrieks of pleasure from his mistress. You weren’t a saint, letting yourself indulge in just as much pleasure-seeking as Xander did, but it hurt nonetheless, it hurt your pride, it shattered the mirror of lies in front of you, revealing the treacherous truth.

Viktor came out to the balcony coincidentally, the long-lasting sound of the party stabbing into his head that was already holding back the dam of his own thoughts. The man wasn’t expecting anyone there – rarely did anyone leave the fun, and if they did, they usually kept the entertainment back in the privacy of their chambers. What he was more surprised was you standing there, your exposed shoulders quivering. At first, Viktor thought, it was simply because of the cool breeze outside, but when he heard a choked-out sob, he couldn’t help himself but come closer.

Viktor nuzzled your cheek, sighing, “I wish it could be different, láska.” All you two could do was stay in each other’s arms, till cruel time caught up to you and Viktor would have to let the rightful man into his place. And if time would have been kinder, maybe Viktor would have met your earlier, could have swept you off your feet, marry you, love you properly, without needing to hide out of fear for losing everything he and Jayce had worked for, ruining your image in the public eye.

He was a stranger, you should have kept your mouth shut, if such rumors would be confirmed, it would be a scandal costing your family name thousands if not millions of supporters. But the way he looked at you, the way his entire demeanor seemed caring and gentle like he genuinely wanted to help, to find a way to change something…

The day after you blamed it all on the alcohol, it forced your common sense to fall asleep. For days you worried about seeing a headline in the newspapers, but it never came – maybe he actually cared? Or maybe he was waiting for the right time to ruin you, use you, blackmail you?

As a dutiful spouse in the spotlight, your responsibility was to choose who you would support: charities, cultural events and academic discoveries... When you first heard of HexTech you were worried – it was a bold idea and if it actually worked it would be phenomenal. But on the flip side, it could turn Piltover into a wasteland because of mismeasured wish to progress. You wanted to meet the inventors, wanted to know who they were; you had no doubt they were smart enough to push their research far, however, a heart that carries the sword will be the deciding factor to where the blade will cut – poverty and illness, or fortune and prosperity.

It seemed that coincidence was the leading force behind bringing you and Viktor close, accidentally noticing you, accidentally comforting you and accidentally stumbling upon one of the most promising findings in centuries that had you interested. When Viktor first saw you in the lab, Professor Heimerdinger by your side making light-hearted conversation, he didn’t know what to think. He wasn’t ignorant to the world surrounding him, he had heard your family’s name more than once in the academy’s halls: how the (L/n) family was so rich they could buy out the entire council, how their estate could form a country of its own – how their endorsement would mean everything for a scientist…

Jayce of course was as charming as ever, telling anecdotes and explaining their current research with simple terminology, while you quickly fell into the assigned role of an aristocrat, nodding your head along, laughing at his jokes… like a dutiful spouse.

…dutiful spouse…

The bed felt empty without him there, it seemed too big, too spacious – it wasn’t yours. You forced your body to turn around and snuggle closer into the pillow his head was formerly pressed into, inhaling the last bits of his wavering smell. Viktor never wore cologne, he deemed it unnecessary, however, there was always a very specific smell of lavender and linen lingering around him. You used to imagine how his home smelt like before you ever knew how the linen sheets felt against your cheek, how they scratched against your breasts with Viktor behind you, ramming all of his frustrations of an unsuccessful experiment away; before you ever knew how when you would be lying there, breathing heavily with Viktor’s fingers tangling with your own, you’d look to the side, where his dresser stood – a little bottle of dried lavenders. You fell asleep listening to Viktor’s voice lulling you with the properties of lavender’s, how they helped for insomnia and pains. After that night you made sure that your garden grew the dainty little stems of sleep droplets.

On those occurrences, when Viktor would visit your estate, he would always love spending time in the garden, all of those colours and the freshness of his surroundings. The exotic flower buds and fragrances that attracted bugs, would remind him how lucky he was to get out of the Undercity and the duty he had to the people there. Having lived here for so long Viktor would sometimes forget the luxuries he encountered day to day.

“Checkmate,” Viktor smiles over at you, while you were still looking at the chessboard: your King pinned in the middle, the bishop and Queen killing the ivory patriarch.

“It was a fluke,” you huffed out with a grin present on your lips, as Viktor’s fingers grazed over the pieces, elegantly placing them back into a green velvet-lined box.

“Eh, seems improbable to win five times on a fluke, (Y/n),” he countered – and he was right. Even for the short while of knowing Viktor, it was apparent wit, a sharp mind and the last word – all were what the inventor carried in abundance.

You let him have it; you always let him have the last word because Viktor would always render you speechless, mesmerized. You knew you shouldn’t have pursued a friendship with him: a small lick, a taste of what could be, made you crave for more of him. The way he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sweet smell swirling in your orchard, how a gentle smile swept over his features, how his chest rose and lowered – just this snippet of him, was making you more ravenous and not a single person in Piltover could be as fulfilling as the man opposite you.

You swirled the amber liquor in your glass, eyes tracing Viktor’s figure, as an idea settled in your mind; one that was absolutely filled by the spirit in the glass.

“Viktor?”

He hummed back, still lost in the way the sun was caressing his cheekbones, and poking at his beauty marks, the soft pillows engulfing his body.

A few beats of silence passed before you set the glass of audacity down – mind made up over a thought, warnings flashing through a haze. You stood up and walked over to where Viktor resided, straddling him unceremoniously. The man’s eyes shot open, looking with shock at you, ready to voice a strangled question at your position.

“Can I kiss you?” You whispered gazing at the burning embers, swimming in them, or perhaps you were sweetly drowning in molten gold?

“Miss (Y/n), you’re married,” Viktor uttered back, but he himself wasn’t sure he could deny your request, trying to rear logic back into your lips that were just barely grazing his, tickling the possibility.

“Doesn’t answer my question, Viktor,” you came closer, bumping his nose with your own, enjoying the way his name rolled off your tongue – the sweetest word mankind could have thought of.

“And if I said yes? What then?” He looked intently at you, your heaving breaths entangling, ready to be taken away.

“I would indulge,” you whispered, almost whimpered at the thought, barely hanging on as his hands finally rested on your hips.

“Yes.”

`.*:･🌣ﾟ✧:*🌣✧*:･ﾟ*.`

Xander had been back for two weeks by this point, but there was barely any shift in either of your lives: you two had come into an understanding that a routine should exist between the two of you, one that wouldn’t intrude on your personal lives: wake-up in the same bed with a good morning kiss on the lips (a silent wish for other lips to be touching you share between you), have breakfast in heavy silence, opposite each other, the clinking of cutlery having more passion that the stale soundless room, echoing cold indifference. For the rest of the day both you and him would leave each other to your own, only meeting up for dinner and going back to bed. Twice a week the two of you would have sex. It was passionless, automized, following instructions created by the years: insert, move in, move out, hold and repeat. Was it enjoyable? No. Was it a part of the routine? Yes. A routine that kept your names clean and safe.

…safe…

You would wonder many times, why not? Why not just let go of this, let yourself fall into Viktor’s arms and give up on your silent acting career – be his. Maybe the problem lay with what you got used to; the extravagance, the luxury, the soft and rich fabrics hugging your body, the gemstones pressing on your neck, the intoxicating perfume, the remarkable flavour of food and the drinks running down your lips… You got used to the convenience of life when rich while sneaking around and enjoying the feeling of true love. Sometimes you would be brave enough to admit all of this, brave to admit that you were a villain in his story, stopping him from finding someone worth his heart, but there was another reason, behind which you would hide and try to tell yourself you were doing this for him, for his security – the scandal that would arise. An inventor sleeping around with the spouse of his patron, how many would pull out of HexTech wanting to keep clean, not wanting to risk getting buried in mud?

Maybe that was your truth? Maybe you weren’t so bad? It was his life’s work on the line, thousands of people’s lives on the line, inventions that could save millions… And yet, here you were risking all of it for a moment of love and secret embraces, for sweet words you didn’t understand that would roll off his tongue as he buried himself in you. Hypocrisy. Could you hide behind the excuse that you were human, that you were scared?

Xander had just finished, rolling off of your body, onto his assigned side of the bed. It was a practiced movement, one that the two of you had perfected over the years. Every day since Viktor said those three words, the obedient silence you would keep after sex was harder to uphold. You owed him, them, that much.

“I want a divorce,” you said, voice firm, confident in the step you were taking. It almost seemed surreal that you finally voiced it, a deep desire you held since two years ago.

“What?” He got up in bed, looking over at you with his piercing blue eyes, ones that used to resemble the vast sky for your young wings, were now responsible for caging them in.

“Xander, we don’t love each other anymore, why should we continue enduring this, when we can just end this. I think both of us made it clear, that we don’t want to fix this,” you explained, your eyebrows furrowed, looking into his eyes trying to reason with him, maybe pleading for him, someone else, to give you the right to back out.

“Are you out of your mind? Do you know what the tabloids would say, how the market would drop, how- how my partners would look at me?!” His voice rose with every question, angering you.

“Since when do you care about that? Xander, we despise each other, what’s the point of going forward when it’s already terrible?” You were tired, exhausted from this relationship. You wanted to end this, he wasn’t the man you were in love with, and he wasn’t a man you could love.

“I care because the image of the company would go down. Our income could-”

“Could what?! Xander, look at how much we have! Stop being so self-centered, you have enough money that it would barely change anything, and this would blow over in a couple of weeks and we could actually live happi-” At this point you were desperate, you needed to get out of this, you couldn’t live like this anymore, it was suffocati-

“I’m self-centered?! Look at yourself fucking one of the HexTech creators,” at the accusation, your eyes widened, “Yeah, you think I don’t know about that? So, let me ask you this if it came out that you’re sleeping around with him what do you think would happen? That the papers would just gloss over it? That- that their sponsors would overlook this little scandal? You know you’re the selfish one, at least I have the decency to fuck random people and not risk ruining their life. And how do you think you would live without the money? You think you could, do it? You’re just as much of a spoilt rich bitch as I am.” The glare he had on his face was frightening, you had never seen anything like this from him. As if some sort of tragedy, this has been the most emotion he had shown towards you in years… “You know if not for you I could be free right now, not worry that our parents would take everything away and we would end up starving in the Sumps. You know what would happen to the two of us?!” And with that he left the room, leaving you alone, breathing heavily, panic settling on your skin…

`.*:･🌣ﾟ✧:*🌣✧*:･ﾟ*.`

Sick. You felt sick. And not only by the situation. Nausea was pressing on your stomach, crushing pain in your head and anxiety over the implication of a missing cycle.

The doctor’s office was unnerving: your heart rate picking up at every sound coming behind the door, your ears playing tricks of familiar footsteps, while your brain was drafting novels of possibilities. The one light in this situation was the safety net of your doctor, a trusted friend of yours, who would cover for you, give you a prescription slip, forge a couple of tests on how far along you were if needed or... Everything was going to be fine.

…or…

And yet, you were silently praying it has his, Viktor’s, child you were bearing. Twisted isn’t it: praying for a child, one of infidelity rather than marriage, wishing for a kid to be your lover’s, even though you are too scared to leave your life for him. Cowardice. But maybe this is what you needed to finally let go of your selfishness, let yourself stop the deceitful routine of life and admit the truth aloud and not behind closed doors? A child who deserves the truth that you shield yourself from, a man who deserves the chance to hold his child and be called ‘dad’ rightfully.

The door opens and your eyes shoot up, your thoughts screeching at you, trying to stop, but instead exhilarating. The white coat swishes inside a quiet click of the entryway, setting the atmosphere for what’s to come. She’s silent, as she gently brings a chair over to the examination table, where you were still sitting, your legs too weak to carry you to a proper chair. She envelops your hands in hers, lightly squeezing them, preparing you for the words that leave her mouth.

“Three weeks.”

Your eyes widened: relief, horror, gratefulness, and worry crashed over you at once. It was his, it was Viktor’s, it was a child of love, instead of thoughtless motion. Your hand mindlessly settled itself over your stomach – you and the baby. The happiest moment for some; you wished you were some, to be happy and celebrate the news, jump around and giggle… But instead, you were left at a cross-road of choices – alone. Lose the child, act like it never happened, continue life happily. Tell the truth, leave Xander, forget the life you used to enjoy and start a-new, risk the chance of shattering Viktor’s career and wrecking his life, or…

“Two weeks. They’re two weeks old,” you choked out, tears trailing down your cheeks, caressing you, almost like a mother comforting her baby… almost.

“(Y/n),” you heard her voice knocking on your ears, everything felt numb and slow, “are you sure? You could leave Xan-”

“They’re two weeks old. Xander will be happy,” maybe he will, but you won’t. Living in another lie, one that you are going to keep up – the final lie.

A single nod, before the chair, squeaked. She went to her desk, digging out a lighter, before she went back to you, the paper in hand.

“This is the only copy and I’m the only one who knows,” she placed the lighter in your hands and the paper beside you, before laying her hand reassuringly on your knee. “It’s your choice.”

Was it? Was it ever your choice, or was it chance? Or are you just evading the responsibility of being human?

`.*:･🌣ﾟ✧:*🌣✧*:･ﾟ*.`

The party was in full swing, people drinking and dancing, singing, and humouring themselves. It was a celebration of the new life that was forming, it was supposed to be your and his celebration, yet here you were: the golden lights of the party hitting your back, while the moon illuminated your nude shoulders. The wrong man boasting about a child that wasn’t his, while the one who was supposed to, looked at you with broken eyes at the news, barely standing upright from the punch.

If it were any other party, and you heard the approaching clicking of a cane, you would have broken into a smile, turning your head to the side, and letting your eyes observe the nearing man, one would always grumble about how ridiculous he looked in a suit. In turn, you would give him a cheesy grin, ‘The only ridiculous is how ridiculously good you look in this suit,’ before brushing your hand over the vest, fixing a wrinkle on his shirt. Looking back on it, you should have noticed how he made you feel then, maybe something would have been different…

But the party you were at, the echoing sound of his cane sounded like the nearing gallows – an end to something that made you feel alive. You were facing forward, even when on reflex your muscles instinctively twitched to turn. Truthfully you didn’t even know what you were looking at; if you were even seeing anything.

Silence.

He was by your side; far enough to reinforce the fact that it’s ending, yet close enough to make you wonder if you should give up your front and plead him to take you into his arms, away from this forsaken balcony, back to his dorm, he refused to leave even after finishing the academy, back to his linen sheets, back to what should be.

“I guess congratulations are in order,” Viktor uttered, he wasn’t looking at you either, choosing to follow your lead and gaze at the abyss of night. You huffed out a miserable chuckle at that.

“You could call it that,” your voice was bitter, nipping back at the cold air outside; it was prickly, pushing in tiny pins into your skin – and even though it hurt, the pain was grounding, made it easier to hold in the heart-wrenching scream pleading to be let out.

“I’m, eh, happy for the two of you,” lie. He isn’t happy about it, but that makes you the slightest bit happy. Ironic, how your lover’s pain can cause you relief. Or was it the confirmation that neither you nor he wanted this to be the truth? Was it?

“(Y/n) I-,” a pause, the breath he took in was slow, prolonging the dream-reality, “I believe we should end this. The child – I don’t think it would be appropriate…” you jaw tensed, this might have been the only appropriate thing in your life, the only thing that could have made the child happy.

“I- uh- hope that your husband will…” Viktor couldn’t get the words out, he could barely muster the courage to think of this – ‘I hope the man that funds my research, the man that you are married to, the man that cheats on you with strangers, the man you cheat on with me, the man you despise and who is infuriated by you, will be a good father to your child… a child I wish I had the chance to have with you.’

“They’re a month and a week old, Vik.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. (L/n).”

It was like your tongue moved of its own accord, ignoring your brain's commands to stay quiet and let him walk away, let him live his life freely, without the complications you brought onto him.

“What?”

“They’re a month and a week old,” – the last time we made love. “You’re smart enough, you can do the math yourself,” finally you turned to him, facing him; he seemed shell-shocked, his eyes were wide, mouth slightly open – the only sign he wasn’t part of a still-life was the way his hand slightly trembled, gripping the cane by his side to the point his already pale knuckles matched the colour of the moon. Unlike him, you were holding up the emotionless façade, not letting yourself break, at least not while he was looking.

“(Y/n), what-”

“They’re yours,” it seemed like life picked up, you could hear your own heartbeat and breath; tu-dum, hosh, tu-dum, hush, tu-dum…

The cold exterior you were holding onto was slipping; your fingers were tingling, and you felt tears prickle at the corner’s, everything that surrounded you was playing out slowly, too slowly: Viktor’s questions and confusion, his movements and –

“ im sorry im sorry im sorry ”

Something broke, speeding the world around you, making everything flash: your legs gave out and you felt the scratch of cold stone under your palms, as the tears spilt over the edges. What else could you say to fix this, to just let him live a life away from you, your burden? To just make him disappear, forget the way his love felt around you? To let him go…

Through your weeps and gasps for air, you heard a clammer of metal hitting stone, as a weight draped around you, a comforting set of arms and chest surrounded you, pressing your shaking form close, gently rocking you, an ocean-like shushing flowing to your ear. And even though the sobs erupting from your chest were stopping proper airflow, you needed to let him know, to tell him everything about the person he was holding so close to him; if you could even be called one…

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” like a prayer you whimpered the plea out.

For a moment you were back in his arms far away from the nightmare you placed yourself in; back when you were cuddled into his arms in his apartment, laughing and giggling as he was recounting his students latest exams, the mistakes that could be easily fixed; back when your relationship didn’t have a seed rooting itself into the waking realm, instead when the two of you were planting innocent flowers in your garden; back when…

“I’m sorry,” a hiccup, a sob, whatever you would call the gurgling sound in your chest, interrupted his soothing hushing, with a truth you had to share long ago, “Viktor, you are deserving of so much more than I could ever give. Someone who isn’t a risk to your career, someone who is willing to give up everything for you, someone who isn’t a coward.”

But Viktor didn’t agree: he didn’t interrupt your gasping voice, he understood you had to let the bile out, but during the confession, the man just shook his head, holding you close, letting his hand run up and down your arm – he couldn’t give you his warmth, but he could create one for you.

“I didn’t want to tell you about the child. I- I thought about… aborting them,” Viktor sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers dug into your flesh. A strike to him at the realization that he could have lost something he didn’t know existed, someone he created. “But I couldn’t. I couldn’t get rid of the only thing I might have left of us…”

‘Again,’ the voice whispered, ‘selfish. Bringing a child into the world, one where the impersonating father won’t love his family, just because you couldn’t live without this lie. Selfish, selfish, selfish…’

… ‘s e l f i s h’ it sang…

Your fingers reached into the pocket of the dress, two different rustles heard – one of fabric, another of paper.

You brought out the folded and crumbled piece of paper, its creases softened from opening it and closing it repeatedly, unable to make a decision on what to do, the edges tattered from being hidden in random pockets and gaps. It looked sad, a lot like how the person holding it felt.

“If you want to, you can rip it up, burn it,” your voice quivered, as your hand pressed the paper into Viktor’s palm. The man looked into your eyes, searching for an indication of the meaning behind that, but the shawl of emotionless fear that covered your face was illegible.

As lithe fingers went over the parchment, unfolding it, Viktor’s hands shook; some of the ink had bled through, swirling into what seemed to be a date, small speckles making constellations on the pale paper, mockingly imitating Viktor’s skin.

“It’s the only copy – the only way you could ever be tied to this child…” and even with the choice you gave him, you desperately hoped he wouldn’t want this one – one your brain constituted as the correct way.

After your confession stood a suffocating stillness; he didn’t back away, he didn’t utter a word and if you were being honest, you were thankful for it – he would leave soon, getting rid of the only physical proof you ever went beyond the closeness of friends; therefore the fact that you could indulge in this illusion was nice. The silence let you play into an fantasy world, where this would end differently, where you would live happily ever after and where consequences didn’t concern you.

The dry crinkle of paper brought you back to the physical world – Viktor made his choice; the folded piece of paper was set into one of the pockets in his jacket, safely tucked away for only the two of you to know.

“If I asked you to, would you leave him? Would you be with me?”

You lifted your gaze to him: his face was blurry, distorted by the drying tears. But his voice was clear, steady with a melody of hope – one that would hurt to humour.

“What about HexTech? Viktor, the scandal that would come from it could ruin you.”

You should have felt the silent fear of losing your life, the privilege of money and extravagance vanishing in an instance, you should have…yet there was none, there was just Viktor and his life, his work, his passion. You would survive, Sumps be damned, you could get through it, finding a way to survive would be easy, compared to the choice of hurting him, ripping everything he loved away from him – you forbade it.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Miss (Y/n),” He smiled, longingly, the words carrying you both back to the garden. And even with the happy memory remerging in his periphery, it was clouded by restrained tears.

“And if I said yes? What then?”

“I would indulge in a life with the two of you,” he brushed his finger over your abdomen.

You were looking in his eyes, searching the depths of them for something your conscious mind could not name. The feeling of his hair under and around your fingertips as you curled the strands around grounded you, and as the implications of his word’s settled a shattered smile spread over your face. Deep in your mind you knew you couldn’t enjoy the reality he proposed, but for a moment, one silly little moment you could indulge...

The night sky was littered with thousands of sparkling little dots; they were sleeping, calmly lulling the world to slumber – those who held love and sorrow, those who were selfish and cowardice, those who were risking their work and comfort and those who were huddled on the balcony, thinking what choice they had to make…

`.*:･🌣ﾟ✧:*🌣✧*:･ﾟ*.`

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 3 years

Text

The Day the Ocean Erupted

Foul Legacy Childe x Reader Gender Neutral (no pronouns mentioned) Angst, Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Allusions to death, drowning, pain, storms, thunder, rain

~ * ~

You remember the day the ocean erupted.

You’d been in your office, at 2 PM exactly, pen in hand and ink spotting your fingers, the culprits a stack of papers in the upper corner. The sun had filtered through your window and casted shining streamers on your desk as you wrote, typical of Liyue’s golden summers. You tapped your pen against your chin- how to phrase this next sentence? Should you focus on one or two types of silk? You hummed contemplatively, then scribbled a few more words. Sturdiness- that was important to mention in a report, especially one about something elegant like silk. The room filled with a comforting silence as you wrote word after word on the paper in the delicate warmth of the sun.

The first drop came and went without attention. But it was soon followed by another. And another. And another, until the sky was shedding all its tears into the streets and ocean of the city. Your pen had fallen from your grasp with a resounding clatter as you stood to peer outside the window, your eyes narrowed. Rain? In Liyue? Now? It was ridiculous.

Then something burst out of the ocean and you fell backwards in shock, pushing yourself away from the window despite being on one of the upper levels of the harbor. You rushed downstairs and pushed your door open, catching glimpses of an enormous serpentine creature rising from the waters as people rushed up and down the streets in a panic. The rain poured down in buckets, drenching everything and everyone, and all around there’s a frenzy of screaming, shouting, yelling, the same phrase reworded a thousand times, The Fatui did this, it’s the Fatui’s fault, the Fatui are to blame, and you could only think of one thing- your associate, your acquaintance, your companion.

Your friend.

Childe. Where was he? Vanished to the Golden House, they told you, but not as Childe, as Tartaglia, the Harbinger. For business, he said.

But soon you were swept up with the waves of screaming, and the thought had been lost.

That was weeks ago, when the Traveler had harnessed the power of the Adepti and defeated the old god Osial, with a final blow from Lady Ningguang’s Jade Chamber to seal him in the sea. The entire nation held its breath as Fatui activity wavered, dropped, then fizzled out completely. Life returned to normal, the seasons rolling by like a sigh of relief as reassuring whispers spread the news that the Fatui were finally, finally stopping their irritating interferences with the harbor.

You finish your final words and set your pen down, a thoughtful frown prominent on your face. You’ve never really been affected by the Fatui. For the most part they simply existed, a rumored plague on the Liyue Qixing with their endless meddling, but to you they were simple guards standing near doors and on the docks. On occasion when you had to wait there you would make conversation, to which most of them would respond to either in earnest or slightly tense surprise. For all their supposed horrid tendencies and practices and nosiness, you had found that many of the Fatui were, quite simply, people; people from a different nation and far away from home. People who had their own interests and likes and dislikes. People who had their own reasons and dreams and realities.

People who had all vanished when the last ripple in the ocean had stilled. And among them, your friend Childe, the Eleventh Harbinger Tartaglia. He was the only Fatui you would really consider a friend, the others being mere acquaintances. He was always teasingly kind to you, offering to get you a meal or asking to spend some offtime together. You, ever-suspicious, had often refused, but he was persistent and determined to chip down your walls one by one. And when they shook and crumbled your friendship had blossomed, despite the odd melancholy in his eyes whenever he looked at you, a question you never knew the answers to.

All this he was. But he was gone now, you suppose, following the tall, elegant woman you had seen exiting the Northland Bank to the mysterious depths of Inazuma. He looked so exhausted, outwardly appearing as tired as you sometimes felt inside, and your brow pinches.

You sigh and set your pen to the side before rising from your chair, cursing yourself for contemplating old memories. You don’t expect Childe to return anytime soon, if ever, so perhaps some thoughts are best left packaged in their pretty boxes scattered around the attic of your mind. The door swings open as you slip on your coat- it’s chilly outside, and you walk to the teashop for a new blend and distraction from the conflicting turmoil in your head.

The rain begins just as you hurry back home, having forgotten your umbrella in a moment of carelessness. Liyue’s winters, while cold and biting, never froze the storms that encroached almost every other day, instead letting icy droplets of slush fall on people’s backs and clothes. The clouds shield the few stars in the sky from view, blocking out the moon and turning the raindrops an inky black. You shove your door open and immediately shut and lock it again with a sigh of relief, shaking out your clothes and rubbing your chilled hands together. Your breathing is the only sound in the house, and your bones soon settle with a deep chill as the pressing quiet seems more and more foreboding. You cock your head to the side and hear an ever-so-faint rustling sound, and you pick up your weapon before making your way down the hall.

When you reach the living room you blink in surprise. Unlike what you expected, nothing is broken, not a dish is out of place, no drawers are flung open and riffled through. Nothing is wrong, nothing is out of order, your limited vision tells you, but a cold breeze sends goosebumps down your arms and you make your way over to the ajar window, very nearly bumping into furniture several times. You fumble with the latch and pull the window shut, dragging the curtain closed as if to cover the rain with elegant patterns and cloth, and for a few moments, you listen to the steady pour outside as it creates a chiming melody on the roof and glass.

Something breathes next to you. You whirl away in shock, clutching your weapon tightly. Something is here with you, watching you across the room, observing your every move as you hurry to light a match for some semblance of sight, the lamps in your house completely useless right now. The match strikes and connects, a yellow flame bursting to life, flickering like a firefly. You hold it up and come face-to-face with a single eye. Enormous and pearly, it gleams softly in the darkness, although whether it is blue or purple you cannot say. Sharp, plated red armor surrounds it, mask-like and curling into twin horns. The creature’s skin is also armored and bony, shades of purple and black with occasional splashes of red or silver, covered by a pair of translucent, sparkling wings like the deepest sea. It towers over you, claws and teeth razor sharp even in the persisting gloom, and you gasp and stumble away in terror. The starry wings and deep, rich colors, and the feeling it emanates, of being crushed and drowned by shining waves…

An Abyssal creature, some sort of monstrous beast from the depths of your world. It must be.

You back away from it, your chest tight with fear and the thought of death, of dying at the hands of this monster, holding your weapon so tightly you fear it might crack in your grip.

You’ve never been a fighter, only practical enough to keep a weapon you could use nearby. Between you and the creature, the creature would win with a simple swipe of its claws, and you would bleed out on the floor until you didn’t exist anymore, just another body lost to the infinite ocean.

But there is no attack, no clashing, no burning, searing pain, only a soft, sad whimper. You open your eyes and see the creature reaching out to you, crawling across the floor like standing causes it agony, as it lets out a broken and desperate wail. You take a step back again, then a step forward, your fear seeping out of you. Holding the match higher, you lean forward and squint, dots of color bleeding into the environment.

Ginger. Wondrously fluffy ginger hair, although it's wet with rainwater, and a single streak of white like snow.

You know who, and you say who before you even think who, uttering out it’s, his, name in a hushed whisper.

Childe.

Your weapon forgotten, you stand shellshocked in a corner of the room, so still and frozen that Childe himself attempts to rise to his feet, only to fall back to the ground with a pained cry, a sound that snaps your thoughts like shattering ice as you rush to support him. He scratches his claws on the ground, hiccupping, sobbing, whining tearfully at a pain you can’t see. You place a hand on the side of his face and he leans into it, almost slumping to the ground as he brings his hand up to cover your own. He stares at you, pained and suffering, with the same melancholy as before, a melancholy you now understand means I cannot love you, even though I so wish to, it is forbidden by fate and stars, and your heart breaks.

You pick up a distant rumble of thunder, and Childe yelps in fear, wrapping his claws around you and pressing his face into your side, trembling. Your fingers stroke through his hair, running down the sides of his face and horns, and his sobs die to labored breathing as exhaustion finally overtakes him and lets his body relax.

You remember the day the ocean poured down from the sky. It was now, in a dark room with a pinprick flame of light, holding the consequences of the Abyss.

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vendettaparker · 3 years

Text

You Say the Whole World’s Ending (Honey, It Already Did) [P.P]

Summary: Peter mourns his greatest loss.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Character death, angst, typos, throwing up

a/n: hi! i’m genuinely so sorry for how sad this is lol. i had to write this idea down before i forgot it. that one bo burnam song really got me :( here it is if you want to hear it! hope you enjoy and as always reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! ok. back to my hiatus :)

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Today, the world mourns the loss of one of the most innovative teens in existence,” The news reported stated with tears in her eyes, “Last night, (Y/N) Stark was found dead after going missing for three months. The cause of death has not yet been disclosed and her family asks for privacy during this time of grieving. The world shares in this pain, and I believe I speak for all of us when I say, (Y/N), you will be missed.”

The clouds muddled over the compound, creating a darkness that sheathed over the building while the rain pittered over the roof and windows. As cliche as it was, Pepper and Tony provided black umbrella to all the guests at the graveyard. Together they huddled over the casket with their umbrellas, attempting to keep the rain off of the perfect mahogany the best they could.

Morgan clung to her mothers leg and scratched at her neck, uncomfortable in the pearls she was forced in, too young to understand what she had just lost. Tony kept his arm around Pepper, trying to hold on to what family he had left, begging whatever god was out there to give him respite from his pain.

Pepper gripped her umbrella with an iron fist, recalling when she first met you. Small and shy as you were, you quickly warmed up to her as she showed you to your room.

“Is this her?” Pepper asked as you cowered behind Tony’s leg, a small backpack hung loosely on your shoulders.

“Yeah,” Tony nodded with a proud smile, “this is (Y/N).” Tony bent down, motioning for Pepper to join him as she greeted you with a warm smile. “This is Pepper, (Y/N),” Tony placed a hand on your shoulders, “she’ll help watch you when I’m away.”

You nodded and held your hand out to her. Pepper grasped it in her perfectly manicured fingers and held it tightly, “I think we’ll be good friends,” she smiled, giving your fingers a sweet kiss.

Pepper not only lost her daughter; she lost her best friend as well.

Peter couldn’t even go. May begged him to go, trying to pull him out of the rut he’d been in for the last three months. She did the best she could, but deep down she knew. She knew all too well the pain of losing your soulmate, and as young and naive as Peter was, he still managed to find that in you.

Peter felt hopeless. He had held out hope for months, thinking that by some miracle you;d get to come home. That you’d walk through the door and run up to him, pulling him into your warmth and smashing your soft lips onto his. Every night he dreamed of you. Your laugh and your jokes. The way you scrunched your nose when he said something stupid, but then laughed along with him. The way you’d ruffle his hair as he laid in with his head nuzzled in your chest. The way you’d rush into school so fast, you nearly knocked him over when you found him. Those dreams, or more so, memories kept him going. And now he had nothing.

He was stuck in a world without you. And at a certain point, he wondered if it was even worth living in. He was wrong. He used to think that good things happened to good people, but he was wrong. You were as good as it got and you still ended up in the ground.

“Peter,” Sam said from the other side of the call, “you gotta come to the compound.” He hung up before Peter could even get a word in, but when he arrived at the building, he understood why.

Sam met him at the door, tears crusted around his dark eyes, and the look he gave Peter evoked immediate dread.

Peter could hear Pepper’s screaming sobs from inside. The cries of all the Avengers filtered through his ears into his head like nails on a chalkboard. And as unsettling as it was, he knew.

Sam guided him through to the medbay, and part of him secretly hoped he was wrong. It wasn’t until he held your cold hand in his overly warm ones that it hit him. And then the screaming started.

“No,” Peter murmured as the tears began dancing around in his vision, “no, no, no.” Peter shook his head, “I-It’s not her.” He said, but it was more of a terrible wish he put out into the universe, “please, it’s not—no. She’s strong—stronger than that, she wouldn’t—I-I don’t understand.”

Peter whipped his head around and the whole team could see the tears uncontrollably flowing out of his eyes as he heaved. The hyperventilating, mixed with the cries of everyone else in the room was making him nauseous. Before he could properly process what was going on he was running to the window, throwing it open and spewing brown goo out into the yard.

Happy ran over and rubbed his back and shoulder, “It’s okay, Pete. Come on now, breathe.”

Peter screamed and heaved out sobs as more brown chucks spilled from his lips. When he was done, he collapsed into Happy and the large man wrapped his arms around Peter’s shaking frame.

“I–It’s not true,” Peter begged, “Happy—” he pleaded, only to be shushed.

“I know,” Happy cried, “I know it’s hard, Peter. But you have to calm down.”

Tony, having just lost his daughter, saw Peter’s breakdown and left the room. Pepper by his side, drawing her cries out in his t-shirt.

“H-How can I?” Peter wailed, “I want her back, I want her back! (Y/N)!” Peter crawled out of Happy’s embrace, up the bed that held your limp frame. He tugged on the sheet that Bruce had put over your head, ripping it to expose your beautiful face.

“No,” Peter cried, sloppily running his hands over your face, “no, (Y/N).” Peter rubbed his thumbs under your eyes and held his cheek against yours, only feeling the icy prick of your skin on his, “come on, please get up, please. I-I had so many things to tell you. I had s-so much left to—I—I never got to marry you, (Y/N), please. Please d-don’t leave.”

Every watery plea was only met with a painful silence on your end. The only sounds to accompany the dreadful silence were the wails coming from the boy’s mouth.

And now he was here, sitting alone in his room, on the same bed you used to cuddle him in. If he tried really hard, if he focused enough he could still smell the lavender shampoo you used. It was such a little comfort, but it was all he had.

May accompanied Happy to the funeral, letting him rest his head on her as the tears flowed from his eyes.

“She was so special,” Happy recalled with a sniffle, “so special.”

“Yeah,” May whispered, swallowing her own sob, “in more ways than one.” She placed her yellow rose on the casket, blowing a little kiss to it with a small prayer, thank you. Thank you for being Peter’s love.

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✧tags & moots✧ @ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @peterbenjiparker @cherrytholland @itsapeterthing @justapurrcat @thirstiestpotato @kelieah @iovebug @waitimcomingtoo @rosyparkers @parkers-gal @allegra-writes @starktonyx @celestialholland @hollandcrush @londonspidey @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spidey-sophie @spideyspeaches @peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology @andilovetowrite @sinisterspidey @asonofpeter @westcoastcigar @arlo-sanders @love-peterparker @boiolay @letssee2468 @white-wolf1940 @fandom-life-12 @hollandsdream @annathesillyfriend @lovelybarnes @miseryholland @wierdteenagenerd @duskholland @hollandprkr @lauras-collection @arvinsescape @hollandsrecs @worldoftom

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker angst #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland peter parker #spiderman x reader #tom holland spiderman #peter parker fic

526 notes · View notes

neopuppy · 3 years

Text

Dive Into You: Part 2. (M)

Preview: “You’re not seriously just fucking with her to get back at me are you? It’s not like everyones talking about you being dads problem child here.” Jeno’s arms fold over his chest. Bicep muscles straining under tight sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m allowing you to spend alone time with your church girl. You should be thanking me nono.”

Pairing: brothers Jeno/Haechan x female reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Genre: pwp, church boys AU, smut, love triangle, brothers nohyuck

Warning: daddy issues, sacrilegious themes, explicit language, master manipulator Haechan, innocent Jeno, virgin reader, corruption, bible quotes

Smut Warning: oral(F receiving), slight sensory deprivation, fingering, all in church.

Intro—>

Part 1–>

“I told the new family in town that you’d be showing their daughter around boys. I expect you to be on your best behavior.” Pastor Lee slaps a hand over Jeno’s shoulder with a firm grip. “No funny business.”

“You got it, father. You know, like because you’re a pastor.” Haechan snorts, pouring hot steaming coffee into a ceramic mug.

“Ha ha ha, you’re hilarious. Make sure your brother acts right. People around town are already talking enough about my atrocious parenting skills. Word travels fast in these small towns you know.” Pastor Lee adjusts his tie in the mirror. Stepping out of the front door with not even a wave goodbye. Jeno left rubbing at his shoulder with irritation.

“What time do you want to head out?” He questions, eyes burning into Haechans back.

“Oh, I can’t do that ‘show the new townies’ around thing today. Got a brunch date in the next town over with someones mom.” Haechan turns, leaned back along the kitchen counter blowing steam from his coffee.

“What?? She’s your girlfriend now. Aren’t you supposed to hang out with her tonight?” Jeno’s eyes widen befuddled. More in disbelief his brother would be two timing you, familiar with his antics.

“Your point?” Haechan scoffs, checking messages through his phone. Petty smirk on his lips sending you a ‘miss you’ text.

“You’re a dog. You’re not seriously just fucking with her to get back at me are you? It’s not like everyones talking about you being dads problem child here.” Jeno’s arms fold over his chest. Bicep muscles straining under tight sleeves.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m allowing you to spend alone time with your church girl. Should be thanking me nono.”

“Dick..” Jeno mutters, grabbing his bag to head out. Not wanting to spend another minute around his brother.

“Wait a minute..” Haechan grabs a hold on Jeno’s arm, pulling him back into the kitchen. “Take good care of my girl today yea?” Jeno’s eyes squint as his brother sneaks a $20 bill into his side jacket pocket.

“Maybe get her a milk shake or something. Whatever it is you kids drink. We’re not really going on a date tonight if you know what I mean.” Haechans eyes shift around mischievously. Knowing damn well Jeno knows. Knowing exactly what to say to get under his skin.

Jeno grips at Haechans collar, huffing against his face. Anger seething through fingertips aching to bring his brother physical pain. Jaw tightening, resisting the deep urge inside building for years everyday.

“Gonna give me a black eye nono? What will father think when he finds out his bad seed is also abusive?” Lips curling with a slick grin. Haechan the expert on how to push Jeno’s buttons. Worked on himself well to get exactly what he wants.

“That’s what you want isn’t it?” Jeno clenches the fabric between his fist, arms shaking with rage. “You’re the perfect one, I’m the fuck up. You’re the one dad brags about, I’m the one he pretends doesn’t exist.”

“You think your daddy issues would get your little church girl turned on? Should I tell her how you cry yourself to sleep wishing you were me?” Haechan snorts, loosening from of Jeno’s grip. Hands smoothing out his freshly ironed shirt.

“I’ve never wanted to be anything like you. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“That’s not true nono..” Haechan pulls on a jacket. Fingers twirling around keys. “You know how much I love my car” with a cocky wink matching a shit eating grin Haechan heads out. Leaving Jeno festering in his anger. Fists slamming against the counter. Back tense with underlying hatred, hatred for himself. Tired of how easily Haechan manages to provoke him.

——————————————————————————

Jeno’s nervous, pissed off, feeling anxious. Pacing back and forth in front of your house. He didn’t have much of a choice with the looming threat of getting shipped back off to Jesus camp hovering his mind. The idea to ditch this whole ordeal passing his thoughts more than once. It’s not that he liked you, but it’s also not necessarily that he didn’t like you. Convincing himself he just hasn’t gotten any for too long now. Dick probably desperate for anything at this point. Nothing related to how cute you looked with your lips all swollen after kissing him. Jacking off at home that night reliving the events long forgotten.

Forget about stroking himself off in the shower the next morning again. Or the other five more times since. No he didn’t like you, not really..

“Aren’t you one of Pastor Lee’s sons??” And older woman carrying bags of groceries approaches. Lipstick covering her two front teeth, over sized dress hanging from her body.

“Oh uh.. yes I am. I’m supposed to.. show your.. daughter? Around today..” Jeno stutters out, mentally slapping himself.

“Oh..” the woman adjusts a bag in her hold, throat clearing. “What about that lovely brother of yours? What’s his name again?”

“Haechan..” Jeno’s eyes shift, looking away. How did his brother manage to convince everyone he was such an angel. A modern day fallen angel, roaming earth in disguise.

“Ah that’s it..” she makes a sound of disapproval, bag dropping on the porch. “A polite young boy would have offered assistance.” Voice lowly whispering as she unlocks the front door. Jeno’s eyes darting between the groceries and woman, cursing himself yet again for coming off exactly how everyone says.

“I’ll call her down.” She steps inside. Loud shouting vocals calling out your name. The sound of foot steps against stairs following. Your figure appearing, dressed up to impress. Jeno’s throat itching, swallowing, adjusting his collar.

“That’s not your bike- is it?!” Your mothers shrieking voice questions. Eyes bulging out, taking in the sleek black motorcycle off the sidewalk.

“I’m here!” Your smile falls, only spotting one brother waiting for you outside. Not the one you’d expect even. You subtly give a look around, searching for someone else maybe hiding in surprise. Jeno unfortunately does not fail to notice.

“That is my bike Ma’m.. it’s safe. I promise.” He holds up two helmets. Craving to crawl into a hole under your moms scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m not so sure about this..” she mumbles. Eyes glaring into Jeno, trying to put the fear of God...fear of a strict crazy mother, in him.

“It’ll be fine mom! He has a helmet! I’ve been on a motorcycle with dad before!” You lean up, pecking your mothers cheek. Summer dress twirling up with air as you run forward. Jeno catching a glimpse of your underwear. Shifting a helmet over his groin momentarily.

“I thought Haechan was coming too?” You asks, taking the helmet held out for you. Typically being his brothers helmet, little did you know.

“He’s busy.. errands out of town or something.” Jeno mumbles, avoiding your eyes. He’s being weird, but then again you didn’t know him well enough to confirm he wasn’t always this way.

“Oh.. well I guess I’ll see him later anyway.” You frown, tugging at the light fabric of your dress. What a waste. “You ride a motorcycle?”

“Yea.. I don’t have a car so.. you’ve been on one before you said?” Jeno’s brows furrow. Eyes trained on your feet, teeth digging into his lower lip. You had to wear cute strappy sandals with a summer dress. That just made sense, to show off your cute freshly painted toes..Jeno’s brain feels like its turning in his skull. Lips begging for mercy to let out a scream.

“I actually haven’t. Just said that to make my mom shut up.” You lean in close. Lips grazing his earlobe as you whisper. Words muffled, Jeno blinking slowly. Perfume wafting around his head, as if this could get any worse.

“Uh..” Jeno steps away abruptly. “Put that on!” His voice awkwardly shouts to you, chin jerking toward the helmet in your hands. Head shaking, pulling on his own. Straddling around the bike seat, engine coming to life.

“Am I supposed to hold on to you?” You stand to Jeno’s side. Admiring the shining black bike, fitting for his character. At least physically.

“I..” Jeno’s breath catches under his helmet shield. Only now realizing you’ll be riding with him around today. Legs parted on him.. arms squeezing his abdomen.

“Jeno??..” you pull on your helmet with confusion. He wasn’t much for words it seemed. So opposite of his brother.

“Uh.. yea.. just hold on to me..” he sighs to himself. Sounding more displeased than intended. Uncomfortable awkwardness travels through you watching his shoulders slump. With reluctance, you lift your leg. Straddling Jeno’s back, bad day to wear a short dress..

“This is kind of..” your lips purse together, center a little too close to Jeno’s body. More than close, right on him. Cotton airy smell coming off his black jean jacket. Scent fresh and clean, hair lingering of lightly scented shampoo. His broad shoulders covering majority of your view.

“You should.. hold on tight.” Jeno licks his cracking lips. Foot kicking up the bikes lock. With another look toward your mom motioning the sign of the cross. You lean your body forward, chest pressed up on Jeno’s wide back. Arms circling around his small waist.

Jeno’s own thoughts rolling in like rapid fire. Throat squeezing in, heat between your bodies pressed together moving between his legs. Trying to focus on anything, anything but your breasts pressing into him. Anything besides your smooth thighs around him. The memory of kissing you too vividly choosing to repeat itself.

“God be with you!” Your mothers voice screams out. Bike engine too loud as Jeno rides off. Your dress blowing behind you, smile covering your face. Chin on his shoulder, admiring the view of your new home.

Could only be an even more perfect moment if it was Haechan you were wrapped around..

——————————————————————————

“That’s it? A diner? That’s the tour of the town?” You twirl around the cherry sat atop melting whipped cream. Chocolate shake looking unblended and less than appetizing.

“There really isn’t much to do here..” Jeno mumbles, chin tucked into his chest. Basket of half eaten fries more interesting than you apparently.

“I could have told you that..” you murmur in response. Sitting back in the booth with boredom. Jeno does the same, brows furrowing in thought. A minute or five of silence passing. He grunts lowly, pulling his phone out.

“Look at you two!” Mark jogs over sporting a huge smile stretched across his cheeks. Red and white striped apron covering what looks like an all white uniform.

“You work here?!” You sit up, eyeing the uniform. Almost too fitting, a too old altar boy working part time at a cheap fifties diner.

“Well of course, phone bills don’t pay themselves! Timothy 6:10 For the love of money, is the root of all kinds of evil!” Mark proclaims, finger waggling about like a mad man. Your lips pulling back over your teeth in...displeasure.

“Right..”

“Fucking shit” Jeno groans, kicking at a foot under the table. Tsking as thumbs slam down at his phone screen.

“Ah Jeno! Proverbs 21:23! Whoever keeps his mouth and his tongue keeps himself out of trouble!” Mark places hands on his hips. Lips pursed together with disappointment.

“Yea..sorry Jesus. Whatever.” Jeno mumbles again, eyes not moving from his phone.

“Gamers right” Mark shakes his head your way. Eyes lighting up, taking your own phone out.

“What do you play??” you scoot in closer to Jeno. Closing the space between the two of you in the booth. His shoulders stiffen, curling in hunched over the table.

“Kartrider..” Jeno barely whispers. Catching enough of it, familiar with the game.

“I play too! Oh! I bet I have a better rank than you!” Laughing unlocking your phone, swiping the game open. “Look at my character, she’s so cute!”

“There’s no way you’re better than me....I’m always top ranking in this county..” Jeno’s eyes widen. Forgetting about his current race, watching you hold up your phone with laughter.

“Come on, let’s race. I’m gonna kick your ass!” You lean in closer, reading out Jeno’s ID as you enter it in. “Add me!”

“Language!” Mark sighs, head shaking with both of you. “God’s children have truly fallen. After everything the lord has done for us.”

“Come on Jeno! Play me! I’ll go easy on you” nudging at his side with a wink. Your smile grows, finally something you can do together. Jeno dragging you around downtown past rusty antique shops. The only thing that caught your interest a quant little family owned bookstore. Learning fast he wasn’t much for conversation. Face appearing pained and uninterested with every word from you.

“Don’t feel like playing anymore..” Jeno shuts his phone, screen turning black.

“What?! Aw come on. Can’t stand the thought of a girl beating you?” Jeno leans back, eyes taking in your face slowly. All he cared about was winning, competing in stupid games just to achieve a high ranking. You’d win of course, he’d never let you lose.

“Just don’t feel like playing anymore.”

——————————————————————————-

“Thanks for showing me around, the one street you took me to.” Your voice drips with sarcasm. Hopping off the back of Jeno’s bike. He removes his own helmet, hair flopping around messily. “Was fun I guess.”

“Yea well” Jeno holds out his hand for the helmet you borrowed. You hold it under your arm, brow quirking in confusion. Your hand slowly lifting, placing in his. Jeno’s eyes widen, staring at your hands held together. Too many feelings rushing at him all at once.

“Helmet!” Jeno shouts abruptly, hand flying away from yours like you’re too disgusting to touch.

“Geeze, fine. Sorry...” you place the helmet on the back end of Jeno’s bike. Turning away, without even a goodbye. He grabs your elbow, your foot stopping mid-air.

“You..” head turning, staring down where he holds you.

“Yes?” You implore him to continue. Jeno’s hand dropping from you when you fully turn to face him again.

“You.. you really like my brother..?” Jeno’s eyes fall to the ground. Thick dark eyelashes shadowing across his cheeks.

“Yea of course. Is that what this is about Jeno? I really do like him, I would never use someone.” You smile, bouncing back on your heels. Jeno’s lips suck in with frustration.

“Wish I could say the same about him.” Jeno mumbles, turning his engine back on.

“What was that?” Voice raising, trying to speak above the loud roar from the motorcycle. Jeno flicks down his helmet shield, speeding off. Cloud of dust surrounding you. Smacking at the air coughing out, bike disappearing behind dusts.

“Fucking jerk.”

—————————————————————————-

“Haechan! Where are we going? The church?!” Your shoes lift up dust. Arm in his hold pulling you toward the small old building.

“Where else would we go baby? Can’t go to my place, the holy spirit’s home.” Haechan laughs, pulling a lanyard from his back pocket. “Besides, this is my dads church you know right? It’s like my property too, we’re safe here under God’s watchful eye.”

“Isn’t this.. I don’t know. Sacrilegious?!” You anxiously follow him inside. Haechans easy smile comforting you, arms wrapping around your waist. He steps back down the center aisle. Pews displayed at your sides, Haechan leading you one in front. He pulls you to the center of the pew, sitting with hands on your hips.

“This feels..” you start, chest rising and falling faster as guilt passes through you.

“Wrong? God didn’t make us this way..” his hand smooths down your bare thigh. Passing the fresh new dress just for your date tonight. Fingers skirting between your thighs, one playing at a side covering your mound. “..for us to not touch and explore..”

“It’s just..” your hands grip at the front of the pew behind you. Where you’d normally kneel to pray..

“Just?..” Haechans eyes gaze up at you. Pure sin and danger hidden in the face of an angel. Tongue sliding up your other thigh. “You’re so sweet.”

You sigh in defeat, legs quivering, upper body doing the work to hold you up. His head dipping under your dress, nose pressing into your slit. Cotton from your panties shoving between you. Soft moans sounding from underneath, Haechans tongue licking at your underwear. Enough to properly soak them up, allowing drool to freely fall from his mouth. You gnaw at your lip, gathering up your dress fabric in one hand. Admiring the way the beautiful boy between your legs eats you up.

Haechan lets out a dreamy sigh. Long fingers stroking up and down your thighs. Teeth biting your at core with cloth between. Your stomach folds in, curling closer to where he sits below you. Fingers wrapping around the sides of your panties, tongue lapping at your inner thighs.

“Body of a virgin can heal more sins than body of christ you know..” underwear at your knees. Haechan leans back in, lips wrapping around your clit. Tongue swirling around, suctioning between. Your other hand lifting to your mouth, biting down on your thumb. Muffled moans and whines echoing around the church walls.

Haechans eyes stay on your face, tongue rolling your clit around. Hands squeezing your inner thighs, pulling back, clapping down slaps. Your hips jolting forward with suppressed cries. Everything about him was absolutely depraved. Looks deceiving from the boy your mother had always warned you about.

“Don’t hide your pretty sounds baby.” Haechan pulls away. Lips shining, coated in your wetness. Glares from the colored glass reflecting off his skin. Red tinted eyes sparkling up at you. Haechan reaches for your wrist, yanking your hand out from your mouth. His lips part open, tongue swirling around your entrance. Sucking up the wetness gathering around.

“Oh God!” You shout out, neck loosely dropping back. Tears on the brink of escaping the corners of your eyes.

“That’s it baby. You pray to me now.” Haechan groans, mouth closing over your entire mound. Eyes rolling back into his head, swiping up and down your core. Hands finding his hair, fingers digging into his scalp. Haechans tongue thrusts into your tight entrance, muscle working extra hard to enter.

“Oh my God!” Body shaking, ass digging into the pew. Hips twitching forward, grinding against Haechans face. Chin covered in your wetness, tongue wiggling inside you. Fingers finding way to your clit, pinching and rolling the bud. “Oh my God!!”

Haechan groans inside you, scalp in pain from your pulling. Cock hardening in his jeans, taste of innocence in his mouth nearly orgasmic. You taste too fucking good, nothing like that used up whore from earlier..

“I-I c-can’t!” Haechans fingers work at your clit. Rapidly sweeping back and forth. Tongue sliding out, jaw hung open. Eyes return to your face, smile breaking out over his cheeks.

“You can.” He pants, tongue hung out lazily lapping at your hole. Clit pinched between two fingers, massaging every little nerve. “Cum on my tongue.”

Your head drops forward, tear slipping free. Haechans raspy tone saying those words driving you past your limit. Ass lifted off the pew, core convulsing. Haechans tongue placed against your fluttering entrance. Catching all of your release. You weakly fall forward again, forehead resting on top of his messed up hair.

“So good.” Haechan moans words out, licking clean the wetness seeping from you. Neck lifting, hands cupping your cheeks. “Taste.”

Tongue pushing between your parted lips, trying to catch your breath. Haechan laps at your tongue, realization hitting you in seconds what he’s making you do. Tasting yourself between your lips. His tongue covering every corner inside your mouth. Haechans hands return to your hips, pulling you off the front of the pew to straddle his lap.

“You want it?” His hand digs into the back of your hair. Jean clad dick shoving between your thighs at your heated core. Weakly nodding, eyes half open lazily pecking pouty lips. Haechan lays back down flat across the pew. Warm hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly. “Come here.”

Your head nods, under his command. Mind controlled by whatever he’s saying, telling you ‘I want it- no matter what it is.’ If it’s from Haechan- give it to me, now. You lay down on his chest, kisses continuing. Hands squeezing around your ass, pulling up your dress. Hands flying down hard with mean slaps. Fingers gliding down finding way between your legs again. Skimming up and down your slit from the back. Soft moans passing between your swollen lips.

Body tensing, sounds of the large entrance doors opening up with a slam. Haechans eyes open up staring into yours, brows lifted. His lips purse out with a silent ‘shhh’, earning a rapid head shake from you. Familiar smirk pulling at his lips, free hand clamping over your mouth. Your eyes widen, lips pressing into the palm of Haechans hand. Fingertips circling around your needy entrance. Panic rushing through you as loud foot steps approach closer and closer.

Your forehead shoved up against Haechans. Mouth closed off, silent whimpers falling out behind his hand. Finger sliding inside you, his lit up eyes watching your expressive eyes react. The fear and curiosity alone could make him cum.

“Are you kidding me!” A flash light shines over your faces. Mark standing at the end of the pew in disgust. Your head lifts quickly, ripping Haechans hand off your mouth. Cheeks heating up absolutely mortified. Moving fast, adjusting your dress to cover up. Haechan stays laid down, eyes fluttering shut with irritation.

“Fucking cock block.” He whispers to himself, sitting up. Tent in his jeans extremely evident.

“I knew you stole my keys again Haechan!” Mark clicks the flash light on and off angrily. Both of you covering your eyes. “and you! Mary of Magdala! You should be ashamed! Think of your mother!”

“Dude, chill.” Haechan stands, hands held up trying to block the bright light from his eyes. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“Weren’t doing anything?!? If people found out what you were doing, this one would be getting pelted with stones!” Mark passes the light over your face. You cringe, hands coming up to hide yourself.

“Mark, quick, what’s the verse about fucking that really cute voice of an angel choir boy?” Haechan throws him a knowing look, pulling a lanyard from his pocket. Marks eyes widen, snatching his keys away.

“Don’t steal my keys again! Next time I will be telling your father!” Mark scurries away, door slamming behind him.

“Oh my God he’s gonna tell your dad!” You panic, pulling your dress down. Attempting to wipe away any mascara that could be on your cheeks.

“Nah he’d never, can’t risk everyone finding out about Renjun. Don’t worry baby, I got something on everyone.” Haechan pulls you in, gently pecking your lips. Your senses relax, mind torn with stress still. Who the fuck were you right now..

“You know..” Haechan turns you around, hand scooping your chin. “I’m gonna fuck you. Right there.” He holds your jaw up. Eyes on landing on the altar.

“Jesus will know all your sins after I’m done with you.”

Part 3–>

Taglist:

@seuomo @unknown5tar @sunoosi @safariria @nctlover94 @underjeno @nanascupid @jenorenle @scruffiejelly @mel-yjh @count-your-shadows @sunflowerhae @johnjaespeach @nctflix @notsooperfect @skrtbeepbeep @lanadreamie @nctstrawberrycow @meonlightuniverxse @sunshinedhyuck @haechanswhore @brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr @kpopmultiifandomm @d1nne @neobanguniverse @pewpewpwe00 @abitofafan @haechansworld @born5sos @bockhyun @prettychannie @xuyiyangstan@alexameliamg @ahsshilee @jeon-jungkook-is-actually-god @xwanna127x @heyitsbreeeeee @tarolovebot @loveyukhei @eleanorfreakingchan @classic-antifood @winwiniee @sheytanni @player23 @wavetease @nahyuckk @n0hyuck @doyoungssouthernbabygirl

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darkenedreaper · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Avengers x Reader

Featuring: GoTG, Peggy Carter

Warnings: Angst, sad I suppose

Summary: 2 years after her death, your struggling even more. And it’s killing the team to keep their secret. (I changed Endgame because I can. Come at me. I might make it into chapters.)

Masterlist

‘It can’t be undone’ she said

*2 years ago*

You had gone through years with her. Years with the Avengers and the Guardians of the Galaxy. You had gone through love with her. You had gone through the 5 years with her. You had gone to Vormir with her. Yet you had won the final fight without her.

When you all came back from the time travel success you had to try and keep yourself from collapsing. You saw the others standing with smiles on their faces but all you saw was her. Her lips and eyes pleading you to let her go. Her body descending forever. And her sprawled out onto the floor, a pool of blood surrounding her head confirming Natasha Romanoff no longer wondered the earth.

“Are you telling me this actually worked?” Rhodey questioned, followed by Thor’s wheezy laugh. Their faces became confused when they heard a long bang. You have dropped down onto your knees, stone in hand and body wet from wherever you had been teleported to after she had sacrificed herself.

“Y/n where’s Nat?” The big green guy said. Your eyes were stuck in front of you. A sorrowful look on your face. You couldn’t even move. You couldn’t speak. You could’ve all been there for hours or seconds. But Steve lifted you up by your arms and tried to read your expression. With the help of Nebula you were taken to your bedroom you shared with Natasha. The both of them tried to gently take you to the bed but instead you walked shakily to the bathroom and shut the door. Of course Steve was upset. He had a lost a part of his family. He had shed tears while he walked with you. He could only imagine what the scene must’ve been for yourself. The unspoken news of his friends death was indescribable, but having to be there in an unimaginable situation would’ve been even harder. And he understood that. Nebula grieved, she barely knew the woman. But she grieved. She saw the distraught and pain on your face and in your eyes. She placed her hand on Steve’s shoulder and took him out of your room.

In the bathroom you had caged yourself into. You had your hand gripped to the sink. Your eyes trained to the sink bowl. Your eyes drifted to the left for you where her makeup and hairbrush had been layed out this morning. You took a step back, nervously clasping your hands together. You tried to calm down before someone got hurt. You looked down at your hands and you were maintaining some level of sanity before you remembered that your hand had let her go. If anyone would walk past your bedroom door, they were bound to hear glass smashing and screams and words of anguish.

You didn’t speak to anyone. You completely shut yourself down. The only reason you spoke to someone was to communicate over the earpiece when you were fighting. There was a short debate over the coms as to who was going to steal the stones from Thanos. You nearly went into a fit of rage and upset before Carol ordered you to look into her eyes. Your excuse to use the stones was so you could be with her again. When Tony clicked his fingers the enemy became dust, and the world became a little more louder and a bit more lighter. The battlefield was filled with new and old faces. Tony’s snap had been so powerful he was able to bring back the people that mattered the most to those around him. Steve had Peggy in his tired arms. Clint had Laura and his children. Wanda had Vision. Quill had Gamora. Thor had his mother and brother back. Tony had Pepper. He was unharmed and Bruce’s arm had healed. Everyone had someone. You had someone. You had your whole family. But your special someone was Natasha. You had never felt so lost. Natasha would be holding you, you holding her. She would tuck your head into her shoulder while letting your arms envelope around her. But all you got were sad looks.

Some of the ‘newbies’ had questioned their closest. After a lot of loud whispering, there was silence. The battlefield was silent in memory of Natasha. The only noises were the hundreds of sniffles and sobs of those who had the news broken to them. The dying fires crackling. The next minute footsteps were approaching you. You had internally begged for it to be Natasha. But you looked up to see a short boy. His suit red and blue with a spider on it. His brown curly hair was tinted with grey. His teary eyes gave you the saddest smile before and steadily put his arms around your shoulders. You accepted the young boys embrace. You were thankful for it.

The news were around the place as quick as they could’ve been. Pictures were taken. Statements were took. The public had tried to surround the heroes but were pushed away by the helping police. It has been released to the enormous crowd that one of the most heroic heroes had died. The crowds became distraught. They sounded like how you felt inside. They tried to surround you and shout out their condolences but you kept walking. Where to? Who knows.

*2 years later/present time*

You spoke to no one. You spoke out in bursts of anger. Anger if someone tried to tell you to come away from your desk and to stop working and trying to find a way. Peggy, Steve’s wife, had became close to you. She understood how it felt to lose a loved one. She understood she wasn’t Natasha. She understood why you were working yourself so hard. She would never judge you, if you looked all disheveled or smelt from not taking a shower. She encouraged you to do your best, but she never pushed you. 2 years ago, you found a solution to stop Thanos. 2 years ago you lost her. 2 years ago Steve returned the stones. You haven’t been able to go through any videos or voice messages of her. Just a photo that you have framed. There were and still are memorials for her, but you would never attend any.

You had only cried to yourself. But right now you were on the edge of having a definite breakdown. Tony and the whole team of Avengers, Wakanda, GotG and Carol had wanted to check in as you had been back to Vormir. Which you greatly regret. Scott had made an extra time travel refill for you. All you were told by red skull was a ‘soul for a soul’. You argued with a ghost. You lashed out a ghost. You didn’t dare look to the edge. Knowing you would either throw yourself of or cry so much you wouldn’t be able to move.

They all met you at the Compound. At the platform that sat on top on the lake.

Steve and Peggy. Tony and Pepper. Rhodes. Bucky and Sam. Clint and Laura. Thor and Loki. Bruce. The Guardians were there. Rocket was by your side. Peter was there with Happy. Carol was at the edge of the platform. Wanda and Vision. And the rest were all there. You had your back turned to them. You were silent trying to understand why they all had such guilty faces, except Thor. They all had a secret. One they had agreed to not tell you, for fear it may completely break you. But they decided enough was enough. They had to tell you.

“Look we need to get her back to stop this shit with the Avengers get it together.” Thor spat at Steve, as he still saw him as the Captain.

“Can’t get her back.” You spoke up, causing everyone’s attention on the two of you.

“Wh..wha..what are you..?” Thor mumbled out.

“It can’t be undone. It can’t.” You said quietly looking at him from over your shoulder.

He laughed at your words before saying, “Look.. I, I’m sorry but your a very earthly being okay, we’re talking about space magic and can’t seems very definitive. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah look I know that I’m way outside my.. my paid rate here. But she still isn’t here is she?” You said. Tony took of his sunglasses, getting upset.

“Yeah well that’s my point.” Thor said in a hushed manner.

“It can’t.. be undone.” Your voice cracking, your tears had crawled their way down your face now. “Or that’s at least what the red floating guy had to say. Maybe you wanna go talk to him. Ok, go grab your hammer and you go find him you talk to him!” You yelled at him. He looked down to the floor. You shouldn’t be angry with him. He missed Natasha. But you couldn’t help it.

“It was supposed to be me.” You admitted with a breaking voice. Bucky let a tear fall freely from his eye. “She sacrificed her life for that goddamn stone, she bet her life on it.” You started to breakdown in the middle of everyone. Angry at how she could’ve died for nothing. How it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Even Wanda began to breakdown. She felt your pain from far away. Your longing. And your grieving. Rockets fur was wet as he was upset just like everyone else.

He couldn’t take it anymore. The lies. Not the acting. But the lies. Clint stood up and said, “Y/n we’ve been lying to you. Natasha is here. She’s perfectly fine. She’s alive. You just can’t see her.” No one else bothered to look up as he said what was needed to be said. You slowly turned around to him. “What?” Was all you could choke out. Steve stood up and walked towards you before keeping a distance. “When I returned the stone. He told me that we could all get her back, after all it was a soul for a soul. But the one who travelled there has been cursed. You can’t see or hear her and I don’t know if you ever will. But she’s alive.”

You took time to observe his words.

She was standing in front of you. Her arms crossed but her eyes were stuck on your face that was wet from the tears you had cried. Your eyes brows moving in a sorrowful way. She wasn’t crying for herself no. She cried for you. For your pain. She had never seen you so upset. And because she had been with you ever since she got back, she’s had to watch you cry almost every day.

Natasha wishes you could see her. She has been next to you this whole time. She was gone a few hours and then she was back. She couldn’t find you and instead ran into Sam who held her tightly. Instead she sped off to Tony’s cabin where she found Bucky and Steve, who explained everything.

She wishes you could hear how proud she is of you. She wishes you didn’t have to see you break yourself and live in your mental anguish. It hurt her. Every night you fell asleep at your desk, she would drape a blanket over you, and almost cry at your confused state in the morning of who had been to your office and covered you.

She wishes you hadn’t been traumatised by her silly yet heroic actions. She wishes she could tell you how much she loves you and how she wants to be held by you and she wants you to be able to hear her words, “I love you.” The others heard it. But they didn’t dare tell you.

She was determined to get her words to you. If not by speaking to you then by page. Determined to prove that she was with you all of this time. She wants to tell you how much she loves you.

She wishes there was a way.

If you would like a part 2, let me know.

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arlert-angel · 3 years

Text

love fast, die young ☪

♡ jean x fem!reader

❥ you know that at any moment your life could be cut short as a scout, and the last thing you want is to die a virgin, so why not ask your best friend that you’re in love with for some help?

❥ wc: 5.8k

❥ cw: near death experience (reader), virgin!reader and virigin!jean, cannonverse but no plot, loss of virginity, slight size kink, cream pie, aftercare, fluff

❥ note: i was invested in the story of this one lol, it's a lot more romantic than i initially intended. they’re aged up, but the cannonverse details don’t make sense for the plot, so let’s pretend it does yay.

Arriving back from expeditions was always an exhausting feat within itself, sometimes more so than the actual expedition.

Commanding officers had to count their losses, healers had to tend to the wounded, and everyone who was good enough to stand had to report their kills and assists. Of course that was the immediate tasks that needed to take place, but then came the grief. Friends looked for one another, many people cried, and names could be heard shouted all around as everyone arrived at headquarters.

You weren't that different, but you were silent as you scanned the crowd looking for your tall best friend. You knew he was with the best of the best in Levi's squad, so you weren't too worried. However, you also knew the previous best had been wiped out before the new group came.

Anything could happen which made you all the more anxious.

You and Jean were not on the same squad. You first were offered a position on the Levi squad with the rest of your friends, but then Hange handed picked you to help them with their experiments, claiming they needed your mind to work with them. Hange is very likeable and now one of your closest friends, and at the time it seemed impossible to say no to them.

Hange's and Levi's squad tended to work together a lot and definitely trained together, so you didn't miss your friends too much. It was only when expeditions approached and new formations were made, when you had to be separated from the rest of your 104th pals.

You never complained about the separation. It wouldn't last forever, maybe a couple days at most, and then you return to laughing and working with the rest of your friends. You had no complaints until this particular expedition.

You had a close call.

In fact, so close, you might as well have kissed Death on the lips while you were so close to the afterlife.

The mission was going according to plan. It was a simple scouting mission in the mountains that were, for the most part, titan free. Your squad was on the left flank of the formation, near the edge of the mountains. The cliff sides surrounding you guys held a beautiful, yet slightly scary view. The drop had to be at least 300 feet.

You should've known something bad was going to happen as soon as Hange called out, "Hey, Y/N, check it out!" But you weren't thinking that hard, for the day had been so peaceful.

The path you all had taken was so close to the cliffs that the squad was riding single file for safety. There was enough room to pass one another, but you had to do so very carefully.

You rode ahead, passing Moblit. You sent him a questioning look as went by, but he only shrugged, not knowing what Hange was raving over. When you slid off your horse and next to Hange you saw what they did.

A very large cave.

"Should we go inside?" Hange looked at you, clearly excited, but it was an awful idea.

"No!" You tried to sound stern, knowing how they needed a firm rejection or they'd always get what they wanted, "Do you see the size of the thing? This looks like a comfy home for a 10 meter titan, maybe even 15 meter class if they hunched over."

"Do you think they'd crawl around in there?!" Their eyes widened and the familiar look that you've seen so many times on their face appeared. It was their usual expression they had when you conducted experiments with them. You swore to yourself how you fed their curiosity on accident.

"What's going on?" Moblit now arrived, wondering what the hold up was about.

"They want to go inside that death trap," You pointed at the ominous cavern in front of you all.

"You cannot be serious!" Moblit exclaimed in surprise, the volume echoing down the stone and dirt walls. Moblit continued his rant, stating the obvious, but you tuned their debate out. You just stared into what looked like an abyss.

There was no movement, no noise, not even the breeze seemed to reach here.

But for some reason you had a gut feeling. A gut feeling that saved all of your lives.

"Move!" You shoved Hange into Moblit which effectively knocked them both to the side of the cave and used your ODM gear to swing yourself to the opposite side.

The large hand reached out as you tried to get out of the way, but because you helped the others you weren't quick enough.

Luckily, the titan's grasp only managed to get tangled in your ODM wire and couldn’t quite reach your actual body.

Unluckily, the titan was managing to drag you like a ragdoll and if you didn't do anything quickly you would be engulfed in the darkness where it was hidden, and then probably engulfed in it’s stomach.

You had to think quick on your feet and so you drew your blades and slashed the wire on your gear all together. You could've attempted to slash at it's hands, but that was no guarantee. The wire was sliced with a clean snip.

Now you were free, you stumbled back at the loss of momentum. You took one two many steps back, and that last step didn't hit the gravely earth that the others had.

Your foot didn't hit anything at all.

You were about to fall off a cliff.

Ironic to escape death one way only to quite literally fall into its clutches another way.

But, you didn't fall.

Your eyes were squeezed shut in absolute terror, and when you opened them at the lack of free fall, you saw Hange.

They had managed to save you by the front of your shirt, yanking you back on solid ground. Moblit had been keeping the titan at bay, and continued to do so as you and everyone else turned their horses carefully around.

Thanks were shared by yourself, Hange, and Moblit at the different lucky saves. They praised your quick thinking and response. None of you actually saw the titan coming. You just knew. You seemed to recognize the familiar feeling of dread from the presence of a titan that wanted to eat you. Even if you couldn’t see it.

Hange continuously apologized on the way back, but it wasn’t really their fault. It’s not like you actually entered the cave like they wanted. And it was probably a good thing you guys stopped when you did. If the group rode past the cave something worse might have happened.

After that close call you wanted nothing more to find your best friend and have his familiar comfort.

"Y/N? Whatcha still doing out here?" You spun around quickly and saw Connie.

“Oh, hey! I’m just looking for Jean, have you seen him?” You didn’t want to panic, but it was weird to see Connie without Jean.

“Yeah! Mikasa killed this titan that had snuck up right above us and it’s blood got all over Jean it was so funny he screamed like a girl. But yeah, he went to the showers immediately,” Connie explained laughing at the memory. You laughed along and wished you could see it yourself.

“That’s funny, I should probably shower too, this mission felt particularly long,” You grumbled more to yourself than Connie, but he picked up on your off tone.

“Did something happen?” He asked genuinely concerned. You might’ve been closest to Jean, but Connie and Sasha were also very close to you. The four you always had the most fun together, and got in the most trouble.

“Kind of, a titan snuck up on us too, but we were near the cliffs so there wasn’t all lot of room to work with. I almost fell, but on the bright side I overcame my fear of heights,” You laughed, but it was more anxious than joyful.

“Oh shit, that’s awful!” Connie’s eyes widened in horror, “I'll tell Jean to come find you when I see him.”

“What why?”

“You were looking for him right? He’d definitely want to know that you’re okay after that. He worries a lot, you know? It’s always: I hope Y/N okay, where’s Hange’s squad again, I wish Y/N was here, Y/N would love this view. Someone has to tell him to shut up at least once every expedition.” Connie actually did an okay Jean impression as he ranted to you, but you didn’t comment on it.

You were too surprised. You didn’t know Jean worried about you. He never once came to you with any fears about expeditions. He always asked you what happened, but that’s just a normal conversation. It wasn’t too strange for someone’s best friend to think about them when apart. What was strange was the happy feeling you got knowing that Jean couldn’t shut up about you. A weird fluttery feeling danced in your stomach and you felt almost giddy.

Connie noticed your lack of response and noticeably paled.

“Fuck, wait, I didn’t tell you that! Jean’s gonna kill me, Y/N please don’t tell him I told you!” He grabbed onto you, begging. He shook you enough that it got you out of your confusing thoughts.

“Um, okay? I don't see what the big deal is. I think about Jean on expeditions too, that’s not weird right?” You smiled reassuringly and Connie’s whole body sagged in relief.

“Not at all! Have a nice shower!” Connie ran away, actually ran, trying to separate himself from that conversation. He thanked the Walls that you couldn’t read between the lines.

After that odd conversation you got a change of clothes and towel, and then headed towards the showers. You passed Sasha and Mikasa on the way in and they both gave you pleasant greetings, all parties glad to see each other alive and well.

You tried not to overthink, but the hot shower gave you all the time to do so.

Your thoughts jumped from almost dying, to Jean, to these overwhelming feelings you seemed to harbor.

You knew you loved Jean. You both even told each other sometimes. Your mind never wandered further than viewing Jean as your best friend only because you didn’t think that’s what he’d want.

When you first met Jean you had a small crush on him, admiring him from afar until Marco introduced the two of you. Once you grew closer and noticed his infatuation with Mikasa your feelings sizzled out in a bitter simmer. Your bitterness didn’t last long though, you were happy you had someone to rely on no matter what. After Marco passed, Jean was your crutch and vise versa. Romance would only make things confusing and besides you didn’t have any experience in the matter.

But now as you think more and more about him you wondered if those feelings ever went away. You thought about his laugh and stupid tone he gets when he tries to act cocky. You thought about his eyes and how pretty they look in the sunlight. You thought about his ability to read your mind without you having to tell him something’s wrong. He was your person.

You came to the conclusion that there definitely was something more than platonic there, but there was no certainty he felt the same. He would’ve said something by now. When he liked Mikasa he was so obvious, openly talking about her to everyone. You would’ve known something by now if it were the case, right? You knew he didn’t like Mikasa now, he told you explicitly for some reason, stating you needed to know. He also didn’t talk about liking anybody new.

Sighing in frustration, you turned off the shower, now squeaky clean. What was supposed to be a relaxing shower just stressed you out because of your stupid brain’s overthinking.

And it didn’t stop. As you dropped your messy uniform in the laundry, it reminded you of the day.

Today proved that any moment could be your last. Being in the scouts has always been dangerous, and you knew you were a disposable soldier. You didn’t mind it much, but now you realized how little you had experienced. You had never been drunk, your only kiss was with Marco in a game of truth or dare, and you were a virgin.

You didn’t want to die a virgin.

You thought of Jean. You wanted to be with him at least once before you died. You didn’t want to die without knowing how it felt to have everything with Jean. Your love for him definitely wasn’t platonic. You didn’t want to die without him knowing.

Your mind made up, you walked the halls with a little more determination than usual. You wandered around for only a couple minutes before running into Eren.

“Horseface is looking for you,” He pointed around the corner. You gave a quick thanks before quickly going in that direction only to collide with the person you were searching for.

“Y/N!” Jean surprised you by pulling you in a tight hug. As he pulled away he took note of the blush that was now on your cheeks, but didn’t comment. He also didn’t let you go completely, leaving his hands on your shoulders. Unable to help himself.

“Hey, I was looking for you,” You smiled genuinely, only slightly nervous now. Even with the giddiness he gave you, he still managed to calm you down.

“Me too, Connie said something happened with your squad, so I asked Hange about it and they told me everything,” His eyebrows were pulled into a worried furrow, “I wish you were in our squad.”

“Me too, but I like being with Hange too,” You stated honestly, “But it’s alright, everything worked out in the end.”

“Yeah, but you almost fell off a cliff! Y/N if I lost you I’d…” He cleared his throat before shaking himself out of his thoughts, “I’m just glad you’re okay. You said you were looking for me, what for?”

“Oh! Um…” You looked around and saw Eren eavesdropping blatantly with a knowing look, causing you to quickly turn back around, “Can I talk to you in my room about something?” You shift your weight from side to side, visibly jittery.

“Sure?” Jean was confused and noted you looked more flustered than before, but he couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong like he usually could.

You walked side by side, passing Eren along the way who gave you both a smug wave. When Jean wasn’t looking you turned around and gave him the finger. The walk was silent and your hands brushed each other softly.

Once you were behind closed doors you felt yourself relax a little more. It was just Jean, you hyped yourself up. Even if he did reject you the worst thing that could happen is him make a stupid joke out of everything, but you doubt he would. You knew he at least respected you.

“So, what’s so serious that you needed to be away from nosy Yeager?” So he did see that ass listening, you thought.

“Well… You know about my close call today… It got me thinking,” You started safely.

“You can think? Like, there’s a brain in there?” Jean acted surprised and grabbed your head teasingly.

“Shut up,” You laughed and slapped his hands away before adding, “It’s serious.”

“Okay,” He took a seat on your bed comfortably, an action that was not unusual, you hung out in each other’s room all the time. He gave you his full attention, no longer joking around.

“I thought about how at any moment we can die, that sounds morbid, but it’s true. And then I thought about all the stuff I haven’t done and all the things I haven’t said,” You explained further, still not getting to the point.

“So, you want to make a bucket list?” Jean tilted his head, trying to follow, “That’d be fun.”

“No,” You rolled your eyes lovingly, “I, more specifically, thought about all the stuff we haven’t done together.”

“Oh, you want to make a bucket list together!” Jean perked up.

“Jean stop trying to guess and let me explain,” You laughed and he complied, pretending to zip his lips shut.

“Jean,” You approached the man, invading his personal space, “I don’t want to die a virgin, do you?”

“No…” Jean blushed at the sudden topic change, wondering why on earth you were bringing that up right now.

“And… I love you, and I know you'd treat me right,” You cupped his cheeks in your hands. You were standing in between his legs now, him leaning back on his hands looking up at you. He was tall, so he didn’t have to tilt his neck that much.

“I love you too, what are you going on about?” His face was drawn in clear confusion, a cute expression, if he wasn’t being so frustrating.

“No, Jean,” You leaned impossibly close, your face right in front of his, “I’m in love with you.”

Then you boldly straddled him before you planted your lips on him.

You were shy, unsure if he would reciprocate the kiss, and it seemed like he wasn’t. You panicked instantly. Your heart was pounding and you pulled away. You were terrified you screwed everything up. You looked at him and he seemed to be frozen.

“Jean?” You worriedly looked at your catatonic friend whose eyes were wide in shock, “I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry! Please don’t hate me!” You began to try to climb off him, but his hands shot to your hips, holding you in place.

“Y/N, you’re in love with me?” He still seemed to be stunned, or maybe he didn’t believe you, but he held your gaze with serious eyes.

“Yes,” You made sure to keep eye contact despite the heat that rose to your cheeks, to make sure he knew you were dead serious.

“Good,” One of his hands left your hips to your cheek. He guided your mouth back to his.

He was kissing you. He was actually kissing you. It was slow and sweet at first. He stroked your cheek lovingly and your lips slowly moved in sync. It was when you repositioned yourself on his lap, accidently grinding into him, when the kisses started to become more feverish. He groaned into your mouth and the hand left your face and found it’s new home on your ass. He squeezed it harshly, making you gasp. He took the opportunity to introduce his tongue to yours. He surprised you when he sucked on your tongue, making a small whimper escape you.

Jean pulled away, taking in your flustered state with blown pupils of his own. Both of your lips were swollen and you both needed to catch your breath.

“I love you too, you know?” Jean pushed some of your hair out of your face with a soft smile, “I figured you didn’t feel the same and wanted to just be friends, so I didn’t say anything.”

“I thought the same, or that you might still like Mikasa,” You admitted shyly, looking down where your bodies met.

“Hey,” He tilted your chin so you held eye contact again, “That was a stupid crush when I was kid, and I told you that ended a long time ago, didn't I? I’m in love with you.”

“We were so stupid keeping it to ourselves,” You laughed and Jean openly admired you in what looked like awe. His gaze made you feel bashful, almost wanting to hide your face with your hands.

“We were, I could have been kissing you so much sooner,” Jean mumbled, already leaning back to you. This time when your lips met your tongues danced together immediately. You knew Jean also didn't have much experience, but with the way he kissed it seemed like he did.

"Did you mean what you said?" Jean pulled away only for a moment to ask before returning right back to your lips.

You pulled away, trying to decipher what he was referring to. "Wha–" Your breath hitched when you felt Jean kiss your pulse on your neck. He began sucking on a particular spot that made you moan, surprising both of you.

"You're so beautiful," He commented then explained, "Did you mean what you said about that virgin stuff?" He seemed shy all of sudden, his hands were sliding from your hips to your thighs, almost like he was trying to soothe himself.

"I meant every word," You said honestly, "I want to experience all of you."

"God," Jean seemed to like that statement, "I don't know what I'm doing, so just know I'm learning as I go. Just tell me what you like and don't like."

"Of course," You gave him a reassuring smile, "I'm not worried, I trust you."

"Good," He said again before spinning you around and lightly throwing you on your bed. He hovered over you, not putting much, if any weight on you. He resumed the make out session, but this time letting his hands wander.

He first tugged at your shirt, which you helped him quickly pull over your head. You hadn't worn a bra, assuming your plans for this evening were eating then just passing out.

Jean seemed to drink your body in, just staring in lust and awe.

"You can touch me," You tried to sound reassuring, but it sounded more like a beg.

Jean took your breasts in his large hands and just felt you. You almost laughed at how mesmerized he looked, but that was when he latched his mouth on your nipple. That action seemed to send a current of electricity straight to the heat in between your legs. You arched your back and let out a surprised moan which made Jean quickly pull away.

"Did I hurt you?" He looked scared.

"No, it feels good," You murmured as you unconsciously rolled your hips wanting friction.

"Oh, that's good," He shot you a grin before throwing his own shirt to the side. He went back to kissing your chest, this time his hand tweaked the nipple he wasn't sucking on, causing even more pleasure. You bit your lip only letting out whimpers, a little embarrassed of moaning so loudly again.

"J-Jean," You stuttered out, gripping his broad shoulders.

"Hmm?" He hummed, he had been having fun leaving purple marks across your tits.

"I-I need…" You didn't finish.

"What do you need, princess?" He asked genuinely, but his deep tone sent shivers down your spine.

"More, I don't know," You admitted.

"Okay, don't worry," He gave you a peck, "I'll take care of you."

He began taking off your pants, helping you get them off your ankles. He stood to take off his own pants as you admired him. His body was so toned from the life of being a soldier. As you took him all in your eyes landed on the bulge that was very prominent in his briefs and for the first time you felt nerves about having sex with him.

"Jean, how the hell is that supposed to fit in me?" You didn't even see it out of it's cage, you couldn't imagine that monster in action.

"It has to fit right? People have sex all the time," Jean looked down at his own dick before looking at your panties with a frown, "I'll make sure to stretch you out with my fingers to help."

"What do you mean?" You blushed as Jean returned his body on top of you, giving you warmth again. This time putting a little more weight than last time. You could feel his restrained cock against you this time.

"You know, fingering, you've done it to yourself before right?" Jean asked curiously.

"I've tried, but I couldn't reach any particular spots that made me feel good, so I mostly just got off with my clit," You explained, a little embarrassed.

"Well, I have long fingers," Jean began to slip off your last item of clothing. You gulped nervously, you now were exposed completely to him.

"So pretty, and you're wet," He groaned and looked back up to you, "Open your mouth."

You almost asked why, but you didn't want to kill the mood, so you complied. Jean slid two fingers into your mouth and you got the message. You wrapped your lips around his fingers and hollowed your cheeks, sucking on them.

"Fuck," He sighed out and you felt him twitch against you.

He pulled his fingers out and moved them back between your legs. He first slowly thrusted one finger inside you, to get you used to the unfamiliar feeling. The stretch wasn't too painful, and he was definitely right. His fingers were longer.

He moved the one finger in and out of you slowly at first, picking up the pace as he continued. When he felt you relax completely he added a second finger. This time the stretch was a little more, making you tense.

"You're so tight," Jean was watching your pussy in wonder and slid his body down, so his face was near it.

"What are you– Oh my God," Jean's lips sucked on your clit softly, then continuously kitten licked it, all while maintaining his finger thrusts.

"You taste good," Jean said it so casually, you'd think he was talking about the weather. He removed his fingers for a moment to get a better taste. He kissed you directly on your cunt before penetrating you with his tongue. He moaned against you, sending vibrations into you. You tried to unconsciously escape the pleasure, your thighs attempting to close, but Jean's large hands held you down.

He returned his fingers inside you and this time adding a third. It stung more than before, but Jean's mouth on your clit made you forget all about the uncomfortableness. He began curling his fingers inside you reaching a spot that instantly had a knot forming in your stomach. Your hands shot around you, one gripping the sheets and the other in Jean's hair.

He latched onto clit again and you gave up on trying to quiet your moans, embarrassment be damned, it felt too good.

"Jean," You moaned his name, which only made him moan back in return, "I-I'm going to…" You whined a little, not quite there yet, but right on the edge.

"You're going to cum?" Jean asked, not even completely pulled away from your clit to do so, "Go ahead and cum on my fingers, baby." He quickened his strokes and returned to your clit. It was just enough to send you over.

You grinded into his hand and cried out. Jean moaned too as if he was being pleasured just at the sight of you or maybe it was because of the sensation of your tight pussy clamping around his fingers. He couldn't help himself and licked up some of your release, making you jump.

He moved back up to you with a content smile, "Did that feel good?"

"Yeah," You smiled back through half lidded eyes, still buzzing from the pleasure.

He gave you a deep kiss and you could taste yourself on him. Tasting your own saccharine flavor was strangely erotic.

Jean pulled away, "Is it alright if I take my cock out?" He asked beforehand just in case you changed your mind.

"Yeah, of course, I want to see the monster that's going to destroy me," You joked and earned yourself a cocky smirk.

Jean took off the only clothing that was separating the two of you. You glanced down and saw his size more visibly now. You were right to be intimidated before, he was huge. Jean seemed to take note of your apprehensive expression so he returned to giving you some kisses in order to soothe you.

“We’ll take it slow and if it’s too much just tell me,” Jean assured you which helped calm you down.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Your eyes met as he began to rub the head up and down between your folds, collecting its wetness. He rubbed it over your clit and back down, making you feel particularly tingly. When he started pushing the head inside you had to remind yourself to not tense up, but it was hard. He was stretching a lot more than his fingers did. His cock added an unfamiliar pressure inside you that his fingers didn’t.

“God, that’s just the head and you're already squeezing me,” Jean threw his head back trying to regain composure. It was also his first time and he did not want to embarrass himself by finishing quickly. Also the gentlemen inside him wanted to feel you cum around him first.

He slowly continued to push further in as you grabbed his arms to brace yourself. When he finally bottomed out you swore you could see the bulge on your tummy. He kept still and waited for you to give him the go ahead even though he had the incredible urge to just thrust forward.

“You alright?” Jean's voice was more strained than usual.

“Yeah, why the fuck you gotta be so big, Jean,” Which only made Jean smile and give an apology kiss. You took a few more moments getting used to the stretch when the pleasure overtook the pain. You felt the veins on his cock inside you. You felt so full, but so good. You grinded into him trying to feel more and Jean noticed.

“I’m going to start moving now,” Jean warned and began pulling back before snapping his hips forward. You both cried out how he filled you up, your walls fluttering around him.

The pace was unrushed and steady to begin with. He withdrew his cock only to plunge it back into you, hitting you deep, in a repetitive matter. You felt the pleasure everywhere, all the way in your toes.

You started meeting his thrusts, moving your hips in order to do so. Jean hitched your leg higher which only made you feel him deeper, hitting a sweet spot that caused you to gasp.

“You can go faster,” You said breathlessly, “Please, Jean, it feels so good.”

“Fuck,” Jean moaned back, his slow deep thrusts turned into a quick pounding. He continuously hit that new spot every time. Your whimpers turned into uncontrollable moans. Not wanting to make too much noise you buried yourself into the crook of his neck, sucking and biting his skin.

You briefly looked down where your bodies met and saw him pumping out of you, your slick covering his cock and your thighs. The sight made your eyes roll back into your head.

“Please,” You moaned into Jean who brought his hand to your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Please, what? What do you want, princess?” He grunted a bit after, not once did he lose his pace.

“I want… Ah… Please, I don’t know,” You felt like you could cry, you were right on the edge. You didn’t know what you needed, but you felt too good to try to figure it out. You figured he was close too by the way he was twitching inside your pussy and his thrusts became a little more desperate.

“Open,” Jean brought his fingers back to your mouth, groaning at the sensation. He kept them there for a few more moments than necessary, just enjoying the way you looked with your pretty lips wrapped around him.

Then he brought them between your legs and began rubbing your clit at the same pace he was thrusting into you.

“J-Jean, I’m gonna cum,” You grabbed his wrist, almost overwhelmed by the feeling.

You cried out his name as your pussy milked him, triggering his own release. He groaned your name as he came. You felt the warmth of him spill deep inside you and it made your pussy tremble all the more. He gave a few final thrusts before slumping on top of you.

“Look at me while you cum, princess, come on, cum on my cock,” He encouraged you. You held eye contact for as long as you could, but when that coil in your tummy snapped you had to squeeze your eyes shut in absolute bliss.

“We definitely should’ve done that sooner,” He mumbled into your hair, making you giggle.

“Definitely,” You echoed back.

He slid out of you after that, making both of your bodies shudder at the loss of connection. You pussy still trying to pulse around something.

“I just showered,” You commented with a frown, looking at the mess between your legs.

“I’ll go get a towel?” Jean offered, and you gave him a nod. He redressed quickly, kissed you deeply, then stated he would be back soon.

You threw your shirt back on while you waited. You felt so sleepy after that. Even though you wanted to feel clean, you wished you cuddled with Jean some more, already missing him.

After a couple more minutes the silence was broken.

“I knew it!” You heard Eren’s familiar voice shout from outside your door and you sat up confused.

“Shut the fuck up before I hit you!” You heard Jean’s voice shout back and then a few more quieter exchanges that you couldn’t make out from the two men. Then your door opened fast, Jean slipping quickly inside, locking it behind him. In one hand he had a warm towel and in the other he had a new set of sheets.

“What happened?” You pointed at the door and Jean scowled.

“Apparently those assholes bet on when we’d finally hook up,” Jean explained before cleaning you up. You blushed as he took care of you. Despite what just took place you still felt embarrassed. Jean noticed and just pecked your cheeks.

“That’s kind of funny, we should’ve placed our own bets,” You hummed and stood shakily, grabbing a new pair of underwear as Jean changed your sheets for you.

“I can’t believe Eren won,” Jean frowned, but when your arms wrapped around him from behind he couldn’t help but smile.

“Will you stay with me? I kind of want to nap,” You mumbled into his back.

“Of course,” You both returned to your bed this time with more innocent intentions.

Jean laid on his back and you threw your arm around his chest and your leg over his, snuggling up into his side.

“I don’t want to die,” You murmured sleepily.

“You won’t,” Jean stated firmly.

“How do you know?” You looked up at him.

“Because we both have something to live for,” He met your gaze softly, before kissing your head again.

You told each other you loved another once again before you both fell asleep. It was a sleep where neither of you had the common nightmare about your untimely deaths.

Instead it was a sleep where you both dreamt of the future you now could have with one another.

#this was so much more fluff than i wanted lol #aot smut #aot #aot jean #jean x reader #jean kirschstein #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein smut #attack on titan #mikasa ackerman #hange zoe #aot eren #eren aot #connie springer #arlert angel

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raineydays411 · 3 years

Text

Oh, what am I supposed to do without you

Loki x daughter!reader

Summary: Loki thought he was in a good place. He was married, happy and having a child. He should’ve known the universe wasn’t that kind.

A/N: God I’m so sorry about this one lol. Not much of the reader but I will be making a second part. I hope yall like this one though. Inspiration came from “Mr, Loverman” and this fic.

Master list

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The silence was rattling. It creeped into the room, slowly,menacingly. Threatening to make him go mad. It wrapped around his body like a familiar friend. Making it hard for him to breath as it suffocated him. He knew they were staring at him. Trying to figure out what he would do next, whether he would break or not. Truthfully he didn’t know what he would do. For now he just starred as well. Not at them, of course not. He stared at the one thing that mattered. His reason for waking up and living. The one person in this entire universe who gave his world color. He reached out to touch her. Touch the hands that were always so warm against his cold skin. Hands that held his firm and sure as she pulled him along behind her, a smile on her beautiful face. Hands that were now cold and limp, the radicant glow she had been known for gone dark. The colors she brought to his world dimmed to dull, gre, muted hues. Then a sound broke through the silence. two sounds actually. One a wail of new life, a baby taking her first breaths, and another. A wail of a man who has lost everything. A wail of agony and pain.

As the healers bustled around him, Loki had only one thought in his head.

“What am I supposed to do without you”

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Three months later and Loki still felt the emptiness left by his love. He heard her at night, humming sweet melodies as she stroked his hair. He hears her heartbeat as he eventually falls asleep, worn out by his constant tears. His room is in shambles, his clothes strewn about the floor, furniture smashed, everything is destroyed. Except for the things that belong to her. Her silk dresses that draped on her body perfectly were still hanging, untouched. The books she spent hours reading and re-reading remained on the shelf, collecting dust as they were no longer used. He doesn’t let anyone in their chambers. The space where they both shared. Space where they fought, made up, made love. To let someone else in would be tainting it. Soiling the memories they made together. That was one thing he could never do.

Another was look at the little monster who is responsible for this tragedy.

It was a girl. The daughter of one Loki Odinson and his beloved.

Ironic. This child was supposed to bring happiness with its birth. Not even cleaned and it already managed to take away Loki’s light. He can barely stand looking at it. He tried, of course he tried. But within minutes he had to call the nurse to take it away. Why?

Because she has her mothers eyes.

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“Loki”

“Get out”

“Loki, it's been nine months since your child was--”

“THAT THING IS NO CHILD OF MINE”

Frigga was taken aback. She knew her son was heartbroken, devastated at the loss of his wife. But to disown his daughter, that was something she didn’t see coming.

“Loki, you are being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable? My wife has died because if that creature--”

“It is a child. A babe who has no idea who her father nor her mother is.”

“And as far as I’m concerned she never will!” Loki shouts, finally looking up at his mother.

Frigga heart breaks for her son. She sees the utter agony he is in, the inner torment going on in his soul. Even if she didn’t see it in his face, the state of his room and self gives it away. He looks like he hasn’t bathed in the nine months that has passed. His clothes were rumpled and wrinkled, hair unkempt and wild. His face was pale and hollow, as if he was only eating enough to survive. He had dark bags under his eyes that showed that he hasn’t been sleeping well. He truly was a man who was broken, almost beyond repair.

“My son” Frigga said carefully,” I can never understand the pain you are going through, I pray to Valhalla I will not have to anytime soon. But please if not for yourself or that child, for the memory of her, attempt to see your daughter before making a rash decision.” And with that, she walked out of his chamber, leaving Loki to the silence again as he stared at the spot his mother stood. considering her words, he got up. picked up his room, went to bathe and walked out of the room for the first time in nine months.

His face held no emotion as he walked down the hallways. He saw the servants stop and stare at him, shock filled their face as they saw the prince. He glared at them, sending them scurrying at the dark glance. He reached the nursery, the maid who oversaw the nursery tried to stop him.

“My lord, you--”

“Where is the child.” He said, calm and cool. The maid looked at him in fear, not knowing how to respond. At her silence, Loki scoffed and pushed her away, marching into the nursery. Upon entering he froze, memories of him and his beloved discussing the design they wanted for their child

**“Darling, why does the color shade matter? It’s not like the child has expectations.”

Laughter fills the air, “Loki, we must put every effort into showing our child they are loved. That includes finding the perfect shade of green to go with the room”

Loki looks at his wife, gently smiling.”If you say so my dear”**

The room was perfect. The walls were a beautiful shade of green that allowed the light into the room. There were vines and flowers crawling up the walls and draped over curtains. A white and gold crib stood in the middle of the chamber. A veil draped over it, preventing Loki from seeing the child inside. He was thankful as he worked up the courage to walk up to it. He looked out the window, seeing the stars that covered the sky, the lights of Asgard covering the earth.

She would have loved it.

He took a deep breath and walked toward the crib. He pulled back the veil only to see that there was no child in there.

“The babe is with your mother my lord.”

He turned to the maid. Embarrassed that she might have witnessed him reminiscing.

“And where is my mother” He asked

“In-in the dining hal--”

He walked away before she was able to finish her sentence. He took long strides to the hall, wondering his his mother had tricked him into eating with the family.On the way, he passed a window overlooking the garden. He thinks of the times where he used to sit in it and listen to her read.

*** “...exquisite, in question more. These happy masks that kiss fair ladies’ brows”

“My love, why do you insist on reading these midgardian stories?”

Her laughter reaches his ears, “Because beloved, it's a different perspective to something familiar”

“Oh? and what is that ?”

“Love” ***

“oki--”

Hearing his name, Loki is brought back to present times once more. He looks to see Thor, watching him with careful eyes.

“Brother, it is wonderful to see you.”

“I wish I can say the same.”

Thor laughs, a soft chuckle compared to the booming laughter Loki knows he is capable of.

“Ah Loki, your dry wit has been missed”

Loki rolls his eyes and starts walking and Thor follows. The two walking in silence.

“What is it like?” Loki says softly. Thor looks at him in confusion.

“It?”

“The child.”

“Oh brother, Y/n is--”

“Y/n?”

That was the name she wanted. If they were to have a girl. She was determined, seeing the name in the book she loved to read. He remembers when they were telling his family she was with child.

*** Everyone was seated, servants bustling around the long table. Laughter filled the hall as the sun was setting.

“Loki, you said you had news to tell us” Frigga said, taking a sip of her wine.

Loki smiled, looking at his wife. Her face absolutely radiant as she flashes a smile of pure joy.

“ Well,” Loki waits till Thor has taken a large swig of ale, “ My beloved and are are expecting a child.”

Gasps fill the room as well as Thor's hacking, ale being spewed on the table.

“Oh Loki that is wonderful!!” Frigga exclaims standing from her seat to embrace him. “Oh my dear, this is the most wonderous news,”

“BROTHER I can’t believe it!” Thor exclaims, lifting Loki in a crushing hug. And for once, he didn’t mind it. He turns to her and hugs her more gently. “ You are just full of surprises aren’t you, starlight”

Laughter, “Thor, I thought I told you to stop calling me that”

Silence fills the hall as Odin clears his throat, “ Loki, you have made me proud.”

Loki smiles as his love beams at him.

“Thank you father.”**

They reached the dining hall. A cold feeling formed in the pits of his stomach. He can see his mother, talking with a maid as she bounces the child. He can’t see it, as Frigga's back is turned to him. Odin’s presence is notably absent, a small relief on Loki's part.

Thor notices his brother’s nerves, he pats him on the back and says, “You can do this Loki.” Then walks off to join his mother. He kisses his mothers cheek and smiles at the child. He picks her up, bouncing her a few times prompting a small laugh. Loki gimances at the sound.

Thor walks up to him with the baby.

“Loki, this is Y/n Odinson”

He looks at the child. He takes in its features, Beautiful curly hair, already thick and voluminous even at this age. Brown skin, unblemished and clean. Cheeks, chubby with baby fat. And...its eyes. Those damn eyes, he could barely stand it, (e/c) eyes, the same as his lost love. In fact, almost all it’s features that once belonged to his darling. A pain filled his body. He really couldn’t stand looking at this child.

Not when his beloved wasn’t there to gaze upon their child as well.

No, this was not his child. Not anymore.

“Get rid of it.”

Shock filled the faces of both Thor and Frigga.

“Loki you cannot be serious.”

“Brother..”

“I SAID GET RID OF IT” Loki shouts. “I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THAT LITTLE MONSTER.”

And with that he leaves the dining hall. Leaving behind his mother, brother and the last piece of his wife he had. He hears it’s cries fill the silence.

He had only one thought in his head as he entered his chambers.

“What am I supposed to do without you”

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#loki x daughter!reader #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #marvel x reader #thor x reader #thor odinson #loki imagine #angst #fanfic #mcu loki #mcu imagine #tom hiddleston #poc #poc reader #reader insert #Loki x poc!reader

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glossywife · 3 years

Text

After He Lost Everything [E] | Kaede Manyuda

Word Count: 3300+

Rating: Explicit (vaginal sex, photo taking)

A/N: Originally posted on AO3 last July 2020. Like or reblog if you liked it! Requests open!

Summary: After Kaede lost everything, he thought he'd lose you too. However, you prove him wrong and he repays you in a different way.

01 ; 02 (soon)

You sat on your fiancé's lap, your arms around his neck while his hand rested on your exposed thigh because of the shortness of your uniform.

Kaede's hair had turned white after he gambled with Yumeko Jabami, a girl whose name has been mentioned here and there since she came. You've never met her though, mainly because you've also just gotten back from a vacation from Paris—a trip you asked Kaede to come with you but obliged because of his student council responsibilities. Sometimes, the council irked you because it took too much of Kaede's time, but you thought it was hot anyway that he led the students.

The stares of Kaede's classmates were nothing to you by now as some watched both of you lose appropriate space for each other in the classroom during lunch break. You were immune to it. Besides, the stares were only from new students who didn't know who you were and found your actions with Kaede rather inappropriate. You'll never admit it, but sometimes, you like it when they stare. It makes you push yourself more to Kaede, testing how much they can watch. The older students knew to mind their own business. Otherwise, you'd challenge them to a gamble. All of which resulted in their loss and ended up being a house pet, your house pet.

"What are you thinking?" you whispered into his ear seductively while you led his hand up your skirt. It was for this reason you didn't bother wearing like some of the other girls.

Kaede shook his head, obviously out of himself, "Aren't you ashamed?"

You stopped with your advances and paused for a short moment, "Of what?"

"Of me. I lost a gamble, and I even became a house pet. Thanks to you I was able to pay off the debt."

There was an obvious defeat in Kaede's face that you weren't used to seeing. You had always seen Kaede in his usual confident stance. His moves were always calculated that he wasn't afraid of anything. And you loved that about him. But today was different. No. It was since you returned and was surprised to see how his hair changed while he welcomed you back from the airport. He looked shaken, lost, and forlorn that not even a quickie in the airport bathroom did so much to uplift his spirits.

A mischievous smile escaped your lips, "Don't worry," you traced his clothed chest, "You can pay me back with something else. Come to my house later?"

You meant to tease him, but when his eyes met yours, you found that it actually made him a little more nervous. He sighed, "Does your father know? What if he breaks off our engagement?"

The smile washed off from your lips. This time, you felt his sadness. Kaede really lost himself.

"Babe," you said firmly while you caressed his cheek. "No one's going to break off our engagement, okay? Don't worry."

At first, you never meant to go along with your father's wish to be engaged with someone you didn't know. You only planned to come along and pretend you were going to obey. But once you saw who it was, and how you were turned on from how he brought himself up—confident, calculating, smart, and mesmerizing. Your plans changed and you agreed to become his bride. Besides, the sex was good.

You never asked, but you had a feeling that Kaede had planned the same too until both of you had feelings for each other.

Kaede, finally, smiled though it was a weak one. He looked relieved by your answer. For once, he was thankful that you didn't leave his side after he had lost everything.

Suddenly, the bell rang, signaling the start of classes.

You groaned in his lap, pouting. Kaede chuckled at you. From his peripheral, Kaede caught a glimpse of Ryuunosuke, who was looking at the both of you silently.

Kaede noted that Ryuunosuke had been trying to get your attention. He guessed that Ryuunosuke was probably going to try to hit on you after he fell rock bottom. Unfortunately for Ryuunosuke, you didn't leave him. And so, Ryuunosuke had nothing else to do but to watch you as you sat on Kaede's lap shamelessly in the classroom with all the other students. How he wished it was him.

There was an inexplicable emotion building inside Kaede. It annoyed him how someone looked at his girl far too long. To think that the guy even liked her. To Kaede, only he is allowed to look at her like that, like stripping her off of her clothes. And he thought of an idea.

You were about to stand up from Kaede's lap to go back to your respective classroom, but it shocked you when he held you down, stopping you. And it shocked you more when he kissed you, shamelessly and aggressively, forcing his tongue inside your mouth.

Though you were used to being inappropriate with Kaede, Kaede never once initiated anything other than a quick kiss on the lips in public. At the back of your mind, you questioned whether you should be doing this, but it turned you on more than it should.

You closed your eyes and reciprocated his wet kisses.

Kaede took a guilty peek. He was greeted by your closed eyes, then he looked over at Ryuunosuke, who quickly averted his gaze when it met Kaede's, with red ears.

During the ride to your house, you almost couldn't take your hands off of Kaede. You just wanted to suck his dick. Be sorry after what had happened to him. Be his cum dump and turn all his frustrations to you.

"What's gotten into you?" you asked and you couldn't push back your smile as he laced his fingers on yours.

Kaede's eyes were straight on the road. He placed a peck on your hand that held his while the other was on the steering wheel.

"Nothing," there was a ghost smile on his lips.

You didn't like how he had been acting sad lately. But it reminded you how Kaede seemed to be more laid back after he lost. What you didn't know was it's because of you, how you didn't leave, or judge him. And thankfully, how you had paid off his debts before anyone even touched him as a house pet.

You watched him silently with a grin and your heart melted. It was all you could ever ask for.

Then your phone beeped, signaling a message. You turned to your pocket to get it, not removing your hand on Kaede's.

With one hand, you typed in your passcode, revealing your wallpaper of your trip with Kaede to Times Square. The memory brought a smile to your face.

In the picture, Kaede had his arms wrapped around you with a grin that reached his eyes under his glasses, making it look chinky. He wore a green parka over a black turtleneck and denim pants. On the other hand, you held Kaede's hands around you with the same smile, wearing a spaghetti-strapped blue plaid dress. The two of you looked so radiant among the busy, dull crowd from behind.

You noted how Kaede hated the crowd. He even made remarks here and there. But when you spontaneously asked a native to snap a photo of you with your boyfriend, it didn't seem to translate into the picture because he looked so happy. Besides, it was one of the rare moments you were able to force Kaede on a trip with you because of his role in the council. Kaede was the prime example of always working, always doing something. Sometimes, you hated it really.

Nearly everyone would define Kaede as someone who only smiled when something goes his way, but with you, it was different. It was genuine. That made you smile.

Unknown Number :

Hi, (Y/N). I got your number from Runa. I was wondering if you could meet me tomorrow after school? This is Ryuunosuke btw.

The message made your eyebrows furrow, ' Who's Ryuunosuke?'

"Who is it?" Kaede gave you a short glance before he quickly turned his attention on the road again.

You shrugged, "I don't know."

Without replying, you put your phone back in your pocket, then placed a quick peck on Kaede's hand on yours.

Only the sound of your make out session with Kaede filled your big room, while you both lay on your soft, white sheets.

Kaede's blazer had been discarded and his tie was loose, while you were only in your shirt skirt and your blouse's first buttons were opened, showing your cleavage.

You looked so sexy on top Kaede as you led the kiss. His hands continuously traveled to your exposed thighs and then rested on your ass. Slowly, his fingers reached for your panties, feeling the wetness of the material, making you moan against his mouth. Kaede grinned at that.

You broke the kiss, sitting on top of Kaede's dick, feeling his hardness while you slowly rubbed yourself on him. You bit your lip to tease him as you threw your head back and closed your eyes.

Though sex wasn't new to the both of you, Kaede couldn't help but be mesmerized by your beauty and your gorgeous body. He reached for his phone on the bed, snapping a photo of you. The sound made you open your eyes.

"Should I pose for you, babe?"

Kaede's erection grew harder. He was thrilled to have another set of photos in his unending collection of your lewd photos both you sent and he took. Kaede's had a lot of photos of you but never in your uniform. Thinking of having your photo in the uniform excited him.

You positioned yourself in the bed on all fours, your ass facing the end, and turning your upper body a little to the side so that your head would still be seen. You arched your ass up and your back was a reversed 'C.'

Kaede snapped a photo, then he went near you to lift your skirt, showing your white lace panties and quickly rubbing your pussy before he backed away to snap another photo. Kaede smiled when he checked it to see you sticking your tongue out in a lewd manner.

"Is that good enough for you?" you asked while you slowly crawled his way.

"Hmm," Kaede reached for the buttons of your blows before tearing it apart, showing your breasts covered with matching lace brassiere.

Once you were on the bed, kneeling before him, he caressed your face and stuck his thumb in your mouth. You gladly sucked on it, never breaking your stare into his eyes even as he took another photo of you in the position.

Kaede made you pose more, each one being so embarrassing but it made you feel wetter. You were happy you were of good service to him while you were on all fours and had your face on the bed and your ass high up. While he took photos, you wondered when he's going to fuck you.

Finally, he let you sit on his lap, feeling his bulge against your thin cloth. He caressed your breast with one hand while the other caressed your thigh.

"You know why I like our uniform on you?" he breathed into your neck. "Because the shortness of the skirt makes me peek at your thighs," he pressed your thigh hard it left red marks.

"But sometimes it annoys me that some boys can see it too," he continued. "But whenever you go push yourself to me at school, it fades away because they know who's fucking you at the end of the day."

His dirty talks turned you on.

"You know I'm yours," you whispered.

"I know," he only put your panties to the side and inserted one finger, slowly and gently. "I'm the only one who gets to do this to this pussy."

"It's so wet. You're welcoming all of me," he inserted another finger.

The sensation made you bite your lip and your hand reached for Kaede's nape from behind you while you had your back on him.

You moaned in pleasure, "When are you going to fuck me?"

Kaede hissed, his hand found your tits and squeezed it harshly, making you yelp.

"You're fucking nasty," he whispered against your ear while he took out your breasts and played with your erect nipples.

Kaede tore your blouse, the buttons flying off, then yanking it completely away. You were only left with your brassiere that no longer covered your tits and skirt.

He pushed you to the center of the bed. You watched him as he removed his belt, the sight turned you on. He was finally going to fuck you.

You remember the first time Kaede first took your innocence. You lost to him in a gamble and he wished you to sit on his lap, which you did and ended up in a steamy make out session and losing your virginity. From then on, when Kaede gambles, you would tag along with him when you're bored and sit on his lap, feeling his erection while he gambled with a sinister expression on his face as he crushed his opponent. Afterward, you'd suck him off in the restroom. Though he looked so respectable and composed, he couldn't take his hands off you.

Once Kaede removed his pants, leaving him with only his unbuttoned shirt, and putting on a condom from your bedside, he joined you in the bed, positioning his erection on your wet pussy.

He only pulled your panties to the side and thrust. It was slow and gentle. Though you wanted to be fucked hard because of how much you missed him, you couldn't deny that you also loved how you felt the sensation more while he did it slowly.

Your tits softly bounced in his thrusts. Kaede's one hand rested on the bed for support while the other fondled your breast.

"Fuck, you're tight..." he grunted. ”No matter how much I fuck you. Ah..."

Kaede's hand from your breast found its way to your mouth, pulling your tongue. You stuck your tongue out like what he wanted. He watched you, legs wide open, tongue and tits out, while he fucked you. You looked like a slut to him, and you loved that.

Soon enough, Kaede groaned. He closed his eyes and quickly removed his dick from your pussy right after you came. He removed the condom and positioned his dick between your tits, asking for a boob job.

"I'm close, fuck..."

You gave him a boob job, every thrust meeting your mouth until he stuck his dick in your mouth and cum erupting in your mouth.

He watched as you opened your mouth to reveal the thickness of his cum. Then, you swallowed it all. Kaede looked pleased.

Kaede lied beside you and pulled the comforter to both your bodies, then pulled you closer.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," you smiled.

When you awoke, you noticed that Kaede was no longer beside you. Instead, you found him sitting on his side of the bed with your phone in his hand. He now wore a grey shirt and black boxers, which he got from his small side of your walk-in closet. Kaede would often sleepover and both of you agreed that he would keep some clothes in your house and vice versa. He was silent as he scrolled through your phone.

"Babe?" you called.

Kaede shot you a glance and showed you the messages on your phone like what you received earlier, "Since when are you receiving messages like this?"

You sat down on the bed while you hold the comforter to your body, "I'm not sure."

"It's when I fell from my position."

There was that same sadness in his voice again, the one you wanted to wipe off. You moved to his side and gave him a hug. "Don't think about it."

His eyebrows furrowed, "How can I not think about it? What if they take you from me, (Y/N)?"

"No one's taking me away. I'm all yours no matter what. Besides, we still have our investments, right? I checked."

When you and Kaede took your relationship seriously, both of you made joint investments. It was only a backup plan and one of the future sources of funds when the two of you decided to settle down.

"Hn," he touched your hands around his waist. "I won't touch it. It's ours. Not mine alone."

You smiled at his answer and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "I love you."

Your fingers brushed his white hair, "I think I'm liking the hair. Can you keep it?"

Kaede looked at you, a little embarrassed and relieved at the same time, "Should I? It's kind of embarrassing."

"It's not embarrassing! I like it actually," you kissed his forehead.

Kaede smiled, his palm found your bareback, stroking it. "Your skin is so soft."

"I keep it that way for my boyfriend," you smirked smugly.

"Fiancé, you mean," he corrected to which you laughed.

"Fiancé."

Soon enough, he started kissing you again, slowly lying you back down on the bed.

"Do you think you can fuck me like the usual? I miss you going rough on me," you asked when he broke away.

Kaede's expression changed to a menacing one, his eyes darkened and he suddenly choked you, "You want this?"

You stuck your tongue out in pleasure, "Yes!" you loved how he took advantage of you.

"Open your legs wide."

You obediently opened your legs wide, shamelessly flaunting your pink pussy lips to your fiancé. Kaede fingered you, inserting three fingers, making you moan. You feel the wetness of your pussy drip to your thigh until you felt his tongue on your vagina, licking and sucking. You pulled on his hair as you moaned. While he ate you, you massaged your tits.

The second time you came, Kaede slapped your ass to signal you to go on all fours. Once you did, he spanked your ass, you felt the skin jiggle at the contact. You shook your ass more, making sure to have your vagina in his sight too.

He positioned himself from behind you, his erection poking your opening. Once he inserted himself inside you, you gasped and quickly turned to look at him. You watched as he paid nonchalantly to your shocked expression while he had his mouth half-open as he thrust.

"You didn't put on a condom!"

Kaede opened his eyes and held your naked waist, feeling the warmth of his bare hands, "Shh."

"I'm not on the pill!" you hissed.

For so long, you've been asking Kaede to drop the condom and turn to pills, but he didn't want to because it doesn't exactly assure safety.

"That's a problem for tomorrow," he kissed your lips to shut you up.

"Besides, we still have our investments, right? Ahh.." he pulled on your (H/C) locks. "We can build a family anytime."

You grunted both in pain and in pleasure as he thrust inside you while he pulled on your hair. He put his weight on your back as he moved his hands on your breasts, massaging it. You felt him placing wet kisses on your bare shoulder.

Soon enough, his thrusts started to be more fast and rough. Both of you grunted in the sensation.

"I'm cumming!" he declared. "I'm cumming inside!"

You didn't have the energy to argue anymore. You remained on the bed, tired, and biting on your lip while he pleasured himself with your body.

Then you felt his thick and hot juices filling your womb, making you moan. You felt his cum dripping down on your thighs.

"Is that enough to get you pregnant?"

NEXT & FINAL CHAPTER: Kaede challenges Ryuunosuke to a gamble without your knowing until Kaede instructs you to watch them. Surprisingly, Kaede introduces a deal that if Kaede loses, he will breakup with you. On the other hand, Kaede conditions Ryuunosuke to watch Kaede take you - fulfilling your longtime dream of having someone else watch - if he wins.

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