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thoughtsfromlayla · 2 months

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My Dearest Defiance

Summary: Equal as an Endless, more than a human, yet less than a god. Where did you even belong? The question has haunted you since you first saw humanity rise into power. Now your brother has been kidnapped and you can't do anything to help him.

Notes: ~7.5k words, This fic is a follow-up to this post sent in by the lovely @kpopgirlbtssvt, thank you so much for the idea! I took a few liberties with the plot and I hope that's okay with you!

Warnings: Platonic! Big Brother x little sister! Reader, *side eyes* a lot of angst, violence, physical abuse, heavy mentions of cancer, implied alcohol consumption, minor Dreaming mind-fuckery, death of Reader (you come back...ish), death of characters, comfort in the end :)

Masterlist

Mother Night and Father Time, the first lovers, the everlasting lovers. And it was through their love that the Endless were born. Your eldest brother Destiny came first, birthed in dark cloaks and the book that was named after him. He is in charge of the fate of every being to live.

Every being who has lived must follow the path of this fate and fate always ends in Death, your eldest sister. When Mother and Father realized that the humans must do something while waiting for Death, they birthed your favorite brother, Dream. He is hope, the one who gives the humans courage to stand up for themselves and make do with their lives. Soon, humans wanted more and in succession, the rest of your siblings were born: Destruction, Desire, Despair, and sweet Delight soon to be Delierum.

While every Endless was busy tending to their own realms and their own duties, you were born. Endless in name but not in power. You were the runt of the family, with no realm to call your own, and no responsibilities of your own. Yet here you stood amongst the humans that soon called you Defiance, the human spirit, the resilience to continue despite all odds.

You’re sure your siblings knew of you, certainly enough to be invited to family dinner once every 100 years. Yet you could never shake the feeling of inadequacy when you were sat at the far end, only to be over-talked by everyone. They were discussing important matters, after all, nothing that you had to concern yourself with.

You only find solace in Dream, where no matter how difficult the days get, you may always find a home in his realm. While he is adamant about letting you stay in the castle, you find it more comfortable to live in a cottage at the edge of the realm where the forest meets with the vast unknown and you grow vegetables from the soil you tow. It also allows you to escape to the waking world without Dream knowing.

You love humans, their lives fascinate you to no end. They know of you, just as they know of all of your Endless siblings, but sometimes it just takes a little more for them to realize. You would never push them to admit to your existence and somewhere along the millions of years of existence, you have given up trying to be the center of attention.

To understand humans is to live like them, talk like them, and love like them. Unfortunately, humans are more than that and often succumb to feelings of anger, depression, righteousness, and violence. You try not to associate yourself with those emotions, but it’s innate.

It’s been a few weeks since you stepped foot in Dream’s castle, and who could blame you? The village in which you reside is much more fun than the dreary castle your brother tends to enjoy more. The thick castle wall blocks out the sunlight, it’s filled with dust and smells of wet stones and old books. Not to mention, when Dream was busy, there was no one to talk to. Lucienne was always busy, picking up after her King, and you don’t even want to get started on Mervin.

He’s only nice to you cause you gave him his pumpkin head when his original turnip head started going out of style. Otherwise, it’s cigar smoke being blown into your face and sassy remarks.

You’re out in the market square when you feel the presence of your Endless Sibling. You turn from the flower vendor with a big smile and wave at Dream as he makes his way towards you. The dreams that he created step to the side in the presence of their sovereign.

“Brother!” You exclaim when he gets close enough for you, wrapping one of your arms around his while the woven basket hangs in the other.

The basket was filled with a few apples and a fresh loaf of bread. You were just about to buy a few glass snowdrop flowers before you were pleasantly surprised by Dream.

“How do you do this afternoon, dear sister?” He speaks, leaning into your face to tease you.

You giggle at him as the two of you walk the main road, passing dreams and nightmares alike, a few waving at you in greeting that you return.

“I’m doing great. I was thinking of going to the waking world later today and spending some time with Death, actually.” You respond, your arm leaves Dream’s as a different vendor catches your eyes. They were selling acrylic paints in colors that you haven’t seen since half a century ago.

“Here, hold this,” You say as you hand off your basket to Dream. He does as he’s told and holds the basket, the white paint offputting to his otherwise completely black outfit.

You grab a few jars of paint and can already think of the wonderful things to draw when you get back into your cottage. There was a specific lake nearby that you haven’t been able to do justice to, but you think you finally can with the new color.

A brief conversation of exchange happens between you and the vendor before you turn around. You burst out laughing at the sight before you. Dream stood in the middle of the road where you had first told him to hold your basket and hadn’t moved an inch. His shoulders were stiff and taught as he held your basket as far away from his body as possible.

“It’s not going to bite you, you know!” You practically cackle at him. Your giggles follow you as you carefully place the jars of paint into your basket. You think that you will paint some flowers and ivy onto your basket later tonight.

You go to take the basket back from him but he’s quick to move it away from your grabby hands.

“You specified that I should hold it, so hold it I shall,” He says and holds the basket higher, just out of your reach, when you go to grab at it again.

You huff at his rather stubborn behavior, but he’s been like this since the beginning. He always looks after you and takes care of you. You’re always grateful for it, but you can carry your own basket. You resolve the conversation with a roll of your eyes but the smile on your face stays in place when you turn your back to him.

Dream walks you home, basket now significantly heavier and full of things you didn’t really need. Well, except maybe the paint, it’s good to splurge every once in a while. Your cottage is basked in a warm light as the Dreaming’s sun slowly disappears beyond the horizon to rise in another universe. The pie you had baked this morning had long since cooled and you brought it inside with a hum, your brother still following you.

He set the basket on the simple kitchen table before taking a seat and watching you slice up the pie with a smile. You set the pastry down in front of him and another plate for yourself. The savory apple flavoring takes over the senses when you take the first delicious bite.

“I would like you to come back to the castle soon,” Your brother says as you take another bite.

“Whatever for?” You question, a little bit of apple filling falling out of your mouth. “The cottage is my home.”

Dream sighs but answers anyway. “I will be gone for a moment, I need to take care of a rouge nightmare,�� and would like you to be cared for while I am away from the Dreaming.”

“How long will you be gone for you to want me to live in that dreadful place?” You make a face as you think about the boring days ahead of you. Well, maybe you can escape to the castle garden if Mervin isn’t paying attention.

“I cannot tell you for I do not know.”

You purse your lips as you think about his request. “Fine,” You groan.

“Best not see Sister Death today.” When you don’t bother with a response he speaks against “Farwell, sister. I will be back soon,” He promises you before standing. You didn’t get the chance to follow him to the door before he leaves, his apple pie still untouched.

“Ugh, how wasteful.” You joke to yourself.

You spend the rest of your evening painting your basket as you had wanted before packing up a few items for the castle. Your basket was a gift from your brother and had an infinite amount of storage. So you managed to shove an extensive amount of your wardrobe, the paints, and some of the freshly baked pastries into the small wooden thing. You set off when the moon was high in the sky and the stars came down from their afternoon nap and danced in the village square.

Their stardust shoes clink like pure jade against the cobblestone road, illuminating the otherwise quiet and sleeping town. A few wave at you, shimmering particles following their movements before they return to their waltz. You wave back to them before continuing on your journey, mindful of where you stepped.

When stars come down to the Dreaming they become transparent and more gaseous than solid but that doesn’t stop them from burning hot. And unless you wanted to recounter that one time you stepped through one and started sneezing and coughing stardust for the next 10 years, you’ll keep your distance - only allowing for their natural light to guide your way out of the village and towards the castle.

By the time you reach the castle, Dream is nowhere to be found and you assume he went out to do what he mentioned earlier that day. Your room was set up for you, Dream obviously had some palace staff tidy up the room as you took a look around the clean environment. Otherwise, everything was in the same place you had left it since the last time you were at the castle. You yawn as you set your basket down by the door. First a good night’s rest, then you can go to the waking world to do your own things.

You sneak out of the castle a few minutes before dawn, the soft bed and good night’s rest giving you the energy you need to do so. You grimace when the door creaks loudly as you slowly open it, smelling the early morning dew on the grass and the warming dawn wind.

“Where are you headed, my dear?” A voice stops you in your tracks. You suck your lips into your mouth as you soon recognize the voice.

“Good morning, Lucienne,” You greet curtly, holding, or rather, hiding, your basket behind your black skirt.

Lucienne gives you a pointed look. “Yes, good morning.”

You give her a smile before stepping back out the door, only to be stopped when she purposefully clears her throat.

“The question?” She presses.

You feign innocence and bat your eyelashes, not that it would work. “What question?”

“Lady Defiance, my Lord specifically states that I keep my eyes on you.” Lucienne holds her hands behind her back as she takes her stance.

“By all means, keep your eyes - hey what’s that?!” You gawk as you point behind Lucienne.

Lucienne snaps her head around to look at what you were so surprised by. She doesn’t see or sense anything when she does. It’s about two seconds of her searching before she realizes that she has been duped. When she turns around the door is swinging shut and you are nowhere to be seen. She slams the door open and only sees the last of your figure disappearing on the horizon.

You’re still giggling to yourself about pulling off that little trick when you reach the ocean of the Dreaming. The little wooden dock creaks under your weight as you skip across it. Having done this traveling before, you jump right in with a squeal, holding your nose close so you don’t get any water in.

The water pushes and pulls but you don’t fight the current knowing that it will take you where you wanted to go. When you emerge, you cough once and the water falls off your body, leaving you dry in cloudy 1916 England. You wrap your blazer closer to your body as the wind picks up and leave the alleyway. The familiar smell of roasted peanuts from street vendors and car fumes tickles your nose when you turn the corner to walk into the hospital.

“Hi, I’m here to visit Genny, uh, Geniveve, Geniveve Colemen,” You correct yourself to the receptionist. The woman nods and looks down at her computer.

“She’s in the same room, 443. Here’s your visitor’s pass.” She hands you a laminated badge on a lanyard.

You thank her before wearing the lanyard and going towards the nearest elevator. The elevator smelled of shoe polish and disinfectant spray and it made your nose crinkle. You just hope the smell doesn’t transfer onto your clothes.

When you reach your destination, you knock on Genny’s door before entering. She wears her hospital gown and was reading a book when she looks up. A smile pasters onto her face when she sees you.

“Y/N!” She drops her book and sits up straighter.

“Genny!” You exclaim back with the same amount of excitement. You place your basket by her bed before pulling out a fresh vase of flowers and setting it by her bedside table.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, what have you been up to?” She asks.

“Yeah, my mother took me to some private tutor to help me study for my tests,” You lie through your teeth as you fluff the flowers to make them look more appealing.

You tuck your school skirt underneath you when you sit down next to Genny and reach for your basket again. “I brought you some homebaked goods. I know this hospital’s food has got to be horrendous.”

You bring out the baked loaf of bread you bought the day before and rip off a slice for her. She takes the loaf and inhales the scent.

“Gosh, Y/N, I don’t know how you make such good baked goods. Your husband will be a lucky one if you stop trying to chase them off.” She giggles and muffles through her full mouth.

You laugh with her, sparing her the details of your actual life. You bring forth the lie you had carefully planted yourself as instead. A straight-A student that goes to the same school as Genny before she was diagnosed with cancer, how you were her best friend that visited her when you got the chance, how you had gotten onto the school council and despite all of her poking and prodding, she would not get to know what the school formal’s dance theme is going to be unless she went with you tomorrow to the dance. You try not to think about how frail she has gotten since the first time you’ve met her. Her collarbones were poking out and you can see how hard it was for her to take even breaths.

When she asks you again later in the visit about the school dance you rebuttal quickly.

“Are you going to come to the dance with me?” You laugh. “Speaking of which, I got you a dress, too!” You go back to your basket, pulling out a formal dress, and setting it in front of Genny.

“Wow! Look at the bead stitching,” She says, running a delicate finger over the beading and gems then over the lacing.

“I’ve got a good eye, don’t I?” You sit back down with a smile and a tilt of the head. “It matches my dress, too.”

“What about your own date?”

“Oh, please, I don’t have time for boys!” You giggle again, hiding behind the lie that you don’t actually go to her school.

“Oh alright, I suppose I must go to the dance with you so you won’t be lonely.” Genny surrenders.

You smile at her, happy she finally agreed. “You’re a great friend.”

Genny coughs after your compliment and you’re quick to reach for the water and hand it over to her. When she sits up to drink you go to fluff her pillow. Genny lays back down with a sigh and all of the warmth that was in the room leaves through the window. She looks like she’s aged when she looks at you again, another cough crawling its way past her throat.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” You say, turning around to grab your things.

“No,” Genny refuses. “Can you stay for a little bit longer?” She coughs again and holds your hand weakly. “I want to feel like a normal girl for a little while longer.”

“Okay,” You whisper and sit back down, feeling the chill of the hospital around your ankles.

You watch over her as she falls asleep, the conversation taking the last of her energy. You begin to stare off into space, thinking about your life. You did your best with the gift of immortality, but as you stare at Genny’s tense face, you wish you could do more. Equal as an Endless, more than a human, yet less than a god. Where did you even belong? The question has haunted you since you first saw humanity rise into power.

Your thoughts leave you when you feel the beating of wings and a flush of wind from the door. Your head snaps and you see your sister standing there in her black tank top and the same combats boots you wore.

“Sister Death,” You greet with a small smile, previous thoughts disappearing. “What brings you here today?”

Your sister only smiles at you. Your excitement of seeing your sister again is soon taken over by dread. You look between your sister and your friend and the dots connect.

“Oh... what? No!” You stand abruptly between your sister and Genny. “No! She still has so much to do in life!” You try to reason with her.

“You cannot bargain with me, Defiance. You know that,” She says in her soft voice.

“I don’t care,” Your lips form into a line. “At least let her go to the dance with me?” You try one more time.

Death sighs with exaggeration. “Fine, but not an hour more.”

“Thanks…” You’re not entirely sure how you managed to pull that off, unbeknownst to you that your sister has a soft spot for you much like Dream.

Your sister looks you up and down before she leans on the door. “So how are you doing, then?”

You look off to the side when you answer. “Fine,” You grumble out.

She lets out a huff, or perhaps a laugh, you can’t really tell. “Would you like to go on a walk with me?”

It was a tempting offer, after all, you haven’t spent time with your sister in a while. You thought about it for a little while longer. “No,” You end up refusing.

“Genny asked me to stay a little while longer, so I shall.” You turn away from your sister and sit back down in the uncomfortable hospital chair. You keep your head straight, looking after Genny, and don’t take your eyes off her even when you hear your sister departing.

When she does, a tremble runs over your body. You feel tears prick at your lashline as you come to terms with the fact that your friend will be dying soon. You did your best to prevent the inevitable, but with no powers of your own, it’s only a waiting game now.

You leave when visiting hours are over, Genny has yet to wake up from her nap. You leave the rest of the loaf on her bedside table, and a slice of your apple pie. You decide to tidy up the room as quietly as you can and hang her dress on the hook that was nailed to the wall. With one final look at her, you leave, only hoping that your sister doesn’t go back on her word and take her before her allotted time.

You spend the rest of the evening in the waking world, catching up on new things the humans have done with their time. You end your day on a park bench, illuminated only by a single street lamp. The park was quiet, you’re only accompanied by the sound of crickets and the wind along the trees. You take in a deep breath of fresh air. Oh, how you have missed this. If only it was closer to summer vacation, you would’ve taken Genny to the beach and had some sun time with her.

When you are done relaxing you go to the pond at the center of the park, the fountain in the middle still squirting out water and creating magnificent shapes and splashes along the surface. You could see the stars' reflection rippling as you peer at the lake over a bridge. The wind blows and you close your eyes to savor the moment.

“I wouldn’t jump if that’s what you’re thinking,” Someone says next to you.

You open your eyes and turn to see a man standing next to you, no older than 20. He takes off his hat when you speak.

“I wasn’t, but thank you,” You reply simply and go back to looking out towards the expanding city. He doesn’t leave your side despite your answer and it gets a bit awkward.

“Are you thinking of jumping? Because I would also not recommend that, sir,” You turn to him again and see him laughing.

“No,” He says. “I am just here to think.”

“Just like me then. What bothers your mortal mind?” You ask.

“Many things… I’m afraid I have let my family down.”

“How so?”

“We came here on a boat from the motherland, nothing to our name but a few pennies. I was supposed to go to college and finally put our family on the map. But I failed and now here I am, talking to a stranger on a bridge in the middle of the night.”

You laugh along with him. You knew of him and saw his dreams a few times when you went out exploring in the Dreaming. He wanted to be a doctor, specifically an athletic injuries doctor but failed out of medical school before he even got the chance. You rack your brain to think of his name, and when it comes to you, you speak.

“Do not worry, Albert Brocken, I’m sure there are many opportunities that will come alight in the near horizon. Perhaps you should take the entrance exam again, and see where it takes you.” You yawn and you realize that you should probably start heading home.

“Yeah… maybe I should,” He concludes with a sigh. “I think I might go into somnology,” He says more to himself than you.

“Somnology sounds fascinating,” You agree. “I must go home now, but best of luck to you!” You walk away, your shoes barely audible on the stone bridge over the gushing fountain. Albert doesn’t look your way when you depart, too focused on his new goal in life.

You find yourself standing before an old winding cottonwood tree in the same park. It’s been here for years, growing into the magnificent tree it is today. It’s passed by thousands of England residents almost every day, yet none of them are willing to stare at it hard enough to realize that the bark of the tree isn’t real.

You take one last look around the park to make sure no one else sees you before walking straight into the tree, the danging leaves caressing you like a gentle mother’s touch. The trunk of the tree turns into a curtain of falling sand and you pass through with no problems. When you emerge on the other side, the bright moon of the Dreaming greets you, illuminating and basking you in a soft welcome. When you come back into the castle, Lucienne is on top of you like a hot iron.

“Thank the Gods you are well,” She panics as she holds your arms. After taking a good overall look at you, she wraps her arms around your body and brings you into a hug.

“Lucienne?” Your question muffled against her crisp uniform. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, my dear, you hadn’t come back all day. I thought perhaps…” She trails off before she takes a breath. “Lord Morpheus hasn’t returned, and neither had you, so I presumed the worst.”

“Morpheus hasn’t returned?”

“No, but you are here. Tell me, did you see him while you were in the waking world today?” Lucienne holds hope in her eyes and you resent the next word you say.

“No,” Your thoughts trailed off. “Morpheus hasn’t returned?” You ask again.

“I am sure there is nothing to worry about. I may just be overthinking is all.” Lucienne reassures you.

“Okay…” You don’t completely believe her, somewhere deep inside you you can feel that Morpheus is in danger. As the King of Dreams and Nightmares, a rouge nightmare shouldn’t be anything to be worried about. He should be home by now.

Your eyes close as soon as your head hits the pillow, but thoughts consume you. After the dance tomorrow night with Genny, you will go searching for your brother. The following day came quickly and you paced back and forth in the castle hall, the formal dress you had on jingling with your movements. Your thoughts were in overdrive, there was Morpheus of course, but you also knew that tonight was going to be Genny’s last day. And knowing that puts a weight on your shoulders. You have to make sure that tonight is going to be the best night of her life.

When the time came, you went to the waking world feeling dolled up and in an antique car with the roof down. Your hair had enough hairspray to survive a storm from Zeus himself. You pull up to the hospital in a screech, Genny already waiting for you in the lobby. You check your lipstick in the mirror one last time before Genny reaches your car.

“You know how to drive?!” Genny says with a smile and excitement that you found contagious.

You resecure the silk scarf that protected your hair from the wind and open a pair of sunglasses to put over your eyes. You look at her over the bridge of your nose, your eyes shining past the sunglasses before stepping on the gas pedal.

“I know how to do many things, sweet Genny!” You shout over the wind, pushing the glasses back to their original position.

Each time you looked over at Genny, her smile still hadn’t faltered and the last bits of the sun’s rays caught on the embroidery of her dress. Her softness brings a smile to your face and for a moment you forget about your brother.

You pull into the gravel driveway of the school formal’s destination. You had managed to weasel your way into the school council and they were able to get help from the local people. The theme for this year's dance was “A Magical Night” and a local citizen opened his manor to the students for the night. He called himself a mage, something that you rolled your eyes at as magic has been rare in this world since the faeries left it half a century ago. But you kept that to yourself, if he wanted to play make-believe, then so let him.

Students were already lining up outside the decorated manor when the two of you arrived. You hand your keys off to a valet and walk towards the door, hand in hand with Genny. Her excitement buzzed through her like a shot of tequila.

When you cross over the threshold of the manor you are genuinely surprised at the decorations of the place. The ballroom had been cleared out and a live band was playing music for students to dance to. There was a bar on the far end of the ballroom serving drinks and small snacks. A doorman takes your jacket away from you before you grab Genny’s hand and head to the dance floor.

Many of Genny’s old friends soon recognize her and start to surround you two, the night is still young and the sound of laughter soon fills the air. You and Genny danced the night away until you both were sweaty and out of breath. Your make-up had gone a bit smudged but you didn’t mind. It was nearing midnight when most of the students started to leave and you pulled Genny away for one last surprise.

Genny started to slow down a bit, the exercise of the dance sapping away her energy. She pulls through though and follows you to a winding staircase that leads to one of the roofs of the manor. The spring air chills you to your bone, but it is well received after the sweat you have built up. You help Genny sit down before you sit down next to her, the shingles of the roof poking through your dress in an uncomfortable way.

A satisfied sigh leaves your lips when you look out to the vast countryside behind the manor. The stars twinkle as far as the eyes can see and from your advantage point, no trees are blocking the view either. Genny pants beside you as she calms herself down from the climb and leans her head against your shoulder.

“I am so glad you made me come to this dance,” She whispers as she looks out to the stars.

“Me too,” You agree, you begin the absentmindedly swing your legs back and forth. Your heels come loose and slip from your feet and both you and Genny laugh at it.

“Gosh, I hope that didn’t hit anyone,” She continues to laugh as she cautiously peers over the side.

“Or else they’d have to smell my stinky feet, ewww!” You continue her joke.

Her laugh turns into a cough and your mood shifts to melancholy.

A shift in the winds tells you that her time will soon be up. “Genny,” You start. “My sister is going to be here soon.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Yes, I have a huge family actually.”

“Well, tell me about your sister,” She smiles, head feeling heavier as she puts her full weight on your shoulder.

“She is really sweet, and a soft, kind-hearted soul. Just like you, I suppose.” You say.

Genny doesn’t reply and tears prick your eyes. When you turn your head you see Genny standing up with a smile, yet her body still remains on your shoulder. Behind her stands your sister, a reassuring smile and a gentle hand rest around Genny in a side hug.

“Your sister says that she’ll take great care of me,” She starts and looks at Death with a solemn smile. “Will she?”

“Yeah, she’s one of the best…” Your voice dips into a murmur as you feel your lips tremble.

Your answer is enough for her and she turns to leave. She seems to have remembered something as she turns back around and wraps her hands around your shoulders, her ghostly figure slightly falling through your physical form.

“I’ll see you again, right?” Genny asks, hope lines her figure and you can’t bear to see it fade.

“Yes,” You lie through your teeth. “Good-bye.”

She turns to leave with your sister, blissfully unaware of your last farewell. The sound of Death’s beating wings was the last thing you heard before it was just the barren countryside again. Genny’s body grows cold by your side as you pet her hair for the last time.

The manor staff came soon when you faked a scream and soon ambulances came and went with her body. You’re left in the aftermath of a romantic dream of confection and ribbons alone in the middle of the dance floor feeling numb.

“Hey, lady, if you’re going to stand here moping you can at least help out,” A staff member calls out and you snap out of your thoughts.

He hands you a few foldable chairs and tells you to put them up. You nodded along, not really having much else to do. You meander through the halls when you realize that he didn’t tell you where to put the chairs. It’s when you find yourself at a set of stairs that lead down towards the basement. And to you, it made all logical sense for humans to store their things in the basement.

You open the heavy double doors and descend further into the musky basement. Candles were lit on the stairs and its melted wax coats the edges as it lightens the path. When you get to the bottom, you’re greeted by the host of the party that you met earlier in the night.

“What are you doing here, girl!” He scolds.

You hold up the chairs, unaware of his tone. “Hi, Mr. Burgess. I’m helping with clearing up after the dan…” Your final word trails off as your eyes wander past his figure.

Behind him sits your brother and your jaw drops. Mr. Burgess tries to stand between you and him when he notices that your attention is no longer on him. Dream stands fully in his glass prison and you would have made fun of the fact that he was fully rocking out in his birthday suit if not for the situation at hand.

“Oh, what the fuck,” You whisper, dropping the chairs.

You breeze past Mr. Burgess and stand before Morpheus. Golden runes that surround his prison stop you short as if there was some sort of invisible force field. Your head whips around and faces your host again. He stands tall as he stares back.

“Why do you have my brother in a-a… fucking FISH BOWL!” Your words stumble out at the utter audacity of the situation, your hands moving around expressively.

Realization dawns on him and you realize that you made a mistake. “So, you are one of his family. That man warned me about your kind. Which one are you.” He seethes as he walks towards you.

“You face Defiance of the Endless,” You spit back at him.

You were in no mood to play, first, your friend dies in your arms and then you learn that Lucienne’s suspicions were right and that something did happen to your brother. This whole time he had been here under your feet while you were having fun. His clothes, tools, and dignity stripped from him as you drank enough sparkling cocktails to make Dionysus jealous.

The man scoffs at you and spits at your feet. “Oh please, and I thought that it was going to be hard. I’ve heard of you, little girl. They told me that you are nothing, a nobody. You have no realm, no powers, you are barely a god.”

You stay silent as he speaks, rage flushes through your body and your muscles tremble. His words rang true, but here you shall stand for your brother. He advances on you and you find that you have nowhere to go. A sharp pain burns across your cheek as his pierced cane comes into contact with your skin.

Your body follows the force as it throws you off balance. Your head cracks against the stone floor of the basement and a gasp leaves you. Your vision blurs from the hit and you feel warm blood sliding down your cheek like an unshed tear. In the distance of your mind, you hear Dream slamming his fist against his glass prison. You stand again, determined to not be bested by a mere mortal.

His cane comes down again like a whip, hitting your shins and then once again on the back of your knees. The blow forces you to kneel before him, and your cries of pain echo in your head. The coarse floor scratches at your palm but you keep your breath as even as you can.

“Is that all you got?” You sneer as you look up at him through your eyelashes.

His foot comes towards your face and you squeeze your eyes shut right before the impact follows. Your body tumbles further away from Dream, but his slamming continues. You feel the wall behind you, its surface cooling down your heating body.

“Stop, I command you to stop!” Morpheus shouts, command muffled.

“Dream of the Endless commands you to stop,” You repeat your brother's words. You use the wall to brace yourself to stand on wobbling legs.

Iron fills your mouth and you spit it out back at Burgess’ feet, much like he did to you before. You grin when you see him grimace at the act. You wipe your mouth clean with the back of your hand, very unladylike, but between the three of you, who is going to judge?

A backhanded slap snaps your head to the side and another painful scream follows.

“Stop! Cease yourself or face my wrath!” Dream continues to scream as your vision blurs again.

“No, I can take it,” Your voice is coarse but the message is heard loud and clear.

“Oh, you can take it, hmm?” Burgess taunts and his cane jabs into your abdomen.

You feel like you couldn’t breathe, that no matter how much your mouth gaped open, oxygen didn’t fill in your lungs as you needed it to.

“I can take it,” You wheeze out again, another hit forces you back down and this time you don’t have the strength to get up again.

“I suppose one step higher than capturing an Endless is to kill one,” Burgess laughs on top of you. His heavy body straddles you and you feel his hands wrap around your neck.

Black dots swarm your vision like the expanding universe. Your nails claw at his hands, drawing blood, as your body tries its best to fight back. Burgess picks you up by the neck and slams your back down, stars waltz behind your eyelids and a brief vision of home comforts you. A ragged breath crawls through your throat before another slam into the ground silences you. Despite your efforts, your hands grow limp and you feel your body start to break down. It flakes away like spring cherry blossom petals as you take your last breath.

“No!” Dream’s scream is the last thing you hear.

Your consciousness fades to black and it is quiet for once. It’s odd to think that an immortal being can die, but it’s true. The only thing that differentiates it is that you could be reborn. Immortality is a fickle thing.

When you come back into consciousness, you can feel the Dreaming heal your soul. It wraps its warmth around you like a soft blanket and you finally feel safe enough to stop everything that ran through your mind. When you stretch out your limbs you realize that you weren’t in your human form anymore.

Your perception spans further and you can see new angles you haven’t seen before through your eyes. You wiggle your toes, or what you thought were your toes and feel soft and fertilizing soil below you. When you look down you notice that your legs have turned into the soft bark of a willow tree. Your arms shake and the reaching leaves of the tree shake from the action. You sigh and your bark groans and creeks under your deflation.

You soon become a welcomed resident in Fiddler’s Green, providing shade for the decreasing amount of dreamers that come to visit you. As the years pass, the Dreaming starts to die around you as Morpheus stays entrapped under the Burgess Manor. You stay as a tree, unable to move and help. Guilt eats you alive, leaving your core to rot from the inside out.

Lucienne comes to visit now and then, but as the castle starts to fall apart, she can’t find the time to come by anymore. Your days grow lonelier as Fiddler’s Green decides to leave the Dreaming as well. You stand on dry soil in a barren wasteland. Your inaction keeping you hostage like a ladybug in a spiderweb. The more you struggled, the harder you found it to keep your human consciousness.

So, you did the most human you could think of: you cried. Fitting, you thought to yourself, a weeping willow, well, weeping. Your tears came to fruition in the form of vibrant yellow blossoming flowers against the beige and cracking surroundings.

You stayed like that for the next 106 years. Your roots had grown so long that you could feel each corner of the dreaming, searching high and low for water to drink from. Soon, even that would run out. Another tear runs down your bark, your trunk growing deep grooves where the previous century of tears had carved. Despite all odds, your leaves were still vibrant and your flowers would change colors based on your mood. A trick that took you a few decades to learn.

The moon rises higher and higher over the horizon. You follow its path, counting the fragments to keep your mind from boredom. It split in half 15 years after Dream’s capture and every five years or so, another fragment separates from the moon. You counted 18 fragments this time around, the same as the day before, and the week before that. You yawn, the bark shaking as you do so and close your eyes to rest.

You wake to a soft hand on your bark just as dawn cracks. Your leaves shake in surprise as someone touches you. It takes a moment to reorientate yourself and when you look down from your height your breath hitches.

“Sister?” Dream calls out, his hand still on your bark.

Relief floods your system just as a soft breeze runs its fingers through your thin leaves. Your catkin flowers caress his skin when he smiles at you. Just as fast as relief has found you, guilt consumes you again. Morpheus has escaped, it had taken him 106 years and all you have done is stand here and do nothing. Your branches groan again, more flowers blooming in its wake as you weep again, and the individual petals turn a deep blue color.

Dream grabs one of your leaves gently as it tries to recede from his touch. “Y/N,” He calls out carefully. “I do not blame you for what happened 106 years ago.”

“I am touched by your sacrifice.” He pauses as he picks his next words carefully. “You were the only one who came to my side when I needed it.”

You still stay quiet but your petals slowly start to return to their yellow colors. Morpheus takes this as a good sign and continues.

“I love you, dear sister, I wish for you to never doubt that. If only I could give you a hug for all that you had done for me,” He prods and extends both of his hands outwards.

You purse your non-existent lips in thought, a very tempting offer. Why not try one more time, to be by your brother’s side? Your bark groans again and you concentrate. You try to remember the details of your human body. How did your hair look? How did you hold yourself? Did you have a mole on this side of your face?

Your leaves and branches start to shake and shrink in on themselves the more you think. You call in your roots and start to wiggle your toes. You think of your fingers and how they had done so much for you: the paintings you made, the pastries you baked. One last tear escapes down your raw skin and when you open your eyes again, you are looking at Dream through new eyes.

Morpheus comes into your space and wraps his steadying arms around you. You sob into his jacket until it becomes uncomfortable. Your throat is raw when you’re finally reduced to hiccups. Through it all, Dream is holding onto you, gently caressing your hair the way you have liked since you were born.

“I like this new hair of yours,” He comments as he pulls at a few strands of your hair. It’s longer this time around and kept the same emotional properties your flowers had. It changes from blue to green as your mood shifts.

“Great, now I can’t hide my emotions anymore.” You mutter weakly to yourself as it changes to red at your slight annoyance.

Dream chuckles above you and gives you one final tight squeeze.

“Welcome home, sister,” He whispers. You take a deep breath, letting it fill your lungs thoroughly.

“Yes, I am home.”

I did a surprising amount of research for this fic. Apparently, the first woman to attain a driver's license was like in 1900 so that's why Genny was so surprised you could drive. Also, I would not recommend driving in a 1916 vehicle? Looks like it could explode at any minute.

This was a request! And requests are open, just go to my page and hit that button to submit one.

If you do submit a request, it may take me a bit to get to them just because of the nature of it and my classes are starting to get ready for finals. (Your girl is graduating this semester woohoo!)

I will see you in the next fic!

♡ Yours, Layla

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #sandman x reader #siblings #sibling reader #platonic relationships #platonic #x reader #angst with a happy ending #angst #reincarnation

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luimagines · 11 months

Text

A Kabedon Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2 will have Wind, Sky and Four.

Content under the cut!

Wind

“Wind, give it back!”

“Nope! You have to catch me!”

You huff, almost screaming in frustration before you turned to one of the older boys for help. “Can’t you get it back for me?”

They looked at you with sympathy but the growing smile on their face, no matter how smothered, was telling you that they found the whole thing amusing and weren’t going to help you anytime soon.

You stomped your foot in frustration, turning back to go chase after the pirate.

“Link!” You screech, trying to lose the distance once more. “Give it back to me!”

“Nah!” He laughs maniacally, dancing around your outstretched hand. “You’re going to have to take it from me.”

You’ve just about had it. This direct attack wasn’t working. You’re going to have to outsmart him. And if you allowed yourself to think it, you were willing to bet that it wasn’t going to be that difficult.

You turned directions, going opposite to where Wind went and ran off. Some of the other called out your name in concern, thinking Wind might have pushed you too far. But Wind followed you instead.

“H-hey!... I’m sorry! Come back! We’re not supposed to go off alone.”

You didn’t listen and found yourself hiding amongst the trees as Wind called out your name time and time again.

You waited for him to come closer before you decided to go through your incredibly impulsive plan.

Wind called your name, sounding more concerned as the seconds passed. “Please don’t do this. It’s not safe! You know this.”

Just a little closer.....

Wind looked around, walking slowing as he searched for you. You crept around the trunk of the largest tree in the area, keeping your steps quieter than your breath.

You eventually found yourself behind him.

And you tackled him.

“Give it back!”

“AH GOD!”

You both tumbled through the fallen leaves. Limbs flew everywhere, each trying to get the upper hand. Somehow, you both got back to your feet amongst the chaos. You didn’t even have time to gin your footing again before you shoved him against the tree, trapping him between your arms.

“Got you!” You grinned, feeling incredibly proud of yourself.

Wind blinks owlishly at you, wide agape and slack jawed. His eyes search all around your face. It’s as if he’s found a bountiful treasure map but he unable to make sense of it.

You snatch your precious belonging out from under him and hold it up to his face. “I win.”

Wind gulps and lets himself sag. “....I guess you caught me...”

“I did!” You cheer and begin to head back to camp without another thought. ”Lets go.”

“...Right...” Wind follows you. “You had us worried for a second.”

“Well you shouldn’t give me a reason to worry you.” You’re not entirely sure what that means but it feels the right thig to say. Zelda said it once and you’ve been inclined to repeat every now and then. Zelda always wins the fights she’s in so it must be true.

He started it. You just finished it.

Sky

“I can’t believe you.”

“I can believe me.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Well I do.”

You and Sky were walking back from the market with the bags of your spoils in hand. The banter was easy and companionship was appreciated, even if the progress was a bit slow.

“How are going to explain this to the others?” You sighs, shaking your head.

“Easy. Just say it was my idea.” Sky explains. “There’s no reason why you have to-”

“Stop talking.” A sound came from the left of you and you’re not willing to trust the maker of it.

“Rude.” Sky keeps talking anyway. “I’m just saying there’s no reason for you to deal with it when I’m willing to take full responsibly-”

“Yes, yes, my hero- shut up.” You wave your hands frantically, trying to get him to cooperate.

“I’m just saying-”

“Stop saying stuff!” You push him away into a nearby wall, thanking your lucky start you also managed to push him into an alley way. With your hands over his mouth and your body against his, you strain your ears for the footsteps that seem to steady come in your direction.

Thankfully, Sky finally gets the message.

The footsteps pass, but you’re not willing to let go of the young man next to you just yet. Just in case.

The seconds begin to pass and the footsteps fade away until you can’t hear them any more. You let out a short breath of relief and finally step away from Sky.

He also lets a breath out and goes to step away from the wall but you keep him pinned against it with a single finger. “Don’t even think about it.”

His eyes dilate and fixate on yours.

“You could have just costed us this entire trip.” You narrow your eyes at him. “Learn to take a hint.”

“...Sorry.” Sky gulps.

You huff and move away enough for Sky to peel himself from the wall at last. “Alright. We’re going to have to be quick about this now. It would only be a matter of time until they catch our scent and track down that we were here. Let’s go. We have to get to the others.”

You begin to walk away, taking the bags of groceries with you as you go. When you turn to see the young man, you find that he’s still close to the alley way, having not moved much since you puled away.

Annoyed at his behavior, you charge back over to where he is and take his hand. “Are you sleep again?” You tease. “Come on. We have to hurry.”

Sky coughs, finally picking up speed to match yours. His grip tightens around the other bag in his hand. “Right...”

Four

That’s it!

You had had it.

This boy. His smug nature. His arrogant demeanor. The way he teased, and teased and teased. The thought makes your blood boil from your frustrations alone.

He was such a pain in the neck. And yet he only showed this side to you. It was annoying. He was annoying.

You’d show him.

You’d show him once and for all.

You didn’t to wait long for your plan to be put into motion. When the group was out walking for the next leg of the journey, you knew that he would single you out just to see you blush and fluster until your words failed you. But not this time. This time you were going to swallow your pride and show him what for!

You tried to keep your walking speed where the people behind you be far enough away to buy you time but you weren’t walking fast enough to run into the people ahead of you.

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” Four smiles next to you. “I hope the weather stays nice. I would like to think that maybe nothing bad is happening when the day is as cheerful as this.”

You bite your lip, moving close to him. He doesn’t notice and he moves with the flow, keeping the same space between you both.

“I was hoping to walk by you again.” There it is. “You are my favorite person here.”

Darn it! So strong and right out the gate to boot. You can feel your cheeks heat up, but force yourself to swallow it down. You step closer again, pushing him further off the trail. “Thank you.”

Four nods, sending you a bright and cheery smile. The jerk. “That being said, I was wondering about the next time we get into town. We would need to get more food and supplies, obviously. But I want to go see if there’s worth noting. And I’m not talking about information gathering. Would you mind being my companion for that?”

You feel the words die in your throat. “Mhm.”

“Great!” Four beams. “Awesome!”

You can feel yourself flustering more. That’s not fair! You had a plan! you can’t back out now.

You growl and push Four against a nearby tree. The action takes the boy by surprise. Good. You wanted that to happen.

Four’s eyes get blown wide as he registers how the space between you has vanished nearly in its entirety. Slowly, his face also begins to turn a lovely shade of pink. His eyes meet yours and he swallows. “Hey-”

“Shut up.” You’re breathing a little harder than you want to admit but you carry on. “Stop being annoying charming. Stop disarming me. Stop attacking my brain with your offhanded comments. I can’t take being struck stupid every time you so much as open your mouth. It’s my turn.”

You push him closer to the tree, making sure you’re chest to chest, emphasizing your size difference. “Do you know how frustrating it is to have to deal with your dazzling smile or your pretty perfect eyes or knowing that you’re easily the smartest person here and yet you use your incredible intelligence to toy with me.”

“I’m nOt.” Four squeaks.

“Well you have some end goal!” You frown.

“I don’t.”

“Shush!” You can feel yourself slipping. “Not another peep! I’ll go with you into the town but by the three, I’m not playing this game!”

Four nods hastily. His jaw clenches but he finds himself only staring into your eyes.

“Ok, good. Glad we’re in agreement then.” You pull back, feeling the shame of your impulsiveness creep up your neck. “Now if your excuse me...”

You skitter away, leaving Four by himself against the tree.

Four puts his hand over his heart and slowly lowers himself to the forest floor. His swallows hard and stares into the space where you just where. He’s still not entirely sure what happened, but he finds himself unable to think about anything other than the way you looked as you pinned him there.

Part 3

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader

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averagewriter-inthedark · 4 months

Text

Eye of The Storm ⛈| Six of Crows Imagine

Takes place during the events of Shadow & Bone S2

My Masterlists

Characters & Pairings: Crows x Squaller/Saint!Reader (platonic), Kaz Brekker x reader (slight/eventual)

Content Warnings: fighting, blood, profanity, cannon divergence | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4.9k

Requested 📨: yes/no

Premise: As the Crows make their way back to the Slate following their climatic dethronement of Pekka Rollins, they are ambushed by his supporters with no plan of action to escape. As they slowly accept their fate, what was once a clear night is rained upon with lightning and thunder in its wake. Having beat the odds of meeting one living Saint in their lifetime, the Crows are stunned when their savior, a player in the ever unfolding drama in Ravka, is the legend in stories of restoring life in the world when all hope was lost.

Note: although the Saint name I give is not Y/n, it’s still a reader insert and explains more at the end (it’s not an OC) also I know Zoya is called Sankta Zoya of the Storm but I have yet to get to her arc so for this the reader has powers equivalent to her

————————

The sirens had finally seized, concluding the hysteria in the streets of Ketterdam once it was revealed the Firebox outbreak was a hoax. Constructed by none other than the Bastard of the Barrel and his thieves amongst men, the Crows. After years of heated tension, and guided vengeance, against Pekka Rollins, Kaz Brekker succeeded in his plans of putting down the Lion that had ruined his life. Constant mental torture as he manuevered his players on their chestboard now able to rest.

“Where were you?” His voice was raspy, face still painted with his blood from the beating as he addressed Inej when she appeared from the shadows. They had been making their way back to the Slat. Nina, Wylan, and Jesper were flanked beside him, the dimly lit street light shining down on the group. Inej had been the only one not accounted for, flooding Kaz with anxiety mixed with anger that she strayed from the plan.

“I--.”

A gloved hand came up, stopping her. “Actually, I’d rather not hear what you have to say.” he wanted to shout. Reprimand her for being so foolish. Voice how her actions could’ve gotten her or one of them hurt because they had no idea where she was.

Despite these desires, the pain in Kaz’s body was too much and he was in need of a strong drink. Inej narrowed her eyes, but the man brushed past her leaving the others to send her looks of sympathy. Falling in step, the group followed behind Kaz, making note of how empty the streets were at that time of night. It was eerie. Yeah they may have caused an uproar with their little stunt, but they assumed there’d still be people out and about.

Dance halls and clubs are empty. The markets closed for business. Not a soul in sight. Wylan was the first to speak, “I’ve never seen it this quiet.”

“Very odd if I must say,” Jesper agreed, unconsciously letting his hands fall to where his guns strapped to his belt. His intuition was picking at his brain at the feeling that something wasn’t right.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s plotting now that Pekka is gone,” Inej made note of their surroundings. They were only a block from the Slat. Soon they’d be in the comfort of their home, able to bask in the relief they pulled their task off. A warm cup of tea by the fireplace before it came time for bed. Inej was looking forward to it.

But unfortunately, fate had other plans.

Nina suddenly froze, “Stop,” all movement seized, heads turning to the heartrender. Unease consumed them as they took in the sudden paleness of her appearance. “I hear heartbeats.” There was a subtle gulp, the woman adding in a low tone, “a lot of heartbeats.”

Tensing, they were met with the sounds of footsteps approaching from every angle. Inej pulled out her knives, as did Jesper with his guns. Wylan clutched his satchel to his chest, thinking of what he could use to help them out of this situation, though the odds were not looking good. Meanwhile, Kaz reversed his steps while the others spun around, the Crows forming a circle with their backs to one another, Kaz keeping space between him and Jesper. Allowing them a full view of the square.

They watched the herd of men step into the light. Revealing themselves with menacing eyes filled with vengeance. Kaz tensed, recognizing them as Pekka’s men.

Well the ones still loyal to the King of the Barrel. Several had already pledged their support to Kaz or took the chance to ditch town while they had the opportunity. Yet, here was a group of at least twelve, likely part of Pekka’s inner circle who’ve taken the actions of Kaz more personally. Those who refused to kneel. The young criminal should’ve known better than to expect a sudden shift in power would come easily to him.

“We have no business with you, gentlemen,” Kaz spoke with a level of calm that surprised even him. Deep down he was consumed with nerves seeing he and the Crows were severely outnumbered.

“Oh, but we do,” a gruff voice replied. Kaz’s eyes drifted to the owner, who’s hand mavuevered over his gun. “See, some of us are not too pleased with your little show tonight, Brekker. And we’ll be damned before claiming you as the King of the city.”

Jesper tilts his head slightly, whispering under his breath, “What do we do, boss?” Beside him Wylan was visibly freaking out. Nina raised her hands, ready to counter any attacks while Inej tightened the grip of her knives.

“This is it,” Kaz thought, clutching onto his cane. No ideas surfaced to help them escape. Accepting his time was up. Though he was going to fight for his Crows, the Bastard of the Barrel was ready to come to terms with his fate.

But before anyone could make the first room, a crack of lightning followed by its booming thunder shook the ground. Several flinched, including the crows, some of the Dime Lions stumbling by how close and sudden the element was to them. Rainfall began to pour down the once clear sky. Dark clouds covering the stars and skies.

The rain was thick, drenching everyone from head to toe. Their clothes became heavy. Had it not been for the skewing of their visibility, making them struggle to see where they were, they’d be annoyed by their state. But there were more important things at stake.

The storm made it hard to see. Only getting a glimpse of shapes and figures when flashes of lightning in the near distance hit the earth. Coupled with its thunder. Kaz barely could make out the enemy, bringing his cane up for any sudden attacks.

“What’s happening?” Wylan shouted, gurgling when the water hit mouth. “What do we do?”

“I-I--,” Kaz stuttered, the feeling of nausea swarming him at the cold, wet, rain hitting his face. It brought him back to the worst days of his life. Floating on top of cold, wet, bodies in the harbour, begging the Saints to save him. The man wanted to crawl away and hide. Yet the fear of not knowing what waited for them when the rain stopped kept him from falling to his knees in a panic.

“Hey! You there!” the same man from before shouted, Kaz squinting his eyes to see him raise his gun only to be thrown back by an invisible force of wind. His partner beside him went down next, though what hit him appeared to be a beam of light.

Kinda like a lightning bolt.

“What the hell was that?!” Inej shouted over the thunder.

‘A Squaller?’ Kaz thought to himself, watching another bout of wind sweep his oncoming attacker off their feet. He had not heard of another Grisha roaming the streets of Ketterdam. Surely if a squaller were inhabiting the area he’d know.

Using the butt of his cane Kaz knocked him out unconsious. When he glanced back up, his eyes landed on a cloaked figure standing on the roof of a nearby building. The rain made it impossible to make out their face. But judging by the way they moved their hands, and the fact his enemies were being bombarded by gusts of air, their savior was in fact an Ethereaki.

But what kind exactly?

At first Kaz believed they had to be a Squaller due to the wind. Yet, he then witnessed the rain shift direction, and water from a puddle shoot up to hit a man about to attack Wylan. A Tidemaker would better fit that description, however Kaz wasn’t aware of a Grisha able to control both air and water.

“I don’t know,” Jesper responded, shooting at an assailant he saw racing toward them, “But I’ve never been so happy for a thunderstorm as I am now.” At that moment Kaz realized nobody else noticed the mysterious person on the roof. His attention turned to Jesper beside him, oblivious to the help he was getting from a fellow Grisha. Turning back to the roof, expecting to see the cloaked individual, but they were gone.

As the fight commenced the storm ensued. Thunder overpowering the sound of pelting rain and gunshots. The Crows fought for their lives as the number of Dime Lions against them decreased. Nina managed to incapacitate several as did Jesper and Inej. The fight came to a climatic end with the last one standing was, quite, literally, hit with a lightning bolt causing the Crows to freeze where they stood.

Smoke filled the space, and when it cleared they were met with the mysterious being. Rain pelting down on them, however they seemed to pay no mind. As though it were a natural occurrence. It was still hard to see them. The streetlight candles had been blown out from the rain and wind, and the moon was covered by the clouds. Both those combinations obscured the face of their savior.

Nina raised her hands, ready to defend the group but Kaz motioned for her to stop, causing confusion amongst the rest. Who was this person and what did they want? And why was Kaz not doing anything?

“Well,” their voice, a feminine one at that, breached the once silent square. “That was entertaining if I’m being honest. Been a while since I’ve squabbled with angsty men,” she chucked, “but I was in dire need of practice.” Now hearing the woman speak clearly, they were able to identify her Ravkan accent. For Nina, her heart nearly stopped.

“I know that voice.” she felt the eyes of everyone, including the woman, on her. Hands lowering to her side, Nina's face etched into pure astonishment. Adding more confusion to the group who were at a loss of who this woman was.

“Oh!” The woman chuckled, not commenting on Nina’s words, “Apologies for the storm, let me just--,” they watched in stunned silence as her right hand rose, displaying a motion before the rain slowed and stopped altogether. Then with two fingers, she waved them around causing the clouds above to dissaperate, allowing the moon to shine down.

“Did she just--.” Jesper whispered to Inej, who’s expression resembled that of witnessing a miracle. “Can squallers summon thunderstorms? I thought that was a myth.”

Inej blinked rapidly, voice so low the others barely made out her reply. Tone in absolute awe, “Only one can.”

“One?” Kaz repeated, feeling a wave of unease beneath his skin.

Water from puddles splashed as the woman walked forward, stepping into the ray of light. The Crows, now able to see her fully, were greeted with her (y/h/c) hair and bearing dazzling grey eyes like the storm clouds she’d summoned. She appeared to be slightly older than the group, possibly by a few years. Then again Grisha were known to age slower than regular folk. For all they know she could be in her 50s. Look at the Darkling, who passed as a man in his early 40s to the naked eye but had lived for nearly 400 years.

Adorned in a deep grey kefta, the white and blue embroidery etched on resembled lightning bolts along with tiny drops of rain. It was unlike any kefta the Grisha wore. Those in the Ravka’s Second Army, with the exception of the Darkling, wore certain colored keftas and embroideries to signify their order. But to the knowledge of the Crows, no Grisha wore grey.

“Saints,” Nina gasped, jaw dropping slightly, causing the woman to smirk.

“Now, now,” she playfully tsked, “I’m not above swearing, but considering that applies to me….” her smirk never faltered, “I’m sure you can understand.”

Jesper’s head spun, looking between his comrades to see they were reacting the same way, “I’m sorry, are you saying that you’re--.”

Nina beat him to it, “Sankta Imber of the Drought.” Inej gasped, as did Wylan. The former repeated the name in wonder, falling to her knees in respect, “Sankta Imber….”

Kaz tightened his grip on his cane, mind racing to remember the tale behind the name. Who’s story was passed down from generation to generation for centuries. Who, like the Darkling and the Sun Summoner, was said to be either myth or once lived but suspected of perishing long ago.

Legends say that Sankta Imber of the Drought had been born in the century following the creation of the Fold. A farmer's daughter in the region of East Ravka, her family lived through the period where the country was stricken with a severe drought lasting over a hundred years, beginning not long after the Black Heretic disappeared. With no rain bringing water to the crops came a deadly famine. Hundreds of people and animals were lost, not only due to starvation and dehydration, but also illness. The economy in all of Ravka crumbled. Both States were fighting against each other for resources, as the food supply from East Ravka to West was now scarce. An increase in fires and dust bowls destroyed a lot of ecosystems, further deteriorating the country.

What was left of it that is.

There was little to no hope, with even prayers to the Saints to help them becoming meaningless words. Those still worshiping begged for a savior. The one who would bring the rain and storm. Ending the drought. Releasing them from the famine.

The idea a Squaller could summon a powerful storm was unheard of. Being able to bring forth powerful winds, rain, and possibly lightning and Thunder? Surely a Grisha of sorts would be only known by folklore. Especially given Tidemakers were the ones to control water.

Yet, it all changed one day as the 104th year of the drought approached.

“You’re more powerful than you think, Imber,” Baghra's stern voice echoed in the cave. Sitting opposite of her, with her head down and tear stains painting her cheeks, 15-year-old Imber Egorova made a sound Baghra could only assume was a whimper. “Denying it will do you no good. It will do this country no good.”

“How do you know?” The girl whispered, voice hoarse from crying following another gruesome 12 hour training day. “What makes me different from any other Squaller here?” She referred to the 20 other Squallers residing on the Little Palace grounds. Though some trained with the renowned Gisha teacher, none experienced the level of intensity Imber did.

“No Squaller here has shot someone 80 yards by their power during an exercise,” Baghra rebutted, causing Imber to wince at the memory. The reason why she was suddenly called to Baghra’s cave in the first place. From then on Imber barely got a lick of sleep or time to eat a proper meal.

The older woman gave a pointed look, “nor have they been able to summon electricity.” Ignoring Imbers stunned expression, she continued, “yes, girl, I know what you did when your sister’s heart stopped before you came here. Why your family was so willing to let you go after the testers proved you were Grisha,” Baghra leaned back in her chair, face void of emotion. “Ravka has not seen more than a few inches of rain since this drought began. No storms. And with the famine,” there was a light pause, “It’s claimed more lives than the Fold.”

Imber shuddered at the mention of Ravka’s darkened entity. Not wanting to think about its black abyss swimming with volcra.

“The point is, child,” Baghra captured her attention once more, “Besides the Sun Summoner, you could be the one to end part of Ravka’s suffering. But that will not happen if you cannot believe it yourself.”

Weeks shy of her 16th birthday, Imber received a letter from her father, which would change not only her world, but the one around. After contracting a bacteria from contaminated pond water, her mother and sister succumbed to a deadly illness after only a week. Her father had buried them on their land by the dead oak tree where they used to have picnics before Imber was taken to the Little Palace.

Distraught and riddled with unbearable pain, Imber collapsed to her knees in the middle of the courtyard, crumbling the letter in her hands. Her peers were silent, staring at her with sympathy. Unsure of what to say to the grieving teen, despite many knowing the exact feeling Imber was feeling.

Sorrow, anguish, regret. Never having the chance to correct wrongs or make memories with the loved onces they longed for. The cries of the Grisha filled the otherwise silent courtyard.

Suddenly, a rumble came from the sky..

Imber didn’t hear it over the sound of her sobs. Her companions, however, drew their attention upward, where they were greeted by a sight unimaginable. What once was a clear blue canvas, barely any clouds to begin with, transformed to that of a dark shadow. Wind, so powerful they thought a Squaller was responsible, nearly sent them off their feet.

“What’s happening?” A girl shouted, though they had difficulty hearing her due to the mix of rumbling overhead and breeze of wind.

“I don’t know!” the boy, a Tidemaker, beside her squinted, “Imber!” He lifted a hand to protect his eyes while focusing his view on the kneeled Grisha. A flash of light where her hands were plaed on the ground had him flinching. ‘What in the---.’ The spark occured once more. Chills filled his entire being as his eyes became saucers, falling to a whisper. “Saints above.”

Witnessing the sparks, an Inferni moved closer, ignoring the warning sent by the Tidemaker. “What is she doing?” His answer came by being blasted back by a gust of wind.

Imber let out a broken scream, head tilting back toward the sky as bolts of lightning released from her hands, igniting bouts of thunder in its wake. Gasps and shouts echoed around the Squaller from fellow Grisha and palace guards. The group behind her ran to find cover as the wind became too much, sending barrels and crates flying. Lightning and thunder, the duo reuniting as lost friends.

A sight to behold.

As the tears rolled down Imber’s cheeks, heavy rain soon replaced them. Drenching the lands of East Ravka for the first time in a hundred years.

For hours the girl remained kneeling on the grounds of the courtyard. Alone as everyone had seeked shelter within the Palace walls, letting the water from above coat her. The kefta she bore grew heavy. She paid no mind to it.

It wasn’t until she began to shiver from the freezing atmosphere that Imber retreated inside. Coming face to face with the reality of what transpired. As two guards escorted her to the throne room, Imber barely took notice of her peers watching the storm draw on from the windowsills. Some glanced at her in a mix of wonder, awe, and fear. Fear at the unknown, but wonder at what will be known.

Entering the throne room Imber was greeted by the King, Queen, Baghra, and the General of Ravka’s Second Army. Whereas the country’s monarchs were visibily bewildered at Imber, Baghra appeared impressed in comparison to the General’s excitement. Nerves consumed her on top of the immense grief Imber was experincing. Rain continued pelting the windows and roof of the Little Palace. Every once in a while, the occupants in the room flinched at the crack of thunder.

Upon making eye contact with the King, Imber bowed her head, curtseying as best she could with the weight of her soaked kefta. From there she underwent an hour of intense interrogation at the hands of the King and General. Baghra was questioned as well. Admitting she suspected the scale of Imber’s power but decided to stay quiet until the time came. The General, while pleased to know the world’s most powerful Squaller was among his ranks, voiced concern at the possibility of their enemies discovering her.

“Ravka has been praying for the day storms finally wash over her,” his tone was calm, almost haunting. Imber couldn’t look away as he moved toward her, tear stains painting her cheeks. “To save them from this wretching drought. Bring an end to this famine that has wiped away countless lives. Rain has touched grounds for the first time in over a century, Miss. Egorova. The people of Ravka are going to celebrate you. Erect statues on your name for being the hope they prayed for all these years.” he halted directly in front of her, keeping hold of her gaze it sent another wave of chills not relating to the cold clothes Imber wore.

“You are now the symbol of this dark period coming to its end. You are Sankta Imber of the Drought.”

“The storm lasted a fortnight, dispersing across Ravka’s lands until every inch had been touched by lightning. Yet the rain continued for months on end after the winds disappeared,” Nina recited the story etched into her brain. The crows silent as they took in her words. “Many say it was the raw grief of Imber losing her family that the storms were so strong. The constant rain marked as a symbol of her time in mourning.” The crows familiar with loss could relate. Kaz, Jesper, and Inej looking elsewhere than the Grisha.

Nina let out a breath, “Now whenever a powerful storm appears in Ravka, locals believe it to be Sankta Imber reminding them they will never experience a drought again. Famine will never touch their lands so long as she remains. Rain will be their protector, and she will be its champion.”

At the end of the Heartrender’s tale, Imber clasped her hands behind her back. “Nice to see my reputation still precedes me after all these years.” Chuckling, she took another step toward the group, “Still odd to hear myself spoken like a myth when I still live and breathe the same air as you.”

Again, no words could describe what the Crows were feeling at that moment. No one however was more shocked than Nina herself. And her reasons were far more than just being in the presence of a living Saint. “But you…”

Imber’s smirk turned to a soft smile, “Been some time since our last acquaintance, Nina Zenik.”

All eyes turned to the brunette, Kaz the first to speak, “What?” Not only was his mind racing, but now it was full of questions and doubts. They knew each other? But judging by Nina’s reaction, it was not all that meets the eye. She was stunned beyond belief like they were. “Care to explain, Zenik?”

Tensing by the tone of his voice, Nina sent him a light glare, “I don’t know her as Sankta Imber,” her eyes returned to the Grisha, this time showcasing betrayal as the memory of the woman in a blue kefta like her fellow Squallers appeared in her mind. “But as Commander Y/n Tempestasov of the Second Army.” Everyone felt the shift in the air at the mention of the Darkling’s army.

Why was one of the Darkling’s soldiers, a Saint at that, coming to them in the middle of the night? Traveling across the sea and saving them from Pekka’s men. There had to be a reason.

Kaz tightened the grip he had on his cane. Thinking back to events of the past several months. He would’ve recognized Imber, or Y/n, whatever she wanted to be called--at the Winter’s Fete. The kefta was unique; it would've captured anyone’s attention. As a powerful Squaller, Kirigan surely wanted her close to his side. Yet the Grisha had not been present on the skiff nor did Alina mention anything of meeting another living Saint.

Then there was the fact that the legends of Sankta Imber of the Drought were from nearly 300 years ago. It was believed she had died or dissapeared roughtly 20 years after she brought the storm to Ravka.

Meaning she’s been hiding in plain sight for centuries. A ghost among the living. Playing the role of a Second Army soldier under a false name to preserve her identity.

Another chuckle brought Kaz out of his thoughts, “Allow me to fill in the blanks, Crows,” Imber smirked at their reaction, “yes I know who you are. Do not doubt Nina’s loyalty--the last time we saw each other I was a different person. Roughly eight years if I’m correct,” bringing a hand to her chin, the Saint acted like she was deep in thought, “You’d only just arrived at the Little Palace before I escaped.”

“Escaped?”

Imber retained her posture, more serious than the initial laid back she had presented, “You’ve witnessed the evil General Kirigan is capabale of first hand.” they stayed silent, but each of their expressions faltered. “I discovered the scale of it a long time ago, after he made me a prisoner of the Little Palace under the guise of a trainer.” Nina bowed her head, the memory of Commander Y/n paroling the grounds where the Etherealki trained. She always appeared detached, but was kind to the young Grisha who had not yet succumbed to the corruption of the Darkling. “He was responsible for everyone believing I had died or dissapeared. After instilling fear in me at the thought of being captured by enemies, he had me locked in the caves of the Little Palace.” Inej let out a gasp, face consorting with sadness.

Imber shrugged, “sooner or later people stopped searching for me. Unaware I was close the entire time despire my storms becoming a blanket over Ravka for years. I was all but the myth you’ve heard.” Turning her head to Nina, Imber offered a soft smile, “It was years before he let me out. When he did I was named Commander under a false name and trained Grisha for centuries. Changing my name each time he did because someone asked too many questions and we had to clean up his mess. Y/n Tempestasov is the recent name of the many I’ve gone by. Frankly it’s my favorite if I’m being honest.”

“Would you prefer it if we called you that?” Wylan raised his hand, resulting in a side eye from Kaz at his formality. The Saint, however, smiled at him, “I’d like that. Imber Egorova…” she trailed off, connecting her gaze with Kaz as though she read him like a book. “She is of the past.”

Ignoring the weight on his chest, knowing damn well what the Saint was refering to, Kaz changed the subject. “Enough sentiment. You still haven’t said why you’re here.” The sound of his cane echoed on the pavement when he moved closer to her. “The Darkling might be dead but how are we to trust you’re not doing his bidding.”

The woman scoffed, obviously offended by the assumption, “Believe me, I hate the man more than anyone. Probably more than you and Alina combined.”

Jesper made a face of shock, voicing what they all thought, “You know Alina?”

“She sent me,” Y/n mused, shocking them more when she added, “And Kirigan is alive.”

“How is that possible?” Inej wondered aloud, unable to grasp the news.

“Turns out his own creation did not kill him after all. Instead he used merzost to create shadow monsters. Monsters that can only be destroyed with a certain blade that, like me, is also a legend.”

“Neshyenyer,” Kaz narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to call bluff. Y/n smirked in response.

“That is where you come in. We have some mutual friends, and they sent me to retrieve you lot to find the sword. Said you were the best of the best.” Hand going into her pocket, she removes a rolled parchment tied with a ribbon. “For your cooperation, the King of Ravka plans to generously compensate you.” She held it out to Kaz, “For you, Dirtyhands.”

He ignored the name, deciding not to question the depth of her knowledge on him and the Crows, and instead took the parchment. Once unfolded, he read the message inked onto its surface, detailing the extent of the mission and amount of kruge to be paid. He stopped at the name signed at the very end, ‘Nikolai Lantsov.’

‘Mutual friends,’ he remembered she said. Intuition telling him it was not only Alina and Mal the Saint referred to. Only person Kaz recalled that could likely be said aquaintance was a certain privateer.

Footsteps wandering away had the man look up, finding Y/n to take her leave. Kaz and Jesper flanked to his sides, the whole group watching her depart. “Come along, Crows,” she called out, the playfulness returning. “A storm is approaching.” light rain began to fall once more, followed by the sound of thunder in the distance. Kaz pictured the smile on her face by the tone of her voice. “And we’ve got work to do.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x fem!reader #inej ghafa #inej ghafa x reader #inej ghafa imagine #jesper fahey #jesper fahey imagine #nina zenik #nina zenik imagine #six of crows #SOC #six of crows imagine #grishaverse #grisha!reader #Saint!reader #grishaverse fanfic

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xoxiu · 7 months

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baby, it's you - ot7 x reader

chapter one

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summary: you get kidnapped while on a school trip to korea and get sold into south korea's luxury littles market. the most famous idol group wins your auction.

tags/warnings: forced infantilism, little!reader, diapers, noncon drug use, kidnapping, minor ed behaviors, attempted sa (cocsa?), spanking, diapers, caregivers!bts, force-feeding, language barriers,

Namdaemun market seemed never ending. So many vendors lined the streets with delicious street food and handmade clothing and accessories. You and your three friends walked the market together under the buddy system, a mandatory requirement put in place by your teacher. It was made very clear that when left to your own devices, be in a group of at least three people, and less than six. Although there were a manageable number within your group, you still found yourself doing a headcount every other minute.

"Oh my gosh, y/n, this would be so cute on your baby sister!" Marissa exclaimed, making a beeline to a small stand selling child-size hanboks. You and the rest of your group quickly followed behind, shaking your heads at Marissa's actions. The entire time you were in the market, she was constantly running off to various vendors.

The hanboks were obviously all handmade by the older woman running the stand- you admired the intricate design of a pale pink piece in particular.

"They all look too big- Lainey is only 2 years old..." your words trailed off as you looked amongst the various color options. All of the hanboks were much too big for your sister, being mostly toddler sized.

The more you and your friends stood at the stand, the more weird you felt. Perhaps it was just your imagination, or paranoia, but you couldn't help but feel someone watching you. The fact that every time you glanced at the old shopkeeper she would immediately dart her eyes away from you was not helping anything. Finally, the woman spoke up as you began to walk away.

"I have smaller sizes in the back, if you'd like to look," she said, making your group all look over in her direction. The four of you were silent for a minute, exchanging questioning glances, before Marissa spoke up.

"You go find Lainey's size; we'll wait for you out here."

The woman ushered you inside rather enthusiastically. She followed you into the building, and closed the door behind her. The rather loud 'thud' made you jump and turn to face her, curious as to why she would suddenly close the previously open door. Before any words could be exchanged, you felt arms wrap around you, pulling you into a back room of the shop.

You tried to scream out for help, but the hand around your mouth muffled any attempt to cry out. Quickly you felt yourself go into full panic mode, hyperventilating and squirming to try and escape the grip on your body. There had to be at least two men holding you, as you felt arms around your waist and arms, as well as various hands all over. What you could only assume was a pillowcase was slipped over your head, making the already dark room even darker. At some point the hand over your mouth was removed, now holding your wrists together behind your back.

"Calm down, calm down," they kept repeating, but you had no idea what they were saying due to the language difference. You could, however, hear the desperation in their voices. All you could do was cry, letting out sobs and pleas to be let go.

You could feel the tightness and tackiness of duct tape being wrapped around your wrists, leaving you unable to move them beyond maybe half an inch. Your mouth was soon covered as well, leaving your lips tightly shut from the tape.

Hands gripped you under your armpits, lifting you up onto a platform of sorts. With the freedom you still had, you kicked your dangling legs wildly, making it harder for the men to tape your ankles as well. A sudden stinging and tingling in your cheek made you freeze out of concern. The sound of the slap did not register in your head from the pure adrenaline in the moment. Only the pain broke through your focused senses.

The men used your stunned stillness to tape your ankles. Once they were sure the tape would hold, they jumped onto the platform next to you. You felt the shakes and bounces from their jump- you were in a truck trailer. And there were easily four men pulling your body further into the trailer.

You were pushed down onto your stomach with a boot resting on top of your back. Nevertheless, you continued to squirm to the best of your abilities, desperately trying to do something. What that something was, you weren't entirely sure. All you could think about was getting free and running far, far away.

As you squirmed in pain and whimpered, the men above you were having a casual conversation in Korean, even having the audacity to laugh and joke around.

The foot was removed from your back as the engine started up. The men all sat down along the walls of the trailer, watching and laughing as you were forced to slide and roll with every jerk and turn along the road. One particularly harsh stop caused you to tumble your way into two of the men. You cried and squirmed harder, not wanting to knowingly be so close to your abductors.

A sharp pain shot down your arm as you were stabbed with a needle in your upper arm. You panicked more, not liking being injected with some unknown drug. Another jab was made in your lower back, and soon you felt your body go numb. Your sobs and squirms soon died down as the drugs took full effect.

———

The sound of feet shuffling on the floor and people talking greeted you as you slowly came to. You groaned, not appreciating being awoken from a comfortable slumber. It took you a moment to open your eyes due to your exhaustion and the brightness of the room you resided in. Everything was a blinding white- the lights, the walls, everything.

With half lidded eyes, you turned your head to look at the two other people in the room. Neither of them paid you much attention, failing to notice that you had awoken. Your body had been drained of all energy, allowing you to only release a small, pitiful moan instead of the loud scream you wanted to make.

Two pairs of eyes turned to face you- the man was rather shocked to see you awake, while the woman looked pleased. All you wanted to do was jump off the exam table and run as far as you could, but the fact that you couldn't feel your fingers or toes ruined that plot.

"y/n, it's so nice to see you alert and awake!" The woman said, walking towards you. She bent down to be eye level with you, running her hand through your hair. Although she was speaking English, you still had a hard time processing her words.

"Doctor Park is going to be examining you to make sure you're all good and healthy, is that okay?"

You desperately tried to shake your head and let out a 'no'. Out of every possible situation in the world, having to be examined by a strange man had to be one of the worst. Especially when you are unable to move or speak.

The man, Dr. Park, said very little to you. He sat down in his chair and rolled his way over to you, quickly taking your vitals. He spoke in Korean, mainly addressing the woman from what you could tell. Everything was just overwhelming- the finger heart monitor, the blood pressure cuff, and the ear thermometer all happening at once made your head spin out of fear and confusion.

"y/n, you need to stop shaking your head, dear." You hadn't even realized you were moving anything, better yet your head. Ultimately you listened to the woman, fearful of what would happen if you didn't cooperate.

As the examination went on, you felt your stomach ache more and more. Closing your eyes and turning your head away from the doctor helped slightly, but the urge to vomit still remained.

The door to the exam room opened, allowing a nurse pushing a cart into the room. You strained your eyes to try to see what was on the cart. Various small bottles and needles were scattered across the cart, with what appeared to be a pacifier inside a clear plastic container.

You quickly made the connections to what was going to happened. Not liking it, you began to whine and whimper more, violently shaking your head and trying your best to move the rest of your body. No one paid you any mind, however, and continued on with the procedures.

The nurse picked up the pacifier box, and took out the pale pink pacifier. Despite your best efforts, she easily popped the soother into your mouth. You tried your best to spit it out, but your tongue felt too heavy to properly push the pacifier out with it.

You watched as the doctor began to prepare the syringes, not entirely sure what was inside of each bottle. Not wanting to watch the needle enter you, you tightly closed your eyes until you saw random colors. Surprisingly, you didn't feel a single poke of the needles. You slowly relaxed your eyelids as you felt a comforting warmth fill your body. Your breathing began even and calmer, and soon you felt yourself fall back asleep.

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #bts little space #baby its you

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namorslutfanfiction · 1 year

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Ok so I’ve not seen narcos Mexico which is basically a sin at this point but I am obsessed with Rafa!!! So he’s obviously such a soft sweet lil baby boy so I was thinking what if he met a woman who was strong and sassy and also into *cough cough* gardening *cough* and he just melts for her but she’s a hard to get maybe cos they’re rivals and she has a reputation to uphold being a strong independent woman ??? Maybe some smut with them giving into the attraction ??? Idk I’m just excited I want to keep requesting stuff cos I love your writing. Also I think the power dynamic would be such a twist cos tenoch/namor just scream daddy to me but Rafa screams soft sub baby with a big old praise kink amongst other kinks 😂

Oh rafa is our baby and definitely wants to be used.

Summary: Rafa loved women. Rafa loved weed. Now he found a woman who loves weed just like he does. And he is immediately down bad

disclaimer: I smoke, I have no idea how it's grown. so I'm making shit up.

drug use, fluff, smut.

"Comportarse," Felix shot at Rafa as the door to his office opened. Rafa smirked at him and lit his blunt. Felix had said he was meeting with a supplier who insisted on being seen. Rafa was certain who ever this pendejo was, that their weed couldn't hold a candle to his, but he had shown up because Felix had asked. But if the guy said the wrong thing then he'd shoot him, but Felix didn't need to know that.

When the first man walked through the door, Felix stood to shake his hand but he refused, "Yo no soy el que estás esperando. Es ella."

The henchman stepped aside as the real guest arrived. Rafa and Felix watched you walk in the door. Felix schooled his surprise and greeted you cordially. Rafa on the other hand was instantaneously smitten. You weren't dressed to the nines like Sofia and her like. Instead you wore jeans that hugged your curves, worn in boots, and a loose button down that had the sleeves rolled up. You hair was braided back but had little bits of frizz from the humidity. You were beautiful.

Rafa didn't hear a word as you and Felix talked. He was wondering why Felix hadn't introduced him. He was wondering why you were ignoring him, you hadn't even spared him a glance. The narco heard the words "Es una nueva variedad de marihuana."

That wasn't possible, no one had made a new strain except him, at least there in Mexico. Felix looked angry, not used to a woman being so frank and aggressive with him. You slammed a paper on the table, pointing out numbers that Rafa didn't care to understand.

"The system you built is a monopoly! You ruined the livelihood of my field, pendejo. No one will work with me because you supposedly have the best in the market. But mine is better," You screeched at the slick leader.

"You're pretty confident for such an insolent witch," Felix shot back, he pointed at Rafa, "His work is better than anyone's and I bet my life and this entire business on that. You can't compete so don't try."

Rafa's eyes were wide when you turned and glared at him. You whipped your head back to Felix, "What this joto? I'm supposed to believe he has any smarts in that rat's nest of hair?"

For some reason that set Felix off and he stood and raised his hand to slap her. Rafa moved on instinct, pointing his gun and cocking it at Felix. Felix was stunned out of his anger, "Qué chingados?"

Realizing what he had just done he pointed the gun at you, "Vete a la chingada."

You smirked at him then turned to Felix, "You've got some real idiots working for you."

"Pinche pendejo," Felix growled at Rafa then sat back down in his seat. Rafa followed, trying to hide his embarrassment. He focused on the blunt that he had let burn down half way without taking enough hits. He resigned himself to getting higher and examining your curves and the confident smirk on your face. When you got up and left the room, Felix turned around and smacked Rafa hard against the side of his head.

"What the hell is wrong with you cabron? She was talking shit and you pull a gun on me?" Felix looked incredulous.

"Who was that, Felix? How come you didn't introduce me? When is she coming back?" Rafa rattled off, jumping up from his seat on the couch.

"No mames, guey. Already? She didn't even look at you," Felix shook his head, of course Rafa the lover boy was thinking with his dick.

Before Felix could stop him, Rafa ran out of the office and tried to beat you to the lobby. But when he got there he was just barely able to see you being driven off in a pick up truck.

...

"The only reason you're here is because I want to knock her down a peg or two. She's arrogant and needs us to show her that. Other cartels would not be so nice after she came in here acting like a maldita bruja," Felix explained as he paced with a cigarette in his mouth.

"There's no way she has anything worth anything, but I'd like to make sure she knows that," Rafa said, feigning interest in the business side of things.

"Don't fuck around, Rafa," Felix grasped him by the back of his neck, "She's young, but she's smart. We can use her later so don't scare her off."

The doors opened and you were once more preceded by your henchman. Once again you were dressed casually, and you took a seat across from Felix. You noticed Rafa standing behind Felix, but didn't greet him. "You want to make a deal or not?"

"I don't need your weed. But I might need those ideas you have. I had Rafa look over them and he thinks they are promising but so far unproven," Felix explained, gesturing to the narco behind him. You noticed the hungry look from Rafa, and smirked. He was an easy book to read.

"I can prove them, just give me time and financial support. There will be a more potent strain ready for the market in a year," You replied confidently.

"We will see. You will go with Rafa to our field. For security you have to be blind folded once you get to a certain point. Rafa will be able to tell me if you're the real deal or not. If you're not then I suggest you back out of this business before you get killed. If you are then we may have use for you. This is your only chance, chiquita. Make use of it," Felix finished with such a sense of foreboding that you weren't sure how to reply. He stood and buttoned his suit jacket, "If you'll excuse me I have a comandante to talk to. Rafa, take care of her."

Then the lead narco was out the door to deal with supposedly more important duties. You eyed Rafa, taking in his open shirt, flamboyant fashion sense, and fluffy hair. He was kind of cute in an arrogant idiot kind of way. You reached your hand out to him to properly introduce yourself. He smiled at you and kissed your hand, "Hola, Rafael Caro Quintero. La princesa me puede llamar Rafa."

His smile was unbelievably charming and you couldn't help but laugh at how obviously attracted he was to you, "Well Rafa, take me to this so called 'best of the best' marijuana."

...

Rafa personally drove you to the field. On the way there he was explaining his process and asking you questions about your own. The chemistry was palpable as you finished each others sentences. You talked about similar experiments and different ideas you both had to create different strains and up the potency.

It was hot and the both of you were laughing and sweating. You had to admit, the man knew his weed. His dark skin looked delicious in the bright sun and the trickle of sweat down his neck was distracting. You noticed him pull the car off the side of the road then reach into the back for a strip of thick cloth.

"It's time then?" You asked, knowing that secrecy was important.

"Turn around, princesa, I'll put it on for you," Rafa said, looking apologetic. The already long drive had allowed you to bond over your shared interest.

"Don't tie it too tight," You requested as you turned your back to him.

"I'll be gentle," Rafa whispered, making a shiver run down your neck. His hands were warm as he moved your hair out of the way and gently placed the cloth over your eyes and knotted it behind your head. His hands rested for a moment on your shoulders and all you could hear was him taking a deep breath. "You can turn around now."

You did just that, reaching out blindly to face the front of the car again. Rafa took your wrist, making you jerk. "Calmate, I just want to show you where the middle is so you know where you're facing."

Rafa placed your hand at the edge of your seat, touching the middle console. It took you a moment to get comfortable with the loss of sight as the narco started the car and continued the journey to the fields.

After a moment of silence you spoke, "Don't kill me in the middle of the desert, please. At least not before I come up with that strain I told you about."

That made Rafa laugh. The sound was warm and infectious. You felt him take your hand, "No, hermosa, no one will touch you. It's been a long time since I've met someone who knew weed the way I do."

You were surprised at the affection, and even more surprised that you welcomed it. But you felt the same. Especially as a woman, you had never felt understood by anyone about your affinity for the plant, until now. This flashy narco was matching you move for move, and it was exciting.

...

Rafa told you to keep the blindfold on as he guided you to the actual field after he had parked the car. It didn't escape you that this felt more like a romantic surprise rather than a test of skills. You could hear the sounds of workers, and from the breeze you were definitely on flat lands. The smell of the fresh plant was in the air, and to the side you could tell there were kilos of it drying for transport.

Rafa guided you gently and then placed your hands on what you immediately knew to be a large marijuana plant. You immediately stepped forward and pushed your noise into the buds. There was silence as you took it in, already coming up with information at a mile a minute.

"What can you tell me?" Rafa asked. Then you were off, talking about the notes, the potency, the maturity and when it would be ready to harvest. There was silence and you hesitated.

"Rafa," You worried about bruising his ego, but reminded yourself this was a test, "There's something wrong with this one. Everything is fine except there's a weird syrup smell at the end. Something too sweet. It would smell awful once you burn it."

You felt him approach you and you immediately went into a defensive stance.

"I'm not going to hurt you, princesa. I'm just going to untie the blindfold," Rafa's voice was amused.

When you opened your eyes it was too bright to see. You shielded your eyes waiting for them to adjust. Eventually you could make out Rafa's smiling face. "So how did I do?"

"Eres brillante!" Rafa exclaimed, "I test all my men this way. All of them and you were the only one to catch the mistake. I purposely have those three plants that are no good. No one has caught it yet, but you."

You fought the urge to smile, "Well of course. I told you. I know what I'm doing."

You glanced behind him, taking in the watch tower and different sheds. The irrigation system and the people working and roaming. You realized that the field must be behind you.

"You can look, princesa, I think you'll like what you see," Rafa said as he guided you to turn around.

You felt your eyes grow wide as you took in the sheer size. You stepped back as you tried to take in the full scope. But it went off in all directions, as far as the eye could see. It was beautiful.

"Rafa," You turned to the man smiling at you, "This is insane. Incredible. How many acres? How many plants? What's the yield? Do you have then maturing progressively or all at once? How many kilos are you putting out?"

"Slow down, princesa. Would you like to see more of it?" Rafa asked. You nodded, unable to hide your glee. You didn't care about appearing tough or strong. This was your 'kid in a candy store' moment. Rafa took your hand and led you into the fields.

Hours went by as you walked the fields, ignoring the heat or the fact that you were walking around with someone who should be a rival. Instead you were having the time of your life. His system was pretty self sustaining but you were able to make suggested that made his eyes light up and his laugh explode. Rafa was growing on you like a literally weed.

...

The next day Rafa reported back to Felix, singing your praises.

"You should have seen it, cabron! She knew exactly what was wrong with it. She figured out the irrigation issue I had for months. I have never met anyone who could understand the nuances and delicacy of those plants," Rafa was giddy and Felix was amused.

"So I should back her?" Felix asked, although he figured he knew the answer.

"No," Rafa said, a smirk on his face. "No, whatever she comes up with won't work without the space and work I have already done. She's mine. Buy her out and she will work on the fields with me. Give her whatever she asks, but make sure she works with me, and no one else."

The possessiveness didn't surprise Felix, it was to be expected of the narco who fell fast and hard to the point of lunacy. "She's not going to like that, Rafa. You ready for her to fight you on that?"

"She'll come to me. Remember Felix, as long as her people are taken care of, then all she'll want to do is work on the weed," Rafa said, taking a long draw from his blunt.

"Tomorrow, I'll buy her out. But I want that new strain in 10 months not a year, Rafa. I need it before anyone else comes up with something better," Felix reminded him.

"No one has ever come up with anything better than me. But this, if we work together. This will be our masterpiece," Rafa had a faraway look on his smug face making Felix shake his head.

"Just make sure it's on the market by my deadline. I don't care if you fuck her with it. Make it happen," Felix dismissed Rafa.

...

"You're an ass," You immediately punched Rafa as hard as you could in the stomach. You had been dropped off at his mansion with the orders to stick to him like glue or be killed by Felix himself. "I would have been fine working with you but having that bastard leash me to you is not an attractive arrangement, pendejo."

Rafa waved off Chapo and Cuco who were ready to shoot you for attacking their boss. The narco in question was dressed as usual and laughing. "Your family is taken care of right? That was the most important thing, now the next important thing is working on that strain."

He came up to you and grabbed your jaw, "Together, we can do that. Together, we can do a lot of things."

You hated that you were turned on, "You shouldn't have forced me, Rafa. I don't like being forced."

"Then you can leave if you want. We can work on it together but you don't need to stay, I won't force you," Rafa challenged, his voice soft as he spoke close to you. The smoke from his mouth surrounding you was heady. He released your jaw, "Chapo, take her back."

Rafa turned but you called out, "Rafa. Shut up, pendejo, you know I'm going to stay."

You grabbed your bag and brushed past him into the sprawling mansion. You heard him laugh as he rushed to catch up to you and show you your room. You found it difficult to keep your surly attitude in the face of his excited ramblings.

...

It took 6 months to get the strain perfected and by the end of the 10 month deadline it was debuted. The mansion was partying and high as a kite. Debauchery was everywhere and the handles of liquor and packs of cocaine that Felix had sent as congratulations were being parsed out to the party goers.

You had no interest in partying with the boys and their sluts. You were up on your balcony, watching the pool from above. The band was loud and the people louder. There were people swimming naked in the pool, the area stank of weed, and you could see Neto and Cuco snorting lines through a window.

You didn't like coke, didn't like how fast it made your heart beat and your mind move. You preferred the mellow relaxation that the right strain of weed gave you. You crossed that with tequila and you were floating in your own little world, with a smile on your face.

The last 10 months had been invigorating. Working with Rafa was like working with a ball of pure energy. He was far more intelligent than he let on, reserving it for his treasured plants. You had met your match in that field. Someone you could genuinely bounce ideas off of and experiment with. He was charming, funny, and caring to a fault.

You were surprised he hadn't made a move, but you suspected that Felix had something to do with that. Maybe a threat about the deadline and not fucking around. It was disappointing and frustrating.

Rafa was fucking around, just with some rich chick named Sofia who rubbed you the wrong way and made you want to shoot her through the eyes. But she hadn't been around in the last few months, and Rafa had been ranting about how much of a spoiled bitch she was. You hadn't seen her at the party and were more than thankful that you didn't have to fight the urge to vomit if she had arrived.

There was a knock at your bedroom door and you called for them to come in. It was Rafa. He stood in the middle of your room apprehensive. In his hands he held a handle of tequila and two glasses. "Ay guey. I was going to invite you to share a drink with me."

You looked at the soft expression and could tell he hadn't had any coke. He hadn't since Sofia had left. At most he was high from his own plant and looking to get crossed like you. You looked at him, all of him. Rafa's hair was perfectly fluffy, jewelry draped on his dark skin, and wearing a silk shirt that was open too low. You felt heat pool between your legs.

For months you had been touching yourself to the thought of him. You had laid jealous in your bed when you knew he was with Sofia. And now here he was looking pathetic and ready to be eaten. He'd made you wait long enough.

"Rafa, is Sofia gone for good?" You asked as you walked back into the room and closed the balcony doors. You held your own handle of unfinished tequila and swung it lazily in your hand.

Rafa scoffed at the question, "That bitch is dead to me. Has been for months."

You could see him watching you. His eyes roved your body and there was a hungry look in them. You were wearing a silk robe, a gift from him a few months ago on your birthday. There was nothing underneath it.

"Is that why you wanted to have a drink with me? Because she's not around anymore?" You asked, taking a swig from your handle.

"What? No. I don't care about her. This celebration is for us. We did what we planned and now we are going to be richer and so far above any competitor that they will never reach us. This is all thanks to you," Rafa said, looking actually offended that you suggested otherwise.

You smiled at him then. The high was making you reckless, and the alcohol was making you hot. But the way Rafa looked at you was making you wet. You took another swig from our handle and approached Rafa. You locked eyes with him and put your hand on his chest.

His breathing quickened as you pushed him to sit on the end of your bed. You gripped his jaw, ran your thumb across his bottom lip, coaxing his mouth open. With one more glance at him, you spit the tequila into his mouth slowly, and he drank it. You locked eyes as he took the last drop and then you grabbed his hair and kissed him roughly.

Rafa whimpered into the kiss as you wrapped a hand around his throat and devoured him. His kisses were as intoxicating as the tequila. Months of unanswered desire came flooding out as he pulled you to him and thrust his tongue into your mouth. He tasted of the weed you had both spent months working on together.

The hours and days spent together had left you wanting more from him. But at every turn, at every lingering touch, and held glance he pulled away from you. He had always hesitated but in the end would put space between you. Your frustration at the memory got the better of you and you found his jaw again and pushed him away.

"You're such an idiot you know that? You could have had me naked in your bed for months. You could have had me on my knees or across your lap, but you kept pulling away, like you hadn't thought about it since the day I walked into Felix's office and you lost the ability to breathe," You blurted out. You regretted it, not wanting him to know just how desperate you had been.

But Rafa's gaze softened, his grip around your waist tightened, "Felix told me not to fuck around with you. Not until the strain was ready. The only reason I was with Sofia again was because I needed a release because I couldn't have you. Sofia left me because I called out your name the last time we fucked."

It took you a moment to take in what he said, then you laughed. Laughter fueled by your high and the alcohol. "You brat, you called out my name while you fucked her? No wonder she was so mad."

"It's the only way I could get off. I had to think about you, imagine I was inside your wet pussy," His vulgar admission was met with another desperate kiss from you. You pulled moans from him as your hand travelled downward and palmed his hard on. When you were satisfied that he was as needy as you felt you pulled away.

"Get naked, Rafa. Let's see if all that fucking I heard was as good as it sounded, or if that Sofia bitch was just a good actor," You jabbed, as you untied the robe and dropped it to the floor.

Rafa stopped for a moment with his shirt in his hands as he finally laid eyes on your naked form. He completely lost any comeback he had in mind as he took in the sight of your supple skin and curves. "Te ves deliciosa."

You got impatient and placed a palm on his chest. You pushed him on to the bed then went to work at removing his boots and jeans. When his cock was out and weeping you fought the urge to take it into your mouth. That was for another time. This was about you getting yours. You looked at Rafa as you lay next to him, stroking his cock playfully.

"Rafa, you need to make up for leaving me so wet all the time," You purred into his ear before sucking on his earlobe. He moaned softly and nodded. "How are you gonna do that, baby boy?"

He didn't even react to the name, just looked at you with eyes that begged to be bossed around, "Whatever you want, princesa?"

"Are you going to make me ride you or are you going to fuck me into this bed until I cum onto your cock a few times?" You asked, tracing circled along his chest, leaving his weeping cock unattended. You were fighting the urge to straddle him and slide him inside you.

"Yes, princesa," He replied, as a whimper escaped his lips as you tongued his nipple impulsively. You'd been dying to do that since the first time you had seen him with his shirt hanging open.

"Fuck me, Rafa. Be a good boy and make me cum," You moaned softly as you guided his hand to your wet cunt.

Rafa let out a feral noise once he felt just how wet you were. In a swift move you were beneath him, hands pinned above your head, and his cock pushing into your pussy. You arched against him, "Yes, baby, just like that."

He thrust into your center, hard and deep. You knew he was going to be thick but you were surprised by how deeply he thrust into you. You saw stars after months of pining. This man was a drug of his own and you knew you were going to become addicted. His lips found yours again and he allowed you to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Rafa angled your hips, wrapping your legs around him as he pounded into you.

Your first orgasm came so fast you couldn't even warn him. Your nerve endings were exploding with pleasure as he kissed and fucked and sucked every part of you. Your hands found his hair and pulled at it, making him moan into your lips. You kept your foreheads together as you encouraged him, "Yes, Rafa. You're fucking me so good. You like how my pussy feels don't you? Is this what you were imagining when you fucked that bitch? I bet you never fucked her like this."

The adoration in Rafa's eyes only grew with each word you spoke. Something about your words spurred him on. He leaned back and rubbed your clit with his thumb as he continued thrusting into your dripping wet pussy. Even his grunts sounded soft and needy. You reached forward and tweaked your own nipples. The sight made him throw his head back in ecstasy.

"Princesa, eres tan perfecta," Rafa moaned as you clenched down on him with your second orgasm. This time you felt yourself squirt a little and he did to. He fucked you even faster as you came.

You were panting now, sure that Rafa was close. But he proved you wrong and flipped you over onto your stomach. The narco gripped your hips and thrust into you, impossibly deeper than before. You grabbed at the bed sheets as the room filled with the loud slap of his hips against your round ass. "Fuck, Rafa. You're so deep, you're gonna make me cum again aren't you? You really want to please me don't you?"

Between grunts of exertion he replied, "Yes, princesa, I'll make you cum again."

He sucked and licked your shoulder and neck before biting down and lifting your hips higher so he could thrust at a different angle. Rafa didn't let up as he continued his pounding rhythm. His arm came around to put you in a loose headlock. "Cum for me, Princesa. Milk me dry."

You sobbed as you came, the pleasure so overwhelming you would have thought you blacked out but you still felt the stuttering of Rafa's hips as he filled your pussy with his cum. Both of you were out of breath, the room smelled of sex and weed, and you both started giggling.

Rafa broke down next to you, giggling as he pulled you into his side, placing fluttering kisses all over your face between breaths. You also giggled, high on pleasure, weed, and Rafa.

"You're mine now, Rafa," You spoke against his lips.

"I've always been yours," He answered back.

....

Okay, I love rafa so much wtf.

reblog, review, reply, my chiquitins.

#rafa caro quintero #Rafael caro quintero #Rafa caro quintero x reader #Rafa x reader #Rafael caro quintero x reader #Narcos mexico #Narcos #Fanfic #smut #tenoch huerta #tenoch huerta mejia #namorslutfanfiction

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kitmon · 2 years

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Let's Dance! | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Chaperoning the middle school dance isn't what most would consider a weekend well spent and Eddie is inclined to agree. That is, until he formally meets you.

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things, 2022) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Tags: fluff, like the fluffiest fluff that has ever existed, vice president!reader, swearing (I genuinely don't even know if that's actually true, just assume that with all of my writing comes swearing), cringe? ok, some of what the reader does could be considered cringe but I DON'T CARE, IF IT'S CRINGE THEN I LOVE CRINGE, written out dance scenes (writing a lot of movement is hard, guys), that should be it, there's definitely no hard warnings for this, it is just pure, unadulterated fluff

Author’s Note: This idea came to me while I was listening to David Bowie's "Let's Dance" and maladaptive daydreaming hard. And it's been rattling around in my head for months and I'm glad that it's finally finished and it's way better than I could have ever hoped! @queenimmadolla did such an amazing job beta reading (she always does) and this is as much her work as it is mine and I would really love it if you could go send her some love because Tumblr's being mean to her right now and she could really use it. This is probably one of my favorite fics I've written and I really hope that you guys enjoy it as much as I do. I think that's all I have to say, as always, happy reading!

With your hands clasped in front of you, your hips sway to the beat of whatever mainstream, upbeat pop song the DJ was playing—the pristine white skirt of your dress shifting like the branches of a willow tree, caressed by gentle gusts of wind—you can’t help but admire your hard work; streamers and tinsel flow down from the ceiling, framing the slow-to-twirl disco ball that you stubbornly bartered for at a flea market in Indianapolis, and the glittery sign you painstakingly crafted by hand even though it took you all night and you’ve been finding flecks of glitter in your tissues every time you’ve sneezed for the past two days. Totally worth it, you think with a pleased smile.

You still remember your Snow Ball (though, arguably, it wasn’t all that long ago); December 15, 1980. You’d been stuffed into a poofy, absolutely ridiculous gown that you adored with all of your heart, dancing to the Bee Gees with Pat Rafferty, a foot-and-a-half of space between your bodies as you stepped, stiffly, from side to side. The scene had looked just like this, right down to the plastic flowers you arranged in the center of each table and, even though it’s entirely trivial, you remember that night being one of the best you’ve ever had. It was the sole reason you begged Principal Higgins to let you join the planning committee amongst the middle school staff and PTA. And now, here it is: all blue and white and shiny, having come to fruition.

Your smile softens as you lose yourself in the memory of that night but it isn’t long before you’re jolted out of the past when you catch a large, clumsy movement from the corner of your eye, followed by the sound of someone tripping and nearly falling. Your head whips around to find a man—definitely not a boy considering he stands at least a whole foot above the rest of the attendees—with his ankle caught around one of the tinsel cords. As you watch him struggle, you realize that you recognize him. It’s kind of impossible not to; the messy nest of hair, the randomly spaced tattoos along his exposed forearms. The only thing you don’t recognize is his attire, it’s still definitely… him. His lean torso is sporting a wrinkled dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and the slouchy pinstripe pants he’s wearing are assuredly a size or two too big on him. It’s a far cry from his usual harsh leather and denim.

He’s hopping a bit, trying to untangle himself and you figure you better step in before he falls and crashes into the concessions.

“Here! Just—Let me,” you insist, chuckling as you step closer and crouch down to unwind the ribbon from around his shoes, finding a mangled knot. Jeez, how did he manage to do all this just by tripping?

You manage to undo the binding and he steps free with a little bounce, stumbling a couple of steps. He clears his throat as you stand and pat your hands over your skirt, “Sorry about that, can barely see anything a foot ahead of me in here.”

“It’s okay,” you assure, giggling at the red hue that paints his cheeks, noticeable even in the dim light. “Can I help you with something?”

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he shifts his weight a bit, looking over his shoulder and licking his lips before continuing, “I’m supposed to be chaperoning, or something like that.”

“Oh!” You didn’t know any other high schoolers were chaperoning tonight—because why would they?—but it’s not like you’re going to refuse the help. “Well, you’re in the right place.”

Before he can properly respond, you shove your open palm towards the center of you both and introduce yourself with a confident flow of words. He’s a little taken aback by how quick and concise you are with your actions.

“Eddie,” he says as he accepts your smaller hand into his own, intrigued with how shockingly cold your fingers are.

Your handshake is a firm one and he takes a step back once you release his hand and clasp yours together, suddenly aware of just how in your space he’d been. You watch with an amused smile as he purses his lips, nodding his head and surveying the small array of finger foods.

“Soooo,” he drawls, lips still comically pursed, “what exactly do we do for the next three hours?”

“Well,” you sigh, “we basically just watch the concessions and stuff; make sure the punch isn't getting spiked or whatever happens in movies. Though, I highly doubt any one of these kids managed to get their hands on a bottle of booze.”

Eddie seems to get the gist of the job, looking out over the sea of children.

“Oh, we also have to make sure no kids are getting too handsy behind the bleachers—Jenny! Ryan!” you shout, having caught sight of the two eighth graders kissing a little too aggressively for their weight class. “I see you two!”

You jut your finger out and as the clap of your voice reaches them they scramble away from each other and hold their arms at their sides like they’ve been caught with their grimy mitts in the cookie jar.

“Got it,” he says, eyeing the eighth graders with a sideways glance.

You huff and look back towards Eddie, eyes wide and features soft as you ask, “How’d you get roped into this?”

He dips his head and stares at you from below his brow.

“No offense!” you’re quick to defend. “It just… doesn’t seem like your kinda scene. I’ve seen you around school, you know. You wear those band tees and the vest and, well, your hair. . .” You chuckle and mimic ruffling your fingers through your own mane.

“What d'you mean?” he starts, voice laced with sarcasm, “Chaperoning a middle school dance is my idea of a perfect Saturday!”

You cock your head and send him an unimpressed stare, blinking your eyes with a heavy slowness.

“Okay, fine, you caught me. I don’t actually like watching a bunch of preteens awkwardly shuffle to crappy pop music on the weekend. I made this stupid deal with Higgins so that I could start a club.” His arms are crossed over his chest as he stares down, face shrouded with his wild hair as he watches his toes nudge at the legs of the table.

“What kind of club?” you ask, angling your head to try and catch his eye.

Your question raises some suspicion in his mind, almost hesitant at your interest and he shakes his head before answering.

“A D&D club. You know D&D?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow. You shake your head slowly with an apologetic look over your face as you bite your lip and it’s clear that was the answer he’d been expecting from you but he isn’t upset, just a little disappointed.

“Well, it’s like a tabletop roleplay ga—actually, it doesn’t matter, all you need to know is that I came to Principal Higgins with it and he shot it down, as soon as he saw me walk in.”

That makes your brows furrow and your lower lip jut out as an unpleasant emotion settles in your stomach. That’s definitely something you’d have to bring up with your cohort of student council members later.

“He said, and I quote, the only way he’d let my ‘band of hooligans congregate’ is if I showed that I was ‘committed to the community,’ or something like that, which means… chaperoning the middle school dance.” He finishes and you nod your head in understanding, feeling slightly sympathetic towards his cause; it's a bit unfair that he has to go through all this trouble just to start a club when you were able to start up the Photography Club with no questions asked.

“And you?” He questions, causing your head to perk up and your eyes to widen, “What are you in for?”

You smile and respond with a cheeky tilt of your head, “I’m actually here of my own free will, if you can believe it.”

“Ohhhh,” he draws out, faux-interest candying his voice before it drops down to a playful dullness, “you’re right, I can’t believe it.”

“Hey!” A smile is consuming your face even as you realize you have to defend yourself against his teasing. “Some people actually like to give back to the community. Plus, it’s a part of my Vice Presidential duties; to show I care about stupid things like the middle school Snow Ball.”

You draw your stare down towards your toes and share a shy smile with yourself as you toy with your fingers. Eddie smiles down at you for a moment, his hands stationed along his hips before his gaze drifts to the scene ahead of him, taking in the neat decorations and the hordes of prepubescent children that jabber amongst themselves and it’s clear the awkward shuffling of feet on the dance floor is here to stay. Despite that part of it being unbearably hard to watch, the rest is quite impressive.

“You sure do know how to plan a party, I’ll give you that much. Looks way better than my Snow Ball.”

That causes your head to snap up and an entirely dumbfounded look to paint your face.

“You went to the Snow Ball?” you ask in disbelief.

You know better than to judge a book by its cover but it seems so out of place for him. You’ve heard all of the stories and the rumors; that he’s a shut-in who dedicates the weekends to his cult-leading responsibilities. You’ve never thought to believe them, even for a second. It just felt so thoughtless and cruel and a genuine waste of your time to be gossiping behind peoples’ backs just because you didn't understand them. It was beyond lame. But you’d see him at parties, all broody and intimidating in the corner with a rusty metal lunch box he’d pop open and not-so-discreetly demonstrate his stock. He never danced, never talked to anyone unless it was to discuss prices, and he never smiled, not unless he was flipping through his wad for the night and counting his bills.

“Mmhm,” he smiles, almost proud for dispelling any preconceived notions, “got all dolled up in a monkey suit and everything. Even managed to work up the courage to ask Andrews to dance; she did not seem too impressed, I can tell you that.”

“Paula Andrews?” Again, the disbelief laces your tone but this time for good reason. Paula Andrews was vile, not for her looks or anything like that—she was actually ridiculously gorgeous—but for her nasty attitude. Anyone with a cowardly bone in their body would turn tail and run at the sight of her for fear of being ridiculed for even breathing in her direction. Even now, she was catty and prissy and mean.

“Yup,” he sighs like he’s already predicted your criticism and agrees with all of it.

“Ugh!” You visibly recoil, squinching your nose and wrinkling your lip. “Why would you ever want to dance with Paula Andrews? She’s… evil,” you shudder. “She once put gum in my hair because I wouldn’t let her cheat off of my science quiz.”

“I dunno,” he chuckles before simmering down, his voice becoming uncharacteristically hushed as he twists his rings up and down his finger. “Because she was pretty… and popular.”

You can't really fault him for that; everyone either wanted Paula Andrews or wanted to be Paula Andrews.

“What’d that witch do?” you ask tentatively like you’re afraid of the answer.

“Oh, nothing original,” he reminisces, “called me a freak and cackled that witch laugh of hers before stalking off with her flock of flying monkeys.”

You snort and move to cover your mouth with your hand, giggling behind it, “She does kind of laugh like a hag, doesn’t she?”

He laughs with you until you both calm to huffs and gentle smiles.

“Well if it’s any consolation,” you begin, “I would have danced with you.”

He looks you in the eye for a moment before dropping his gaze and sucking his lips in slightly towards his teeth, nodding with a pleasant grin on his lips.

The conversation merges into a comfortable silence as the both of you assume your chaperoning chores, Eddie picking at the charcuterie platter, exclusively the buttery crackers and tiny cubes of American cheese, tossing the morsels into his mouth while you survey the room, both with the intention of monitoring any misbehavior and gauging the room’s energy. Your findings are rather disappointing; the dance floor is empty! Not a ghost town, by any means, a few couples took to dancing but the walls are much more saturated with middle schoolers than the actual space meant for dancing.

You watch as the boys chat amongst themselves, throwing a few fleeting glances over their shoulders towards where the girls are cliqued up every once in a while. It's obvious they want something to happen but lack the confidence to be the ones to start it. Why not give them that extra little push?

“Do you want to dance?” you hurriedly blurt out, twisting to face Eddie beside you. His eyes are glassy and saucer-ish as he stares at you, mouth stuffed full of crackers and cheese as he addresses you. He twists his head over his shoulder only to find the spot behind him empty, pointing to himself and humming a muddled question.

“Duh!” you giggle. “Who else would I be talking to?”

He swallows his mouthful with some difficulty and begins stammering for a response.

“I don’t, um, really think that’s a good idea,” he laughs with a nervous tinge.

“Come on! It’ll be fun!”

You’re already winding your fingers around his wrist and leading him to the dance floor, weaving past and around the few brave couples that were dispersed about the court.

He’s babbling the whole way, noncommittally digging his heels into the ground and leaning away to slow you and when you’ve found your spot on the floor, turning to face him, he leans forward and whispers to you, “I can’t dance.”

His words are panicked as his eyes flit around you, hyper-aware of everyone’s stare on the two of you. He’s less so worried about his reputation as much as he is yours; you’re a sweet girl, people like you, like you enough to have voted for you and he’s… him. And in this town, being him or anywhere near him is social suicide.

But his warning does hardly anything to stop you. You can't dance either but you keep your head held high and your back straight as you feign confidence to encourage him.

“You’re in a band, right?” It was an odd question for the situation but he knits his brows and nods anyway. “You like music, you go to concerts. What do you do in those situations?”

He thinks about it for a moment, turning his head to survey his memory but stops himself when he reaches a conclusion, not thinking it a good idea but you seem entirely oblivious as you hearten him with an eye-squinting smile.

He shakes his head, taking in a large breath before huffing it out. The calm, collected act is disrupted by his whiplash energy shift as he starts violently moshing, headbanging, flicking his hair all over the place while he jumps and kicks around. The sudden burst makes you jump in your spot and blink your eyes at him. You watch for a second or two, lips ticking up at the corners at his very… passionate expression and as much as you’d like to keep watching him bounce around, you figure you should start with something a little more… pedestrian-safe.

You cautiously reach your hand out, a little afraid to approach him in fear of getting taken out by a stray limb or a particularly aggressive clump of hair but you manage to touch your fingers over his shoulder without injury, halting him. He slows his movements to a controlled bouncing of the toes, breath panting, hair wild, and shirt wrinkled—well—more wrinkled than it had been.

“Maybe not like that,” you cringe with a bunched nose and lopsided twist of your lips. “Try this instead.”

You trail your hand that was over his shoulder down his arm to take his hand into yours, scooping the other one from his side to guide the both of them to your waist, coaxing them to mold there. He looks a little afraid, eyes owlish as his tongue sprints out over his chapped lips too many times in a single moment.

“And I'll put my hands over here,” you narrate, placing your forearms over his shoulders as you link your fingers together behind his neck. You begin shuffling your feet, your white mary janes clicking against the lacquered gymnasium hardwood as you foster some movement.

“See, it’s not that hard.” Almost like you’ve jinxed it, as the words exit your mouth he steps right over your toes, and your face twists with a wince you do your best to suppress.

“Sorry, “ he winces with you, his eyebrows bunching with an apologetic look.

“It’s okay!” You’re quick to reassure him, a laugh and a smile embossing your words. “Just—look at me; when you look down you only end up tripping yourself up.” You release your fingers and bring one of your hands from around his neck to cradle his jaw in your grasp and angle his face upwards so that he’s gazing at you with those large, glazed cow eyes. You smile when you capture his rich chocolatey stare. “There, much better.”

The two of you sway glacially, Eddie relaxing under your touch after meeting your eyes, the shy lilt of his lips making a warmth bloom in your chest. You stay like this for a while, remaining committed to your designated square where the two of you can rock from side to side without disruption before you attempt to perform something a little more difficult. You slide your hand down over his shoulder and along the cotton of his shirt until it's grasped in his own, twirling yourself and gracelessly switching your feet before stumbling back into his chest with an uninhibited chortle, head thrown back as you laugh at yourself. He’s laughing too, his eyes trained on your ruched nose and crooked smile as you press your forehead against his chest.

As the song builds in energy you separate your hands from his chest and step away, starting to clumsily dance. It’s a gentler sort of moshing, he thinks as he watches you hop in place and shake your head, completely uncoordinated but entirely adorable. His posture slouches to the side as he watches you move, wholly mesmerized.

“Come on!” you laugh, breaking him out of his trance, taking his hands and moving them to simulate dancing.

He smiles before he's splitting from you and doing his own goofy thing, illustrating a botched and lumberly take on The Twist as he shakes his mane of wild hair this way and that.

The two of you are one of four couples on the dance floor and the army of children that trace the edge of it and surround you throw their estranged glances your way and could you really blame them for it? You had two high school seniors—one the predicted Valedictorian of her graduating class and the other the school pothead and resident freak—tearing up the dance floor of the eighth grade Snow Ball. But as the chatter of your embarrassing antics grows louder, a few brave souls make their way to the dance floor to join you and Eddie, hopping and shaking and twirling like unhinged maniacs, but they were giggling and tittering and having fun and that’s all that really mattered.

As you dance with Will Byers, holding his small hands in yours as you twist and twirl him, Eddie smiles to himself and stands with his hands on his hips, admiring the precious sight. As he watches, a particularly rowdy couple crashes into him and sends him flying towards you.

Just as he collides with you and knocks you a bit off balance, the previous song fades into a brief silence, a slower, calmer, more romantic song following; "How Deep is Your Love" by the Bee Gees.

“I’m sorry!” he’s quick to remedy, stabilizing you by holding your waist.

You chuckle, clearly high off of the endorphins that come with exercise, “It’s okay—”

“Are you hurt? Did I step on your foot again?” He’s rambling now and chasing each worried sentence with another as he’s examining you for any hidden injuries that could come with being bumped and stumbling three steps.

“Eddie!” You raise your voice to grab his attention, that same laugh twining your words at his ridiculous worry as you place your hand over his bicep. “I’m okay! Promise. Scouts Honor,” you say sucking your lower lip in and holding up your first three fingers.

“Okay, good,” he sighs, relaxing into a smile, “Good.”

Will looks between the both of you and smiles with a glint of understanding in his eyes.

“Hey,” he touches your arm to grab your attention, “I’m gonna get some punch and sit down, you really wore me out with that last song.”

You smile down at him and ruffle his hair, “Okay, Little Byers, you let me know if you're up for another one, you’re probably the best dance partner I’ve had all night.”

Will flashes a toothy grin and exits, weaving his way past warm bodies towards the abandoned snack table.

“I cannot believe you just said that.” Eddie reclaims your focus.

Your brows furrow as an anxiety of misspeaking clouds your features, “What?”

“And to think I thought, for even a second, that we shared something special, dancing like idiots,” he says with a smirk, the sarcasm now dripping from his words.

“Oh, shut up,” you scoff, landing a punch to his shoulder.

“You wanna give me another shot at redemption?” he offers with a smirk, reaching his open palm out to beckon you towards him.

You smile, an air of bashfulness consuming your actions as you stare down at the floor before taking his hand and assuming the same position as before: your hands twined together, behind his head, fingers slithering under his hair as you play with the scraggly strands at the nape of his neck, winding and unwinding them around your digits.

“So,” you start, “how d’you feel about chaperoning now?”

“Mmm,” he hums, looking out at an unseen point in the distance to ponder on it, “still on the fence.”

You gape at him, “We just danced like crazy! You were laughing like a madman!”

“Well,” he laughs, “is chaperoning always like this?”

“Like what?”

“I don't know—fun, exciting, metal?”

You giggle as you stare down at your feet, lifting your head to send him a suddenly heavy look in your eyes, the rest of your expression at once sober.

“When you have the right partner.”

There’s a silence as he takes a moment to ruminate on your words before concluding, “Alright, tell you what: I’ll chaperone every dance if you're there.”

He looks down at you with fond eyes and you glow under his gaze, dipping your head to hide away from his abruptly intimidating stare and lay your temple against his chest. You can hear the rhythmic thumping of his heart against his rib cage and sigh at the comforting noise.

“That’s a deal, Munson.”

The air is empty and silent, a calm, welcome quiet that permeates after all of the kids have left and gone home, likely recounting the events of the night with their friends or family. You and Eddie, on the other hand, are working to tidy the place; you're climbing onto chairs and tables to swipe paper streamers and tinsel ribbons from where they’re taped to the ceiling and pillars, and Eddie sweeps up fallen snacks and any glitter that has trailed along the floor. You hum David Bowie to yourself as you crumple the paper and the plastic into your hands and toss it into the bin.

You do the best you can with only two pairs of hands and figure what you’ve accomplished is substantial for the night as you walk towards the bleachers, plopping yourself onto one of the benches and leaning back against the one behind you to rest your head in your folded arms. Eddie trudges towards where you sit, after tossing the broom into the corner, and slumps into the space next to you, propping his elbows along the same bench you rest your head on.

He slants his head to look down at your weary body and lets a tender smile pull at his lips and dimple his cheeks.

“You have a fun time, kid?” he appeals, luring you out of your burrow.

You nod into your arms and hum, turning your head so your face is revealed to him as you peel your eyes open and offer him a sleepy smile. You reach a groggy hand out and place it over his.

“Thank you for dancing with me.” It comes out hushed and a little raspy.

He takes a better hold of your hand, flipping his and wrapping his fingers around yours to rub his thumb over your knuckles and the soft joints of your fingers, the skin radiating a healthy warmth.

“It was my pleasure,” he smiles, before teasing, “Gave me a hell of a workout.”

You giggle at his joke before righting yourself and stretching your arms out in front of you like a cat, releasing his hand as you do it and scrunching your face as the tension releases from your body. When you finish, you stand, taking his hand back in your hold and encouraging him up with a ginger tug.

“C’mon, time to clock out.”

He complies and stands with some effort, creaky joints groaning as he places his free hand on his knee and lifts himself. As you walk to the double doors and click off the remaining lights you don't feel the need to let go of his hand, even if it makes locking up the gymnasium a little bit harder.

Taglist:

@guessthestrangers

@dadsbongos

@lunatictardis

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zorishy · 1 month

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Symphony of Gods and Dreamers AU/DSMP Rewrite

🟢 DSMP (sorry for bad grammar, this was mostly just me vomiting my ideas onto the post)

My DSMP rewrite makes the world so much bigger and full of life than canon.

The arctic empire from SMP earth exists, hypixel is a whole kingdom, the bear SMP exists and that’s where Niki is from, the wreckage of tales from the SMP locations can be found in the woods, places from fanfics such as the blue valley are very important to the story. The story takes place over a much longer period of time, the L’Manberg revolution alone lasts several years! Dream is like 50! He was an adult before Wilson was even born. Tommy and Tubbo had families before being adopted by Philza, but they were killed by Dream’s armies in their quest to conquer the world. Dream stole the revival book from Kristin decades ago.

Dream is a tyrant and a cult leader with armies and followers dedicated to his mission to control as much of the world as possible. The DreamSMP is a continent that Dream has discovered and, at the beginning of the events of the server, it has small townships spread around the woods that are full of people gathering resources for colonies. The original L’Manberg members were followers of Dream who had begun to question his power.

Las Nevadas is not just one street with some restaurants and a casino! It’s a massive fucking city with hundreds of thousands of citizens, they have communities and schools and farmer’s markets, It’s the first city in the SMP with paved roads! Snowchester is a cosy little college town up north surrounded by mountains. Students from schools in Snowchester and Las Nevadas go on field trips to L’Manberg and Eret’s castle. The center of the SMP is this huge historic town kept in top condition by volunteers dedicated to preserving the history of the land.

Kinoko Kingdom was built by natives of the SMP and can be found deep within the forest. The people of the kingdom have myths and legends of a time when dragons and demons and gods roamed the earth. When Sapnap showed up, being half demon, they worshipped him and made him their ruler.

There is an entire cult that worships DreamXD! every few hundred years XD selects a member of his cult to give godhood to (Techno, Foolish, and Callahan are amongst those selected). DreamXD is older than the universe itself and has witnessed the rise and fall of countless worlds. Several SMP members were gods in their past lives and knew XD personally (some relationships were more positive than others). That’s why XD is so infatuated with George and so hateful of Bbh.

Characters like Puffy, Antfrost, and Sam are just single individuals who are members of entire original species. Ranboo was born a prince in the end but his people were driven out. The nether was accidentally discovered by cultists and legend says that’s where the demons came from.

My vision of the SMP has grown far beyond a Minecraft roleplay. I wish I could tell you everything but that would take way too long to write. For now I’m just focusing on Wilson and the other tropesonas. I can’t possibly talk about every single character and that makes me mad. Maybe in the future I will go into more detail on sbi and DreamXD.

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 2 years

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Day 6 — Farmers Market

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 500

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Hint of Smut — implied sex.

Authors Note || I posted this last year, but it flopped, so I’ve rewritten it, and I’m reposting it for this year.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Flufftober Masterlist

The air was packed with smells of pumpkins, spice, and everything else that was the scent of Autumn. It filled your lungs as you dragged Bucky towards the entrance to the annual Farmers Market you’d longed for all year.

Going to the Market was one of your favourite activities to do in October. The stalls were filled with produce and decorations. The big patch in the distance was filled with pumpkins of varying sizes and colours, as well as an orchard with apples dark as blood.

As you walked through the arched entrance, your face lit up as you took in everything. Bucky’s arm wrapped around your shoulder to bring you closer to him.

“Babe, look! It’s perfect. It’s everything I wanted it to be.”

Before he could comment, you pulled him towards the stalls for a better look at what they offered.

You spent some time looking over various produce, decorations and trinkets on display, deciding what to buy.

After almost an hour of walking around hand in hand and buying everything you needed at the stalls, it was time to choose some pumpkins and a few tasty apples.

“Let’s bring a wagon with us. It’ll be easier to drag them along than carry them in our arms.” Bucky suggested.

“Good idea.” You agreed. “You’re in charge of lifting and pulling while I’m the boss of pumpkin picking.”

“Sounds like a plan, doll.”

Hand in hand, you walked amongst the pumpkins. You spotted a medium-sized one. It was the perfect orange colour and perfect shape for carving.

You bent down to cradle it in your arms. It wasn’t that heavy, but Bucky immediately picked it out of your arms and placed it in the wagon.

“You do the choosing. I do the lifting, remember?”

“Oh, yes, Sir.”

He gave you a look. A look you knew all too well when you called him that. His sinful thoughts and fantasies would have to wait for later when you got home.

“Pumpkin picking now, sex later, Bucky.”

You gave him a sweet and soft peck on his lips, grabbing his hand in yours again to pull him deeper into the patch to pick a few more pumpkins.

When the wagon was as full as it could get with pumpkins of various shapes and sizes, as well as those apples, it was time to head home and start decorating and cooking.

After loading it all into the car, you high-five each other for a well-done job, followed by a much-deserved kiss.

“Sex first, decorating later when we get home?” Bucky suggested with a smirk as he palmed your ass. His eyes that gazed into yours were dark with desire.

“Sounds like a plan, Sir.”

Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

I don’t do taglists so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

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vivi-the-goblin · 5 months

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Over halfway done with 5e. Not going to let WotC put a permanently unfinished series on my page, so this has turned more into a last walk to get my character ideas and design thoughts out before moving on. Btw I AM still making monsters, they're just going to be part of larger encounter videos like the last one. If you want to see a particular monster used or have some variant of it made, I'm open to suggestions!

youtube

Paladins are hard for me just because I HATE what they've done with oaths. What they did was remove alignment from the game, then basically give paladins thier own mini-alignment without any nuance. but with fewer and worse words. "You don't have to be lawful good we swear! you just have to follow this strict set of laws that're usually good or lose your power, and all flavor text will insist you're good!" Oddly enough, that is FAR more rigid than anything they were trying to replace, because you're bound to 3 specific rules instead of the tone of a god you chose. But whatever, WotC's solution to paladin alignment was just haphazardly ripping out random chunks of the problem, who would've guessed. My solution to this is to just make PERSONAL oaths. You make your character, and you make ironclad ideals that they strive for. ones that fit with whatever you've flavored the subclass as of course. and then have THOSE dictate your course. That little bit of nuance is a good compromise if we're going the self-made laws middleground.

Personally I think the paladin needs at least SOME law to follow. They literally get thier power by following a moral code, be it thier own or someone else's, so strongly that they manifest power. Or they operate like a warlock with a less binding contract. But I actually love adding narrative weight to mechanics. It gives the choices MEANING. Here's an example- Once we were stuck, an orcish army approaching but our concerns more focused on the lich nearby. As long as he and his necromancers lived, we lost no matter how the war went. Sadly I had spread bubonic plague through the black market slavers, and in doing so accidentally killed all the DM's info brokers and ways for us to find them. When he offered us someone who could speak to the gods, he mentioned that the closer the god was to this case the more info they'd have. We knew we had to butter him up though. but our group had a paladin, monk, druid, and cleric. this wasn't going to be easy. We made the decision to...ask the paladin to leave. Those of us remaining did something horrific in the eyes of the gods. We tricked people into cannabalism of a diseased corpse of someone they knew, while drunkenly cheering orcus's name. We got the info, but there was a cost. As a druid, I only had to argue partial neutrality. As this action was horrible but ultimately to prevent the collapse of the kingdom, I was able to argue I was not Chaotic Evil, merely neutral evil. The paladin escaped judgement. The monk had to go on a journey of self reflection to regain neutrality.

The cleric had to argue his case before the gods that this was the only way to prevent a greater evil. He eventually was bound in service to the king for repentance, but power restored. For all its faults, THAT is what alignment being bound to a class can do. That wouldn't have had the weight if it was just his standing amongst the local church. He was arguing for his soul and his class levels, narrative and mechanical stakes together. I see the oaths as a half-way point to that, but with far less narrative value and far too rigid in being 3 specific rules for the whole subclass. It's a worst of both worlds. but I think at least picking the rules you're sworn to is a nice patch to all that.

#dnd 5e #youtube #5e d&d #dnd #paladin #Youtube

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manikas-whims · 9 months

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At His Mercy [Read on AO3]

- a Satoru Gojo x Utahime Iori Fanfic

“You're so weak, Utahime. Can't even survive without my blood.”

“How dare you!? Respect vampires! You Humans are inferior to our kind.”

...

In which Vampire Utahime gets caught by the Hunter Gojo and things happen..

Utahime ran.

One might think that being a three-hundred and thirty-one years old cold-blooded vampire would come with its perks. Give her some kind of advantage and experience when it came to dealing with their enemies.

How false that was!

“No point runnin, Hime~”

Utahime grit her teeth and increased her pace despite the ache in her heels. She was tired and famished. She hadn't had a drop of blood in the last three days. Whilst the man chasing her was speeding right behind her on his motorcycle.

“I'll catch ya~~”

She cringed at the teasing tone. If she were caught, she wouldn't be stabbed with a stake or burnt on a pyre. No. She would suffer a fate far worse. For this hunter– this annoying human being with a puny life span of hundred years– would shackle her to him for life. He had taken an uncanny liking to her and was hellbent on keeping her at his side. Utahime gagged at the mere thought of it and ran faster.

She came to a skidding halt upon a crossroad and instead of taking the quiet, forest path, she ran through the bustling streets of the market, hoping to lose him amongst the throngs of loud and excited buyers and sellers.

How wrong she was!

This man– Satoru Gojo– was the strongest hunter of his time and far more stubborn than the regular humans that she was used to attacking and biting. He had been following her ever since his first day as a qualified hunter.

He let his bike run over food stalls and destroy everything in his way, completely ignorant of the people yelling profanities at him.

“Utahiimeee~~” He crooned over the noisy roar of his motorcycle. “I'm coming for you~”

“Leave me alone you sicko!”

She had killed countless humans yet this one she couldn't ever bear to face. This man confounded her.

She continued running, already way past the market now. But Gojo chased merrily after her, his motorcycle's tires smoother on the grassy lands that led into the woods.

This was getting dangerous. She was a heaving mess of sweat and weary limbs, overwhelmed by the faintest scent of blood. Her thirst for it was heightening due to the pathetic state she was in. And if she didn't escape this man soon enough, then she'd suck his neck dry.

Now that she thought about it, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe that would finally shut him up.

She blinked in shock and shook her head wildly. To think she even entertained such an impure thought. She wasn't so weak as to let herself give into her natural instincts and jump the first man in sight. Especially if the said man was a weirdo, who by the way was supposed to absolutely abhor thr existence of supernatural beings. Hate her; Not leer at her!

Thud!

So lost she was in her turbulent contemplation that she ended up bumping into a tree bark and falling on her ass. Shit!

The screeching sound of halting tires caught her ears when she had been rubbing her head. Shit! Shit! Shit!

“You okay?”

A hand reached out but she crawled back on her elbows and heels. “Stay away from me you filthy human!”

“Tch. So mean.” Gojo placed a hand over his heart and pouted.

Utahime scanned his form from head to toe, trying to keep her eyes and her mind focused on the array of lethal weapons strapped all over him. Trying to keep her mind settled on anything but the strong, heady scent of his delicious blood. Get up! She told herself. She really needed to get away from him.

Gojo also seemed to have taken note of her desperation, for he grinned down at her shaky breaths and sore legs. “Hmmm?? Can't run anymore?”

She didn't respond, eyes too lost staring at his long, inviting neck.

He chuckled darkly. “You're so weak, Utahime. Can't even survive without my blood.”

“How dare you!? Respect vampires! You Humans are inferior to our kind.”

“What's that? You wanna sink your teeth into my neck?”

She felt disgusted for licking her lips at his suggestion.

Three hundred years.

She had lived three years longer than him. She was far more experienced than him. She could see and feel far more than he could ever begin to fathom. She was his natural predator and he, her prey. She couldn't tolerate any more humiliation from him.

On quivering legs, she stood up. Bad move. He immediately backed her into the bark of the same tree she had bumped into earlier. With a muscly arm leaning against the bark and his crotch pressed into her belly, he looked down at her.

“Now now, ” He used the other hand to wrap her leg around his waist, fingers digging tightly into the softness of her thigh. “I'm merely trying to help.”

“I don't– ahhh...” She couldn't help the moan as she felt something hard rub pleasurably against her core.

He let his head rest in the crook of her neck, lips murmuring against her skin. “Come on, Hime. Bite me. You know you want to.”

She blushed. She had no idea what was going on in his twisted head. It was fascinating that he was far more interested in being intimate with her than actually killing her. But even more fascinating (and disappointing) was her own interest in him. She may have been denying her blatant attraction towards him but at such proximity, it was impossible to not get a taste.

Utahime opened her mouth and drew out her fangs, slowly sinking them into his neck. The first drop of blood was so heavenly she moaned again. It was so unbecoming of her to let herself do this. But she took another gulp and another and another, already feeling her strength returning to her numb limbs.

She kept sucking more and more, relishing his approving groans until he harshly tore away and kissed her instead, his blood smearing both of them's lips.

He pulled away and squeezed her thigh possessively. “See? That wasn't so hard.”

Utahime averted her gaze. This wasn't good at all. For a mere human, he held too much power over her and she couldn't admit that she kinda liked it. Always anticipated their daily encounters. Enjoyed the thrill of being chased by him.

“Now then,” He picked her up into his arms and dropped her onto his motorcycle, immediately sitting behind and starting the engine. “I'll let you have more. Everyday. When..”

His blood was making her delirious, clouding her mind. Now that she had actually tasted it, she realized how much more she craved it. And so she turned her head, practically salivating, and asked, “When?”

He smiled wickedly, seeming far more demonic than she– an actual vampire– could ever be. “When we get back to my place and you let me taste your blood so I can become one of your kind.”

“Wh-What?”

“Then I'll let you suck my neck and my cock. And I'll fuck you for an eternity and more.”

“No wait!!” Utahime retorted despite feeling her knees go weak at his crude choice of words.

“Too late.” He wagged finger and Utahime felt a mixture of desire and dread pool in her belly. “You shouldn't have let me catch you.”

#gojohime #gouta #gojo satoru #iori utahime #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #utahime iori #jjk gojo #jjk utahime #gojo x utahime #gojohime fanfic

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afreakingdork · 1 year

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Weak Spot - Chapter 8

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love

Synopsis: When falling in love is the easy part where does the difficulty lie? In a society where we’re defined by our job, it’s those little details as a relationship goes on that ends up setting a course for whether or not a couple can make it in the long run.

You dun know I gotta shout-out @morning-sun-brah for giving me the antiquing idea 💖

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

You: I need some kinda haunted object for my roommateiversary

Donatello: None of those things are real.

You: Yeah, but I bet you get what I’m talking about?

Donatello: Unfortunately, I somehow do.

You: So I was thinking about hitting some antique stores Saturday since the versary is Monday

Donatello: Considering those type of places close before the sun sets, I believe I can make time in my schedule.

You: Oh? I’m pretty sure I didn’t ask

Donatello: You can go alone then.

You: Wait!

You: Ugh

You: Keep your schedule open!

You: You insult my sacred traditions and then get all huffy! I should be the one upset!

He left you on read and you smiled to yourself. Leaning back at your new desk, you picked up the container that held your repurposed leftovers for lunch. The last two weeks had condensed a transitionary period in every sense of the phrase. On the work side of things, your company had opted for a complete restructuring of your department. Between the loss of your boss and the poor quarterly report, it made sense. They had essentially dissolved your whole floor and done a musical chairs of shoving people into rolls that were similar, but had shiny new titles. Besides the predictable adjustment period, things settled down. It had given you time to process your feelings and your new boss was so laid back that you had only seen him a handful of times even with the upheaval going on.

With Donatello, it had been a completely different case. The rest of the farmer’s market trip had passed in a lighthearted manner and you had blushed at the way he’d squeezed your hand in a parting. It was such a small thing, but opening the door to those kind of small affections had appeared to release a dam full of pressure within the man. He still had those staunch undertones, but the texts from him that followed held that same airy quality. You only had instinct to go off of, but it felt like you had breached something beyond just lifting the weight off his shoulders. You had a feeling you had unlocked another door amongst many that guarded the inner castle walls of his heart. It was in riding that excited high that you took initiative in rescheduling the ill fated date.

The curse unfortunately prevailed as Donatello had swiftly declined within an vague explanation about a new enterprise. Whatever it was, he projected it would take a couple weeks and all his nights. Before you had even finished reading his text, he’d sent his availability for lunch. Besides booking him for that next day, you teased him over how a date could be a midday affair. He staunchly refused to entertain the notion. For all his quirks, his severity when it came to the ‘official’ act of a date was unmatched. That was, until he approached you with his scientific method.

Last Week

Ready for a some tasty thai, you were met instead with an especially starched Donatello. He only appeared to be missing a clipboard as he turned to you and launched into what you would only later realize was an observation. Having not even managed a greeting, you were so blindsided that you missed a large swath of the introduction and only caught on as to what was happening when he posed a question.

“What are my touch limitations?”

It almost seemed rhetorical as he then slipped right back into an endless drone. You followed meekly as you were lead to a table by an extremely confused waitress. As soon as he took his chair, he only addressed her long enough to request his plate before jumping right back into it. You were sure your face was somewhere between awe and dismay. Unable to form an apology, the woman thankfully took it all in stride and wrote his entry down on her pad. She then shared a sympathetic look with you as you simply pointed out what you wanted from the menu. Her pen bobbed along with her head before she disappeared and you tuned back to find Donatello combing through how the experiment would be conducted.

It wasn’t that you were bored, but he had done nothing to prepare you for whatever was happening. His language was far above your pay grade and, though you had been growing rapidly accustomed to his genius, he had never applied it in this way. He usually was more adept at dolling out fascinating tidbits when prodded. This version of him gave no mind to who his target audience was. You wondered on it as you gingerly sipped from a water glass. Surely he would understand if you didn’t retain all this information so you continued to half listen until his tone ramped up. Noting that he was leading up to something, you checked back in just in time.

“Now, I am still doing minor tweaking, but I believe with these perimeters I can gather the most sufficient data.” He then placed his hand to the table. “First, I will be evaluating and recording each passing desire to touch you.”

Across from him you stopped where you were tracing condensation on your glass.

“Then, if you are so inclined, I would act on these while documenting my reactions.”

“Inclined…?” The word sounded foreign in a way that made you realize it was the first thing you had said all lunch.

“Yes, an offer would be extended and you would decide if it should be executed.”

“Oh…” You injected a downturned quality to your voice to hint at your confusion, but he moved on regardless.

“I believe imposing a maximum time limit to encounters would be advantageous in gathering as accurate of results as possible.” He then pushed up his sleeve to show a strange looking watch on his right wrist. “It’s arbitrary, but a minute should suffice.”

Sitting up, you tried to get a better look at the device, but he plowed forward in a way that allowed his coat to slide back into place.

“This and the following will be done for specific reasons which I will detail in a moment, but each graze must be followed by at least a 5 minute cool down period.”

He immediately dove into an explanation that involved heady psychological rationale followed by several citations of papers done on chemicals released by the brain when psychical contact is maintained. He talked about the scientists as if he knew them personally before casually dropping how he had a new full body monitoring system in place. You absolutely wanted to ask about that, but your food appeared you before you could get a chance. By the time you looked up, he was already describing the lengths he had gone to eliminate variables between polite bites and measured chews.

You could barely get your chopsticks to work.

The most disheartening thing was how many words he had spoken. Even if you narrowed it down to just the time since you had been served, he had said a collective more than the entire time you’d known him. In a small way you were pleased, he was obviously entirely invested and excited by this project. In another, you it felt like an exhaustive construct created to regain control. He’d regained some, but it clearly wasn’t enough. It made you wonder how long it had been since the last time he’d acted against his so-called will. Whatever it was must have been traumatizing for him to go to such lengths. It was as if he thought if he synthesized the sensations down enough, he could bottle them and store them away.

You just managed to grab the first of your glass noodles when he suddenly stopped. Following suit from the strange turn, you found him with a downcast gaze. His expression read little as he with his scientific mode was active, but the way he set his utensils aside spoke to the gravity of whatever was coming.

“I acknowledge that this is entirely selfish on my part.”

Setting your bite down, you watched him closely.

“It’s worse when you consider that you are the cause.” With a flick of his pupils, he seared a gaze into yours that spoke of a deep conscientiousness. “I do not mean this negatively and, for your part, I need you to be aware that you are in full control of this experiment.”

The emotional whip between dialog held your tongue.

“If you recall the second rule; all touches are to only be conducted under your clearance. I recognize that touch is of a reciprocatory nature and thus I even debated initiating second investigation that would have been from your perspective. I dispelled the notion quickly as it doesn’t appear to be something you struggle with. That being said, I felt compelled to consider an amicable trade-off.” He slowed and finally broke that burning eye contact to look off to the side. “You’re going out of your way for me and I would like to honor that.” His gaze swept back. “Therefore, after thorough contemplation, I’ve concluded that I only need a warning of your own needs to then prepare myself. I may still decline, but based on my experience and what you’ve said, that should be agreeable.”

Stunned in at least a dozen ways, you simply nodded in agreement and he resumed his talk by dipping into methodology. You picked at your food as he debated how to analyze the data and you got a to-go box while he mused about what conclusions he might pull. Exiting the restaurant and still wondering where all the time had gone, Donatello trailed off. You looked up with what you were sure was a helpless expression and heard him say something about an eyelash. Still trying to process information from at least 18 sentences ago, you tilted your head curiously.

His expression softened and he reached out to brush your cheek. Your brain shut down as he seemed to catch something with the tip of his finger and then trace along your bone structure until he skirted your jaw. As if activating a switch, your mouth fell open and the corner of his lip quirked into that near smile. Skin scorched from the line he had drawn, you felt as though your mind was treading water.

“I can assure you that the practice will not be as daunting as the explanation.” His hand retreated and he tucked it back into his person. “Take care getting back to work and I will text you.” With a civil nod, he then departed.

Present Day

Trickling out of the memory, you still scarcely recalled how you’d made it back that day. What you clearly remembered were highlights of the next three meetings. In a tight reel you watched all the times Donatello had peppered in small grazes. He’d been especially keen on touching your hands. True to his parting words, the experimental part of the exchange wasn’t something you saw. Surely he was logging a thousand things in his mind, but he did so without giving anything away on how it made him feel. You could only guess it had something to do with impartiality.

It left you, on the other hand, all the more flustered and completely unable to ask for any form reciprocation. It was all so new and exciting that you’d forget yourself. He already paid close attention to you, but now that you were a part of his study, it was as if you were the only thing that mattered. In paired with the little meaningful brushes in a way that sent you straight to Nirvana. Riding the joyous high was something you could have done for years to come save one glaring issue: whatever desire he had once had to kiss you had disappeared.

When you weren’t trying to emotionally recover from the way he’d thumb over your knuckles, you were keenly aware that he was still up to his usual slinky nature. He had no problem popping your personal space bubble at the slightest prodding. You could barely mention how good a meal was without him curling up beside you to see for himself. He’d joined you for a quick errand early this week and when you’d asked about which of a product was best, he’d quickly dropped his chin just shy of your shoulder to see from your perspective. The sudden intrusions of his face close to yours seemed to hold no larger meanings on his part, but for you they were everything. From the time since the experiment started, you felt as though you were barely surviving each encounter without pouncing on him. As excited you were for Saturday, you were just as worried. Though he hadn’t responded, you knew you were both on for the antique mall and it was bound to be a minefield.

You had spent a long time trying to sort out your feelings on the matter. You’d done ample research into touch adverse partners and applied reason every which way you could. What he currently offered sent your heart into a tizzy so it shouldn’t matter, but it did nothing to stop the loud voice in your head that screamed at him to finally seal his lips over yours. Scrubbing your face, you tried to blame it on the fact that you’d almost had a taste. In the same way he had, you needed to get it out of your system. The thought alone shot straight through your being and you cleared your mind along with your desk. Your half eaten lunch meant ravenous hunger later; for now you needed a good spreadsheet to sate yourself.

In what the ever growing weight in your chest knew was a cute show, he’d insisted on meeting you outside your apartment. You slipped out the door and tried to commit the memory of him at the foot of your stoop in daylight as a contrast to the soaked through stormy version you currently held.

He greeted you calmly and then backed up to make a show of the cab waiting at the street.

“Picking up where we left off?” You crooned as you skipped the steps down to him.

“Doing so would erase our last few encounters.” He moved towards the vehicle and opened the door for you.

“You’re being chivalrous today.” You chided and went to accept his offer.

He waited until you were passing him to respond by whispering in your ear. “I always am; you’re just too enamored to notice.”

You faltered on your descent into the taxi and scrambled to cover the move by quickly ducking to the far side of the backseat. Resisting the urge to go fetal in public, you opted for curling a fist against your abdomen to trap the dozen butterflies escaped there. Right out the gate he had initiated warfare.

It wasn’t clear he had any idea, but you could feel Donatello watching you.

“Where are we heading first?” You had to get another focal point going as soon as possible.

The cab rocked as he got in and closed the door. It then pulled from the curb in a show that he’d already informed the driver. “After considering the options you sent, I selected the most viable.”

“The second place, right?” The mild distraction acted as a balm for your achy heart.

He tipped his head in a sort of agreement.

“Did you figure out that work hiccup?”

“Negotiations are tedious. You can put forth the most thought into a plan and one greedy individual will spoil it.” The corner of his lips twitched and you realized you were staring at them with far too much intensity.

It had barely been five minutes and you were already losing the battle. “This one’s a long shot, but acquisitions?”

Instead of surprise, he took his time evaluating your guess. “Another facet one could say.” He then turned and gave you a pointed look. “I am my own boss, however.”

The cocky authority there was sure to be a put on, but you found yourself suddenly looking out the cab window. You could feel the artery in your throat pulsing and cursed yourself for falling victim to what was barely a joke. A chant of how you weren’t going to make it started up in the back of your mind and you almost wanted to call the whole meeting off. From where your hands had fallen into your lap, you squeezed them until nails bit into your palms. You needed to ground yourself. You tried to summon a semblance of logic to relieve you of your torment. You didn’t need a kiss to have him. Coming down the barest amount, you opened your lids from where they had screwed them shut.

You were still in the cab.

Donatello was still at your side.

Taking in more facts, you saw a something in the middle seat. Rotating your head just enough to glimpse it, you stared down at Donatello’s upward facing palm. His hand had been casually tossed in the gap while his head was thoroughly pushed toward the cab window. Instead of a verbal ask it was a physical offer. Gingerly lifting your hand, you made the slow trek and skimmed your index finger across one of his pads to make your presence known. He acknowledged it by flexing his fingers and you tucked your hand into the awaiting trap. It came up around yours before giving a reassuring squeeze. The move correlated directly with your ribcage. Your senses were flooded by a single word: comfort.

He had come so far from the thumb tap in the plaza.

As much as it pulled at your heart, you couldn’t help but think of how it all looked. From an outside perspective, you probably seemed upset or even ill. His staring made all the more sense. He’d put his faith into you to explain your situation if you wished. When you hadn’t, he’d reached out while still making sure to give you your distance by not addressing it further. It, paired with the earlier strain, created an odd vortex in the black hole that was now where your heart lay. Trying not to be swallowed whole, you picked up an approximate count of where the seconds were. A minute would soon pass and he’d let go. You’d come to learn just how much could happen in that short amount of time and tried to thin in out to appreciate it further.

Hitting 60 you loosened your hold to pull back. The cage of his fingers held strong and you jarred wondering how far off you’d been in your estimation. When more time passed and you were sure it’d been longer than the agreed amount, you gave his hand a little squeeze to translate the question. He responded with a pressure of his own. Still, his hand held firm.

Instead of the joy that should have held, guilt overwhelmed you. He was breaking his experiment for you. Knowing how much joy the process of it brought him crushed you. He had no idea what ridiculous reason you had for being distraught in the first place. If he knew you wondered if he would even have offered the anchor in the first place. Unsteady, you squeezed his hand with as much force as you could muster. He continued to refuse to look, but you could tell by the way his shoulders pinched that he was confused. He kept his hold steady all the way until the cabbie announced your destination.

Letting go only when he was forced to, Donatello paid the man and exited the taxi. He then waited with a breadth outside the door. You slipped out and felt the way he waited for you to initiate the excursion. Finding distraction in the task at hand, you tightened your shoulders before relaxing them as a means to release the tension. Bouncing back, you look at your companion with a tepid determination. “Let’s find something that will totally freak her out. I’m talking something that will give her nightmares if she happens to look at it in the middle of the night!”

His gaze seemed dull for a moment and then a softness came to his stoic features. “You make bizarre connections.”

“It’s supposed to make life more interesting, right? Instead, there this normalcy that I can’t seem to outrun.” You bobbed slightly as you started the trek to the store front just down the sidewalk.

He made a sound that said he understood and fell beside you. You thought he might reach out again, but when he didn’t, you reminded yourself that he probably long filled his overall quota. It made a sad sense that had you picking up speed to get to the door before him. You slotted the handle and opened it with a feigned bow to cover your downtrodden mood.

He played into it by refusing to regard you as if he were a king and you a servant. Amused and distracted by the action, you followed behind him.

He stopped almost immediately as he was clearly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of items packed into the single building. “We would cover more ground if we split up.”

“That’s true…” You held out the sentence as you marched straight towards the far left corner.

You could feel him trailing reluctantly.

“…Or we can make fun of this old stuff together?” You pointed at a sign where a ghostly man returned the gesture while touting his advertised beverage was good at any temperature.

Donatello reviewed the object with a bare grimace. “I refuse to believe that hot soda could have ever been refreshing.”

“Dark times.” You played along and moved along the display.

Donatello hovered close at first before catching on. He then made a show of pointing out a few withered objects of his own along with giving explanations of things you’d never seen before. Before you knew it, the two of you were going back and forth over which object would illicit the most fear. Around the halfway point you had a good showing between a doll with mismatched rolling eyes, a ceramic dog that seemed half melted, and a chick shaped egg timer with an especially foreboding stare. Donatello was in the middle of explaining an old plow part when you rounded a partition.

You caught eyes with something and stopped dead in your tracks. Behind you Donatello caught wind before slotting himself at your side. His chin hovered just above your shoulder in an attempt to see what had captivated you. You felt his lips move with a taunt before he caught it too.

Across from you both sat the oddest little astronaut man.

Bewitched, you walked out from Donatello’s hover. The little figure was nearly a foot tall and shaped with snowman type ovals. His suit plumped out around him and there was a display panel with a grey screen on his chest. His face was twisted up in a sort of horror and his little blue eyes were painted as if we were staring straight up. Part of the helmet carved into his cheeks and on his head sat an opaque metallic visor that shined in a rainbow of colors from the lights overhead.

“This is terrible…” You murmured with an odd glee.

At some point, Donatello had joined you and was staring at the figure with kinked brow.

“This is it. This is definitely it.” Coming in close to the shelf it was on put you at eye level with the figure’s boots.

Donatello’s arm extended past you and lifted a little tag. “It’s 10 dollars.”

“A steal.” You quickly responded, already imaging the horror in your roommate’s face. You could feel his eye turn on you to evaluate the strange aura you were putting off. With no time to decipher it, you reached up to touch what was rapidly becoming relic in your mind and stopped short as you reviewed the blank display. “What do you think this was?”

“Let’s see.” From where he was catty-cornered against your left side, his arm came up again. This time its twin joined from the other side and you were finally broken free from the astronaut’s curse. Now ensnared by Donatello’s body, you took quick note of how no part of him actually touched you. He lifted the figure off the shelf and brought it down near your chest. He then rotated it to look underneath the astronaut’s boots and found a screwed panel there. “Hold this for a moment.”

You reached up dumbly and the figure was relinquished into your care. One of Donatello’s arms retracted and you listened as his coat rustled with movement. The length of it brushed your leg and you had to remind yourself it was an accident.

“Steady.” He spoke clearly, his head slotting beside yours. One of his arms then ducked down to hold the bottom of the astronaut while the other came up with a tiny screen driver.

You blood pressure was steadily climbing. “Where’d you get that?”

“I use it to tune my glasses.” He responded as if it were a simply fact of the world and managed to remove a screw. The hand underneath came up to pinch the tiny thing and he then addressed the second one.

“You never did explain those…” You had no idea what you were even remembering at this point.

“That’s true.” The phrase seemed absentminded as the other screw came loose. He then picked the latch and exposed a battery pack. “There’s no corrosion; that’s a good sign.”

He gave an interested hum and replaced the cover without putting the screws back in. He then pressed a finger to the figure in a way of having you turn it over. You got about halfway before he created a counter pressure to stop you.

“There’s a seam; we’ll have to wedge it open to see what’s inside.”

The part of your brain that had the worried response about breaking open an antique disintegrated as Donnie turned his head inward by a small degree. It meant his breath was just barely cascading across your cheek and the kissing urge not only resurfaced, it took hold of your mind.

“Hold it tight.”

You must have done what you were told because he was transfixed by whatever he was doing. You could scarcely hear the sound of the screwdriver against the odd material of the astronaut, but it was a white noise compared to your companion. Twisting incrementally from where he’d caged you, you stared openly at Donatello’s profile. He was focused on his work and didn’t seem to notice you’d been hypnotized for the second time that day. You traced the mask and caught the faint branching of a scar that seemed to extend out from where his ear would be.

Why had you never noticed that before?

Warning signals went off and you ignored them in favor of examining his eyes. You had done so a many number of times, but he always distracted the process with a litany of other micromovements. With his attention elsewhere, there were no such hindrances and studied how his lids moved. His brow came down in a lovely way as he worked and you could see the faintest shake of the digital display in his lenses. His snout shaped down to his lips which had the barest wrinkle of concentration. Your heart buoyed under a wave, dipping down and then shooting right back to the surface. His skin had a captivating hue to it and the texture of which seemed similar to his hand. Though his features were sharp, the plump of his cheek rippled as something gave him difficulty. You were moving before you could register what was happening.

It felt like your vision blurred and it did as you pressed your lips near the middle of his jaw bone. The action itself was chaste and rapid; it felt like a lightning strike as you tried to snap right back to where you had once been as if you hadn’t violated a very clear contract.

The reaction was immediate.

Donatello stopped what he was doing and his eyes widened before he caught the move by the throat. He then slowly rounded on you and you watched the synthetic veneer fall in place as he did. It was all encompassing and even if your usual observation skills were available, you knew there was no way you could have deciphered anything there. “What are you doing?”

It would be so easy to say ‘nothing.’

It was just two syllables.

You’d have taken anything, but your brain had sputtered to a halt.

“Y/N.” He pressed.

You could count the amount of times he had said your name on a single hand.

What a useless fact to remember during all this.

“Hey.” There was a scolding quality to his voice and for whatever hellish reason, he leaned in closer.

“I-”

“You?” His narrowed gaze said he was mad.

Of course he was.

It made complete sense.

You had basically stolen from him.

He also looked impossibly pretty.

You were leaning forward again and your whole body surged to give into the motion. You lips hit the corner of his mouth and your momentum pushed you up to properly seal his. You could acutely feel every single muscle underneath you as a frown formed there. A knife was plunged directly into the black hole in your chest and it somehow had the ability to pierce it. The gravity there further collapsed in on itself. It hadn’t been long enough to know if it this would be enough dash your desires, but you were sure you’d never try again. Crippled by defeat, you completed the pucker and began the reel yourself in from the catch.

A loud clatter sounded.

The noise couldn’t penetrate the darkness swallowing you up, but a flash of wet heat and pressure skidded the edges of your mind. You tipped backwards and felt the line snap taunt. Donatello shifted and you realized his lips were still against yours. Taking your turn at being unresponsive, he adjusted his hold on you and renewed the gesture for a second time. You attempted to return it in a pathetic showing and he squeezed all the more. Another thought clicked.

He was holding you.

It gave you enough strength to push into the kiss. He accepted it with a massage of his lips and from where you had solidified, you were rapidly shifting to a gelatinous. He broke free long enough to kiss you from another angle and this time you were able to meet him with a closer form to what would have been your usual zeal. Forgetting the signals, your hands disappeared into his coat and you flattened your palms into his sides. You could feel the edge of his shell and hooked your fingers into the first wedge point. Scalded, he adding another layer of fervor which you were finally able to drink in. His arms moved from a crushing hold to cradling the back of your neck as he made the position more comfortable. You stepped in, desperate for just a little more contact when your foot hit something. It made a noise and was enough to surface him specifically.

He pulled away and you felt like putty in his hands. He glanced down and you became keenly aware that you were panting due to lack of oxygen. Still feeling the weight on your lips, you licked them and watched his darkened gaze snap back to you. His face then twitched before the look disappeared.

“Y/N.”

You wanted to apologize, but nothing came out of your mouth past the last vestiges of haggard breaths.

“I’m not sure how you’ll take this.”

The collapsing sensation reared its head from where it lie in wait.

“The figure is broken.”

It seemed abated and you wondered for a moment what he meant.

“We dropped it.” One of the fingers curled around your skull tapped into your hair to get your attention.

You blinked rapidly trying to bring yourself up to speed. “We…” A laundry list of memories before the kiss came back and your eyes widened. “Oh crap.”

He nodded and made sure you were stable before releasing you. You immediately sank down into a squat to review the damage. He observed from overhead as the seam he had been slowly jimmying was essentially cracked from its fall. Picking up the two halves, you slowly rose. He made room and leaned in curiously.

“Well if I wasn’t buying it before…”

He reached out and used a finger to pick at the wires within the mostly empty figure. “It appears this was an alarm clock. I can get it operational if you’ll leave it with me.”

“Nah.” You shook your head and waited until he retracted to try to put the pieces together. With needle thin fractures, the frame didn’t settle right. You were about to show it to Donatello, when caught a curious amount of surprise sitting openly on his face.

“You…” His head ducked down slightly into his neck as suspicion also flooded him. “… don’t want me fix it?”

“No.” You were pretty sure you’d been clear. “You can take a crack and humpty dumptying him? If it doesn’t work I’m just gonna duct tape it and that’ll be part of the charm.”

He carried his wary nature into taking the halves and pressing them together. Something snapped and for a moment both of you seemed prepared for the astronaut to crumble. Instead, something had connected and it now stood as one cohesive element again.

“You got it!” You took it from him where he was still put off and turned it figure over. “Now it kinda looks like something is trying to get out of his suit. Perfect!”

He remained quiet and you used the astronaut to gesture to the register.

“Ready?”

He nodded and surpassed you. Remembering what had just transpired, you held the figure close as you trailed behind. He was waiting by an elderly cashier who thankfully had no idea anything had happened. You paid, got a little satchel to easily carry the astronaut, and headed out onto the street with Donatello leading the entire time. Once you’d made it a few steps from the door, he steered off to the side and you followed. He’d at least given you enough time to prepare for what you assumed would be a hearty scolding.

“You aren’t going to change your mind?”

Looking to the side with a confused squint you turned it towards him to see he still held the mistrust in his shoulders. “About the clock? No, I honestly don’t care about that.” You tried to sweep your own worries away in favor of opening up your expression for him to search.

He did so immediately and scanned you for what felt like a lengthy amount of time. He then leaned back into a version of calm that held confused tinges as if it was something that had never happened before.

You wanted to press, but he seemed shaken enough.

“Alright.” There was a finality of his voice and he took on a perfected posture as a reprimanding teacher would.

You knew you hadn’t gotten off the hook. Shrinking down into yourself, you lowered your gaze in a way that made you feel very much like the student in your imagined scenario.

“How long?”

You didn’t bring your eye up and wondered how rhetorical he meant it. “I’m sorry…”

“How long have you been holding back?”

Eyes widening, you realized he hadn’t taken your apology the way you meant it. Still partially stuck in your imagination, you weren’t sure what he’d meant even though he’d already clarified. “What?”

He waited in silence.

You took a chance to look at him and he appeared even at first glance. As you searched his face there was a disconcerned quality to it that you couldn’t place.

“I don’t…?” You wished you had paid more attention.

He seemed put out and shifted his weight to one hip. “The kiss.”

He said it so casually that you felt the word fan the embers in your cheeks.

“You were possessed.”

The gust picked up so quickly that instead of spreading, it put the fire out completely.

“You’ve also been upset since we met which appears to be related when you account for your reaction when I didn’t immediately respond.”

The char felt like it was hollowing you out and you wished to simply turn to ash.

“I had no warning. How was I supposed to?”

The guilt poisoning you shifted with a sudden grief as you realized there was a chance he’d only kissed back to calm you down. Earlier models of him made that an impossibility, but after he’d broken his own rules to hold your hand in the cab, you weren’t so sure anymore. Your vision grew unsteady as your refusal to blink caused tears to thickly coat your eyes.

“What is going on with you?” He reached out a finger and pressed it to your forehead to get your attention. “Acting withheld, brooding, and I’ve seen that look before. You’re assuming the worst without discussion.”

His voice was thick with disappointment and did nothing to calm you.

“I’m sorry. I can’t-” You choked, finally allowing your lids to close and cutting off the chance at an overflow.

With your sight cut off you felt the way his finger pulled back before pushing into your forehead once again. “What can I do?”

You shook your head and took a tiny step back to get away from his touch.

“I don’t understand.” There was a grit to his voice.

“You don’t-” It was another false start and you winced at it before balling your fists to try again. “I asked for too much and now…”

You weren’t sure what to do.

If only you could give it voice.

“What have you asked for?”

You hadn’t; that was the problem.

“Didn’t we agree?”

“I took too much.” You clarified in a small voice.

“What?” The hoarse quality was one you finally categorized as growing distress. “Is this regarding the kiss?”

You forced out a nod.

“I returned it, did I not?”

“Exactly!” The force of the sound brought your eye up to him.

He met your declaration with utter confusion.

“Like in the cab…?” Your voice grew smaller with each passing word as the expression didn’t leave his face.

He seemed caught on a response until his brow wrinkled. A throaty hum of irritation came out of him and he closed his eyes as if it took great effort. When he brought them open, he made a stern face that barely masked an undercurrent of worry. With a careful show he brought both his hands up to your face. You flicked a wounded gaze from them to him. Slowly as if persuading a wild animal, he tucked his fingers around your neck while each thumb held your jaw. “I implore you to stop whatever is happening and explain why you’re upset.”

The deep ache swelled up until it reached your eyes. Your vision swirled and in it you saw a mix of troubled purple and green. A distant thought reminded you of his umbrella confession. It was enough to make you swallow the tears down in a great show of force. When you returned from the journey, you found him tracing a small circle along your jaw line. “I tried. I tried so hard to get past the kissing thing. I know you… had already moved past it, but I… couldn’t. I struggled and you’re always getting so damn close and teasing me and I like it. I do; it means so much that you would want to, but I wanted to do right by your experiment. It was getting harder and harder and when you purred in my ear before we got in the cab, I thought I was going to explode. Then you broke your rules to comfort me and while getting to hold your hand for so long was great, I felt terrible that I made you do it over something so…. So…”

His thumb stilled. At some point you narrowed in on his chest and couldn’t pull your gaze away.

“But I could distract myself. I’ve been doing a pretty good job of that, but there you were. Always so fucking close, right against me, but never quite there…” From where your features were pulled taunt, they relaxed as an upsetting realization came to you. “Kinda like how you are in general. Just outside my reach and I understand. We’re different and it’s neither of our faults, but still I lost control and-” You grimaced and wished to turn away but his hold was warm. “I pounced on you and, yes, you returned it, but it felt like… maybe it was for the wrong reasons. I don’t want you to do it just because you think you should or you’re trying to… I don’t know! Please me?”

You gave a little sigh. The heft of the weight hadn’t left, but it had been redistributed.

“I think…” As if scanning him for lint, you did a final sweep before allowing your gaze to raise back to him. “That’s everything?”

A stern look was waiting for you.

He was silent until it was near maddening and the only thing that kept you from giving in to the nervous energy was again his hold on your head.

Then he blinked and you realized he hadn’t in a long time. “We lose control in very different ways.”

You might have laughed at that being his first response, but you also weren’t sure how to take it.

“I believe a portion of blame falls on me. I have not been clear in sharing my results and the…” He looked away and the creasing of his lips made it seem like he was swallowing a sort of chuckle. “…evolving nature of the situation.”

You stared at him dully at first and then with growing suspicion. “Do you think this is funny?”

“A little bit, yes.” He allowed the corner of his mouth to turn up. “You continue to stubbornly care for me in a way that subverts my estimations every single time.”

Indignant, you pursed your lips.

The smile grew a little more than you had ever seen it and he dipped down. Using his hold to angle you he pressed a quick kiss into the pucker before retreating to his original position.

“You-” Staring wide, your mouth stepped in to fill the gap where your brain had left off. “Evolving nature?”

“I can’t imagine the sick clinging that some New Yorkers force others to look upon and I don’t believe my ascertains were wrong. I need notice, but I believe this study has revealed something very different from the hypothesis I posed.”

A tepid amusement continue to waft off him as you searched his face in an attempt to recall what exactly that was. “Your… limitations?”

His thumbs squeezed up making your cheeks squish.

“So is that a conclusion or something else?” You didn’t remember enough from your science classes to recall.

“You are an outlier.”

You knew a vague definition of the word, but the way he said it seemed to express it a way you weren’t sure of. “An outlier?”

His levity fell for just a moment. “I realize I never actually got you that book on statistics.” He clicked his tongue. “Two things in one day if we include the analysis of my glasses. I’ll be sure to rectify that.”

“Okay…?”

“Yes, well, it is a data point that significantly differs amongst others in observations.”

You managed a nod through his thumbs.

“I, for now, won’t get into the whys, but essentially, under certain conditions, it may be excluded from a data set.”

“You’re taking me out of the experiment?” The phrase got out of you before its meaning reached your ears. Fear sparked but a quick squeeze from Donatello smothered it.

“The opposite.” He leaned forward but stopped just shy of the point where he would have gone out of focus. “I was going to give it a few more tests to be sure, but I had come to realize the experiment didn’t serve you because of it.”

You had an idea of what he was getting at, but you were afraid to give it voice.

“You’re novel.” He swept his gaze over you in an appreciative way. “Not an error; this would be considered an exciting statistically possibility.”

You squirmed and reached up. He gave you a nod and you gently took hold of his wrists to stabilize yourself.

“I was distracted by the intrigue and did not voice this, but then, I was not alone. That brings me to your portion of the blame. You did not exercise your control over the experiment or voice your needs.”

“Can you blame me?” You mumbled sheepishly.

“Yes. In fact, I am, right now.”

You tried to squeeze his arm, but he seemed unaffected.

“Need I remind you…” He trailed off and straightened up out of your space in a way that caused you to let go. You thought of voicing your concern, but he continued to move. One of his hands left your neck and you lost track of it as the other slid around to the base of your skull. It’s grip squeezed tight suddenly and your body reacted by seizing into the spasm. His other arm reappeared to clasp your lower back and dip you back further. He then poured himself over you until he crushed his lips into yours. A meek sound squeaked in your throat as you gave in. He deepened the kiss until the point where your spine began to complain and then he pulled back to laud over you. “You’re the one that decides what you’ll offer. Otherwise, I will take until there is nothing left.”

He had a haunting looking in his eyes that glinted with an unfathomable greed and you saw the fringes of his retreat. Even though you had no leverage, he hadn’t captured your arms. You moved them as quickly as you could to catch him and tug him back. He was thrown off just enough that when you mashed your lips against his, you rocked into the movement enough to part them. You then slotted your tongue in the space, swiping it over his bottom to give him the option to break away if necessary. He chose to crush your body to his and when you licked into him, you found his tongue waiting. In a tangle you were both moving, desperately trying to get enough of the other.

He only allowed the intensity to go on for a few more moments before, in a maddening display of control that you were sure was just to show you what he was capable of, he pulled away. In contrast to how you were utterly wrecked, he released you and set himself as if nothing had even occurred. Hunched over in a way you imagined a goblin and with your hair surely messed beyond fixing without a brush, you tried to muster a glare at him but only succeeded in a drunken smile.

He was either immune to it or still gloating because he simply offered you his hand. “Want to go to those other stores?”

You took it and became aware you didn’t know where your purchase was. You found it by your feet and caught the handle of the bag. “Donatello doing something without purpose?”

He gave a mock sigh as if to mourn his past self.

“Yes, by the way.”

In a perfect rotation, he spun around and did a gentle tug to coax you along with him.

“Is that…” Your free hand trailed up to press the tender plump of your lip. “…something we do now?”

“Must you ask it like that?”

“I’m just trying to set my expectations.”

“It is available, yes.” He gave a huff.

“But not all the time.”

He passed you a narrowed gaze. “Insatiable.”

“No!” You pulled on your connection, but he kept it steadfast. “You said that thing about PDA!”

He seemed unconvinced. “If it can be avoided, I would prefer we do so. Otherwise, I urge you to check with me so I can both be ready and to avoid something like this happening again.”

You nodded thoughtfully and the reality of everything was awash in every inch of your skin.

“Six days.”

“Huh?”

“Our date will be in six days, next Friday. I will finish my business using any means necessary and, if you are available, I’d like to meet at least one more time before then to complete a those last few tests I mentioned.”

“I should check my calendar…” Pretending to think about it, you felt the way Donatello glared at you. “I guess I can make it.”

He was still displeased as he looked ahead. “Pencil me in as you see fit.” Disdain dripped from his words, but you caught something in the wording.

You stopped walking and he seemingly didn’t notice until the tether pulled taunt. “Wait, are you saying…?”

“You’re more excited about this than finally having your date?”

“Not mutually exclusive!” You joked.

He gave you a tug.

“Donnie.”

He didn’t stop, but his speed slowed slightly. “I reserve the right to veto.”

“That one?” You tried to glimpse his face, but he turned it away.

“I have not invoked anything as of yet.”

It was almost too much. The negative feelings from the start of the day no longer seemed real in comparison.

“I am curious about one thing you mentioned earlier.”

“Yeah?” You chirped, trying to resist the urge to swing your conjoined hands.

“You say I’ve been teasing you?”

You blinked. “Yeah…?”

He gave an affirmative noise and you looked up to find you could finally see his face. There was a cocky quality there as if he had been given something he shouldn’t be in possession of.

“Oh.” The syllable popped out of you audible.

“Good to know.” He cast that smug look down on you and ‘wicked’ no longer seemed severe enough to describe him.

#rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction #weakspotfic

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theonethatyaks93 · 4 months

Text

My Secret Santa Project

This is my Secret Santa project for @sleepyrabbits You didn’t specify what characters you wanted, so here!! Take some Christmas Brinky fluff that I hope you enjoy!! Also, thank you so much for being one of my followers!!!!!!! It means so much to me and I couldn’t be happier!!! Enjoy your Christmas and I’m wishing you a happy new year too!!

Brain groaned for what felt like the 100th time, his temperament in its worst state it had been in quite a while. He sat crouched amongst the scattered blueprints and materials he had gathered to enact his most recent plan for world domination, which had failed in an elaborate fashion, again. The megalomaniac had hope that this plan would’ve been a smashing success, but, predictably, things soured rapidly.

This year’s Christmas plan had been to produce hypnotic cookies to sell in stores. The cookies would’ve flown off the shelves due to their cheap prices and Brain would have control of the world in an instant. Yes! Even if that hadn’t worked, Brain concocted a backup idea involving subliminal messaging in wrapping paper that said, “Obey Brain”. Surely having another plan in case of failure would guarantee success, right?

Wrong.

When Brain had tried to bake the cookies with the fluid needed to hypnotize the population, they had burned easily, and the treats tasted repulsive and dry, lacking any flavor. Even Pinky’s admittedly excellent baking skills couldn’t save the cookies from disaster. Brain ended up flying into a rage, tossing the dozens of baked goods in the trash can immediately after trying them. Pinky had attempted to comfort him, saying that they could always just make more, but Brain, rather than listen, just decided to execute plan two.

Which also failed. Even quicker than plan one.

Turns out, Acme Labs’s new high-tech printer was broken, and it wouldn’t be fixed until next week. Drat. After receiving that crushing news, Brain moved on to writing out the subliminal messages by hand, but the words he wrote were not hidden in the slightest. In fact, they were so obvious to the naked eye, that they couldn’t be classified as subliminal at all. This was not thought out well for possible hindrances such as a busted printer.

This year’s Christmas plans were by far the worst he’d ever assembled. Brain didn’t even reach the marketing phase for his cookies, despite that secretly being his favorite part of any “advertise something to the general public” scheme. It was enjoyable to spend some time with Pinky, where they could put their creative minds together to make an advertising campaign millions would remember. And it wasn’t just because Pinky was his non-platonic partner now and Brain wanted to be close to him for an elongated period of time.

Definitely not that. At all.

The shorter mouse had retreated to his planning corner to sulk after the wrapping paper debacle. He needed to escape from all the woes and predicaments that were piling on top of him. He did find it rather odd that Pinky didn’t pursue him instantaneously, but it was a small blessing. Even though Brain really…tolerated Pinky, sometimes his lanky companion could prove a little overbearing for his mindset. This peaceful escape from the hassle of his newest plight was what he needed. Yet, he still felt miserable.

Another Christmas wasted on failed plans. Just like last year. And the year before.

Brain peered at the unorganized pile of blueprints that sat in front of him. He had made them for his Christmas cookie plan, but they went unused for the most part. Now, the paper just felt like it was taunting him. Invading his soul almost. Whispering to him negative thoughts about his recent disappointment.

You didn’t take over the world? How stupid are you?

You didn’t even manage to get to the execution stage!

You are pathetic!

Brain growled, way louder than he intended to, all the anger building inside him. It wasn’t long before he began ripping up the blueprints in a blind fury and tossing them everywhere. The pieces of paper were scattered all over the counter, every which way. He’d need to clean this up later.

The megalomaniac fell onto his knees following his little meltdown, slamming his fists into the countertop surface. He winced at the ensuing pain but didn’t pay that much mind to it. Brain felt a lump form in his throat, though he quickly pushed that feeling away.

Crying was not allowed. Especially for something so meaningless.

Brain took a few steadying breaths, attempting to subdue his rampant emotions. It thankfully worked rather well, for his mind steadied. Though, the lingering guilt that he had pushed aside Christmas with Pinky for a disastrous world domination idea remained intact. Why, again, had he ruined something else that could positively impact his own life?

Poor, sweet, innocent Pinky. An opportunity for quality time was squandered; instead, he was toiling away with mediocre fantasies of world conquest.

The pink-eyed mouse buried his face within his paws, ears drooping, sighing repeatedly as if that would aid in his misery. Brain felt so hopeless, so exhausted, bizarrely cold. He even felt unloved, which was strange since he had a companion of romantic interest. All the warmth of the holiday season never seemed to find him through the many years he’d been enacting plans.

The dreary nature of the situation was just about to pull Brain to a likely cumbersome slumber, until he felt a gentle touch on his left shoulder, tugging him out of his brooding state. He lifted his head from his paws to meet the understanding gaze of his partner. Why did Pinky always have to appear in his worst and bleakest moments?

“Oh, Brain. It’s alright. Narf! No need to be sad over a silly little plan. You’ll make another, even better one tomorrow night!”

A soft smile formed on Brain’s lips. He reached his arm back towards his shoulder, using his paw to cover Pinky’s. “I’m fine, my friend. Just a little distressed about this whole ordeal. I apologize for concerning you.” Brain moved his grasp from Pinky, choosing to look away from him, retreating into his own personal space once more. Pinky’s hold never left his shoulder.

The other mouse’s gentle face fell to one of confusion and concern. “Well, you don’t look fine to me, Brainy. Poit! You seem tense. I mean look at you! You’re all tight and scowly and your shoulders are hunched up and…”

Brain turned around and placed his paw on Pinky’s mouth, silencing him. “Yes, Pinky. I’m fully aware of my appearance right now.” He shifted from his companion, pulling his paw from his friend’s face hastily. But before recoiling fully, he placed a small peck on Pinky’s nose, hoping that would be enough to shut him up. It thankfully did the trick. At least to halt the uncomfortable conversation that would have likely unfolded had he not done anything.

Pinky swooned dreamily, letting go of Brain for a moment to dance and twirl around the space in an irregular pattern, his paws held close to his chest. Little cartoony hearts formed around his head, circling rapidly and his tail formed into the shape of a heart, which surprisingly wasn’t that uncommon. “Egad! Naaaaaaaarf!” he purred; his voice breathless.

Brain couldn’t help but smirk a tad and role his eyes at Pinky’s overly dramatic display. It was ridiculous, but somewhat sweet, he presumed. He allowed his mind to wander a bit, while Pinky continued to prance around in a lovestruck daze. The shorter mouse was only pulled back into reality when he felt Pinky nuzzling his nose gently, holding him by both shoulders now. Brain’s face went red.

Desperate to end this romantic moment, Brain struck up a question that had been persistent ever since Pinky had arrived at his planning corner.

“Did you go seeking me out for a reason or did you just come to boost my spirits?”

Pinky pulled away from Brain, a radiant expression evident on his face. “Both, actually! Troz!”

“And do tell what exactly you wanted to inform me, Pinky. Just make it hasty, I’m still downtrodden about tonight’s failure.”

The taller mouse clapped enthusiastically. “Oh, Brain! I can’t tell you! It’s a surprise! You just haaaaaave to wait and see!”

Brain’s usual scowl returned. Great. Another one of Pinky’s “surprises.” Whenever Pinky told him that something was a surprise, he was always met with something extremely peculiar and not catered to his liking; from a horrendous bootleg movie to an ice cream party that had already melted by the time they’d arrived at the cage. Surely, this would not be any different.

“Pinky, I’m not so sure about this. Remember the last time you lured me into one of your ‘surprises?’” He gestured to the unusual kiss shaped scar on his forearm, likely the most dangerous and bizarre incident by far.

Pinky’s face turned tomato red, and he giggled energetically. “Of course I remember! That was the bestest bad surprise good surprise ever! Zort! And may I say, that is the cutest scar I’ve ever seen, darling! He traced his fingers over the specific mark, causing Brain’s fur to temporarily stand on end and a pleasant warmth to invade his senses. His heart was about to burst.

“T-thank you, Pinky.” Brain struggled to force any harsh words out. “But I still don’t exactly believe that whatever you have in store for me is exactly safe per say.”

Pinky got on his knees and grabbed Brain’s shoulders in a forceful manner, quite unlike his usual demeanor. Obviously, Pinky wasn’t going to be deterred from his goal. “Puh-lease Brain?! I promise that this is a good surprise and that you’ll really, really like it! Please? Pretty please with sprinkles and caramel and chocolate and whipped cream on top?” Pinky begged loudly, putting on his best pouty eyes. He even whimpered a tad and his lip quivered for added effect.

Brain stared into Pinky’s soft blue eyes. He swore there were stars in them since they seemed to sparkle in radiance. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of maroon and heat pooled in his cheeks. Pinky was a master manipulator. Especially when he was trying to convince Brain to do something mundane. He just couldn’t resist, no matter how hard he attempted to ignore Pinky.

“Alright,” Brain sighed, subduing his sanity to Pinky’s little pleading. “But if something else explodes, you’ll be receiving more than just a bop on the head.”

Pinky cheered, jumping up and down excitedly. “Yay! You are going to love it! Narf! I know it with all my little heart, Brain!” He then stared at the shorter mouse, a flirty, seductive, and mischievous look in his eyes. “But I wouldn’t mind you giving me something more than a bop on the head if you know what I mean. Hint, hint! Zort!” Pinky winked and batted his eyelashes at Brain, his tail moving precariously from side-to-side before he began laughing hysterically.

Brain took a moment to ponder, until eventually realizing what exactly Pinky thought he had suggested. His entire face turned beet red and sweat began to form on his forehead. His eyes widened in utter shock and his mind spiraled as he became a flustered mess. It took him nearly ten seconds to regain his composure.

“That’s n-not what I m-meant, P-Pinky.” Brain choked on his own words, forcing himself to halt his stuttering for fear of embarrassment. “Let’s just forget…that… and move along to your little ‘surprise,’ whatever that might entail.” He was relieved that he had calmed down so fast, especially after…what Pinky had tried to imply.

The taller mouse grinned sheepishly. “Oh, right. Almost forgot Whoopsies!” He pulled Brain towards him and held his paw tightly, intertwining their fingers. “Close your eyes, sweetheart!”

Brain welcomed Pinky’s proximity and the handholding, but he still wasn’t prepared for whatever Pinky had in store. “I’m not exactly sure about this…”

“Ha, Brain! No take backsies! Troz! You promised!” Pinky sing-songed, pressing a finger to Brain’s lips, stifling his judgement. Brain groaned; there was no turning back now.

“Very well. Lead me to your inane drivel. But on one condition: do not run with me in tow. I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I’ve had enough injuries this week.”

“But I’m not a truck, Brain.”

“I know you’re not a truck, Pinky. Just don’t go off sprinting while we are…uhm.” Brain pointed to their interlaced fingers.

Pinky’s puzzled expression changed to joy again after seeing their paws together. “Got it. No running! I’m going to keep my sweeter-than-sweet bestest boyfriend ever all nice and safe for his surprise!” He gently stroked Brain’s cheek.

Boyfriend? That was new. Pinky had never called him his boyfriend before.

Brain’s face heated up again; his entire body felt warm. Smirking contently, Brain closed his eyes, putting all his trust with his boyfriend friend. He only expected that he wouldn’t fall off the counter, per Pinky’s words.

It didn’t take too long for him to feel Pinky pulling his paw in the direction of wherever this little treat for him was. Brain took steady steps, making sure not to trip and take his partner down with him. He was quite astonished at how slow and gentle Pinky’s movements were; he went through with his earlier proclamation in strides. Brain never felt uncomfortable in any way as the two journeyed together. Occasionally, he felt his arm be jerked to the left or right, most likely due to an obstacle they came upon being avoided by Pinky’s swift reflexes. Dare he say it, he was impressed by the taller mouse’s knack for following instructions given to him.

He was so distracted by how peaceful everything was currently, aside from an occasion chuckle elicited by Pinky, that he stumbled on what felt like the entrance to their cage. Brain’s grasp on Pinky’s paw tightened as he felt his feet almost give way, causing the megalomaniac to almost open his eyes. Pinky helped to steady him, pulling him up again after their near fall.

“Are you okay?” Pinky asked gently.

Brain made sure his eyes were still closed. “Yes, I’m alright. Nothing to worry about, Pinky.”

“M-sorry, Brain. I forgot all about that nasty step. Poit! Silly me! Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”

He then continued to guide Brain, who thankfully didn’t receive too much of a startle from the slip. But as they kept moving, Brain was sensing a shift in lighting and a change in temperature. He also began to smell…peppermint? And…evergreen? What exactly did Pinky have planned?

Pinky let go of his hand after a little while, his footsteps indicating that he was seemingly dashing away somewhere. “Stay right there, Brain!” he heard his partner call out to him. Brain didn’t bother trying to go anywhere, who knows what he could’ve run into.

“Okay! You can open your eyes now!”

Brain followed Pinky’s request, opening his eyes gently, his curiosity piqued. What he was met with was…shocking to say the least.

“Surprise! Narf! So, whaddya think?”

The cage had been transformed from a mundane living space into a Christmas-y winter wonderland. There was a small Christmas tree with glistening ornaments and twinkling multi-colored lights. Peppermint and pine scented candles wafted their pleasant aromas in the air. Candy canes were lined in a neat little row and there was a while powdery substance everywhere that looked remarkably like snow. He even heard Frank Sinatra’s Christmas album A Jolly Christmas playing in the background, the crooner’s golden voice accenting the display in front of him perfectly.

Of course, Pinky knew about his little crush infatuation with Frank Sinatra and the fact that he’d listened to his Christmas album every year.

Brain was awestruck at all the colors and spectacle. His eyes widened and he felt his chest swell. It was such a tonal shift from the previously dreary laboratory, to suddenly be thrown into a bright and festive scenario. He couldn’t fathom that Pinky had done all of this, just for him. Granted, he felt a tad bit of shame for not being able to decorate on his own, but he was grateful that he had such a caring and considerate partner.

“Brain! Do you like it? Is it amazingly amazing like I hoped it would be? Hello?”

He snapped out of his astonished trance, Pinky’s confused face only inches away from his. Brain didn’t even bother to back away; he was currently just too dazed to pay attention to their vicinity. “It’s…it’s nice, Pinky. Yes. Really nice.” A faint blush formed on his cheeks.

Pinky was ecstatic. “I knew you’d just love-love-love it! Poit!” He placed his paws on Brain’s shoulders, squeezing them ever so lightly. “Can I show you around? I spent all night working on this for you, Brain!”

“Feel free, my friend. I’ve got nothing better to do.” Brain sardonically remarked, though he smiled ever so slightly to indicate he was still in a pleasant mood.

His lanky companion squealed in delight, before guiding Brain around the display, happily bouncing the entire time. Brain couldn’t help but relinquish in Pinky’s boundless energy; he was always so cheery. That was somewhat appealing to him.

Pinky first showed off the Christmas tree, which Brain had to admit was very well decorated. The ornaments weren’t haphazardly thrown around, rather they were intricately placed in neat little rows on the tree’s branches. Even the tinsel was wrapped around properly, though the star on top was a little crooked. Not like he was going to nitpick, but it was just something he noticed.

“Here’s the tree! Spent all week looking for teeny-tiny ornaments. Troz! But I finally found some when you were baking those cookies. I even made my own out of those little yummy puff pastries in the drawer, Brain. Isn’t it be-you-ti-ful?” the blue-eyed mouse gestured to his manufactured ornament, which was simply just a piece of circular cardboard covered in cotton balls. However, they were aligned in such a way to where it resembled…them? The little red pom-poms glued to two of the cotton balls certainly indicated that.

Brain flushed a little at Pinky’s attempt to replicate them in an ornament, though it wasn’t executed in the best way. Pinky seemed to notice his telltale blush, smiling even bigger than before.

“It’s us! Aren’t we just the cutest ornament couple ever! And you little nose is so adorable, babe! I just wanna squish it!” Pinky pulled Brain into a slight hug.

“You’ve captured our likenesses…decently Pinky. I applaud you on your efforts and I am endeared by your generosity.” Brain felt the room heat up. Things were getting far too intimate for his personal liking. “Let’s move on.”

Next, Pinky pointed out the candy canes that were lined in a row, which he insisted had not been licked once. Brain wasn’t convinced since his companion seemed to bashfully look off to the side when he’d told him that. Sure enough, he inspected closer and saw saliva along the edge of two of the candy canes. Why was he not surprised?

“You’re probably wonderin’ how I made the snow, Brain. Zort!” Pinky diverted Brain’s attention to one of the many piles of “snow” scattered about. He picked up a clump of it and threw it in the air, causing Brain to sneeze a little.

“Pinky, what is this stuff?” Brain scoffed in between sneezes. He investigated the substance closer, noticing the unusual fine, gritty texture. The powder also smelled, strangely sweet.

“It’s powdered sugar! The perfect snow substitute!” Pinky said like he was advertising the powder. He put the pile of it down and happily licked his fingers of the excess, chuckling all the way. “It’s so yummy AND festive! Naaaaaaaaarrf!”

Brain couldn’t help but be just a tad confused. There was powdered sugar everywhere; why was there so much? “If I may ask, how did you obtain this much powdered sugar, Pinky? I didn’t notice any new charges on the lab’s credit card over the past few days, aside from ones I made.”

The taller mouse silenced Brain playfully, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “No, no, Brain! A decorator never reveals their seacrates. No matter what anyone else says.”

Why did he even bother with Pinky anymore?

The megalomaniac rolled his eyes at his companion’s mindless comment, before noticing something below the Christmas tree. It was a box, covered in mismatched wrapping paper that wasn’t fully covering the package. There was a little bow and a tag that read“4 Brain!” with a little heart on top, meaning it was for him.

His heart fluttered when he noticed the gift, mainly because he didn’t expect Pinky to get him anything this year. Brain felt a little guilty that he hadn’t spent time preparing a present for his partner, but his world domination plans had taken every waking though of his.

“Pinky,” Brain spoke softly as he struggled to control his steadfast heart rate. “Th-that gift under the tree over there. Is it…did you get that for me?” He held his breath for a moment.

“Of course it’s for you! Poit!” Pinky walked over to where Brain was standing, linking their arms together. “I wrote your name on the tag! D’you think I met some other smarty-smart dashing mouse named Brain yesterday and he just happened to become my bestest boyfriend? And I thought I was the dumb one!”

Brain felt his face turn a soft pink at Pinky’s proclamation. Even though it was slightly annoying that Pinky questioned his intelligence for a moment, he presumed that his friend had good intentions.

“I don’t suppose you’d mind if I opened the gift then. I’m quite interested to see what exactly you got me.” He could only guess that it was going to be another pencil with the eraser bitten off, or a moldy piece of bread that Pinky so happily called “French toast.”

The lanky mouse giggled, suppressing some kind of intense positive outburst. “Go ahead, love! I really think I’ve outdone meself this year!”

He really didn’t want to open it now, considering Pinky’s giddy reaction to him asking about it was so suspicious. But he decided to, for his companion’s sake. It wouldn’t hurt that much to get something outlandish.

With slight hesitation, Brain trudged over to the tree, pulling the decently sized present from under it. He was surprised by the weight of the box; he could not lift it. What on earth was in here?

Brain was just about to pull the top of the box open when Pinky called out to him, causing the smaller mouse to jump in shock.

“Brain! Troz! Wait! Narf! You should read this first!” Pinky panted heavily, handing Brain a piece of paper. The front had a crude drawing of Pinky giving Brain a hug, the two being surrounded by red and green colored hearts.

Brain smiled a little at the drawing, but he grew apprehensive about reading the letter. Pinky’s writing was infamously illegible and misspelled words always graced the page. He’d adapted to reading his companion’s atrocious handwriting, but a certain something else caused him alarm.

The last letter he’d read from Pinky around Christmastime was…let’s just say it raised a lot of unfamiliar emotions within Brain. He wanted to look at it when Pinky wasn’t around, mostly so he wouldn’t see any intense reactions that the megalomaniac elicited. “I don’t think I should read this now…”

“Nope!” Pinky interrupted. “Read it, please! The gift will make sense afterward! I pinky promise. Cross my paws and hope to poit!”

“Fine.” Brain groaned, there was no discouraging Pinky after his sacred vow. He opened the letter; he was intrigued by how many words were on the page. And, while not perfect, Pinky’s handwriting was very neat, and it appeared that the spelling was competent.

He must’ve spent a lot of time writing this.

Pinky perked up for a moment. “By the way, I used my handy-dandy spellchecker to write this for you, Brain. I wanted everything to be as perfect as you are!”

Blush arose in Brain’s cheeks, not only from the sincere compliment, but since he now knew that Pinky had used the spellchecker that he’d gotten for him all those years ago. He sighed once and began reading.

Dearest Brain,

Hello! Ha-ha! Narf!

This insipid phrase again? Not a very telling sign.

Listen, I know I’m not the best at words, especially since I’m not the brightest bulb in the shed if you know what I mean. But I just want to say, when we became a happier-than-happy couple, I almost couldn’t believe it! I’ve known you for years and years, Brain. I feel like I know you better than I know myself.

What.

You’re hard-working, honest, smart, kind, caring, and extremely handsome. I adore your big chubby head and your smarty-smartness and your funny words and your sleeping noises. You’re my bestest friend, even if we fight and you bop me on the head and yell. By the way, the bops don’t bother me and whenever you yell, your gorgeous voice makes me swooooooon!

Oh.

I hate it when you get neglected for your attempts to take over the world. You get so sad and that makes me sad. But you never give up and that’s amazing! I want you to succeed, Brain. I want you to do it so badly. You deserve a happily ever after, more than anyone else.

Oh.

Even if you don’t rule the world, I would have lived the greatest life because you were with me. You mean everything to me, and I love you so, so much.

Love? Truly?

If there is one mouse I’d want to spend my forever with, it would be you. It was always you, even during our fights and non-talking time.

Was that all he wanted? To spend a lifetime together?

You’ll always be my chubby hubby, even if we never marry, which is fine! Your decision! But I hope, I’m all yours because you are all mine, every day of the month and year and hour!

Why, Pinky?

Love your #1 boyfriend,

Pinky

PS: When you hold me and kiss me, I feel like I’ve conquered the world. Poit!

PPS: I LOVE YOU, BRAIN!

The words hit him like a freight train at full speed. As Brain kept reading the letter, he felt his mind turn to mush and his heart ache to a painful degree. He sensed a lump forming in his throat, tears pricking his eyes at such a rapid pace. When the letter ended with his partner happily proclaiming to be his number one boyfriend, he sniffed once, trying with all his might to push away the tears. And when Pinky added on that when Brain kissed him and held him, he felt like he’d conquered the world, Brain let a quiet sob slip out.

He read the letter repeatedly, each time he could feel the love Pinky had added to it within his chest. The excess moisture in his eyes fell, with him making no attempt to cease. It had been such a rough day, but his incredible boyfriend remedied all his sorrows.

Yes, boyfriend.

It felt fitting to call him that.

Brain was so lost in his mixed emotions that he almost forgot about the actual present entirely. At least until Pinky reminded him.

“Brain.” Pinky spoke so delicately, like he knew that Brain would’ve reacted this way. “Don’t you wanna open the present? Narf! It’s very important.”

He could only stare at Pinky’s gentle expression, the tears flowing continuously. “S-sure. I g-guess it w-wouldn’t hurt.” He struggled with forcing any coherent words to be said.

The pink-eyed mouse pulled the lid off the box and pushed the colorful tissue paper out of the way. The first item he saw was all too familiar, yet he thought it was gone forever. It was a small keychain with a globe on one end. It sparkled radiantly in the light. He picked it up and gasped.

“Pinky, is this…?”

“Yes, Brain. I found your globe keychain last week! In a cabinet, behind those heavy books you read all the time. I thought it would be such an amazing surprise to give it to you again, just because I know how much you love it! Troz!”

“I thought I lost this.” Brain felt lightheaded. He could only gape at the keychain that meant the most to him. It just vanished a while ago, and at first, he pretended like he didn’t care. But secretly, he’d ran to a secret corner of the lab and cried his eyes out, devastated that he’d lost Pinky’s precious gift to him. And now, his companion had given him the thing that symbolized their relationship. His goals and desires. “T-thank you Pinky. I-I’m grateful for…” He felt another sob coming, but Brain pushed back.

“That’s not all that’s in there.” Pinky leaned over Brain’s shoulder, pointing to the box. Brain returned to searching through the paper, finding something else indeed.

It was a locket, a red heart shaped one. It looked really expensive and very high quality. Brain was tremendously impressed.

Pinky pet Brain’s head gently. “Truth is, I might’ve used the lab card for oneeee little purchase that I thought was important. I’ve been working on these gifts for months and I knew that this would be perfect for you. Open it!”

With still teary eyes, Brain opened the locket. He felt himself shake a little with what he saw. On the left half, there was a tiny picture of Pinky and him kissing; it was their first photo together as a couple from a few months back. That had been one of the greatest days of his life and Pinky had given him a reminder of it. There was also something written into the right half. It said:

You’re My World, Brain!

Below that was Pinky’s wonderfully strange signature, with everything being surrounded by miniscule hearts.

Brain could not take it anymore. Seeing the personalized locket with their love permanently etched into it was such an emotional rush. He put the locket down and collapsed onto his knees, pressing his paws against his face as he burst into loud and uncontrollable sobs. He felt so cherished. Pinky really, really loved him. He was appreciated by the most important thing in his life. That was all that mattered.

As the shorter mouse cried harder than ever before, Pinky sat down on the floor and pulled him into a hug, their bodies pressed together. Brain sobbed hard into his partner’s chest, not even caring that he was making a mess. He just held Pinky tight and let all of his feelings that had been building up all night out. Pinky rubbed his back, placing light kisses on Brain’s head. He wasn’t upset, rather he was eternally grateful. How had he, of all feeble creatures on this miserable planet, ended up with the kindest, most generous mouse to ever exist?

After a few minutes of nothing but crying, Brain sniffled, the tears ceasing. He glanced upward at Pinky, who had the softest smile on his face, making the megalomaniac melt inside. “Did you like your presents, Brain? Zort. Did I do a good job?” Pinky asked while continuing to massage Brain’s back.

Brain felt himself stir, his heartrate increasing. “Yes, dear.” He nuzzled Pinky’s nose. “Your gifts were commendable, and I couldn’t be more pleased with your dedication to me.”

His companion beamed, hugging Brain tight. “I’m so happy, I could just run around all fun-fun-silly-willy! Thank you for everything, Brain!”

“No, thank you, Pinky. For everything you’ve done tonight.” He un-did their embrace but kept his paws on his partner’s chest. “I-I’m flattered, truly I am. But I believe it is my turn to surprise you.”

Pinky looked confused, followed quickly by curiosity. “What do you mean, Brain? Did you get me a gift too? You shouldn’t have!”

“Yes, I did.” Brain felt a dark blush cloud his cheeks. “Look up, Pinky.”

The lanky mouse tilted his head upward towards the ceiling of their cage. Precisely at their exact location, a string of mistletoe hung above them, swinging slightly. Pinky’s face lit up instantly, an obvious blush present.

“Brain…is that…can we…? Egad!”

Brain nodded. “It’s tradition for two people in love to kiss underneath the mistletoe. It would be preposterous if we didn’t honor that. So…uhm…I suppose we can just…”

“This is the best gift ever, darling!” Pinky was shaking about in excitement; it was almost concerning. “You don’t have to ask me twice! I adore our kisses! C’mere you wonderful mouse!”

Pinky pulled Brain closer, pressing their lips together in a tender motion. Brain was quite taken aback by how forcibly Pinky had pushed them into the kiss, but his initial shock dissipated and was replaced by a warm sensation filling his entire body. He placed his paws on Pinky’s cheeks, taking notice of how heated they were. He felt Pinky’s arms wrap around his waist, their proximity increasing dramatically. Brain moaned as the kiss deepened.

They parted for air, but it was only temporary. Brain immediately grabbed Pinky’s cheeks again and they kissed, even more intensely than before. He didn’t understand how Pinky could be so good at kissing, especially since he hadn’t kissed anyone before they’d became a thing. But Brain was always amazed by what his boyfriend could do, despite his below-average intellect. He sank into this kiss, noticing how Pinky tasted like gingerbread before pulling away to breathe.

Pinky huffed, his face beet red and his eyes widened in glee. “Oh, Brain! I love you so much! Narf!” he cooed quietly. “Merry Christmas.”

Brain peppered kisses along Pinky’s neck, causing the taller mouse to giggle fervently. He smiled at his partner, his mind a mess of romantic thoughts and of his Pinky. “I love you too, Pinky. Merry Christmas.”

“Uhm, honey, we’re still under the mistletoe! I don’t think our little tradition thingy is done yet.” Pinky fluttered his eyes and made a kissy face.

Brain smiled. “I suppose you are right. Shall we continue?”

Pinky’s face heated up. “Yes, we shall. Poit!”

Their lips met again, their kissing session continuing once more. As Pinky leaned into him, Brain felt wonderful. He savored the sound of every moan, sigh, and chuckle, holding them in his subconscious as little reminders. His holiday season had grown a lot brighter, especially with such an incredible and loving boyfriend by his side.

Pinky was by far his greatest gift.

Such a merry Christmas indeed.

(Happy Holidays!! @animaniacssecretsanta)

#animaniacs #pinky and the brain #patb #brinky #christmas #this was so much fun to write!#will be posting this on Ao3 as well

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